In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

47. C47 - Umbridge

Hello again to you all! Thank you so, so much for all the support you keep giving me.
Sorry for the wait, but at least I can give you another long chapter.
Fivefatducks asked for quicker updates, but unfortunately I can only write so much and so fast, sorry.. In a previous poll, most people preferred longer chapters over quicker updates, so that's what I will stick to unless suddenly a lot of people want to have bi-weekly updates no matter how short the chapters are then.

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Chapter 47 – Umbridge

''You are there!'' was the first thing Harry heard when he groggily opened his bed hangings, looking with only half-opened eyes at his best friend. The night had been absolute crap again, an endless loop of falling lightly asleep and waking up every fifteen to twenty minutes. He'd need all the coffee he could get his hands on at breakfast, just to survive the day. ''Where were you yesterday? Hermione nearly bit my head off for not knowing where you'd gone after dinner! I wanted to dig through your trunk to find the Marauder's map, but Hermione was all uptight about 'rummaging through private belongings' and all.''

Harry silently thanked Hermione, for a lot of his rather dark books were in that trunk, and as they were the last thing he'd read, they lay close to the top. ''Malfoy invited me to the Slytherin welcome party,'' he grumbled. Telling Ron the truth was probably best. ''That was what he annoyed me about in the train. I figured that refusing would only fuel that stupid feud again and I really want to have one year without Malfoy screwing with us in class.''

''That was brave,'' Ron whistled. ''And incredibly stupid. What if you'd been caught?''

''I did get caught, Snape noticed. However, since it was his precious student Draco who had given me a personal invitation, he couldn't exactly give me detention for it, not since Malfoy somehow convinced the new Headboy to agree to it.''

''Still got lucky, Snape sometimes gives detention over literally nothing. On the other hand, classes didn't even start, so he can't use his regular excuse of 'This idiot messed up a potion and thus deserves a week of detention'.'' Ron spoke with his best Snape-voice and stance.

''Exactly,'' Harry quickly agreed, smiling at the imitation. ''It would have looked very strange if he'd punished me before the school year even started for something like this. It's not like we flew another car into a tree. It lasted until far after curfew though, so I can be very glad that he didn't wait for it to end and corner me in one of the corridors on my way up to Gryffindor tower again. He definitely could have.'' Now he thought about it, why hadn't Snape done exactly that? He'd left the Potion master pretty angry, he wouldn't have put it past Snape to try something so petty. ''Enough about Snape, where are the others?'' he asked, seeing empty beds all around.

''Oh, I heard Fred and George got up to something, Hermione came to get Dean because of it -poor guy- and woke most of us up.'' Harry realised that his silencing barrier must have still been active, for he hadn't heard a thing, only standing up because he checked the time every couple of minutes to find an acceptable time to stand up. ''You missed quite something last evening by the way, just a warning,'' Ron spoke, his brow creasing.

''What?''

His friend hesitated a moment. ''There have been some… stupid rumours flying around and the press isn't helping.'' Harry sat up straighter now and leaned forward. ''It is about Dumbledore… you know he told the school about that Death Eater who taught us last year. Well, of course you know, the guy tried to kill you. Not sure how much you heard at the Order since you stayed in our bedroom so often, but Dumbledore also tried to convince the public and the Ministry of that Voldemort is back. Many people are ridiculing him for it and… you as well.''

''Me?'' Harry asked with astonishment, which grew to irritation. ''I never said much about it! And there wasn't any negative press about me!''

Or had there been? He hadn't kept up with the newspapers much apart from the most recent story with Fleur. But no, surely Voldemort wouldn't try to paint him in a bad light… right?

''Not in the Prophet,'' Ron assured him. ''Not about you anyways, but they have been bashing Dumbledore pretty hard, and your reputation so far at Hogwarts is that you agree a lot with things Dumbledore says. It didn't go unnoticed that you got invitations last year for private lessons with him. It's not as if they're entirely wrong, are they? You do believe Dumbledore… I mean, if we can't trust him, then who?'' The Locket chose that exact moment to make itself known, a sharp sting going through Harry's chest that almost made him curse out loud.

Harry chose to ignore it and played off the shock by jumping up from the bed. When it further did nothing, he thought about his answer. He'd talked to Hermione about exactly this in the Leaky Cauldron, but would Ron understand his reasoning as well as she had? For Ron, so much was still black-and-white, and Harry didn't want to be the person to ruin his best friend's rosy view on life. ''Dumbledore also only said that he has theories,'' Harry spoke carefully. ''Theories heavily based on the words of a single Death Eater who suddenly went to the Aurors apparently. I won't deny that Crouch was definitely here at Hogwarts, but Voldemort himself running around? And that since last year?'' He didn't deny it either, leaving the question hanging in the air.

''Yeah,'' Ron laughed weakly. ''Maybe he did go a bit overboard, Dumbledore is sometimes a bit batty. If it were true, surely there would have been a lot more activity. Deaths, raids, whatever else an evil megalomaniac does to achieve world domination.''

Harry vaguely hummed and opened his trunk to dig out some clothes. He couldn't pack any books yet for the day since they'd only receive their schedules at breakfast. He crossed his fingers that they would start the week on an easy note, maybe with some Care of Magical Creatures and Charms. When Ron and he walked into the common room, he instantly noticed what Ron had warned him about before. He got a lot of 'accidental' sideway glances from students all around and more than a few whispers. There weren't as many as there could have been, thankfully. It looked like quite a few people were more caught up in the latest interesting topic rather than rumours about Harry. That topic appeared to be Fred and George Weasley, who were in a heated debate with Dean and Hermione at the other side of the common room. Around them, a crowd of students had gathered to watch it, which blocked the entrance for everyone who wanted to go down for breakfast.

''What's the commotion about?'' Ron asked Seamus, who was sitting nearby, clearly annoyed.

Their dormmate looked up, his gaze flicking to Harry for a moment before he answered: ''Your brothers messed up, they put up an advertisement for some products they're developing. They searched test subjects and Granger found it unethical. She and Dean cornered them before they could leave the common room, and now no-one can go downstairs to eat because a bunch of first-years want to gawk at the spectacle.''

''Great, now we'll be late for breakfast and class,'' Harry grumbled.

''At least I get to go to class at all,'' Seamus snapped, leaving both Harry and Ron to stare after the boy, who jumped up and stormed over to the other side of the room in a futile attempt to break the crowd apart.

Finding his voice again, Harry asked: ''What was that about?''

Ron grimaced, ears getting red a bit as he balled his fists. ''He told us yesterday that he almost wasn't allowed to return to Hogwarts because of… of what I told you before. Dumbledore and stuff.''

''And me,'' Harry flatly added. He'd expected to get angry. All the stares and whispers again were getting on his nerves, the sheer audacity of people to judge him for something they had no idea about got on his nerves. Still, he mostly felt a hollow emptiness. He didn't want to waste energy on the likes of Seamus, who treated him like a friend one year and shouted accusations the next.

''Pretty much. His mum believed all the rumours and the Prophet's statements on Dumbledore.''

''I should have known, he also avoided me like the plague when that stupidity about me being Slytherin's heir was going around.''

''So… you don't seem… angry.''

Harry merely shook his head in defeat. ''They can believe what they want to. If someone tries to curse me in the corridors for it, I'll just curse them back. I doubt it will be much of a problem, I am not going to endorse Dumbledore's words... much. The Tournament taught me an important lesson. Like the Sorting Hat said, we are stronger together and we should make attempts to communicate and cooperate. If someone refuses to do so from the start, they're nothing but competition who didn't get the point. Wasting words on it is useless now.'' His stomach rumbled and he gave the crowd an annoyed look. ''Okay, that's it.'' He drew his wand and walked to the other side of the common room. He didn't really care about the conversation the Twins were having with the newest Prefects, but blocking the way to not miss a spectacle was just rude.

''Here speaks your resident nutjob, I will count to five and whoever is still standing in front of the exit by that time will have a lot of nasty curses to deal with today!'' he yelled. ''FIVE- FOUR-THREE- Thank you!'' The group, mostly consisting of first years, broke apart, many giving Harry shocked looks. With a slight grin, he pocketed his wand again, giving Hermione a wave as he passed her by. ''Don't be too harsh on them, you can't stop people from trying to get money and I know they test everything on themselves before.''

''That was wicked,'' Ron laughed as they were on their way downstairs. ''Not sure if it was very smart…''

''I'm just sick of all the drama. Some see me as a hero, others avoid me like the plague. It has always been that way, maybe slightly increased now because of the whole Tournament and whatever the press is saying at the moment. As long as I know that I can depend on the people who matter, I don't see why I shouldn't look at it with humour. No good will come out of it if I get all depressed and try to live up to impossible expectations.''

