Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Turncoat6 Reviews
Oneshot. What if the task of killing Dumbledore in HBP fell not to Malfoy but to someone else? The last person you'd expect.
May 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better to save your own life and join me...or you'll meet the same end as your parents...they died begging me for mercy..."
Harry was about to shout back an angry retort when he stopped short. Had he just heard what he thought he had heard? An offer from Lord Voldemort to join him - join him when Voldemort could just as easily kill him and take the stone for himself. Voldemort must have seen Harry's hesitation as he pushed his advantage.
"Don't let your parent's sacrifice go to waste, boy. I can show you magics that would make your head reel with wonder, your body rejoice in it's own power, your blood rush with the defeat of your enemies. You are not fulfilling your potential here - not nearly. Dumbledore is deliberately holding you back, scared of what you can become with my help - just hand me that stone, and you shall be rewarded beyond all others."
Harry took a moment to consider his words before acting - something that he hadn't done in almost a year. Now that the adrenaline had worn off Harry wasn't feeling nearly so brave - or foolish - and Voldemort's words were becoming appealing. But there was one thing that was bothering him still, something that put a cloud to Voldemort's silver lining.
"How can I trust you?"
"Trust is a weakness, Harry, as you should have learnt, had you been given the correct upbringing. Trust is Dumbledore's greatest weakness and it will be his downfall. But if you want security, know this: I do not harm those who are still useful to me - and you could be useful for a very long time. Give me your answer boy, and quickly, I can feel that Dumbledore will return soon."
Harry stood completely still for a moment and weighed up his options. Here was the chance to be the wizard that he knew he always should have been - looking back at the past year Harry realized how foolish he had been, how much time he had wasted when he could have been becoming a better wizard. He had always had fame, but here was the chance of something far different - glory. Hoping against hope that he was making the best decision, Harry threw the stone over to Voldemort.
"Well done, boy. You have not made the wrong decision."
Holding the stone up in the light, Voldemort, still controlling Quirrel's body, waved his wand at the stone and a dull grey glow surrounded it. Harry watched as Voldemort's expression changed from almost gleeful to twisted in anger. Raising the stone above his head, with a snarl Voldemort threw the stone with surprising force at a pillar and it shattered into pieces.
"WASTED!" seethed Voldemort as he raised his wand in anger and swept it in an arcing motion at the Mirror of Erised, smashing the mirror into countless pieces. "Years of preparation, months of enduring this worthless body, all to be thwarted by Dumbledore once again!"
Then suddenly, as quickly as he had become angry, Voldemort stilled and looked at Harry with a piercing stare. "Yet not completely wasted..."he muttered, still staring at Harry with his blood red eyes from the back of Quirrel's head.
"Potter, your service to me is going to begin a little sooner than expected, but no matter, we will play the long game, if that's how Dumbledore wants to play it - I have endured 12 years of waiting, I can endure a few more. You shall convince Dumbledore that you fought me off using some sort of mysterious magic that you don't understand - he trusts you so that he won't look closer into your mind as he would any other. You shall continue, on the surface, as you have for this year, but I expect that you shall begin to apply yourself to your magic more - I will not have an incompetent servant. I shall give you further instructions at Privet Drive over the summer - the wards will let me in now that we are...allies. Now I must go - but first to make the story more convincing - "
Voldemort waved his wand once more and painful blisters, as if his skin had been burnt, erupted over Harry's body and Harry fell to the ground in pain. Looking up he just caught sight of a black shadow leaving a slowly crumbling Quirrel's body before he passed out.
"My wand, Wormtail,"
Harry sneered as he watched a ragged looking Peter Pettigrew shudder at the sound of his master's voice and give the ebony wand to its rightful owner, looking meekly at the ground as he approached the majestic looking Lord Voldemort.
Voldemort took the wand in his hand and grasped it tightly, pointing it at Wormtail as if to curse him. As he gave it a small wave, liquid silver, glittering in the moonlight, poured out of the end like a fountain and shaped to form a hand, which attached itself to Wormtail's bleeding stump of an arm.
"Thank you, Master, thank you..." Wormtail sniveled, but he was stopped short by Voldemort holding his hand up in the air for silence.
"Silence, Wormtail," Voldemort intoned softly, his voice silky smooth and charming, yet clearly holding a barely contained sense of danger. "I have not endured endless agony to listen to your whimpering. Now, it is time to reward my true servant, one who has succeeded in everything I have asked of him."
