Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Harry Potter. Do you honestly think I would be posting a story here if I did?
A/N: It's going to be a rough ride for Harry (and Hermione too). If you have read my one-shot, "Feel the Pain," you will realize that I don't mind running Harry through the wringer. This story will be no exception to that. Also, this chapter doesn't merit the R rating yet, but it will require it in subsequent chapters.
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwart's during the summer before his 6th year to continue his study of "Remedial Potions." His training, however, will be expanded to include darker, more dangerous skills that poison his mind and threaten to destroy the blossoming love between him and Hermione. He soon reaches a crossroads that leaves him caught between the growing darkness and the fading light within himself.
The Growing Darkness and the Fading Light
Chapter 1
Within a couple days of arriving at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry emerged on the rooftop looking for refuge from the oppressive atmosphere of the house despite the heat and humidity hanging thick in the outside air. He sank into a seated position near the edge of the roof overlooking the street and indulged his voyeuristic instincts from behind the illusion barring any outsider discovering the existence of Number Twelve.
It had only taken a week and a half for Dumbledore to relent and remove Harry from Privet Drive, but the departure meant Harry faced a bleak house cloaked in his godfather's memory. As such, Grimmauld Place became as much of a prison as the Dursleys', bartering a neglected existence in Little Whinging for one in London that forced him to dwell on a frightening fusion of grief, bitterness, and self-loathing.
The absence of Hermione and the Weasleys from Grimmauld Place left the house with a vacant feeling despite the flurry of activity caused by the Order members coming and going. Under these conditions, Harry was left to his own devices and his grief for Sirius festered and mingled with a guilty conscience and his anxiety over the portents of the prophecy, leaving him wasted and desperate for September to arrive.
As Harry surveyed the neighborhood, he noticed that the homes were once magnificent, but economic depression left them in the hands of those individuals on the lowest rung of society without the means to maintain their former splendor. What astonished Harry, though, was that despite the financial difficulties of the residents' existence, simple joys could still be found here, simple joys that had eluded his grasp for the last sixteen years in spite of the stacks of galleons in his Gringott's vault. He knew you couldn't buy happiness; that concept was a creature of circumstance and the circumstances in his life were painfully beyond his control.
A squeal of delight caught his attention from across the street. He saw children ascending a rusty jungle gym next to a tattered house with peeling paint. They laughed as they climbed and hung from the bars while other kids ran around the yard chasing each other in an innocent game of tag.
A wave of jealousy washed over him at the blissful ignorance of the boys and girls. The memories of his youth were the exact opposite of the pure happiness he was witnessing and were chock full of abuse and neglect. The simple act of childhood play was fouled by Dudley's assaults and fear of his gang drove the other children to treat Harry as a outcast, leaving the confines of his cabinet and imagination as his only companions.
This sort of segregation seemed to him to have become the standard in his life. Even when he had made meaningful friendships after entering the wizarding world, the ever-present danger of Lord Voldemort stepped in to shadow his footsteps and continued to disrupt any sense of normalcy Harry might have hoped to experience.
As was normal in the days since Sirius' death, this sense of isolation was at the forefront of Harry's mind whenever he was able to detach himself from his grief long enough to consider his future and the prophecy that haunted it. It seemed that he would, at best, be a killer, but he felt the more likely scenario was that he would die a painful death, ending the difficult path fate had chosen for him. He would be destroyed by an evil wizard, half a century his senior, with powers unmatched by any wizard alive, save perhaps, Albus Dumbledore. However, the headmaster was not the one with the distinction of being forced to square off against Voldemort. That responsibility fell to Harry alone. And yet, somehow, Dumbledore believed in him with an unwavering confidence. And while that flame of hope brought some light to Harry on rare occasions, it typically only served to define just how vast the cold darkness engulfing Harry really was.
With a sigh, he shook his head, attempting to dispel the hopelessness building up inside of him. He returned his attention to the street, but his subconscious, it seemed, was not willing to let go so easily. Further up the road, he saw a young couple about his age walking hand-in-hand down the street. A casual observer might not notice anything remarkable about them; both were relaxed and enjoying the company of the other. They're eyes met with unspoken adoration, but Harry could sense that the burden of their futures was significantly absent, as it should be, neither was concerned with tomorrow or the day after. Each lived in the moment; focused on the simple pleasure of grasping the hand of their partner. They were as carefree as two normal teenagers discovering each other should be.