''Well said. I'm there for you,'' his friend answered, giving him a clap on the shoulder. ''No matter what crazy adventure awaits us this year.''

''Hopefully nothing worse than the O.W.L.s.''

Ron groaned at that. ''I'd almost managed to forget that we are in our O.W.L. year. Almost…''

''What, after Fred and George told horror stories about it almost every day last month?''

The other looked rather glum, so Harry gave him a bump to the arm. ''We've had exams every year that we needed to pass. Sure, these are supposedly a lot more difficult, but most of our teachers will also prepare us better for them. You'll be able to get a few at least. And no matter what, you'll do better than Fred and George. Each of them only got three and they still weren't thrown out of the house.''

''Yeah, but mum chewed them out for it for months, and Bill and Percy each got twelve! How am I supposed to live up to that?''

''How did they even get twelve?'' Harry wondered. ''Even Hermione only takes ten subjects now since she gave back that time-turner. Did they have one for all those years?''

Ron shrugged. ''Not sure about Percy, but Bill managed Divination on self-study and Care as a side-project or something. I'd have to ask him the details about that. Didn't you also want to try Runes and Arithmacy from your own studies?''

Harry groaned. ''Good thing you remind me. Yeah, I wanted to… I will have to talk to Professor McGonagall about it still. Because of the whole Tournament, I didn't get nearly as far with it as I wanted, so I have no idea if I even stand a chance. I managed to study a bit during summer, so I think I at least managed to comprehend all of the subject matter from third year, but that means I am still one year behind. If the workload is too high, I might have to give up on my idea.'' Last year had been such a mess that even in the waiting periods between the Tasks where he hadn't trained much for them, like when trying to solve the clue from the egg, he'd mostly been occupied with worrying about the Tournament instead of studies. Barty had been able to help him a bit with Runes in July, but had preferred to focus on dark magic as Harry had no possibility of actively studying that at Hogwarts.

''You could also just pick one,'' Ron suggested, always one for simplifying ideas. ''Runesand Arithmacy are both incredibly complex. Choose which one you think you can learn quicker.''

They'd arrived at the Great Hall, where only a couple of Gryffindors were sitting at the breakfast table. It seemed that few people had managed to squeeze through the portrait hole before it had become blocked. Harry let himself fall down on the bench and instantly grabbed the coffee, downing a cup far faster than usual. During breakfast, he contemplated on Ron's words. Picking one was a good idea. This year was predicted to be the most stressful so far even when it came to regular coursework and tests. Trying to study two extra ones on his own, where he needed to even still catch up on an entire year's worth of material would mean doing even more than Hermione had, when she'd still had the time-turner. Sure, Harry did have it a bit easier since he'd picked both Divination and Care, two subjects for which he either didn't have much homework or just made it up as he went along, but everything else would be tough.

The main problem with choosing was that he didn't know what he even wanted to do after school. A few years ago, he would have said 'Auror' without a second thought. Now, the idea of hunting down dark wizards wasn't very appealing anymore. Voldemort would wring his neck if he'd seriously consider that as a job, Harry was sure of it. What else was he good at though? He loved flying and Quidditch had always captured his interest, but ever since experiencing how much there was to learn about every other branch of magic, it would seem like a waste to play sports for a living instead of delving deeper into the world he'd been shown. Defence was his best subject overall and he was apt at offensive magic too, but which jobs required that as a main focus except for Aurors?

Harry was only certain of one thing: no matter what he'd go for, it would have to be a practical job. He couldn't imagine being cooped up in an office, doing paperwork all day. Research was probably also out, it wouldn't involve nearly enough action and he'd like to work together with other people. What remained though, with the subjects he currently took? Would he even do well enough on his O.W.L.s to pursue whatever he picked as a goal? Learning wouldn't be made easier when he had other things on his mind as well. He wanted to get started with Animagus practice, and then there was Riddle, who would make his life difficult.

He should have spoken about it with Voldemort, he mused. The man had been to so many places and had held various jobs, surely he'd at least know what was all available. They didn't exactly hand out pamphlets at Hogwarts, and he'd never seen a job fair or anything like that in the Wizarding World. When he voiced his thoughts to Ron -minus the part about asking the Dark Lord for career advice- his friend shrugged.

''We're only at the start of our fifth year and thus have three full years to think about it still. Personally, I'm going to look at what I want to do after I know how my O.W.L.s went. Don't want to get any idle hope. I heard we do have some career counselling this year with McGonagall, not looking forward to telling her that I don't have a clue what I want to do. Although.. well, being an Auror would be cool. But you have to be really good for that.''

Harry almost shared his thoughts on it with, Ron, then changed his mind, it would be too difficult to explain why he didn't have that particular wish anymore. ''Isn't that what that talk should be for? Figuring it out?'' Harry asked, but Ron shook his head.

''According to Bill, you're told which O.W.L.s you'd need for certain careers you are interested in and advised in general about the O.W.L.s and grades you hope to achieve or something. I don't think McGonagall will help much in actually picking something out for you.''

''Not very helpful then,'' Harry sighed. ''I wish I knew a bit more about working life in general. I honestly haven't really met anyone whose job I'd like to have, and all of my grades are pretty average. My parents are not great examples there either, both stayed at home.''

''Can't you?'' Ron asked in such a nonchalant way that Harry hesitated to answer. Observing his friend, he saw that Ron was avoiding his gaze and the tips of his ears had reddened just a touch. The question was valid though. Harry was rich. If he lived sparsely, he might not need to work at all his entire life.

''I think that, without anything productive to do, life would get awfully boring,'' he thus said, digging into his breakfast to avoid having to say something more. Money was always an uncomfortable topic between them, especially since Ron seemed to have the wrong idea about it. Harry often forgot that he was rich, true, but not for the reasons his friends might think. He was used from the Dursley to not own anything. That it was revealed a few years ago that he had a vault filled with gold didn't erase the feeling he'd always had before of not being able to afford anything. It was only on occasions like birthdays or Christmas that he remembered and splurged a bit, mostly on his friends. Harry honestly couldn't imagine sitting on a couch for the rest of his life and living off the wealth that had been gathered by his ancestors.

They only really talked again when a safer topic came up, Hermione joining them and McGonagall handing them their schedule. It didn't look very promising for Monday: History, double Potions, Divination and then double Defence. With most other teachers, ending the day with Defence would have been the single highlight. Harry very much doubted he'd enjoy being taught by this Umbridge. The only thing he was glad for was that now he and Ron could bemoan the schedule together and forget about before.

The year didn't start great, Harry decided when he was halfway through the first hour of Binn's monotone mumbling. The single reason why he didn't doze off was the Locket, which kept him inexplicably awake once again. He didn't really have proof for his suspicion of that it was Riddle, but nothing had ever kept him from sleeping through Binn's 'lessons'. The only positive point about that was that Hermione only nagged Ron about paying attention after class was over. Her statement about not handing out her notes anymore however, was meant for the both of them and Harry could just see all of his hopes on passing the History of Magic O.W.L. fly out of the window. Extra studying was fine, but not if it was about some dusty historical facts about wars long gone and trade relations. Perhaps if they would have had a different teacher from the start, he might have been able to get engaged in the subject. As it was, he doubted anything could ever mend his lack of interest for History.

''On another note,'' Harry said as they were on their way to the dungeons, stopping briefly at one of the courtyards until the next bell would ring. ''What happened with Fred and George?''

Hermione let out a huff. ''Those two menaces! I couldn't talk any sense in them. The advertisement is technically not illegal, but I will have a word with McGonagall still to see what can be done about that. They had the nerve to offer me some of their produce, hinting at that this year I'll need it to avoid a breakdown over exams.''

''To be fair, you did have a breakdown when Boggart-McGonagall told you that you'd failed a Transfiguration exam that you hadn't even taken yet,'' Ron pointed out, earning himself a venomous look. ''You know, I really wonder how they managed their fifth year, they were still relaxed and up to pranks during all of their fifth year.''

''Yes, but they did only get three O.W.L.s each,'' Harry reminded him again. ''Maybe they didn't spend any time studying at all.''

The bell rang, and they put up their collars as they crossed the courtyard, the fine drizzle of rain showering them. ''They hinted at having other plans,'' Hermione said as she took hurried steps to keep up with him. ''Said they didn't think they'd need their NEWTs and only stayed still to test the market and come up with sale strategies. They're really serious about opening a shop, I think, I just can't figure out where they would get the money from. Renting a place, getting personnel, ingredients, I worry that they haven't thought the financial aspects through.''