Tuning away from Wormtail like a pet that had lost its interest after Christmas, Voldemort glided over the graveyard to where Harry was kneeling, his head bowed out of respect, not fear.
"Rise, Harry Potter. Without you my rebirth would not be possible and as such you shall be honoured for all eternity, once your allegiance is finally revealed of course. For now, you must return to Hogwarts, be my eyes and ears, seeing right into our enemy's heart. Before you go though, I have a gift for you, something you have wanted for a long time."
Voldemort raised his wand once more and set the tip to Harry's shaking left wrist.
Harry gritted his teeth against the pain as the black tattoo spread over his inner arm, beautiful in its elegance and power.
"Thank you, Master. I will not fail you."
"I know you will not, Harry Potter. For what other reason did you think I gave you that offer so many years ago instead of wiping your miserable first-year self off the face of this world?"
Despite the mocking and insulting words that were said, Harry could not help but feel proud that he had come so far since that day when he and Voldemort had first met in front of the Mirror of Erised.
The Dark Lord had shown him the truth, offered him glory and given him a task that none other had been given, not even Snape - to burrow his way to the very heart of the enemy, and destroy them from within. Their love for Harry would be the light's downfall, and Voldemort had seen it.
Giving a small chuckle, Voldemort walked back to the wrecked cauldron that he had been re-born from, deep in thought.
"It is not yet time for you to be revealed, young Mr. Potter. Our charade will have to continue for a little longer, there are things that must be done...yes...you shall return to Hogwarts after 'dueling' me and escaping, full of tales of Dark Magick rituals and torture. Dumbledore will lap it all up...he might even cry if we're lucky...I am afraid that, to be authentic, that torture may not be so fake after all..."
His words may have been apologetic, but Harry knew that if he were to look up, he would see a twisted smile on Voldemort's face.
"Now Harry Potter, our act begins...I shall tie you to that tombstone," and with a wave of his wand, Voldemort caused ropes to encircle Harry, binding him tightly to the tombstone that he had been standing in front of.
"Now, it is time to greet a few old friends...Wormtail, hold out your arm..."
Summer 1996 Little Winging Park
"There is one last task for you to complete - one more, and you shall take your rightful place as my most honoured servant."
Harry looked up from his position kneeling in front of Voldemort with a carefully black face and stared up into the snakelike face of the Dark Lord, shadowed in the darkness of midnight.
"What is it that you ask of me? I have never failed you before, and I will not this time."
Voldemort laughed, the harsh kind of laugh that sets people on edge and makes them shudder in fear whenever they hear it. And heard it they have, Harry thought to himself, as he cast his mind to the various activities the papers had reported the Death Eaters doing.
"They have all the fun," Harry thought, as he recalled the picture of a Muggle bridge falling over and causing havoc, before turning his attention back to Voldemort.
"No, it is true that you have never failed me, and you never will, or it shall be the last thing you do."
Harry had got used to such death threats over the last few years and as such this last one hardly made him blink.
"Now your task," said the shrill voice of Voldemort, and if it were possible, Harry would have said that that Voldemort was sounding almost giddy at the prospect of it.
"Your task is simple: to kill, in anyway you can, Albus Dumbledore, and return to me once the deed is done. It was for this purpose that you originally entered my service, and now you shall fulfill that purpose. I expect no blunders, and no one must know of the task. Of course, no one but the two of us know about you anyway, so who would you tell?"
Voldemort let out another shrill laugh and turned elegantly on the spot, silently disappearing as if he had melted into the night itself. Harry was left standing there in his filthy Muggle clothes, thinking about the enormity of the task he was about to undertake.
Already he could feel a plan forming in his mind, he would just need a few ingredients first...Dumbledore was coming the next day to pick him up and take him from the Muggles, and although Harry knew he couldn't kill the old man there and then, it didn't men he couldn't see if he could use the situation to his advantage...
A grim smile spead over Harry's face as he too turned back to go to his home, slipping back into the house unseen by both Order and Dursleys alike.
Broom shed, The Burrow, July 1996
Harry could hardly hold back a sneer as he listened to an exhausted looking Dumbledore tell him that is was 'wise' to divulge the contents of the prophesy to his so-called friends...as if they, mere ignorant children, were worthy of the most closely guarded secret in the world.
