Five Ways Harry Potter's Life Could Have Gone Terribly Awry

05. Dark Lord In His Own Right

"Voldemort's dead," said Harry quietly to Ron and Hermione. They were standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sky was pink and purple, except at the western horizon. Where the sun had just set, a deep red glow had begun to diffuse. No one would find them out here. No one had come near the Forbidden Forest since Hagrid had disappeared.

"It's bloody well time!" exclaimed Ron. "So who's next? Fudge and the Ministry?"

"What about Hogwarts?" asked Hermione anxiously, looking over her shoulder at the castle's silhouette. "Don't you think that Professor Dumbledore will try to stop us?"

"I'll take care of Dumbledore," said Harry. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it even more, and smeared mud on his face. Dumbledore had once told him that Voldemort's curse meant that Harry had some of his powers. That was why he was a Parselmouth.

What Dumbledore didn't suspect was that Harry shared a little bit of Voldemort's darkness as well. It was scarcely more than a spark. It might have stayed just that, but ten years of the cupboard under the stairs had fed it. Ten years of Aunt Petunia's disdainful sniffs and Uncle Vernon's constant belittling had fed it. Ten years of Dudley's bullying had fed it. The seed of darkness in him had grown long before Hagrid had come to bring his acceptance letter for Hogwarts.

Sometimes Harry honestly wondered why the Sorting Hat hadn't just ignored his objections, put him in Slytherin, and been done with it.

When he'd met Draco Malfoy, Harry almost laughed in his face. Malfoy was so pompous, so superior-sounding...and so utterly unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Harry had loathed Malfoy on first sight. Ron was fun. Ron had the family Harry had always wanted, and he ignored the resentful whispers inside him when he'd seen how Ron had been eager enough to share his family with Harry. It hadn't been until the Mirror of Erised that Harry had realized how Ron felt taken for granted. He hadn't done anything with that information. Not then.

When Harry had faced Voldemort at the end of the year, he realized what was inside him. He'd known he was angry, bitter at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but he hadn't known the depth of what was inside him. He was good at Defense Against the Dark Arts because of the darkness inside him. He understood it. Understood how to work with it, and how to defend against it, because it was a part of him.

"You should tear your clothing," said Hermione evenly, drawing Harry from his reverie. "Maybe cut yourself too. After all, Bellatrix Lestrange was after you until Ron stopped her, and she's positively vicious." Ron had killed Bellatrix with a well-placed Killing Curse, and laughed at the look of surprise on her face.

"Right," said Ron. "Let's make this look real." He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Expelliarmus!"

Ron had been angry too. Harry had followed Ron outside one day during their second year after Fred and George had been particularly annoying at dinner. Ron had been throwing rocks at anything that moved.

"You can get back at them," Harry had said.

"Sometimes I hate them," said Ron. "Pureblood wizard?" He hurled a rock at a squirrel that dodged quickly. "More like poorblood. I don't have anything that's not a hand-me-down." He pulled his wand out of his robes and scowled at it. "I can't even get a new wand when mine is broken! But my brothers-- One a Head Boy, the next a Quidditch captain, then a prefect, and even Fred and George are at least the best pranksters in the school. And what do I get? Bloody nothing, mate!"

"You've got me and Hermione," said Harry.

"Yeah, I know." Ron sighed and kicked at the ground. "I'll get over it. I always do."

"Don't bother," said Harry. "Stay angry."

"And do what?" asked Ron.

"Whatever we want," said Harry.

Ron gave Harry a confused look. "Right," he said slowly. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I am. Why not?"

"Hermione'll figure it out," said Ron. "I mean, you're talking about using magic to do whatever we want? That's dark wizardry, and if anyone's close enough to us and smart enough to figure out what we're up to, it's Hermione."

"Let her," said Harry. "Bet we can talk her into it too."

He gave Harry an incredulous look. "Hermione? Break the rules? Good luck."

Harry's wand went flying as his hand was flung backwards and into a branch. "Ow!" He laughed. "Don't think I won't get you back for that, Ron."

Ron chuckled. "What're you going to do, kill one of my brothers?" He rolled his eyes. "Please. I'd be grateful. Can you start with Percy?"