Harry felt himself getting red. He had given them his price money from the Tournament. The 2500 Galleons he'd given them after splitting the money with the other Champions would surely give them a great start. Perhaps they wouldn't be able to rent a prime spot in Diagon with it, but something at Hogsmeade was not unthinkable. They'd only need to worry about competing with Zonko's.

They settled down in their usual spots in the dungeons, Snape stalking through the rows of benches and cauldrons. Harry did not have many hopes for Potions either. Even if he would manage to get an Acceptable in his O.W.L. -which wasn't unfeasible as he at least got good marks in the theory-, he could forget about studying it at N.E.W.T. level as there was absolutely no way that he'd manage an O. He wondered if many other teachers would only accept students who received an O, and if so, how many courses he would even still be able to take in sixth and seventh year. What happened when a student passed their O.W.L.s, but at such a low level that no teacher would accept them for the N.E.W.T. level classes?

''Hellebore, Harry, pay attention.'' Harry woke from his musings and quickly corrected his mistake. Even with his new glasses, which certainly sharpened his sight, it was hard to read the instructions on the blackboard through all the steam in the dungeon. He'd almost skipped the last part of the third line.

''Thanks Ron,'' he muttered.

''What? Did you say something?'' Ron answered, and Harry realised two things in that moment. One, Ron was entirely frazzled and trying to save his potion. Two, it had definitely not been Ron's voice. Carefully, Harry glanced to his right and nearly got a heart attack as he saw Riddle, who was lounging against the wall to the side of the classroom, keeping a watchful eye on Harry's cauldron.

Unable to speak to Riddle without looking like a lunatic talking to air, Harry tried to convey his question with his eyes. The man didn't reply to any of the questions that whirled in his mind, only jutted his chin at the cauldron. ''I said, pay attention, the fire is too hot now for this stage. Turn it down till it is orange.'' He did as instructed, relying on the fact that Voldemort had passed all of his exams with flying colours. Even if the Horcrux was trying to sabotage him, it wasn't as if Harry could do a better job himself, and at the slightest mistake, Snape would usually chew him out or refuse to mark his potions. The way he'd explicitly looked at Harry when talking about saying goodbye to those who couldn't pass his O.W.L. standard, accompanied by that unpleasant sneer, had been telling.

When Snape finally came to his cauldron to inspect it, Harry could almost feel the displeasure wafting off the Professor when Snape couldn't find any points of critique on the potion itself. Instead, Snape turned his attention to Harry's chopping board. ''An absolute mess, Potter!'' he barked. ''Look everyone. This is how your station shouldn't look if you do not want to damage yourself, your partner, or your potion.'' He took a leftover part of the valerian root and held it up for the class to see. ''Utterly mangled. Ten points from Gryffindor, I can't imagine you had enough of the precious root left to give your potion its maximum effect!''

Harry tried not to take the bait, balling his fists and glaring down at his desk to control his temper. Blowing up at Snape would be bad, very bad. After Snape hadn't docked any points for his late-night trip yesterday, he'd held a slight hope that the man wouldn't make him a prime target anymore. That bubble had burst now. He heard a low hiss from the side and glanced at Riddle, who was glaring at Snape, his eyes a definite red sheen to it.

Wordlessly, Harry filled up a vial with his potion and placed it on Snape's desk with the rest. Malfoy came after and merely raised his eyebrows at Harry, looking slightly surprised and disturbed. Maybe Malfoy had thought too that Snape wouldn't be so harsh now that they were basically on the same side. At least that was something he could be glad for. Snape would always be a bastard, but if the other Slytherins wouldn't try to purposefully sabotage his potions anymore, he might even get through the year with okayish grades. He was also happy to note that Malfoy didn't act weird, it seemed that he hadn't taken Harry's outburst last night as anything other than a joke.

''I have to do something still,'' he vaguely stated after class, when Ron and Hermione started bickering about Snape. ''I'll see you at Divination, Ron.'' Without waiting for a reply and rather annoyed by that they already started arguing again on their very first school day, he went up to the Northern Tower on his own and slumped down on the stone floor beneath the hatch that would lead up to the Divination classroom. He slightly regretted his spur-of-the-moment decision when concluding that he hadn't packed anything for lunch. Shaking off his displeasure, he took the locket in his hand.

''I know you can come out. We need to talk.''

''About?'' Harry jumped at the answer, which was a lot more sudden than expected. There had been no smoke coming out of the locket now, Riddle was just… there.

''Why did you help me with potions? I thought this was kind of a forced-deal thing? What do you gain from this?''

The Horcrux sighed and gave him a withering glare. ''If you think that I, Lord Voldemort, will take kindly to sharing my time with a mediocre wizard, you have another thing coming. You certainly didn't impress me these past couple of hours. You have been a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament, I heard. You have been granted a piece of my own soul, I admit that I find your performance rather… lacking when compared to my expectations.''

Harry mentally groaned. Great, it looked like Voldemort's high standards had started early in his life. ''History of Magic is taught by a ghost who forgets he is teaching half of the time and who has done nothing to motivate me to pay attention, and Potions is… I don't know. Maybe I would have been good at it if I hadn't constantly been harassed by Snape and the other Slytherins for the past four years. I… I'm not saying that to shove blame off myself or something, I know that it is also my own fault for not trying extra hard, but it is much harder to study a subject properly when everything surrounding it is so filled with negativity.''

Riddle didn't say anything, so Harry kept on rambling. If anything, having the other here was good for venting. ''I'd looked forward to learning potions at first. I figured, if I can cook, then brewing potions shouldn't be so different. Then, Snape tried to make me look dumb in every single class by asking questions to me that I didn't know, couldn't know without having read at least three books ahead like Hermione did. And every single class I was in, I had to watch my back, because either other students tried to sabotage me, or the slightest mistake was punished harshly with Snape talking me down like he did today. He always finds a point to criticise me on and if he doesn't, he'll create one. Once, I had actually managed a potion perfectly, and I was so proud of it. Snape 'accidentally' dropped it and as I had already cleaned the rest away, I received zero marks as I had no potion to grade anymore. It made me hate potions so damn much that I hardly care anymore. I don't even want to get an O in this subject, because that would mean two more years with Snape. The worst part is, everyone knows, and he still gets away with it because Dumbledore protects him.''

''Why?'' Riddle asked, interest clearly piques at the mention of Dumbledore.

''Snape once overheard something important,'' Harry said, trying to avoid telling the full story. ''Dumbledore used it against him to rope him into an Unbreakable Vow. I don't know too many details of how. Anyways, Snape is at Hogwarts because Dumbledore wants to keep an eye on him and so Snape can fulfil his Vow somehow. The other teachers all trust Dumbledore enough to not do anything about Snape's teaching methods.''

''So, I can expect more from you during the next class?'' the man asked in a rather demanding tone.

''Errr…'' With slight desperation, Harry looked up to the still-closed hatch. How could he explain his disastrous performance in Divination now without it looking like he was just searching excuses? Now he thought about it, a lot of classes he did bad at really just had incompetent teachers, but that was somehow never an acceptable excuse to most adults. ''Professor Trelawney said during the first lessons that one either has the Inner Eye or not, and I… don't seem to have it.''

''The Inner Eye?'' Riddle scoffed. ''Only Oracles use that, it has nothing to do with any other aspects of Divination than visions and prophecies. All other branches can be performed perfectly without it. Does your professor at least possess the Inner Eye herself?''

''She claims she does,'' Harry shrugged. ''I only know of two instances where she's made real prophecies and she didn't even remember either of them herself. The rest that she predicts is mostly rubbish: things so vague that they can be interpreted as correct in many situations, or just plainly wrong. She once stated that my birthday definitely had to be in midwinter. It's in July.''

''Hogwarts has gone to the dogs,'' Riddle breathed in astonishment. ''Any other subjects that are taught by fools?''

''Well, it doesn't look like Defence is going to be fun this year with that ominous speech delivered during the Feast yesterday. Other than that, most teachers are pretty competent. Well, Care of magical Creatures could be a bit better,'' Harry reluctantly admitted. ''But Hagrid is doing his best.''

Riddle stared at him. ''Hagrid. You mentioned that before on the train… Surely, you weren't talking about Rubeus Hagrid?''

''Oh yes, forgot you know each other. You got him expelled,'' he spat. ''That was incredibly awful.''

''I did him a favour, Half-Giants can't-''

''Yes, yes, I know, Voldemort told me about that. The other Voldemort, the real… whatever. I'm still not sure how true your theory is. Beauxbatons' Headmistress is a Half-Giant and apparently very magically competent. She is apt at high-level, nonverbal magic too.''

''A Half-Giant as Headmistress?'' Riddle scoffed, raising an eyebrow. ''Even when putting aside the difficulties they have with magical aspects, that sounds highly unlikely considering the social standing of Giants and the stigma that surrounds them. Are you sure?''