The sight of the young lovers spurred his thoughts back to the disaster that was his relationship with Cho, if you could even call it a relationship, a monumental foray into stupidity seemed a more appropriate description now. At the time, though, it seemed like one of the few bright rays of sun cutting through the clouds of an otherwise miserable year, but turned out to merely be a filtered light serving only to illuminate the discovery that his vision of Cho was distinctly different from reality. In Harry, she saw a surrogate for Cedric and her unwillingness to understand the manner of his relationship with Hermione taught Harry that the next woman, should he survive the war, would need to accept Hermione's place in his life without doubt or question. Her fall in the Department of Mysteries disaster reinforced what he had always known, but had never consciously acknowledged, that she was a fixture in his life, far too important for him to lose over the whims of some silly girl's insecurities.
The sense of isolation these thoughts brought was commonplace to Harry these days. Ever since Professor Dumbledore had shared his knowledge of the prophecy, Harry began the delicate task of keeping a calculated distance between himself and those closest to him. He wanted them close enough to protect, to be there at the drop of a hat, but not so close that there would be unnecessary consequences. He told himself it was necessary, that this was the only way he could prevent Voldemort from using one of them as he used Sirius to get to Harry. And though this decision caused considerable turmoil in his heart, he cast it onto his back with the other burdens he already bore and began building walls to protect his friends.
Ron was the easier to divert. Talk of Quidditch and games of chess allowed Harry to maintain the appearance of their usual friendship without drawing attention to the stone and mortar he was placing between them. Hermione was a much more difficult state of affairs altogether. She was far too perceptive to allow mundane conversation to distract her from the barriers Harry was attempting to erect. Her intuitive ability to sense his thoughts and feelings allowed her to see the gaps in his masonry and her mere presence took away two bricks for each one Harry put into place. He felt a guilty pleasure that his most intrepid efforts to protect her served only to tie her more tightly to him, placing her near the forefront of his and, likely, Lord Voldemort's mind as well. Harry knew her loss would destroy him; her death would be the proverbial final straw.
The emotional whirlpool into which he was spiraling into overwhelmed him and he drew his knees to his chest, folding his arms around them and let his head fall forward to hide his face in the cavity created there. Even though Number Twelve was not visible to the casual onlooker, he thought he should do his best to conceal the tears burning at his cheeks.
Harry did not know when the tears had stopped. His eyes had long ago reached a point where they could not produce any more tears and a mask of numbness slid into place, replacing the feelings that had plagued him before. He rolled over to his side, curling himself up in a ball, blankly staring at the golden sun sinking below the horizon.
Dusk was settling in, before a creak on the roof surface jarred him to life again. He pushed himself up to a seated position again and turned to face his intruder without a word of greeting. A pair of aged, weary looking eyes watched him from behind half-moon spectacles. Their usual twinkle was conspicuously absent, Harry couldn't even muster the anger he sought to feel when Professor Dumbledore showed signs of weakness. Being angry with the headmaster only brought further pain that threatened to tip the delicate mental balance he was trying to hold onto.
"Hello, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said softly, walking over to Harry and sitting beside him. Harry nodded and followed the headmaster's gaze to the fading glow on the horizon. Harry had nothing to say and waited for Dumbledore to speak his mind. The first stars of the night were shimmering into view before he spoke.
"I think we should keep your stay here short, Harry," he said. "I would like you to come to Hogwart's as soon as I can arrange it."
"Hogwart's?" Harry asked, looking at him in surprise.
"Yes, I want you to resume your study of Occlumency right away."
Harry returned his eyes to the horizon. "Will Snape be teaching me again?" he asked harshly.
"Professor Snape will be instructing you in other capacities, but I will be teaching you Occlumency myself."
"I see," Harry sighed, closing his eyes. "What, er-, capacities will he be instructing me in?"
"Professor Snape has first-hand experience in the Dark Arts most favored by Lord Voldemort. He will be educating you in spells that are best kept out of the normal Hogwart's curriculum."
