Can I Kill Him?

Can I kill him?

That's the question, and only I can answer it.

It probably sounds like an easy question to you. You'd like to say to me: You blasted idiot! Of COURSE you can kill him!

If you were in my place, you'd do it without hesitating.

Maybe that's why you're not in my place.

I can't say you don't have a point. Voldemort killed my parents. One of his Death Eaters killed Sirius--killed him and laughed about it. I hate Voldemort. I want to see a world without Voldemort in it. I don't expect to be perfectly safe, but it would be nice, just once, to say to a friend, "I'll see you next week," and not have a voice I try not to hear in the back of my mind add, "I hope."

Yes, it would be nice. It would be nice after all the misery Voldemort has put me through to point my wand at him and say . . . and say something stronger than "Expelliarmus."

But there you have it. I can't even think the words. I'm the Boy Who Lived, damn it, and it doesn't look like I'm ready to become the Boy Who Killed. Not even the Boy Who Killed Voldemort.

Am I weak? Or do I have "power the Dark Lord knows not"--damn Professor Trelawney!

Professor Dumbledore thinks I have this great power. My heart. Some power. Last time I followed my heart, Sirius died, and it nearly broke. Really wonderful power. Just what I always wanted. The power to be hurt. The power to drag all my friends into danger. The power to make everyone miserable except the people I HATE!

I think I prefer the power to catch the Golden Snitch.

Am I ever going to be able to play Quidditch without thinking of Sirius every time I touch my Firebolt?

Sirius . . . Sirius. If there was ever a time I could have cast an Unforgivable Curse, that was the time. I managed it--and I got away with it--I guess there are privileges to being the Boy Who Lived, at least when the Minister of Magic is taking Voldemort seriously--but I only managed it briefly. Bellatrix Lestrange fell down and got right back up. Some powerful wizard I am! And I'm supposed to vanquish Voldemort? I can't make Bellatrix Lestrange scream for more than three seconds.

The horrible woman teased me about it. She told me why I was a failure at it. Righteous anger wouldn't do it, she said. You have to hate. You have to enjoy your victim's suffering.

Is that what it was? Is that why I couldn't torture her? Because I didn't enjoy it?

Why didn't I?

Why shouldn't I?

I loved Sirius, and she took him away from me. She ripped him away, body and soul, and she laughed. I can hear her now. Oh, did you love him, little baby Potter? Yes I did, damn you! Do you even know what it's like? Have you ever had such a loss?

You must have. How can you not have? OK, you're a Death Eater, but you've fought in a war, you've been sent to Azkaban, you're at least twice my age--surely someone you loved must have died! Sirius' mother, maybe? Someone? Anyone? Do people become Death Eaters because everyone they love is alive and well and happy?

I wanted to punish you. I wanted you to suffer for what you did to Sirius, what you did to me, what you and the other Death Eaters did to my friends. I was cut through so badly that when you turned Crucio on me, it hardly made it worse; it just made my body feel the way my heart already did.

And I'm the one with the power the Dark Lord knows not? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I have the power to suffer?

I have the power to suffer. Worst of all, I have the power to suffer with you. I didn't have time to think about what I was feeling, but the moment you screamed in pain--pain I was inflicting--I felt it anyhow. You escaped because, damn it, you were right: I didn't really mean it. I should have meant it, I wanted to mean it, I even thought I meant it when I cast the spell. But the moment you screamed, I flinched.

Power? I'm weak. Dementors make me faint and your screams make me show mercy. Voldemort wouldn't be back if I hadn't decided to be Saint Potter and let Pettigrew live! Even with Voldemort back, if I hadn't been such a softie, such a weakling, I would not have taken my friends to the Department of Mysteries and nearly gotten us all killed.

Power. Right, Dumbledore. I'm powerful, Dobby is prudent, and Draco Malfoy is the sweetest little cherub in Hogwarts. And you, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, are a big, blooming, BLOODY IDIOT!

What kind of warrior flinches when his enemy gets hurt? Tell me that, Dumbledore, since you apparently know everything! Tell me just what kind of world-saving warrior, who's supposed to defeat the most powerful Dark wizard of the age, is so damn determined that when he actually hurts the enemy, he flinches and lets her go?

I can stand pain when it happens to me--I can sit in Umbridge's office all evening every evening for a week, slicing my own hand open, and never once complain about anything except missing Quidditch tryouts. I even manage to stand it when my friends get hurt--it's harder, but I manage. But just let an evil person get hurt, and I go all soft. It's a wonder I didn't give her a big bloody hug, like Mrs. Weasley!

Hell, even Mrs. Weasley manages to fight, doesn't she?