''I overheard a pretty telling conversation. Plus, she is as tall as Hagrid is. She claimed to have big bones, but no human could have bones that big.''

The other shook his head. ''No, that would be unlikely. Still… there has been quite some research done on Half-Giants during the last Giant wars, to see how much of a danger that kind of offspring poses. It was a miracle that Hagrid was admitted to Hogwarts, and that was only because Dumbledore put in a word for him. I can't imagine Beauxbatons loosening their rules. With what, admittedly limited, knowledge I have right now based upon your description, I would imagine that she might have some Giant-blood in her, but is not a direct descendant. Perhaps a grandparent or great-grandparent was a Giant and she was lucky enough to inherit only some physical traits. Or do you have definite proof otherwise?''

Harry shook his head. He hadn't even thought about that possibility. ''No, I guess that could make sense.''

''So, Hagrid now teaches Care… how did it come to that?''

''Simple, the old teacher retired and since Hagrid has been Groundkeeper for decades and taken care of many creatures in the forest, Dumbledore found him to be fitting to fill the position. His lessons really can be great, he has loads of knowledge on magical animals. The highlight was riding a Hippogriff in my third year. The only problem is that he often… prefers more dangerous ones than are on our curriculum. He's bred some monstrosities himself and feeding them was a nightmare. It doesn't look like you will see him in action anytime soon though, we have a stand-in for reasons that Dumbledore didn't care to explain.''

''Good riddance too,'' Riddle sneered. Harry sprung to his feet in a second and drew his wand, not caring at all that Riddle was a mere apparition.

''Hagrid is one of the best and bravest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing!'' he hissed. ''I don't care about how many agreements we make, breathe another bad word about him and I'll find a way to shut you up in that locket for the rest of eternity!''

The man… flickered and disappeared again before his eyes. Before Harry had a chance to do anything, an arm wound against his waist and a heavy body pressed against his back. ''You should really do well to remember that empty threats don't hold,'' the young Dark Lord whispered in his ear. ''Thank you for revealing another weakness to me. Hagrid… who would have thought. And now… I did say that you would have to do whatever and whenever I wanted. Threatening me is not a good way to please me, Harry. Perhaps I need to show you what exactly you promised me just now.''

Everything went black. Confused and disoriented, Harry tried to yell and grope around him, but there was absolutely nothing. No sound came from his mouth, and no sound reached his ears either. He tried to walk further into the darkness, panicking as he found that he couldn't move his legs and he couldn't even tell what was up and down. There was nowhere to go, nothing to see, nothing to hear… He'd been cold before. Even that was gone now.

He spread his eyes open wide in a futile attempt to catch some sort of light, anything… Dread settled in him as he realised what exactly Riddle had done. All of his senses had been taken. He bit on his tongue, yet no pain came, nor did he taste blood. It was as if… he didn't exist anymore. Harry tried to stay calm, counting seconds, hoping that it would end soon. When he'd counted past five thousand, he gave up, trying to cast magic. He didn't even know if he was still holding a wand, his hands seemed empty, but it could all be part of the trick.

Lumos… he thought Lumos! Was he thinking it? Or was he shouting? He couldn't even tell.

''Do you want it to end?'' a voice suddenly cut through the darkness, an incredibly smug voice. ''Say that you'll be good and I'll bring you back.''

Harry clenched his jaw. He wouldn't give Riddle the satisfaction, absolutely not!

But then no answer came again, and Harry's situation didn't improve. He started counting again, far past the previous five thousand now. Shouldn't class be starting soon? Surely, Riddle would have to bring him back if other people would find him, right?

The darkness became more and more suffocating as time passed. Staying calm hadn't improved his situation, neither had attempting magic or trashing about. Seconds ticked away, becoming minutes and, by Harry's own calculation, hours even. The worse thing about the whole experience was the boredom. Sure, he'd been locked up before in a dark cupboard with nowhere to go, but he'd always had something to do, be it plucking feathers from a pillow he'd nabbed or ticking on the walls. Here, he couldn't even do that. Soon, he thought Soon, it should end. Ron would come and ask what was wrong with him. Yes, that would happen.

He would have jumped if he could as Riddle's words filled the silence suddenly again, and Harry nearly cried out of relief over experiencing anything again. ''Humans have more than just the basic five senses, did you know that?'' the young Dark Lord spoke with a sickly sweet undertone. ''A sense of space, a sense of balance, and then there is the most interesting one. It's very unreliable and few realise ever having it, but it is there, even for Muggles. It is a sense of time.''

No further explanation was given, nor was one necessary as Harry let the words sink in. His senses had been taken away. That meant… no, no. he was still here, wasn't he? Any movement he attempted would take a certain amount of time. Every second he counted had to really be a second. Riddle was bluffing, he had to be.

As, -he thought- two more hours passed in the nothingness, Harry wasn't so sure of that conviction anymore. What could he try to free himself? What could he possibly do without giving in to the demands of his captor? There had to be a way, Harry had been in so many prickly situations before, surely this piece of magic wouldn't make him beg for mercy.

Think

And think he did. For what Riddle might have thought was a curse, came in handy now. If Harry's sense of time had been removed, that also meant that he had all the time in the world now. No matter how long it would take to find a solution, he would, for he had nothing else to do. He recounted all snippets of information that Voldemort had revealed about the workings of the Horcruxes, and his own encounters with them. Each of them was a bit different, but Harry had figured out the general feel of them. In a world of unfeeling blackness, that was hard to imagine, but not impossible as long as he concentrated on his own mind instead of the surroundings. He had fully connected not only to Voldemort before, but Nagini as well. As the Locket was a mere object, he doubted it would work the same, but anything was worth a try.

He had no incantation, no sticks of rowan and blackthorn, so he had to put all of his focus into his own mind. Discipline, control, connection… he envisioned the Locket, its smoke, the form Riddle took… Travel over he told himself. You know you can.

The first thing he noticed again was light, and he drank in the sight. There, the walls of Hogwarts, a familiar pillar, a painting… The image was off, askew, and Harry realised that it must be because the locket was hanging from his own chest still. His hearing returned too, a vague buzzing sound coming from far away. And then there was screaming, a desperate scream that brought back memories of when he'd stabbed Riddle's diary. That was unexpected, Nagini had not sensed any discomfort when he'd taken over her body.

It only lasted a couple of seconds at most, real seconds, before Harry opened his own eyes again and all of his typical senses came rushing back. He took a few moments to collect himself before he looked at Riddle, who was hunched down in the middle of the corridor, partially solid, partially smoke, still screaming as if in tremendous pain.

''I told you before,'' Harry spoke harshly. ''You don't control my mind. It looks like I can control yours though. Thank you for revealing your weakness to me,'' he echoed. The other didn't answer instantly, cries turning into pained groans as Riddle collapsed on the floor. A tinge of worry filled Harry, and he took a couple of tentative steps towards the form, crouching down. ''I didn't damage you too much, did I?'' he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound wavering. ''Hey, you're still okay, aren't you?''

Riddle started laughing, a coughing laugh that sounded slightly insane. He turned his head to the side, the previously styled hair all tousled now, and cracks ran over his face like old parchment, a web of scars. ''Aren't you feisty,'' he muttered, pushing himself up again. ''Who would have thought…'' Riddle mustered Harry for a moment, a hint of what appeared to be respect in his eyes. ''I can see now that…'' he broke off his sentence again, wetting his bottom lip as he stared intensely at Harry. ''My older self is lucky to have you as a Vessel. You'll certainly protect us well.'' He grabbed Harry's shoulder and brought their faces so close that Harry wanted to take a step back. ''The deal is off,'' Riddle whispered.

''W…What?'' the teen stuttered. ''What do you mean?''

''Our agreement. I free you from it. There is no need for me to wreak havoc in Hogwarts now. In fact, that would be rather… counterproductive.''

''So… so you're not going to use me to 'have fun'?'' Harry asked hopefully. ''You'll leave my friends alone?''

''Oh, I will have my fun, just in... a different way than expected. What are a few dead Mudbloods when I could take part in the creation of something much grander? I have found a better purpose… Your friends are safe, under one small condition.''

Harry had somehow expected that and waited to see what Riddle's offer was.

''You are still not allowed to contact my older self. He'll take me away and send me back into my locket. You know now how it can be…'' the grip became stronger, painfully so as Riddle clung to him, looking far less collected than he had up until this point, even less than when Harry had called him by his surname and Riddle had flipped out. Maybe Harry had misjudged him. He'd thought that the Horcrux would have been less dangerous than Voldemort was now due to a lack of experience. But if, in those years that the locket had lain in a closed, dark drawer, Riddle had experienced what Harry just had, he could imagine that this wasn't true at all. The young Dark Lord had finally been granted life again after being deprived of basic senses for decades. He'd do anything to hold onto that, if his crazed expression was anything to go by. Taking pity, Harry didn't see a reason to indulge in that for a while.

