Learning to Vanquish

Chapter 11

How Are a Ring and a Tatoo the Same?

Sunday's Prophet had a response from Fudge. He stated that the Ministry had done nothing wrong at Hogwarts, but that they were investigating Dolores Umbridge's actions while there. The story sounded sceptical that the investigation would show anything different than what Fudge said it would.

More newsworthy were the Letters to the Editor. Many were from parents but even more were from witches and wizards who had attended Hogwarts in previous years. All were appalled at the Ministry's interference and at what one witch called "Umbridge's Year of Terror". Some mentioned the absence of effective Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. One stated, "Professor Remus Lupin may have been a werewolf, appalling as that is, but at least my daughter learned something in his classes." Another letter asked, "Perhaps it's time we raised our standards for the class, to something a little better than having a heartbeat."

Hermione read all of them out loud, with particular emphasis on those that criticized Fudge. She, Harry and Ron all agreed that, although they had had some terrible Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, Professor Gillespie was good at what he did.

When Professor Gillespie walked into Monday's class, he didn't seem to be especially annoyed. After waiting for half the class for him to say something, Parvati finally gave in to her curiosity. When he called on her, she asked, "Aren't you upset over what was in the paper yesterday?"

He smiled ruefully. "Ten points to Gryffindor; you're the first student to come right out and ask that question. If I were being named specifically, I'd be furious. If my teaching is as lacking as you have received in previous years, I want to know about it. However, what was said was that, except for Professors Lupin and Moody, the teachers for this class for several years have been incompetent at best. Judging from my testing at the beginning of the year and what I've seen of past years' lesson plans, I agree. The fact that the only competent teachers in the past have been a werewolf and an impostor are enough to make any parent angry."

Pacing in front of the room, he continued, "Ms. Skeeter owled me yesterday afternoon and asked me for an interview. I have granted it and I intend to agree with the outrage over past teachers and explain how I intend on remedying the lack. Frankly, I'm much more concerned by other revelations that have been in the paper as of late."

He stopped and looked intently at the class. "Have all of you spoken with, er, Professor McGonagall about . . . my predecessor's detentions?" When he checked that everyone had nodded, he looked thoughtfully at him or her. "Good. Please open your books to the chapter on Dark objects." What followed was a lesson on the best-known Dark objects and what could be done to counter them.

Although he'd done fairly well against Snape in avoiding being captured the week before, once magic was added, Harry discovered he couldn't stay out of Snape's "control" for more than five minutes at a time. After working for nearly an hour, Snape called a halt. "You're progressing more quickly than I expected, but it's not enough. We have to increase these sessions to two a week. Three if we can arrange it."

Harry sighed. "I'll find the time. Somehow."

"Give me your list."

It took Harry a minute to remember which list Snape was talking about, but he dug it out of his bag. "I hope it's clear."

Snape nodded absently as he looked it over. "I'll keep this," he said, pocketing the list. Then, he pulled three books from his briefcase. "By next week you are to be proficient in everything in the first book and have read the other two. If anything changes, you'll be informed." He strode out of the room.

Harry shook his head. Snape was still as unfair as ever in classes, but in private he was becoming . . . almost civil. It was hard to get used to.

The next day's Daily Prophet had two articles Harry found especially interesting. The first covered more responses to the "Blood Quill Scandal". As time went on, and the fear of Voldemort increased, more and more people were calling for Fudge to be removed from office.

The second left him unable to finish his breakfast. It was a summary of Death Eater attacks that had occurred over the last week. Only one person had died, but Harry knew there were more deaths coming. He couldn't help feeling responsible, knowing that he was the only one who could stop Voldemort.

When Hermione asked why he'd become so quiet, he showed her the article. She shook her head. "At least no one is trying to say Voldemort's not back any more," she said. "If people are warned, they have a better chance of defending themselves. And you're not to feel responsible," she continued, looking at him with an expression that reminded him of McGonagall. "It's not your fault Voldemort's killing people; you're doing what you can."

Her firm statement, and Ron's answering nod, made Harry feel better, but no less responsible. He had to figure out how to fulfil the prophecy.

When the next Sunday Prophet arrived, Harry was stunned by the photograph on the front page. Somewhere, they had found a photograph of Tom Riddle as he was when he left school. The caption under the photograph sent the readers to page three, where there was an extensive biography on Tom Marvolo Riddle and how he became Lord Voldemort. The paper was even brave enough to call him Voldemort, although it usually referred to him as Riddle.

As Harry began reading the story, his scar began to burn. Harry began Occluding, and then raising his shields against emotions. When neither of those worked, he looked over at Ron and mouthed, "Help me out of here." Wide-eyed, Ron helped him walk back to their dorm room.

Once Harry was sitting on his bed, he tried pushing out and into Voldemort's mind. He was amazed when it worked; he was in Voldemort's body, looking down at a copy of the Prophet on a table. He was in a room with Wormtail and Malfoy. He quickly began looking around, trying to memorize every detail he could. He realized he knew where he was; he was in "his" office at Azkaban Headquarters. He decided to see if he could feel the Death Eaters through their Marks. He had almost found the connections when he lost his hold and "fell" back into his own head.

Opening his eyes, Harry saw Ron sitting on the next bed, his freckles standing out on his white face. "Are you all right, Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah, but my head really hurts," Harry answered. "I think I'd better talk to Dumbledore; Voldemort's in Azkaban running things. He wasn't happy about this morning's article."

When they walked through the common room, Hermione ran up to them. "What happened?" she asked quietly. Ron explained quickly as the three of them walked to Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore seemed to have been expecting them; the gargoyle guarding his office was open. When they walked in, he waved them to chairs in front of his desk. "Am I correct in assuming you're here to report Voldemort's unhappiness with this morning's Sunday Prophet?"