Maybe the Hat was right. I do belong in Slytherin. If I were in Slytherin, I could give a nice big hug to an evil murderer like Bellatrix Lestrange.

No. If I were in Slytherin, I wouldn't be so soft. You don't see Malfoy getting upset when Hermione gets hurt, do you?

That's not quite right either. If I weren't so soft, I would be in Slytherin. The Slytherins are never soft. Voldemort is always casting Unforgivable Curses on his Death Eaters--his "true family." Old man Malfoy didn't care about the Death Eaters he lost trying to get the prophecy. And in five years, I've never once seen Draco Malfoy give Crabbe or Goyle so much as a slap on the back. He scarcely seems to like them.

Good and evil isn't just a matter of picking sides. Dark wizards really are different from us. This isn't about difference the way Muggle-borns are different from pure-bloods, or half-giants are different from pure humans. It isn't even different the way werewolves are different. This is difference where it counts.

They think differently. They feel differently. They choose differently.

How come we've had five different Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, and not one of them has mentioned this? Come to think of it, no one has told us what makes the Dark Arts Dark. It isn't just that they hurt people--Petrificus Totalus isn't exactly fun to experience. Nor are Stunners. Even innocent-sounding spells can be dangerous--I once used a tickling spell in a duel, and Ron knocked out a troll with Wingardium Leviosa, of all things. But if tickling and levitation are Dark Arts, what isn't? What makes the Dark Arts different?

Where's Hermione when you need her? Oh, yeah, I said I have to figure this out for myself.

OK, let's figure. I've figured things out without Hermione before. OK--why didn't the Defense teachers tell us what makes the Dark Arts so Dark?

Quirrell--well, he was Dark himself, really. Umbridge notwithstanding, he had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. He wouldn't want us to be too good. Yet he did give us a strong foundation on some things--which means this must be really important. Or might be. Hermione would tell me not to jump to conclusions.

Lockhart? Well, he wasn't Dark, but he was definitely dim. He had no clue about anything else, so there's no reason to think he had a clue about this. Oh well. Didn't learn anything from him second year, won't learn anything from him today.

Remus Lupin? Moony ought to have had some insight. And he's certainly on our side--I'd bet my life on that one (or have I already done?). Well, he was never all that big on theory; there was always something exciting going on in his class, and I don't recall writing much down. (I don't recall needing to. His lessons tended to be easy to remember.) OK, can I think of any themes... yes, come to think of it, I can. The two spells that come to mind when I think of Moony are Riddikulus and the Patronus. Both very emotional. You can't cast Riddikulus unless you can turn your worst nightmare into something funny. You can't cast a Patronus unless you can stare down a dementor--a dementor that's sucking all the happiness out of you and throwing your darkest memories in your face--unless you can face all the sadness and the terror of those horrors and still think of a happy memory. That sounds promising--but let's think about the other two.

Moody--the fake Moody. I've answered that one already, part way. He was Dark, like Quirrell--he supported Voldemort, even if not biologically. But despite that, he did work on arming us against the Unforgivable Curses. He showed them to us. He even did the Imperius on us . . . and I threw it off, and he encouraged me. How could I do it? Because I was determined not to be controlled by anyone else.

And that leaves--Umbridge. Think, Harry, think. Umbridge loved theory. That's all she knew, theory. She gave us a big, thick book on theory and made us spend all class reading the cursed thing. Why, why, why, would she not cover the biggest theoretical point of all--what makes the Dark Arts Dark?

Maybe it's because she's Dark. But is she? She was on Fudge's side, and Fudge, whatever else he was, was not a Death Eater. Fudge hated Voldemort. Even Dumbledore acknowledged that. And so did Sirius. "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," he told me.

But was he right? OK, maybe not good people and Death Eaters. But--good people and bad people? Just because you don't support Voldemort doesn't mean you're not a bad person. After all, Voldemort wants to be the most powerful wizard in the world, so if there were another wizard exactly like Voldemort, he'd have to be his rival, not a Death Eater.

So what--aside from loyalty to Voldemort--makes a wizard Dark?

Maybe I just said it--power. Dark wizards want power.

And the rest of us don't?

Ron wants to be Quidditch captain. Hermione was excited about becoming prefect, and she wants to be Head Girl. I wished I'd been made prefect, and Dumbledore seemed to think it wasn't wrong of me to wish it. Dumbledore himself is the headmaster of Hogwarts--a pretty powerful position--and he didn't get that way by accident. Madam Bones seems to like being head of an important Office in the Ministry.

That would be too simple. OK, it's not the desire for power.