''So what is this new, better purpose?'' he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, ignoring the way that Riddle's cracked, smoky hands were digging into his skin.

''This incompetence all around,'' Riddle muttered. ''You could become great, much greater than you can now, if only you'd have a proper teacher to make up for the poor education here. My older self taught you during summer, didn't he?''

''Partially,'' Harry spoke, hesitating slightly. ''He didn't have too much time, one of his followers taught me most. Some duelling spells, apparition, useful charms and shields… Voldemort taught me healing, a bit of magical theory, and gave me a basic understanding of necromancy.'' He instantly regretted mentioning the latter when Riddle's eyes lit up.

''Necromancy? Fascinating… He must have learned that later, I unfortunately do not yet have that knowledge. Necromancy. You have to tell me about it, Harry. I wish to know everything.''

The chatter that had merely been faraway murmurs before became louder, and Riddle stepped away, releasing his face. The man ran a hand through his hair and composed his posture, the cracks and scars healing. For a moment, they merely stared at each other, and Harry got a strange feeling in his stomach. He was playing a dangerous game, he knew. Riddle was far less collected than he looked like, and while he might be a part of Voldemort, whom Harry had come to… trust, in a way, he wasn't the same person. Not anymore. He'd once had the potential to become the same, but not after the vastly different experiences both had had. Riddle hadn't split his soul as often yet and had delved less in the Dark Arts, but on the other hand he was more impatient and clung onto fanatic ideas that Voldemort had rejected by now.

Harry didn't know what was harder, separating them in his mind or trying to see them as the same person. A mix would have been great, he thought to himself. Riddle's appearance and Voldemort's demeanour and magic would make for one hell of a man. He suddenly grew warm at the thought and had to break eye contact with Riddle, an onslaught of confusing feelings hitting him. Why had the thought that?

When he looked back, Riddle had disappeared again. Harry shut the locket with a snap and climbed up the silver ladder when it came down. He searched a spot in one of the back rows and tried not to attract Trelawney's attention. While waiting for the rest of the students to arrive, Harry thought about Riddle's words. The Horcrux wanted to teach him? Honestly, that was not very unwelcome, especially in this year. Voldemort had a wealth of knowledge that Harry usually loved to soak up. The only drawback was still not being allowed to contact the actual Dark Lord for now, but even if Harry would reach Voldemort during the school year, it wasn't as if he had much to tell the man now apart from that he'd found the Locket, or a way to physically go to him. Riddle however, was here, and could be quite useful. Suddenly, Harry didn't dread the upcoming school year so much anymore. He'd only need to find a way to keep this 'teaching' a secret from his friends.

''Hey,'' Ron said when he reached Harry's table and sat down on one of the many coloured poufs. ''We've stopped our arguing, Hermione and I. Sorry, I didn't think it was that bad.''

Harry shook his head. ''I just needed some peace and quiet, is all,'' he sighed. ''So, let's see what she's got in store for us this year.''

It turned out to be Dream Interpretation, which Harry was instantly stumped on. With all of the Locket's interference, he literally hadn't been able to sleep enough to dream anything over the past weeks, and he wouldn't be able to in the future. Riddle's 'solution' to his lack of energy had been a Sleeping Draught, which induced a dreamless sleep. That meant that the dream diary they'd have to keep would be filled with absolute nonsense dreams. Great start.

He and Ron tried to 'interpret' pieces of dreams back and forth that either of them could remember having at some point or another, more to fill the time than to actually seriously tackle the task at hand. Riddle didn't bother showing up during class, maybe even he thought this lesson too pointless to deem worthy of his presence.

''This is garbage,'' Ron muttered when Trelawney was at the other side of the room. ''Do you actually think that dreams matter?''

Harry shrugged. ''Muggles have a theory that dreams are a way to process things that keep us busy during the day. That's why we have nightmares about exams or dream about getting together with a crush, or sorting out family problems, that kind of thing. I really doubt that dreams have such magical significance as this author claims. It is true that dreams can be used for magical purposes though.''

''In what way?'' his friend asked.

''Oh, erhm. I mean, to connect to other people,'' he said, thinking of his own dreams with Voldemort, ''Or to make other people dream of certain things, Snape once discussed a potion that could induce nightmares, right?''

''Yeah, but that doesn't makethe content of the dream have any special meaning, other than that someone wants to be nasty to you.''

''Also true. The only other thing I can think of is vision-like dreams of Oracles, but that too is nothing like described here.''

Ron hummed and started unravelling a thread in the crocheted tablecloth. It probably had been white once, but was now an odd light pink, likely stained by the many fumes of Professor Trelawney's favourite fuchsia incense. Harry felt as bored as Ron looked, so he tried to find a different subject. ''What do you think Defence is going to be like?'' he asked. ''I'm pretty wary after that speech from yesterday. What could the Ministry have planned, that they sent a teacher here?''

''I don't think they really have much of a plan. If you'd ask me, the Ministry is getting nervous about Dumbledore spreading ideas they don't like while having quite some power and influence. Umbridge is here to keep an eye on him. Well, that's what Hermione said and I believe her. No idea what she will teach, she didn't sound very sympathetic, not now and not the first time she was at Hogwarts.''

''I heard that she is very anti-creature, half-bloods and werewolves especially,'' Harry mused. ''Maybe she'll focus on trying to make us 'defend' ourselves against those.''

''I wish her good luck, most students absolutely loved Professor Lupin's lessons.''

About thirty minutes later, when sitting in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, looking dumbfounded at the Course Aims she had written on the blackboard, Harry wished that Umbridge would have focused on teaching them to defend themselves against werewolf attacks.

Understanding the theory behind defensive magic? Fine, it was true that they'd lacked a solid theoretical foundation for most of the spells they were taught in this course. Recognising situations to legally use it… already a bit more useless, for they weren't allowed to use magic out of school in the first place, and by the time they'd graduated and were all eighteen or older, they should really be able to judge that for themselves. The third point of 'placing the use of defensive magic in context for practical use' didn't make sense at all. And in his opinion, several course aims were missing. What was about actually defending themselves? Practising? Demonstrations?

Hermione beat him to it when for once, she refused to read a textbook as instructed. Harry couldn't blame her, the book seemed to be aimed at young children who'd never heard of what defending oneself is. She had her hand raised while the rest of class read the incredibly dull chapter and was completely ignored by Professor Umbridge. As Hermione's eyes were fixated on the blackboard, he could guess her question. He wondered for a moment if he should just passively wait and see when Umbridge would finally recognise his friend. Then, he decided that she was just being obnoxiously rude and it might take ages.

''It looks like Hermione has a question, Professor,'' he loudly spoke, receiving a grateful look from the girl and a glare from Umbridge.

''Students in my class will raise their hand when they have something to say, Mr. Potter!''

''Oh, I'm so sorry. You see, Hermione had her hand raised for a solid five minutes now and wasn't recognised so I wasn't sure what kind of rules applied for questions,'' he managed to say with an air of faked surprise. ''Are there any further requirements to be granted an audience?''

''You still haven't raised your hand, Mr. Potter, so I will not answer that particular question,'' she sweetly spoke, turning to Hermione. ''Yes, dear? I figured that, since you didn't even open your book, you could not possibly have any question related to the course material.''

''I don't, I wish to ask about the course aims.''

Umbridge blinked in an overly-surprised way that would not have won her any acting awards. ''Surely, they are very clear. Why, even my first-year class from this morning perfectly understood.''

''What, the first-years have the same course aims as we do?'' Ron asked indignantly.

''Hand Mr…''

''Weasley.'' Ron answered, quickly raising his hand. ''I'm just saying, don't all years have different goals?''

''These are the underlying goals for your entire stay at Hogwarts. Ministry-approved, safe goals that will guide you through the years. What is it, Ms…''

''Granger. As I wanted to ask before, none of these aims say anything about using Defensive magic.''

Harry leaned back in his chair and watched the unfolding discussion with astonishment, arguments flying back and forth as Umbridge lost control of their class more and more. Hermione's question had opened the door for all of them to unload their disbelief and critique. This woman was a special kind of insane if she thought that they could perform magic that had never been practised before.

Sure, Voldemort had applied the same standard to him, but only when teaching one-on-one, and after conveying a thorough, deep understanding of a single spell with a demonstration beforehand. It didn't look like Umbridge planned on doing any of that. Even he hadn't taught Harry a slew of spells by book theory alone and expected him to perform them at the end of a year during an exam. That was beyond ridiculous.