"Worse," said Harry. "I'll kill the rest and let Percy live."

Hermione frowned at them both. "Ron, you'll never get anywhere just by flinging his wand around--and Harry, joking around isn't going to get Professor Dumbledore taken care of." She raised her wand and smiled. "Here, let me."

The Blasting Charm she cast knocked Harry back a good twenty or so feet and dug a shallow trench in the ground.

"There," said Hermione with satisfaction as Harry stood gingerly and started brushing off his clothes. "Now you look like you've been in a fight."

"Anybody ever tell you that you're scary, Hermione?" asked Ron.

"You do, Ron," said Hermione crisply. "Frequently. However, I've seen the two of you angry. You're both at least as scary as I can be, if not more so."

"You're more cold-blooded about it," said Ron.

"I prefer to be called practical," said Hermione. It had taken her longer to come around.

I know what you're doing," whispered Hermione without looking up from her book. They were in the Gryffindor common room, in their usual spot by the fireplace . Everyone else had gone to sleep by then, but Hermione was up late studying for an Arithmancy exam, and Ron and Harry were trying to distract her.

"What do you mean, you know what we're doing?" asked Ron. He and Harry glanced at each other.

"The diagrams you try to hide every time I come over," she'd said. "The charms and spells I hear you practicing." She closed her book and looked up at both of them. "It's not Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's the Dark Arts themselves."

"So what?" asked Harry. "Are you going to report us to McGonagall?"

Hermione frowned at them both. "If I was going to report you, I'd have done so already. But I don't understand. Why are you doing this? You shouldn't. If you get caught, they'll expel you both, and Professor Dumbledore won't be able to do anything about it."

Harry laughed. "I don't care what Dumbledore thinks," he said.

"Fine," snapped Hermione. "But don't expect me to cover for you if you get in trouble because of this." She'd gathered up her books quickly and run up to the girls' dormitory.

"We'll talk her into it?" Ron scoffed at Harry. "Doubt it."

She'd come to them late at night a week later in the worst mood Harry'd ever seen her in.

"He called me a Mudblood," said Hermione, spitting with rage. "I hate that despicable little weasel."

"Who, Malfoy?" asked Ron.

Hermione had nodded.

Ron glanced at Harry. "He'd probably get points deducted from Slytherin if a prefect overheard."

"Percy heard something, but he didn't bother deducting any points," said Hermione, frowning. "He said he was trying to be fair. To Draco Malfoy!"

"Percy's an idiot," said Ron bluntly.

"I want to get Draco Malfoy back," said Hermione. "I want him to pay for every single disgusting name he's ever called any of us."

"We can do that," said Harry. "But I thought you weren't going to be any part of it."

"I've changed my mind," said Hermione. She pulled a book out of her robes. "You know Madam Pince has given me access to the Restricted Section because I'm always doing extra research for all my classes and I kept coming in with too many notes for her to keep track of." The book was bound in black leather and looked fairly ominous. "I borrowed this without telling her." She glanced at Ron, then at Harry. "So if we're going to do this, we're going to do it the right way. We're going to study the Dark Arts properly."

"Well," said Harry, picking himself up and dusting the worst of the mud off him. "Do you think you two can handle Snape and McGonagall?"

"I've been practicing the Imperius Curse," said Ron. "Draco and Pansy are going to go after Professor Snape for us. They're both good enough at the Dark Arts that everyone will think they did this on their own."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry. "He's a suspicious bastard, but he'll never expect his own house to turn on him like that."

"McGonagall's a problem, though," said Ron. "Don't know what we're going to do about her."

"We could just go the Muggle route and poison her teapot," said Hermione.

"I suppose," said Ron.

"You're just not used to the Muggle way of doing things," said Hermione. "Besides, I'll have to use magic to get the poison in her teapot without anyone noticing."

"But you can do it?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded.

"Good," said Harry. "When the Aurors show up, they'll blame the Slytherins. I've got enough evidence planted to make sure they don't even glance in our direction."

"What next, then?" asked Hermione. "After Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic, I mean."

Harry smiled. "I've always wanted to be called a Dark Lord myself. Do you think Dumbledore's study would make a good throne room?"

The End