What else do Dark wizards want? Well, I already mentioned something. I couldn't cast the Cruciatus Curse, or at least I couldn't cast it properly. Dark wizards can; it's easy for them. Why couldn't I? Same reason they can--you have to want the person to suffer.

That fits. Think of Umbridge. When Umbridge punished me, she was always smiling. It was the highlight of her day, punishing me. She sat there with that smile, like a toad about to swallow a fly. I was the fly.

And that would explain why I hated her for it. It wasn't just that she punished me--so has Professor McGonagall, and I've always respected her. It's not even that she shouldn't have--Professor McGonagall's made mistakes, too. I still don't think she was justified in taking House points from me when Umbridge was making me slice my hand open. In fact, she was less justified than Umbridge was--Umbridge may really have thought I was lying, but Professor McGonagall knew I was telling the truth. How come she punishes me about once a month for five years--and I'm loyal to her? Snape gives me a zero mark toward a grade I don't care about and I think he's a Death Eater--Professor McGonagall takes fifty points from Gryffindor and I suck it up. Why?

There's some difference between them that I see, that I've always seen--what is it? I have to name it. I have to figure out the answer.

When Umbridge punished me, she was always smiling. Professor McGonagall never is. Professor McGonagall always has one reason for punishing me: She wants me to behave better--what she thinks is better. She cares. I can disagree with her. I can disobey her, if I have to. But I can't hate her for doing what she thinks is best for me. I can't hate her for trying to take care of me--even if she hurts me, even if she makes mistakes.

Is that all there is to it--Professor McGonagall likes me, Snape and Umbridge don't? So I accept Professor McGonagall's authority, and I bridle at Snape and Umbridge?

No. That can't be enough.

I've seen these professors punish other people, haven't I? Professor McGonagall is no great admirer of Malfoy's, and I've seen her catch him. She's no harder on him than she is on me--easier, if anything, because she doesn't care as much--and it's even easier for him because he doesn't care what she thinks of him. And when the fake Moody Transfigured Malfoy into a ferret and bounced him up and down, Professor McGonagall was outraged.

But the fake Moody was having a good time.

And so is Snape. Snape gives me zero marks for one day's potion and does it with such a sneer that I want to dunk his head in a cauldron. He's happy that I'm not doing well. He gets a chance to insult me and he savors it. Likewise Umbridge, no matter how kind she tries to sound--it's her great thrill to humiliate someone. She just loved making that scene with Trelawney. And she was almost as happy to see how much her quill hurt me. (Which is why, come to think of it, I never mentioned it to Professor McGonagall. Part of it was that I didn't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction. Part of it was that I didn't want to feel that Umbridge had humiliated me by hurting me in front of Professor McGonagall. Part of it was also, I think, that I didn't want to hurt Professor McGonagall--because she does care, all right, she loves me, and I don't want her to suffer because of me.)

Maybe that's the key distinction. Dark wizards enjoy the suffering of others.

Does that make me Dark?

Can't be--I can't cast Cruciatus even at Bellatrix.

But I enjoy hexing Malfoy, don't I? Don't I?

Ah, but do I enjoy his suffering? Not really. I take satisfaction in the fact that he can't get away with hurting me or my friends. Just as I was proud of Hermione when Marietta burst out in pimples because of her. It's my action that's important, or my friend's action--not the suffering of Malfoy. Not even the improved behavior of Malfoy. My action--for justice' sake, and for the protection of my friends.

Well, if I can enjoy giving Malfoy grief for bothering me or Hermione, why not when it's Bellatrix? I said it already: I was trying to use the Cruciatus Curse, and that requires enjoying someone else's suffering. You have to focus on the suffering and take pleasure in that. You can't even be distracted by the reason--it must be suffering for its own sake.

And the Killing Curse has the same problem: You must kill for the sake of killing, and enjoy it.

Which means I can't use the Killing Curse on Voldemort. When I fight Voldemort, it's for the sake of my lives, or my friends' lives, or even just the lives of innocent strangers. It's for justice for my parents, and for Sirius, and for me--for everyone and everything he's taken from me. It's not because I'm simply going to be happy that a man, or former man, is dead because of me. I'm not like that. If I were, I'd be a Dark wizard. And I'm not.

And that brings me back to the original question: Can I kill him? Can I--for my parents, for Sirius, for me, for Hermione, for everyone--kill Voldemort?

Not with the Killing Curse, I can't.

But if I'm going to preserve my life, I have to do something. I have to vanquish Voldemort before he destroys me. My choices are simple: Kill or be killed.

Right. That's simple. Kill Voldemort, or he'll kill me. Simple. As simple as talking to a snake--but I can't understand how I talk to snakes, I just do. Simple.