Slowly, he raised his hand. Surprisingly, Umbridge actually gave him a turn to speak, possibly because many others were just shouting. ''Mr Potter! What is it now?''

''Professor,'' he said in the most reasonable voice he could muster. If she wanted to treat them like children, then he'd just need to do the same to her. ''Your logic is that we do not need to perform spells in this classroom, because nothing will attack us in this classroom. Which is still slightly doubtful, considering we unfortunately have a history of dangerous professors and a literal Basilisk that was let loose in this school, but fair, fair,'' he spoke, a bit louder as she opened her mouth, possibly to reprimand him. ''However, the entire point of education is to prepare us for later. For the real world.''

''There is nothing out there in the real world that you cannot handle,'' Umbridge spoke. ''Not when you study hard enough, focus on the theory behind defensive magic. There aren't… dark wizards lurking around the corner, waiting for you children to graduate so they can come after you! I know that you have been fed some scary fantasies, even by certain members of the staff, but the real world is not a chaotic mess! You will be protected by the Ministry, by qualified Aurors…''

''Some of us might want to become those Aurors,'' Harry said again, never having lowered his hand, feeling his calm slipping. ''And from what I have heard about he training program, there are entry tests where one will already need to demonstrate their skill. That cannot be done with theory alone! If we cannot practise in these coming three years, it is delusional to think that we can miraculously perform the practical part well during our exams!''

Umbridge froze, eyes widening as she stared at him. ''Did I hear correctly… Mr Potter, that you are calling me, me, your teacher, DELUSIONAL?''

''Yes,'' he simply stated, standing up and glaring at her as she spluttered and deducted ten points from Gryffindor. He didn't care, this was more important that a House Cup competition. ''You know what, forget about what I said about fair points before. You think this school is safe? That nothing will attack us? You were there during the Award ceremony of the damned Triwizard Tournament, for Merlin's sake! You've seen what the other Champions and I needed to do, and that could have been any student up there! You think that I could have breathed underwater for an hour without practicing the spell first? That I somehow knew how to protect my clothes from catching fire by reading about it once? If you never performed a spell before, you cannot rely on it to work in a dangerous situation!''

''That Tournament was a highly-regulated exception!'' she screamed at him, complete ignoring his points. He gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists as he felt his heart starting to pound louder and faster. This was simply absurd. This whole conversation was absolutely ludicrous.

''Oh yes, so highly-regulated that Fleur's sister nearly drowned!'' he snapped back. ''So regulated that I was chosen as a Champion for a fourth school that didn't exist because a Death Eater confounded the Goblet of Fire! Your Ministry protection is worth nothing to me!''

The class held their breath as one, all eyes were on Harry now.

''There are… no… Death Eaters,'' she breathed, trembling all over, pointing a stumpy finger at him that gleamed with the many rings she adorned it with. ''You are an attention-seeking liar, Mr Potter. You know that you put your own name in that cup. Oh, isn't it convenient for you that Dumbledore came up with a story for you to use to cover that up? Isn't it fun to scare the public with campfire horror stories?'' Resolutely, she drew open one of her desk drawers, took a quill and a slip of the most hideous pink parchment he'd ever seen and started writing on it.

''Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,'' she spoke, her smile plastered all over her broad mouth again, holding out the rolled-up slip. ''Actions have consequences, Mr Potter, always. And the truth will come out.''

He took it, but not before leaning forward threateningly and saying: ''I sure hope it does.''

Fuming, he stormed towards Professor McGonagall's office, trying his hardest to ignore Peeves on the way, not wanting to bait the Poltergeist even more. He didn't care if people thought him crazy, but he would not stand for a whole year of taking crap from a woman who probably didn't even know what a wand was supposed to be for. She'd probably be using it as the stick up her ass for years.

Harry faltered slightly when standing in front of professor McGonagall's office. Was she even here? Maybe he should have checked the Transfiguration classroom first… He knocked softly and was already in the process of walking away to go to the Transfiguration classroom, when the door opened.

''Potter? What are you doing here? If my memory serves me right, you should be in class.''

''I was sent here,'' he reluctantly replied, not meeting her eyes. ''By Umbridge.'' He held out the rolled-up paper slip, which she quickly accepted and started reading, nostrils flaring when she was through.

''Come in Potter, have a seat.'' He shuffled inside and sat down, carefully looking up now to gauge her reaction. He'd seen her far angrier, that was hopefully a positive sign. ''It says here that you… questioned the authority of the Ministry, called Professor Umbridge delusional and announced that Death Eaters are after you. Is this correct?''

''I didn't question the authority of the Ministry,'' he protested. ''I said I wouldn't trust them to protect me! Professor, she expects us to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts without ever practising a spell during class! Her curriculum is theory only because 'nothing dangerous is out to get us' and she wouldn't even listen to Parvati's argument about having to pass the practical part of our Defence O.W.L.-'' Professor McGonagall raised a hand to stop his angry rant, then handed him a tin with biscuits, which he stared at with shock. Never in his life had he expected to be given sweets by his strict Head of House. Were they laced with anything? Truth serum, perhaps?

She rattled the tin. ''Come, Potter, take one, we haven't got all day,'' she snapped. Wary still, he took one and only dared to eat it once she'd grabbed one herself and bit into it as well. ''You must be careful,'' she quietly spoke, staring intensively at him.

''I know that,'' Harry said, feeling frustrated. ''I know where she comes from and that the Ministry is trying to change things at Hogwarts. But we don't have to just sit there and take it, do we? Our future depends on the education we receive, Hermione's been nagging me about that for years and I figure that she's right like always.''

''The Ministry isn't merely trying to change things as you put it,'' McGonagall sighed. ''It is far more complex.''

Harry raised an eyebrow. ''I'm listening,'' he said. McGonagall blinked and gave him an astonished look.

''Potter, you cannot believe that I will suddenly reveal all of my thoughts about Dolores Umbridge to a student.''

''She's after Dumbledore's position to limit the influence he has, she is trying to curb the ideas that he spreads. Possibly, she will check the staff and fill positions differently as she sees fit to take as much power away from the Order of the Phoenix as possible.'' McGonagall took a sip from her cup, composing herself quickly. She watched him with hawk-eyes, and he could see the cogs in her brain turning.

''Essentially, though that is not all. I fear that she will try to shape the student body too. In the staff room, she has spoken about small details she wishes to change: requiring student meetings to be more strictly regulated, influencing the power of certain Prefects and Headboys- and girls, controlling which part of the castle can be used at what times, etcetera. In short, control whom you can speak to, when, how and where. If I have judged her character correctly, she will keep increasing these regulations wherever it fits her, until suddenly even demands that right now would sound outlandish, can be implemented later on without much thought.''

''So what can we do to stop it?'' he asked.

McGonagall gave him a small, disbelieving laugh. ''Stop it? Potter, we have no power in this. As much as I dislike it, the Ministry has every right to take control of Hogwarts. We are bound to the laws and as Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge embodies those. What I expect you, and every student to do, is to minimise the damage she can do. Agree to her ridiculous demands as long as they don't harm anyone, play along when she can see it, and let us handle the rest. Resistance gives her the justification to push through more changes and no-one wants that. As long as she isn't provoked, there isn't much she can do right now. Show her that Hogwarts runs perfectly fine as it is and for Merlin's sake, don't let her get the idea even more that you or anyone else believe that Death Eaters are roaming about or that You-Know-Who has returned.''

''But Dumbledore…''

''Professor Dumbledore tried to convince the Ministry and did not succeed. I have advised him to not try further either as long as Professor Umbridge resides within these castle walls.''

''Well, at least she's playing on borrowed time,'' Harry muttered.

She narrowed her eyes and him and steepled her fingers. ''What do you mean?''

Harry shrugged. ''She got the position of Defence teacher, the job is cursed, so she won't be here for longer than a year.''

''Potter!'' his teacher said, placing a hand on her heart. She couldn't conceal the small twitch of her lips fast enough however. ''Be careful with your words, and whom you say them to. You have detention with Professor Umbridge every single evening this week and no, I cannot change that. Trying to take the detention over would only rouse suspicion.''

''But Professor, the Quidditch try-outs!''

She shook her head and pinned him with a stern look. ''You can be glad that she can't ban you from the team. Yet. Mind my words, Potter, and don't cause trouble around Dolores Umbridge. It is bad enough that you punched her last year. She'll be out for your blood.''