Harry's eyes snapped open at this announcement and his heart began racing. He sat there for several moments mastering himself as Dumbledore's words sunk in, but his trepidation was persistent.
"So, I'm to be learning the Dark Arts themselves, not just defense against them?" Harry asked, fearful of what this might mean.
"That is correct, Harry," Dumbledore answered sadly. "It is imperative that you fully understand Voldemort's capabilities as soon as possible. Understand, that I am asking you to walk a very dangerous road. The temptation of the Dark Arts presents a very fine line between a comprehension of them and an infatuation with them. However, every indication the Order has is that Voldemort is attempting to force another confrontation between the two of you soon. With the greater wizarding world aware of his return, he has no patience for hiding his actions anymore and he is attempting to force our hand; he will come after you at the first opportunity he gets."
Professor Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing.
"As unfair as it is, Harry, this war revolves around you and him. For my part, I plan on doing everything in my power to make certain that you are as prepared as you can be when it comes time for you to face Lord Voldemort."
The grim dejection Harry felt earlier was returning. "So I'm to be the tip of the spear, then? As sharp as you can make me…"
"Look at me, Harry," Dumbledore said sternly. Harry wearily forced his eyes to meet the headmaster's. "You've been dealt a horrible hand and no one is trying to reduce you to a weapon in this conflict, but you are inextricably at the center of this and the Order and I continue to do everything within our power to ensure your safety. Your intertwined destinies demand that you face Voldemort again, but we must be certain that you will not be without the skills necessary to defeat him or those required to protect yourself."
Harry's initial instinct was to argue with the headmaster, but he no longer possessed the resolve to do so and nodded absently, resigning himself to Professor Dumbledore's judgment. Several moments passed in quiet reflection before something the headmaster had said caught his attention.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Harry."
"You said you had to make arrangements before I could come to Hogwart's."
"That's right."
"What are these arrangements? Why can't I leave straightaway?"
Professor Dumbledore seemed hesitant to respond and stared intently at Harry before speaking.
"Well, Harry, Amelia Bones has been much more accommodating as the new Minister of Magic than Cornelius Fudge ever was; however, she still has some reservations about some of the requests I have made."
Harry didn't understand. "What requests?'
"I have asked for you to have certain exemptions that would normally not be conferred upon anyone else your age."
Harry wasn't sure whether to be excited or suspicious. "Exemptions?"
"Well, under the current circumstances, there are four things that you need to be able to do without reprimand from the Ministry. First, I have asked for you to have full absolution from the restriction of underage magic, essentially granting you the status you would not receive until your seventeenth birthday."
Despite his ill mood, Harry felt a rare smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He almost wished he was still at the Dursleys'. Professor Dumbledore noted Harry's smile and chuckled softly to himself.
"I really don't think we need anymore Ministry interference, do we, Harry?"
"No sir," Harry responded, "I'll be quite happy to not attend any more hearings questioning my judgment."
"Madam Bones signed the exemption yesterday morning, Harry. You have been free to answer to your own judgment for a full day-and-a-half."
His grin, growing by the second, took on a mischievous quality. He reached into his pocket and tugged free his wand, looking at the headmaster.
"May I?"
"Certainly, it's no longer anyone's decision but your own."
Harry stood up and walked towards the center of the roof and held his wand out in front of him.
"Expecto Patronum!" he cried.
A silver mist issued forth from the tip of his wand, coalescing into the form of a great white stag. The stag cantered around the roof searchingly, before coming to stand before Harry expectantly.
"Hello, Prongs," Harry said, eying the stag fondly. "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."
Harry slowly reached up to stroke the powerful neck of the stag, but the creature dissolved back into mist before he could touch him. "See you soon," he whispered to the night, dropping his hand to his side. The stag's departure reminded Harry that Dumbledore still had more to say. With a sigh, he returned to his seat next to Dumbledore.
"All right, what was the second exemption?" he asked with a smirk. Dumbledore was still smiling.
"I think you like this one as well, Harry. In addition to your Occlumency and Dark Arts training this summer, you will be learning to apparate a little sooner than expected as well."
Harry's smirk grew into full smile, before realization dawned on him. "But Hermione always said you can't apparate into or out of Hogwart's. How am I going to practice?"