But this snake I can't talk to. This snake, this bloody half-blood Heir of Slytherin, needs to be killed. Or I will die.

And I want to live. Yes, you heard me, I want to live. I want to feel the thrill of the Snitch racing in front of me, an opponent hot on my tail. I want the pride of seeing a spell I cast do--whatever it was I set it to do. I want to look at Dobby and know I set him free. I want to see an elf other than Dobby pick up one of Hermione's hats. I want to see Ron save a Quidditch game. (And I want to beat him at chess.) I want to live, and I want to live in a world with no Voldemort in it. But not a world with no Dark wizards at all; that would be boring. And boredom is worse than terror, or I'd go curl up in Privet Drive and be safe.

But does that mean I can kill Voldemort? Can I deliberately cause the death of another person? I remember Tom Riddle, the memory of Tom Riddle when he was . . . the age I'm going to be in a few weeks. I remember Tom's face when Dumbledore told him Hogwarts might be closed. And even though I know it was Tom's monster that had put the school in danger . . . . Can I kill Tom?

You see, here I am. Tom. Merlin's beard, TOM, for crying out loud. The monster--made a monster by his own hand, his own choice--the monster who tried to kill me when I was one year old, and I am sitting here, no, standing here, trying not to pound my fists on the wall and wake Uncle Vernon and FEELING SYMPATHY FOR BLOODY VOLDEMORT!

If he's doing Legilimency on me right now, he is laughing. Well, at least someone's amused.

What happens if I kill him? Well, I'm a hero. Again. Hooray for Harry the hero. Again.

No. I shouldn't mock it. This would be real. This would be mine. This wouldn't be like the Boy-Who-Lived nonsense. This would be my choice, my action, every bit as intensely mine as the Quidditch victories I'm so proud of.

But in Quidditch, nobody dies. Or at least they're not supposed to. If I kill Voldemort and then go celebrate, I am celebrating the death of another person.

Can I do that?

Well, I could just kill him and go hide till the party's over. I could kill him and adopt a secret identity. Right, I know: I'll go into the drill business. Make them by magic. Put Uncle Vernon's company out of business with my low costs. Then buy it and have him work for me. He can run the company, and I'll pay him well . . . but over his head when he sits at his desk there will be a staircase between Dudley's bedroom and a kitchen that has no TV.

Now that's revenge I could enjoy.

No, I couldn't. I could enjoy the putting him out of business. I couldn't enjoy the torture. Not even torture by Dudley. Not in real life.

Well, how about I use that youthening jar in the Department of Mysteries on Draco, then make Uncle Vernon adopt him? Oh, what a fun thought. Seriously evil wizard coming through! No. Not in real life.

But . . . Tom. VOLDEMORT.

Avoiding celebration wouldn't change the fact. What I am talking about here is the planned killing of another person. I am talking about dedicating my life for the next however many years to killing another person. I am talking about letting the intention to kill another person guide me for several years. Granted, he deserves to die. But how is it possible to devote years to someone's death and not end up with the soul of a murderer--as the kind of person who could cast Av--the Killing Curse--even if you never do it?

You can't--not if you focus on the person's death in the way you would have to to use the Killing Curse. Voldemort is who he is in part because he's dedicated his life to killing people. I refuse to become like him. I will focus on doing justice. I will focus on protecting the innocent and the good.

Voldemort's death isn't the point, just as Malfoy's suffering isn't the point. The point is that when there is evil in the world, I will act to put a stop to it. Justice is the point, justice and the knowledge that no one can be allowed--I will not allow anyone--to run a rampage through the country, killing people for sport. And, even more certainly, I will not allow anyone, no matter how powerful he is, to take his pleasure inflicting suffering on the people I love. My action is the point--my action in defense, first and foremost of the people I love, but also of the other good people Voldemort would enjoy destroying.

Umbridge got what she deserved. I am not happy because she suffered, but because justice was done. The distinction may be subtle, but it's real. It's real enough to affect magic: Righteous anger will not support an Unforgivable Curse. It's righteous anger that enables me to be glad that justice was done to Dolores Umbridge. And it's righteous anger that led Hermione and me to do it.

We did justice to Umbridge.

I'll do justice to Voldemort.

And Ron and I will do justice to Snape.

". . . suppose . . . a man were anxious to do, more than other men, acts of justice . . . or any other virtuous acts, and, in general, were to secure to himself that which is abstractedly noble and honourable, no one would call him Self-loving, nor blame him. Yet might such an one be judged to be more truly Self-loving: certainly he gives to himself the things which are most noble and most good . . ."

--Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book IX, ch. 8. Project Gutenberg edition.