He had told his master of the prophesy and it's contents as soon as he could, despite the danger it could have put him in, and he had been greatly rewarded for the information.
Voldemort had explained to him that prophesies were fickle things...they told the future, so whatever path you chose, the prophesy had to be fulfilled in some way or another...and in telling Voldemort the prophesy, Harry had given him that power of choice, the power to choose pathetic Neville Longbottom as his 'equal', and not Harry.
As Dumbledore continued to blather on about the Weasley's hospitality, it was all Harry could do to stop himself snorting in derision...as if the mess that the Weasley's lived in could be called hospitality. There was a time when Harry would have hung on Dumbledore's every word, but these last few years had changed him more than he thought possible. Power was now the holy grail of Harry's life, not the weak and intangible 'love' that Dumbledore speaks so highly of. Harry had soon realized that knowledge was power, and with Voldemort to teach him he had grown to be a much greater wizard than he ever would have been had he stayed with the Light.
Still, in Harry's life, appearances were everything and he had yet another year to endure among his enemies before he could show the world what he was capable of...Harry sighed in resignation at the promise of another frustrating year, and Dumbledore, mistaking it as a sigh of sadness at Sirius' death, put his grandfatherly hand on Harry's shoulder in no doubt what he though was a comforting way, offering the boon of private lessons that year.
As he said this, Harry's ears pricked up and he listened properly for the first time that evening...despite how much he may want to kill Dumbledore where he stood, he couldn't blow his cover yet, and he reasoned that he might as well make the most of it while he could. After all, knowledge was knowledge, whatever the source, and surely the great Albus Dumbledore would have something of worth to teach?
Harry sighed again as he was lead out of the shed door, hoping against hope that at least this year, Ginny might try to give up her annual love potion attempt...
Diagon Alley, August 1996
Harry had gained a strange look from Ron when he had announced that he was going to get some Potions supplies, probably due to the fact that Harry's owl grade in Potions was only an "E" - not enough to get into Snape's N.E.W.T. class. Harry had simply shrugged it off and offered some lame excuse about pranking, which Ron had fallen easily for and had gone back to begging Fred and George for free items from their shop.
And so it was that Harry found himself in the apothecary, choosing his ingredients carefully. There was a fine line between choosing effective ingredients, and choosing ingredients that would make people suspicious of why he needed them. Thankfully for Harry the ingredients he needed were relatively innocent, even if they did produce results that were...explosive.
It was something Harry had discovered in fourth year when experimenting with his spare potions supplies at the end of the year. It wasn't so much a potion - it held more similarity to a Muggle chemical process really, just with a magical twist. Harry had discovered that if the right combination of ingredients were boiled at just the right temperature, then a magical stone would solidify out of the potion. And if this stone were to become cracked in any way, then it would provide rather spectacular results.
Harry supposed he was lucky that upon his first discovery of the process, he had made only a weak version of it; otherwise he may not have been around to serve his master now. Harry had improved the stone's capabilities since then though, and all he had to do was disguise the stone as a lemon drop and smuggle it into Dumbledore's supplies. Not an easy task by any means, but certainly not impossible for one such as Harry.
He was just reaching for the last vial of Bowtruckle hair when a familiar looking pale grabbed his and spun him around.
"Potter," sneered the greasy-haired Snape, and Harry had to stop himself from flinching away from the triple agent. "What mischief are you getting yourself into now? Not going to do anything foolish again I hope, I would have thought that the unfortunate death of your dear godfather would have taught you something."
Snape looked into Harry's eyes and Harry felt the familiar sensation of legilimency...ignoring the impulse to eject Snape from his mind immediately, harry quickly started to provide Snape with false images of he and Ron at the Burrow planning pranks. Snape fell for it hook, line and sinker.
"So, Potter, think you can get away with flouting the rules this year? Just like your father - you have no respect for your betters. One day you'll find yourself in a sticky situation if you don't change your ways."
Snape proceeded to snatch the ingredients out of Harry's hands, and Harry was once again relived that this project required only simple ingredients as an evil smirk spread across Snape's face and he threw the ingredients back at Harry.
"Once again it appears that your arrogance is greater than your actual ability, Potter." Snape said, and Harry had the distinct impression that if Snape were a more open character, he would be dancing a victory dance. "Loath as I am to admid it, at least your father had some competence when he went about his big-headed ways: the most you'll make of those ingredients is a messy sludge."