The Transfiguration professor didn't know then how true those words would turn out to be. Harry didn't either yet, spending that evening -it turned out that his detentions only started tomorrow- doing homework with Ron and Hermione and fuming over Umbridge. Hermione didn't have any Prefect duties that evening, so he and Ron couldn't sneak out to start practising becoming Animagi. After the less-than-amusing day and a ton of homework, Harry was actually rather glad for it. He went up to the dorms earlier, studying some runes while lying in bed. He'd wanted to still discuss the Prophet's articles about what was going on abroad with Hermione, but hadn't found the time. He purposefully left the bed-hangings open so Neville and Dean, who were both there already, could see him and Riddle wouldn't get it in his head to appear again.

Already resigned to another sleepless night -he would have to find a way soon to get his hands on some potions or find a brewing possibility, perhaps also in the Room of Requirement- Harry took one of Regulus' diaries out of his trunk after reading two chapters in his rune book. In Riddle's current state, the man could only hear him, not see what he was reading, and the covers of the books were blank so his dormmates shouldn't question it either. Now where had he left off…

October 29th, 1976
The Dark Lord led another attack yesterday. These days leading up to Samhain are the best time to gather sacrifices for our celebration, so it should have been expected. The Ministry is trying to cover up the trail of deaths rather unsuccessfully. On this day, it has been six years since the Dark Lord declared an open rebellion against the Ministry and started purifying this country. Defence is crumbling fast and soon, power will be in his hands.

Harry got a knot in his stomach when reading the words. It was strange to hear about crimes that Voldemort had committed so many years ago, especially from the viewpoint of someone who agreed to it all. Even Voldemort himself had admitted that much had gone wrong back then, had been driven too far. Yet, many had still supported it, like Regulus had. After Voldemort had 'saved' Regulus from his family's expectations, the boy had become much more fanatic, excusing everything in the name of Magic like so many other supporters of Voldemort back then. Supporters who had participated in and -if he could believe some of the snippets that Regulus noted down about newspaper articles from that time- revelled in the violence.

No wonder that Sirius hadn't believed a word that Harry said about changed ways. Regulus was very meticulous about noting down every small detail about Voldemort's rise to power and the Ministry's reaction to each raid, each known death, each political assassination. The number of notes on murders were overwhelming, and Harry recognised quite a few surnames, showing that it was hardly only Muggles that had been killed off. To think that this would go on still for five entire years until Voldemort would die his first death was… horrifying to think about.

What would have happened, had Harry not gone to the Dark Lord when he had? Would Voldemort have become so desperate to gain another body that he would have revealed himself? Would the same madness have ensued? James' and Lily's words about Harry's emotions influencing the Dark Lord positively were on his mind.

November 1st, 1976
It has been a while since I wrote anything personal… Samhain was much better this year than it has previously been. As the new Heir of the Black family, I was invited by one of the Prefects to join a secret celebration in the Forbidden Forest, which I naturally accepted instantly. Siri didn't know what he was missing out on when shunning all of the privileges he could have had, including meetings like these. I spoke with various members of the elite society, and although I already knew all of them, I've only ever spoken to the likes of Mulciber and Rosier in formal settings with our parents present. Hardly a place to discuss the future plans of our generation specifically. It's not something to be discussed in the classroom or the Great Hall either. I am glad to find so much agreement for the Dark Lord's plans, even outside of Slytherin. One Bartemius Crouch, who is a year below me, sounds very promising despite his father being notoriously anti-dark. It was the first time that he was invited as well and we talked for a while. The feast itself was interesting to say the least. Naturally, we couldn't exactly bring Muggle sacrifices onto the grounds, instead using animals. Perhaps just as well, mother has forced me before to consume Muggle meat and it tastes awful.

''What the actual fuck?'' Harry exclaimed loudly in disgust. He then ducked to avoid a ball of socks that Dean threw at him.

''People are trying to sleep here!'' the boy groggily said. ''I have Prefect duties tomorrow at an ungodly hour so please shut up!''

Harry quietly apologised and read the last sentence again. Voldemort had said before that it was a shame that Harry hadn't been able to celebrate Samhain properly… if that meant that he would have to partake in cannibalism, he was incredibly glad for it. Was this something people of dark families did in general? Or one of those insane practises of Walburga Black, like making her children perform curses on Squibs as an extra-curricular activity? Considering that even the Dark Lord himself thought her teachings were extreme, Harry sincerely hoped that Voldemort wasn't going around eating humans. Then again, Harry couldn't completely rule it out either… He'd killed some as sacrifices to Magic before. Weirded out, but also still quite intrigued, he kept reading.

The evening certainly elevated my status. Even the seventh-years listened to me when I revealed that I've spoken personally to the Dark Lord. Being recognised feels good. Perhaps during the holidays, I can try to also make connections to the people who have already graduated like Malfoy. Perhaps I will ask Professor Slughorn about that. I never made it into the Slug Club, but I'm sure he wouldn't deny a student's wish to make connections.

Harry sighed and wondered how much he still wanted to read. Regulus had gone from a relatable boy who was excited about Hogwarts and worried about his brother, to someone who strove forwards without regard for others. Regulus didn't seem to care for the suffering around him anymore, even when it came to his own brother. Each year, he had fallen just a little deeper into the web of hate, until he too was advocating for ridding the world of Muggles and all those who opposed the one and only rightful ruler of the world. Harry didn't want to be like that. He couldn't imagine suddenly stopping to care for others, turning his back on his friends and giving his complete and unquestioning devotion to Voldemort.

Yes, he admired the man. Yes, he was incredibly glad to have learned and experienced so much. But he would never become a mindless puppet that repeated everything the Dark Lord did and said. Looking up to a single person while never questioning that person's flaws was stupid. At this point, Harry was sure that Voldemort could have decided to kill off Regulus' parents and the boy would still have found a way to justify it and keep following Voldemort around like a puppy.

Although… Harry glanced to his nightstand, where the remaining books lay. Something had happened to change that, he knew that the same Regulus had stolen the locket, had been killed for betrayal…

Unable to resist the temptation, he impatiently skipped a bit through the records of the last two months of the diary. It was more of the same again, information about Voldemort's activities and the occasional personal entry. Deciding that he could live without knowing the exact details about that -especially as it was all from Regulus' biased view and the way the boy listed the names of those who had had to die to 'pave the way for magic' made Harry terribly depressed – he grabbed the next one from the pile. It wasn't until July 1977 that anything changed, when Regulus went home again, and Harry held the tip of his wand closer to illuminate the pages better.

July 2nd, 1977
Today was our first unofficial meeting: the next generation of Death Eaters. None of us are marked yet, but all aspire to be. We heard that the Dark Lord tends to gravitate more to his younger followers at the moment, granting them power. Lucius Malfoy was marked shortly after graduating a couple of years ago and instantly became one of the Dark Lord's most trusted. Rumours have it that Bellatrix Lestrange even received personal training in duelling from our Lord and she is barely ten years older than me. There is a shift in power happening among the ranks, one that we all agree we should profit from. Even Snape is in now, he finally figured that that Mudblood – Harry gripped the diary a bit too tightly when reading that sentence and the page crumpled beneath his fingers - shouldn't hold him back anymore. They have made me their spokesperson, as the Heir of the most ancient family in our group, even if I'm not the oldest. I will attempt to contact the Dark Lord himself to see if we can do anything for the cause already. I know that Siri has been working for Dumbledore and that pretentious Order of the Phoenix, to undermine our Lord's plans.

July 8th, 1977
He agreed! I can still barely believe it. Through Malfoy, I was able to request an audience and I have been invited one week from now.

July 16th, 1977
Yesterday was as unforgettable an evening as the first time I spoke to Him. The knowledge that I am protected by this man and privileged enough to cast a glimpse of Him is overwhelming. So many talented mages gather around Him that it is thrilling to know I could be the next person to stand there. The battle is almost won too, the new Minister of Magic is barely holding up. If it wasn't for Dumbledore's damned Order, the Dark Lord would already have this country in His grasp. It pains me to know that I might have to face Siri one day, but we each chose our fates, and he chose wrong.

I'm getting side-tracked… He initially didn't even ask me what I was there for. We dined, discussed politics and magic as if we were on equal footing, even if that clearly isn't the case. His knowledge about magic is so vast that I can barely comprehend it. When I finally was granted the opportunity to tell Him about the current student movement and our ambitions, He wasn't surprised. I am still not entirely sure what to think of the outcome: He agreed to give the Mark already to those who have proven themselves worthy as long as they are sixteen or older, but at the same time refused to let those participate in fights or spy-work. He was adamant about His opinion on the importance of education. Doesn't want followers to get side-tracked with extra burdens. I do understand, but it will be hard to tell the others about this, especially as I did not yet do enough to deserve a Mark, and I'm not too sure how I can prove myself worthy while at school. I'll have to use this summer to the fullest.