"Yes, Miss Granger is quite correct. You will be learning to apparate in the hills surrounding Hogsmeade, which leads us to the third exemption. You will be learning to create portkeys and using them to travel to and from the hills. As such, I have asked Madam Bones to allow all members of the Order to be able to create portkeys without admonishment from the Ministry for not registering them. It's a relatively minor request that was extended to previous members of the Order and I am confident that she will allow this."
Harry did not miss the subtext in this pronouncement.
"So am I now a member of the Order?" he asked.
"In a manner of speaking, Harry." Dumbledore answered. "Because you are still a student and have those responsibilities to address, you will not be involved in every discussion or meeting, but you will be kept abreast of the overall activities of the Order and what we know of Lord Voldemort's activities. Your primary responsibility to the Order, however, is to become the most capable wizard you can. Given the details of the prophecy, the principal focus of the Order must be to prepare you to face him. Your education and training is paramount. The other members of the Order will be working to reign in Voldemort and his Death Eaters as much as possible."
"I understand," Harry replied, glad to finally be privy to the details that so intimately affected him.
"While Madam Bones had agreed to these last two exemptions in principle, there are still some details to work out. Once that has been completed, we will transfer you to Hogwart's."
Harry nodded his head. "And the fourth exemption?"
Harry's eyes followed Dumbledore as he stood and began pacing around the rooftop for several moments before turning to regard Harry seriously.
"Harry, before I tell you about this last exemption, you must understand that there is no guarantee that we will need to exercise this possibility or that even if we do, that it will be successful, but it is an option we need to have, nonetheless." A foreboding ache settled into Harry's stomach as Dumbledore continued.
"I had to share the details of the prophecy with Madam Bones in order for her to agree to consider this. She still remains undecided, but the proposition is that you will be the one person for which the use of the killing curse is forgiven." Harry's eyes widened and his jaw fell open. "So long as you target only Voldemort, you will not be held accountable for using the curse."
The ache in Harry's stomach was replaced with writhing nausea. He let his head sagged forward an closed his eyes allowing his breaths to become deep in an effort to force down the bile in his throat. He ran his hands through his hair repeatedly, willing this all to be some sick joke. He knew that Dumbledore's words had profound implications.
"That curse killed my parents," he spat without looking up at Dumbledore. "If I use that curse, I become no better than Voldemort himself!" Harry's eyes blazed as he looked up to regard Dumbledore without bothering to hide his contempt.
Dumbledore's expression softened, never taking his eyes off of Harry.
"I quite disagree Harry," he answered calmly. "The killing curse is a creation of the evilest dark wizards, but it does not make you wholly evil by using it once."
Harry's anger was getting the best of him. He rose sharply to glare at Professor Dumbledore.
"That's not what that fake Moody said in fourth year! He said every time we use it, you lose some of your humanity!" he railed.
"He was not wholly incorrect, Harry," Dumbledore answered in the same calm voice. "The killing curse requires the caster to have the utmost disdain for the life of the recipient at the moment he casts the spell. That sort of pure hatred of the spell's intended target is what consumes the caster's humanity. The spell itself is fueled by this and is merely an expression of the hatred that already exists within the caster."
Harry turned his back on the older man and walked to the peak of the roof before turning to look down on the headmaster with a steely gaze.
"You're asking me to become everything I despise. You're asking me to sell my soul."
Dumbledore matched Harry's intense gaze and walked up to join him.
"The killing curse should be your last option, Harry, but you need to know that it is an option that is available to you. I trust your judgement as to whether or not the time is right to use it."
The headmaster turned and began walking to the window from which Harry had originally used to climb on the roof. He paused at the window and cast Harry a last sorrowful look.
"I know I am adding to the already heavy load you are carrying, but rest assured, you have many around you who wish to help you carry it. You need not be alone in this."
Harry continued to glare at him as he disappeared through the window.
A/N: Whew! Well, I think that gives me quite enough material to work with. I am really excited about this story so I hope you will enjoy it. I imagine many of you are eager for a H/Hr snogfest, but that will be a while in coming. With this story I really want to contrast Harry and Hermione falling in love (which takes a while under the circumstances I have set up) against Harry's struggles with the Dark Arts and his own inner demons. So now its your turn to review and tell me what you think. Cheers!
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