Harry resisted the temptation to smirk at how wrong Snape was, before turning back to the shelf to retrieve the Bowtruckle hair.
"Thank you for the advice professor, I'll keep it in mind. I expect I'll be seeing you in defence class at school. Good day." With that Harry turned around and walked away from Snape, much to Snape's annoyance as he tried to call him back, probably to try to find out how Harry knew about his new position...Harry ignored him and quickly paid before walking briskly out of the store and back into the near-empty street, before taking a breath and going back to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes where his tag-alongs would be waiting for him.
Room of Requirement, September 1996
One stir clockwise, three anticlockwise. Repeat 5 times.
If anyone were to have entered the Room of Requirement on the first Friday night of the term at Hogwarts, they would have found, to their great surprise, Harry Potter working in a small potions lab, a look of concentration on his face as he worked on a Potion.
However, it would have become clear very quickly that this was no homework assignment, as Harry quickly jumped back from the cauldron as a jet of yellow steam erupted into the air, leaving the cauldron empty of any contents, but for a small yellow stone.
Harry gingerly picked it up and held it to the light so that he could examine it closely. Obviously it was not good enough as Harry let out an annoyed snarl and threw the small stone across the room, which expanded itself to create room for the large explosion that took place when the stone hit one of the retreating walls.
His face set with a new determination, Harry quickly set up is equipment again, certain that this time it would be perfect, as it would have to be if it would fool Dumbledore. Perhaps more lemon is needed...
It was surprisingly hard to get the small explosive stone to look like a lemon drop, Harry mused as he crushed some Mandrake leaves. It was imperative that the stone was finished that night, as his meeting with Dumbledore was the next day, and Harry had no idea how long it would take Dumbledore to reach the special lemon drop within his collection once it was planted. Breaking from his thoughts, Harry got back to the tedious work, thinkingback over the last week.
The train ride to Hogwarts had been more eventful than Harry had expected. The new Potions teacher, Slughorn, had taken a liking to Harry and various other well connected students. He had invited then all to a "light lunch" in his cabin and Harry had particularly enjoyed the subtle political and social jostling that had taken place underneath the polite lunch. Not that he showed that he enjoyed it of course, as he was Harry Potter, who was supposed to hate his fame. He was sure that he had come out of the lunch the victor - he had said nothing of great import, yet alluded to enough to keep Slughorn beaming at him and the other students dieing of curiousity.
Even the Zabini boy, Harry had noted, was unable to cover his emotions, and he was supposed to be a Slytherin. At that thought Harry snorted - his year's Slytherins were highly disappointing; the only one worth Harry's time was the loner Nott. Although, Harry had to admit, some of those pampered pureblood princesses had grown up a lot in the past few years.
He cast his mind to Daphne Greengrass, an oddly perceptive girl, who seemed to know something was off about Harry, even if she could never guess the extent of Harry's deception. She would need to be taken care of, Harry mused, as he entered the final stage of the potion.
Even though he was no longer the Potions Master, making potions always reminded Harry of Snape. A most unfortunate circumstance, but it did have the added benefit of making sure that you were on your toes. After all, despite Harry's mocking of him, Harry knew that Snape was a formidable wizard, and all it would need would be for Snape to enter his mind once for his secret to be revealed.
Speaking of Snape, Harry had most enjoyed his Defence against the Dark Arts lesson the previous day. His Lord had, of course, instructed him in the casting of non-verbal magic in one of his many tuition sessions, but now Harry would be able to practive them more openly and frequently, even if he had to pretend to struggle with them once in a while.
However, the most educational thing for Harry about Snape's lesson was not on non-verbal casting, but in the way Snape spoke of the Dark Arts. Harry knew the Dark Arts were addictive, he could hear their snares in Snape's voice when he spoke of them. Snape was an excellent study to Harry of a man who was not as deep into the Dark Arts as his master, and yet still deeper than he himself was.
Despite their addictive nature Harry knew that it was only the weak minded, like the Lestrange woman, who let the Arts control them, and not the other way round. Harry had no intention of letting this happen to him, which was why he studied the mind arts so diligently. It was no coincidence that the greatest Dark Lord in history, Harry's master, was the one with the greatest power over his own mind.