The importance of education… Harry snorted inwardly. It appeared that Voldemort had become a bit more aggressive about his teaching methods. If joining battles was too much to handle on top of schoolwork, then what about a damned Triwizard Tournament? Having read enough for now, Harry put the diary aside and closed his eyes to at least get a bit of rest. So, Regulus had been well on his way of becoming a Death Eater at that point… As he was sixteen and rather zealous, Harry could imagine the boy finding a way to get the Mark that year still. It was a strange thought… he'd been a top student, led the next wave of Death Eaters at Hogwarts, got himself connections. Barely two years later, that would all have been for naught. Two years in which Harry knew that Regulus had somehow still formed a strong enough relationship with Voldemort that the Dark Lord still muttered the teen's name many years after.

Harry was still mulling over that next breakfast, having come to the conclusion that it wasn't too strange for Voldemort to still have strong feelings about it. It probably hadn't been many years at all for someone who'd spent twelve years as a spirit. Regulus had died somewhere 1979, Voldemort had been robbed of his body in October 1981. It was logical that right after gaining a body -rudimentary at that- Voldemort's previous relationship was still fresh on his mind.

''I'm thinking about this far too much,'' he muttered into his cereal.

''I know that you're going on this whole 'if you think I'm insane I might as well act like it' tour,'' one of the Twins said on Harry's right,

''-But publicly talking to yourself is a whole new level.'' The other finished the sentence to Harry's left.

''Not everyone has a second half to share their one braincell with,'' he commented, making those who heard it burst out in laughter while the Twins looked mock-offended.

''At least we have a braincell! That's one more than you do if the news about you getting int rouble with our lovely Defence Professor on the very first day of school is correct.''

''Don't remind me,'' he sighed, throwing a hateful glance at the teacher's table. Umbridge was dressed all in pink again. Harry never had held much resentment towards any colour, but she was really making him start to hate pink.

Today was slightly better than the last regarding classes. It started with Double Charms, followed by Double Transfiguration. With both classes having good teachers, Riddle didn't bother showing up. Maybe it was also because for once, Harry rather excelled in the classes: During Charms they reviewed the Summoning Charm, which he'd gotten down perfectly as he'd thought it might come in handy during the Tournament, and during Transfiguration, they practised the Vanishing spell. It had actually taken him a good chunk of time to perfect that, but that had been a chunk of time in July so he could more easily clean up the kitchen at Riddle House each time it was messy. Harry almost felt like it was a normal school day, able to put the Locket from his mind for a while. Each time his hand snuck to his throat to play with the chain, he willed it to take the snake fang instead that protected him from intrusive mental attacks.

Care of Magical Creatures was slightly less great. He missed Hagrid, although grudgingly had to admit that professor Grubby-Plank was a good teacher, and drawing Bowtruckles really was a relief after taking care of Blast-ended Skrewts for most of last year. Even Malfoy and his usual cronies were relatively peaceful. He could hear them making snide comments under their breath about Hagrid's absence, but none dared utter it so loud that they knew Harry heard it.

Still, it didn't do much to improve his mood, especially as Ron and Hermione only half-heartedly agreed to his claims that Hagrid should come back.

''Hey Ginny, Luna,'' he dully greeted when they reached the greenhouses, the girls coming out as their class ended.

Ginny only gave a bright greeting in return, but Luna didn't leave it at that, quickly approaching him and standing still right in front, a bit too close in his personal space for his tastes. ''I believe you and professor Dumbledore!'' she breathlessly spoke, staring at him with those large, blue eyes that were slightly less dreamy than before. ''If people make fun of you, ignore them, knowing that you are in the right!'' Fiercely, she turned around to a few people who were giggling at her. Harry had the sinking suspicion that Parvati and Lavender hadn't even heard what she'd said and were instead making fun of her appearance, from the radishes she wore as earrings to the twigs and leaves she'd woven in her hair. Before she could go on a rant to Harry's classmates, he awkwardly patted her shoulder.

''Thanks, I appreciate it, really,'' he spoke. ''Don't… don't go around shouting it to people though, I don't want you to get in trouble for it.''

''I don't mind getting in trouble for the truth,'' Luna smiled. ''Daddy often gets in trouble for what he publishes too, that's never stopped him.''

Hermione scoffed slightly before Harry could answer and said: ''I don't think it's the truth that he gets in trouble for when it comes to the Quibbler.'' Luna didn't reply, only frowned and walked off without a word. Hermione probably hadn't meant to make fun of the girl with her words, but most of Harry's -and Luna's- classmates took it like that and started laughing even harder than before.

''You shouldn't have said that,'' he bit to Hermione. ''There are already so very few people I can rely on!''

''Surely, you can rely on someone who doesn't have her head in the clouds at all times!''

Harry shook his head, irritated at Hermione. Luna reminded him a lot of himself when he was younger, always shunned for everything he did or said at elementary school. Or even at the Dursley's, back when he'd been naïve still and tried to tell them about dreams or things he'd read in fantasy books at school. He refused to work with Hermione that hour and partnered up with Neville instead. Even Ernie declaring that he also believed Harry didn't improve his temper.

Two more hours left… Harry wasn't sure if he was glad for it or not. Evening drawing nearer also meant that his detention with Umbridge was due soon. He'd kept the conversation with McGonagall to himself for now, first wanting to judge for himself if 'keeping your head down' actually worked or not. It had never done him any good with Snape, so he wanted to follow the advice on his own for a bit before telling everyone that they should give up all attempts of defiance.

It certainly didn't help that Angelina cornered him near the Great Hall, yelling about his detentions for everyone to hear because he should attend the Quidditch try-outs somehow. She didn't even accept his answer of already having asked McGonagall about it. ''I can't just demand my detentions to be moved!'' he angrily retorted. ''Besides, I've never been at any previous Quidditch try-outs either!''

''That's because there were no free spots, Potter! We need new players on the team and I do not want to make this decision without the full rest of the team there! Excuse me, but you don't have a great reputation at this moment, and I need to see how other people react to you.''

''I'm sorry?'' he asked disbelievingly.

''I need a team. People who work well together. Look, Merlin knows that the Hogwarts rumour mill is less than reliable, so I'm trusting my gut and choose to think you're still the same, decent bloke as the previous years. I don't believe for one second that you suddenly turned into a lying nutjob like some people try to paint you. But if you're not there, I do not know if I might not accidentally accept people into the team who do believe that and who will not work together well with you. Bad blood between teammates can kill our hopes on winning games much faster than lack of flying talent.''

He didn't know if he should be thankful for her attempts to not take anyone who didn't believe in him, or offended for being seen as some sort of obstacle now. ''I promised McGonagall to not cause anymore problems with Umbridge,'' he sighed. ''I will ask her, beg her, offer more detentions or whatever, but if she says no, that's it.''

Angelina clearly wasn't pleased with that answer. ''You don't seem to understand!'' she bit. ''I don't care if you have to scream at her or say you and Dumbledore made it all up, you will be there on the pitch!''

Now, he was getting livid, far worse than before. Maybe he'd hung out with Slytherins too much, but her utter disregard for his reputation -whatever tattered remains he had of it- rubbed him the wrong way. There were more important things than Quidditch. Hogwarts had been turned into a political minefield, and all Angelina cared about was that the school sport wouldn't be endangered?

''You won't need to worry about bad blood in the team then,'' he spoke with icy fury that made her finally back up a bit. ''I quit.''

''W… What? Potter! Potter you can't just quit!'' she said, obviously startled and sounding more than a bit stressed.

''Yes, I can. Johnson, I have my O.W.L.s this year, I am trying to study two additional courses, I am behind because of the stupid Triwizard Tournament, and over half of the school decided to hate me again because they assume that I agree to whatever Dumbledore says. If that even influenced decisions on the Quidditch field, then I've had it. Speak to Ginny, I heard she's an excellent Seeker and more than willing to try out for that position.'' With that, he walked into the Great Hall, leaving her gaping.

He only regretted his decision a bit. He had far too much to do to also worry about early morning Quidditch training and matches. He'd miss flying, just like he had last year, but there were other things he should be concerned about. It would definitely give him more time. The most difficult part was probably how to explain it to Ron, who most likely wouldn't understand why Harry would throw away Quidditch in exchange for studying. Well, he could worry about all of that later.

First, he needed to survive the evening. As he walked into Professor Umbridge's office and was met with kitsch décor and a false smile, he wasn't sure if he would.

---

Please Read and Review! I always love hearing your thoughts.
Also, if you feel like reading more HPLV, I wrote a one-shot story called 'A Rival's Kiss'. It is uploaded here on FFN under the account Elfinmyth, as well as on AO3 under the account GeMerope (I've finally started also using AO3 and will slowly upload most of my stories on there as well. No worries, that doesn't mean that I will leave FFN.)
xx GeMerope