A sudden fizzing sound brought Harry out of his thoughts and he quickly jumped back as, yet again, the pale yellow potion evaporated all in one go, leaving the black cauldron in front of Harry empty of any contents, save for a small, sugary looking, lemon drop. Picking it up carefully, Harry's face drew into a smirk as he held it up to the light.
Dumbledore doesn't stand a chance...
Dumbledore's Office, September 1996
"Ah, Harry, come in and take a seat."
Harry entered Dumbledore's office, making sure to put on a show of being eager and curious. Although, if Harry was honest with himself, not all of that curiosity was faked. He was definitely looking forward to seeing what powerful magic Dumbledore had to teach him.
Subtly making sure that the explosive lemon drop was still secure in his pocket, Harry took a seat in front of Dumbledore's desk. The office was exactly the same as it always was; Harry was disappointed to see that the instruments he had broken the previous year had been repaired. Fawkes appeared to be absent, which Harry was relieved to see, as he was never sure if the phoenix might one day sense the Dark Magic in him,
"Now, Harry, what I am going to teach you in these...lessons...is probably the most important thing you will ever learn in these halls. Pay close attention."
Harry looked up at that moment, interest on his face, and hesitantly said, "Will it...will it help me defeat Voldemort?"
Dumbeldore stood up and took a key from the bottom draw of his old desk. "Yes Harry, it is the key to Voldemort's destruction and the fulfillment of the prophesy. But before that, a little background information is needed. It is time for you to understand our enemy better, and got that, you shall have to venture once more into my pensieve."
Having said that, Dumbledore took the key and walked to the other side of his office, where he turned his back on Harry to fiddle with the lock. Quickly standing up as if to follow Dumbeldore, Harry took out the lemon drop and slipped it into the bowl on Dumbledore's desk.
Just in time, as Dumbeldore had finished retrieving the pensieve and turned with it to return to the desk, struggling with his withered hand.
Harry stood next to Dumbledore as he stirred the memories in the bowl, all hope of learning something useful gone, for that lesson at least. No matter, Harry thought, he had succeeded in his task, and that was what mattered most.
"Now Harry, it is time for us to take a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane..."
Great Hall, Hogwarts
Harry hardly dared to breathe. Could it be? It was nearing the end of breakfast a week after Harry's lesson with Dumbeldore, and the headmaster's seat had remained empty all that week.
Sure, Dumbledore was often absent, but could it be more than coincidence that this happened the day after Dumbledore planted the stone?
Harry had just started to get his hopes up when his heart sunk as he cast his gaze across the hall. Dumbledore stood there, gliding over to his seat like he didn't have a care in the world, but Harry thought he could see a hardness in Dumbledore's eyes that hadn't been there a week before.
The headmaster had sat in his seat and was now looking over the students in the hall with his piercing gaze, often lingering on the Slytherins. To an outside observer it would just look like a concerned headmaster looking over his students, but Harry knew better. It appeared that the Grand Warlock was worried about something within the student body, as he was apparently looking through every student's mind, probably in search of his would-be assassin.
Harry quickly looked down at his plate, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. The headmaster was very reluctant to use legilimency on Harry in the past, but Harry did not want to take the chance of engaging in a mind battle he wasn't sure he could win.
Still keeping his eyes cast down, Harry reached for his pumpkin juice. The cup had just reached his lips when he thought he smelt something strange about the drink. Taking a closer look, Harry stiffened as he recognized the telltale signs of a love potion. It was certainly not the strongest potion in existence, but not a weak one either.
Keeping the cup to his mouth as if he were drinking, Harry shifted his eyes to look around, and quickly noticed in the corner of his eye Ginny Weasley looking at him 'drinking' with an eager expression. Harry almost groaned out load as he realized what this meant he was going to have to do. He was still undercover and as such had to behave as the Order and his friends expected him to behave.
Steeling himself, Harry took a long drink of the potion, swallowing it all, and set the cup back down. He just had time to catch the look of glee on Ginny's face before a feeling like an iron clamp gripped his chest, driving the air from him. Concentrating and gathering all of his strength, Harry fought it in silence, using his Occlumency to keep the tendrils of suggestive thoughts out of his mind, fighting to remain himself. Giving an almighty push with his force of mind and magic, the growing pressure on his chest dissipated, the power of the potion broken.
Breathing a sigh of releaf, yet dreading what would come next, Harry forced himself to look up and catch Ginny's eye, giving her a goofy grin, and turned back to his breakfast, trying to bottle up the rage that had built up inside of him at the sight of the large smile over Ginny's face.
At least he was still in control of himself, thought Harry, once again thanking the Mind Magics he had trained himself in, without which he would now be a slave to Weasley's whim.
Christmas 1997, Slughorn's office.
Harry was bored. He was at Slughorn's famous Christmas party, and everyone there was deadly dull. Harry had been excited at first when he had heard that there would be a Vampire there, but he had been quickly disappointed to see that the Vampire was a mockery of his species, tamed by wizards to appear respectable.
Slughorn had of course been as excitable as ever to see him, but Harry had quickly got tired of the never ending thinly veiled question related to the prophesy and so had removed himself from the conversation politely, leaving Luna alone and at Slughorn's mercy.
Harry supposed he ought to have taken Ginny to the party, but he couldn't stand another minute of her, so he had opted to take Luna instead, pretending to be too shy to ask Ginny.
He was now leaning against a wall in one of the corners of the vastly expanded office, right next to the drinks table, and was looking out over the crowd of people in front of him. He had so far managed to avoid Hermione that evening, and he was determined to remain successful in this; casting his eyes over the people in the room harry tried to locate Hermione so that she couldn't sneak up on him, but before he could spot her his eyes fell upon the beautiful Daphne Greengrass, standing in the opposite corner of the room, looking quite as bored as he was.
She was, Harry mused, one of the prettier girls in his year, her long dark brown hair framing her face and falling down around her dark blue dress. Looking into her deep blue eyes, a plan began to form in Harry's mind, and he slowly walked across the room, making sure to keep his eyes locked with hers.
Over the years Harry had been extremely cautious around Daphne, as she appeared to suspect him of something, though of what Harry couldn't guess. This was his chance to make sure she stayed silent forever.
Blackmail is a wonderful thing, Harry thought as he got closer to her, looking even deeper into her eyes - so deep that he was almost unaware of where he was walking. Gathering himself, Harry silently thought "Legilimens" and felt himself slip into her mind. A rush of thoughts, memories and emotions hit Harry, but he quickly brought his will to over them and sought out in her mind what she thought about him. What he found did not really surprise him: curiosity, suspicion and a healthy amount of desire. Pulling out of her mind, Harry smirked to himself.
This will be too easy...
It did not take long for Harry to close the remaining space between them and walking right up to her so that their bodies were almost touching and their heads were side-by-side, Harry whispered into her ear,
"Come with me."
Daphne's eyes widened slightly and Harry turned away from her and walked out of the party, taking the way to his favorite room: the Room of Requirement.
Walking through the halls of Hogwarts always reminded Harry of how Dumbledore was still alive, and he scowled at the thought of how his Lord would react if he finished the year without completing his task. Pushing those thoughts out of his mind as he reached the Seventh Floor Corridor, Harry thought of the type of room he wanted the Room of Requirement to provide. Something...comfortable.
A door shimmered into existence and Harry opened it for Daphne before entereing the room himself, a true smile on his face as he appreciated how well the magic of Hogwarts had provided.
The room was quite small and cosy, a strange mix of Gryffindor comfort and Slytherin style. The centerpiece of the room was a large fireplace, and around it there were a few comfortable looking armchairs, and a couch. Despite the large fire in the fireplace, the room was still mostly cloaked in shadow and half light, the only truly light bit directly in front of the fire.
Changing his smile to a more respectable smirk, Harry turned to face Daphne, and was surprised to see her standing so close without him noticing. He was even more surprised when she leaned into him and captured his lips, but Harry quickly recovered from his shock and reciprocated in kind. It would be so easy, Harry thought, to lose himself in the velvety softness of her lips, or in the feeling of her arms wrapping round him, but he knew that he had a purpose there, and if he were to succeed the he would have to be the one in control.
Pulling away to compose himself, something in the corner of Harry's eye caught his attention, and he turned to fins something vaguely familiar there: a vanishing cabinet. Remembering what was on his mind when he had entered the room, Harry guessed that the cabinet was somehow a part of the solution to his dilemma. Then it hit him, a memory: second year, an accident with the Floo, Borgin and Burke's. They had a vanishing cabinet identical to this one...automatically Harry's scheming mind went into overdrive, thinking of the possibilities, before he was interrupted by Dapne's voice.
"Harry...?" Her voice was hesitant, but at the same time held a strong seduction and Harry turned around to see her reclining on the couch in front of the fire, her dress from earlier discarded.
"Are you going to stare at that cabinet all night, or are you going to show me if the rumours about Gryffindor boys are true?"
A smirk growing on Harry's face, he moved over to the couch and embraced Daphne once more, their bodies coming together in the eagerness and strength of youth.
Vanishing cabinets can wait 'til tomorrow...
June 1997, Hogwarts
This was the night. The plan was set and everybody was ready. Everything in Harry's life so far had been leading up to this night. Eternal glory, a place at The Dark Lord's side as his most trusted servant, all that was just one night away. But first, Harry had to succeed.
The plan was simple enough. Harry and Dumbledore would go to the Horcrux Cave and retrieve the fake horcrux that Voldemort had placed there, the protections weakening Dumbledore in the process. While this was happening, Voldemort would signal for a group of Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts through the vanishing cabinets and cast the Dark Mark over a remote place in Hogwarts, where Dumbledore would rush to when he returned, alone and without allies. He would be surrounded by Death Eaters, weakened, and most of all, would have a traitor guarding his back.
The simple plans were always the best, Harry thought as he entered the staircase to Dumbledore's office clutching his invisibility cloak. Opening the door of the office, Harry walked in, meeting the smiling face of Albus Dumbeldore, eyes twinkling.
"Ah, Harry, are you ready to leave?"
"No, no, no...no...I can't...I can't, don't make me, I don't want to..."
Harry held back an evil grin at seeing his enemy brought so low and continued to feed Dumbledore the Puter-Mentis potion, forming his face into a grimace instead of a smile as he did it. Even now, he had to stay in character. No mistakes could be made this late in the game.
The last of the potion disappeared down Dumbledore's mouth, and Harry looked down at his professor begging for water.
He looked so weak, it would be so easy t forget the plan and curse him right there...Harry reached for his wand, Death on his lips when suddenly he felt something seize his ankle, trying to pull him down.
Looking down, Harry saw the pale hand of an animated corpse coming out of the water, intent on pulling him down into the depths. Cursing his bad luck, Harry quickly kicked the grasping hand off of his ankle and spun around to face the multiple inferi working their way towards him.
"Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!"
Three bolts of orange light left Harry's wand and hit the advancing corpses, sending them into flames and immobilizing them. Raising his wand once more Harry silently shot off three more hexes and was beginning to think of using a more powerful curse when a jet of flame shot out from behind him and coiled round the island that he and Dumbledore were standing on, protecting him from the inferi.
Shocked, Harry turned around to see Dumbledore standing upright, his wand out, directing the firestorm. Harry was instantly relieved he hadn't tried to finish Dumbeldore off earlier, as it seemed that Dumbledore was not as weakened as it had appeared.
"Come Harry, let us leave this place."
It had not taken long for Dumbledore to spot the Dark Mark hanging over the Astronomy Tower, and the two of them were currently borrowing madam Rosmerta's brooms, racing towards Hogwarts, Dumbledore undoing the anti-flight spells in the Hogwarts wards.
Exhilaration from the fight mixed with anticipation for what was to come and soon enough Harry and Dumbledore had landed on the top of the tower. Putting their brooms down on the ground they advanced cautiously, already hearing the clamour of fighting below.
'Quick, Harry, put your cloak on," whispered Dumbledore, and not a moment too soon as a group of Death Eaters walked into view, melting out of the shadows as if they were specters of the night itself.
Harry made to move himself into a better position, but found himself unable to move. Dumbledore had placed him under a paralysis spell! For Harry's protection, no doubt, but Harry wasn't the one in danger. This was going to complicate things, Harry thought, but he still had his wand in his hand, which meant he could still do magic, all he had to so was find the key to Dumbledore's spell.
While Harry was working on freeing himself from his invisible bonds, Dumbledore had not been wasting time. He had already disarmed two of the Death Eaters, but his movements were slow, and it was clear that he was greatly weakened.
Harry finally freed himself, just as Dumbledore was about to gain the upper hand against the lumpy Death Eater, Amycus Carrow. Raising his wand, Harry pointed it at Dumbledore's back. "Expelliarmus!" thought Harry, and the spell shot out of his wand and slammed into Dumbledore's back, sending the old wizard's wand flying off into the night and the wizard himself flying back into the railing by the edge of the precipice.
The cloak had now fallen off of Harry and he was advancing on the unarmed Dumbledore who was crawling on the floor, trying to get back up, his face a mask of shock and horror.
The Death Eaters had frozen in place' they had been warned by their Lord that his Agent was someone that they would not expect, but Harry suspected they were still shocked to find one of their greatest enemies on their side.
Harry had reached Dumbledore and looked down upon the previously great wizard's feeble and broken form, whose face still held its shock and sadness; the bright moonlight and the light of the Mark lit up Dumbledore's face in a ghostly light and glistening tears were rolling down it and dripping onto the ground.
Harry did not answer but instead raised his wand, pushing away all thoughts of Dumbledore weak; of Dumbledore smiling at him; of Dumbledore laughing with twinkling eyes. Instead he focused on the great wizard who had been his master's greatest enemy, the man who had abandoned him to the Muggles, the man who had tried to deny him his heritage and birthright - the man he hated. Hated with such a passion that it twisted his face into something grotesque as he raised his wand once more and intoned in a harsh voice,
A jet of sickly green light shot from Harry's wand and drove straight into Dumbledore's chest, lifting him off the ground and dropping him over the sheer edge of the tower.
The deed was done, and Harry was victorious. He took a brief moment to savour the feeling, Dark Magic flowing through his blood and his soul, making him feel like a God, and yet not controlling him.
The moment was broken by a crash from below, and Harry turned to face the Death Eaters still standing in shock.
"Come, we must go, before the Aurors arrive."
Harry quickly ran from the top of the tower down the spiral staircase that lead to the castle below, not looking to see if the Death Eaters were following. Passing through the barrier than was blocking the Order from coming up the stairs, Harry continued to run through the hallways, past several duels between Death Eaters and Order members, ignoring the people calling his name.
He almost fell over when someone violently grabbed his arm as he reached the entrance hall, but he regained his balance and turned around to see Hermione Granger clutching onto his arm, teary faced.
"Harry, what's going on? Where's professor Dumbledore? Where are you-"
She was cut short by Harry wrestling his arm from her and running off again - his job here was finished, he no longer needed to keep his cover by being nice to her.
However, Harry had already run the length of the castle and so he was barely out of the entrance hall and out onto the front lawn of the castle when Hermione caught up with him, yet again almost dislocating his arm as she grabbed him.
"Harry, you need to-"
Harry had jabbed his wand at Hermione, and a silent banishing curse had thrown her through the air and onto the ground, landing in an awkward heap, struggling to get up.
"You dare touch me, you filthy mudblood? You dare speak like that to me, the Dark Lords most faithful servant? I think it's time for you to learn how real wizards play."
Smirking to himself at an evil thought, Harry waved his wand in a circular motion and thought "Unda verto". The ground beneath Hermione, who was still struggling to get up, was suddenly transformed into a pit of deep freezing water and Hermione dropped in, her school robes weighing her down. Before she could swim out, Harry waved his wand again, thinking "Glacies Occulto", and the top surface of the water was turned into strong ice, effectively trapping the panicking Hermione underwater.
Satisfied, Harry took off again down the slope, past the Death Eaters who had caught up with him as he was dealing with Hermione. He quickly reached the gates, and with one last look at the castle, turned on the spot and silently disappeared into the night, returning to his master.
A.N. Wow, that took a lot longer to write than I had planned, but it's finished now. Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, if you have anything to say, please review, I'm a total review whore. I decided in the end to put it as a one shot rather than a two shot, so you'll notice that the teaser chapter I posted a while ago is now the second scene of the story. A couple of things that might not be clear from the story:
1. I am not a Dumbledore hater, in fact, this story has made me like him even more.
2. In case you were wondering, Dumbledore survived the explosive lemon drop because as he was about to eat it Fawkes took the blow for him. I considered doing a scene in Dumbledore's office soon afer this to show the whole place wasted.
3. This story is not supposed to be realistic, lthough I'm sure that some people could find reasons in canon for Harry to turn out like this, all I thought of when I was writing was fun, not how likely it was.
Thanks again for reading, and remember to review!