Harry nodded. "He was livid. I was able to see his office in Azkaban. The main thing I saw was a copy of the paper on a desk, but I think I'd recognize the office again. Malfoy and Wormtail were with him."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I'm not surprised he was upset. The article, as far as I was able to determine, is accurate. I doubt he wants his followers, or his potential followers, to know that he's a half-blood. Harry, were you able to read the entire article?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I only got through the first page. Why?"

"There's something you should read," Dumbledore said, opening his paper to the end of the article, turning it around and pointing to a paragraph very near the end.

In researching Mr. Riddle's past, certain similarities can be seen with someone whose name is frequently paired with his: The Boy Who Lived. Both Tom Riddle and Harry Potter were orphaned as babies, both are half-bloods, both were raised with little love, both are Parselmouths, and both are unusually powerful wizards. Could Riddle, in trying to destroy the last of the Potters, have created his own rival and downfall?

"They're awfully close." Harry felt cold. "Could this cause us trouble?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes were twinkling merrily behind his half-moon glasses. "I don't believe so. Certainly, both you and he have had cause to notice the similarities before. The only real difference is that now the Wizarding world as a whole can see them as well. I suspect that that is what he is truly angry about."

The next morning brought the expected flood of owls from the paper's readers. For once, the responses were mostly positive; most of the writers simply wanted to declare their loyalties. Harry set aside those who asked if he knew of a group actively resisting Voldemort's actions; he would give those to Remus for the Order.

On Friday morning at breakfast, Blaise walked over to the Gryffindor table and leaned over to speak with Harry. "Potter," Blaise said quietly, "watch yourself on Monday. Draco just left to spend the weekend at home and he says that you'll be sorry when he sees you on Monday."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the warning, Blaise." When Blaise had returned to the Slytherin table, Harry looked at Hermione.

She dug into one of the books in her bag. "Yes, the Spring Equinox, which is one of the Quarter Days, is today. It must be another of those rituals."

"Harry, could you try to see what's going on? You were able to do it once, weren't you?"

"I got told off for doing it," Harry answered slowly, "but I could certainly give it a try."

That afternoon after classes were over, Harry went to his dorm and tried the same exercise that had worked before. He wasn't able to break into Voldemort's mind again; his attention was very focused on what he was doing and there was what felt like a barrier in the way. Not wanting to alert him, Harry didn't push very hard.

When he opened his eyes, Ron and Hermione were both sitting on Ron's bed looking anxiously at him. "Sorry," he said, "I couldn't see anything."

"Probably for the best," Ron said while Hermione nodded. "I just thought it might be worth a try."

During breakfast on Saturday, Percy's owl Hermes flew in and stopped at Ron's plate. When he had taken his letter from the owl, it flew over to Ginny, dropped its second letter on her plate and flew off. Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. While Ginny opened her letter to read while eating, Ron set his aside.

"Ron! Aren't you going to read that?" Hermione asked.

"After I eat my breakfast," Ron answered, putting a third helping of scrambled eggs on his plate. "I don't want to risk spoiling my appetite."

After finishing his breakfast, Ron went straight to the common room and read his letter. Hermione looked over his shoulder, which made Harry grin. When Ron had finished, he looked thoughtful. "For once, Percy giving advice isn't being a total prat," he finally said. "Do you want to read it?" He offered the letter to Harry. "He talks about you in it, and he's not advising me to drop you as a friend because you're so violent this time."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry laughed and accepted the letter.

Dear Ron, it read,

Professor Dumbledore is now asking the professors for their recommendations for Head Boy and Head Girl. Since I believe your name will be on those lists, I thought I'd give you some advice to obtain that position.

The Head Boy goes to someone who is a leader. They look at grades but they look just as closely at other things. Your leading one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts study groups will look very good, as will your taking your prefect duties seriously. Many Head Boys are not on their House's Quidditch teams; however, the fact that you are and still hold up your other responsibilities should look quite good.

Finally, there is the personal factor. Harry, of course, is the Headmaster's favourite; however, this may serve you better than it would initially appear. By not choosing Harry as a prefect, Dumbledore has demonstrated that he can be impartial in determining who should be given responsibility. As Harry's best friend and as someone who has actively supported him, even in the face of heavy opposition, your name will be one Dumbledore knows and will view kindly.

If the Head Boy position is one you wish to obtain, and it certainly should be, I would recommend that you continue to work hard at your classes, take your prefect duties seriously and take any other opportunities for leadership that come your way. Looking for those opportunities wouldn't go amiss.

Good luck in whatever you choose to do.

Percy

Harry quietly handed the letter back to Ron, feeling curiously ambivalent about it. "I wish he didn't think your being my best friend was going to have anything to do with whether or not you're made Head Boy," he said. "There are better reasons for you to make it. Just think, the Mirror of Erised might have been telling the future in what it showed you."

"You never mentioned you'd seen the Mirror of Erised," Hermione said. "What did you see?"

His eyes wide, Ron said, "I saw myself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. Remember, Harry, I asked you if you thought it showed the future. Do you really think I have a shot at it?"

Harry felt a wave of cold run over him but didn't want to let Ron know. "Yes, I do," he said. "I'll see you two later; I have some homework to finish." Harry picked up his book bag and walked to the library. He spent the rest of the morning there, not working but thinking. He had seen his parents, his whole family, in the Mirror. Dumbledore had said that the Mirror shows the "deepest, most desperate desires" but if Ron was right as well, and the Mirror could show the future, the only way it could have shown his future was to show him his death and, that afterwards, he'd be reunited with his family. Neither can live while the other survives. Maybe he could only kill Voldemort by dying himself. Once he'd had that thought, Harry was surprised at how peaceful he felt. If he had to die to stop Voldemort, to protect his friends, it was worth it. There are some things worth dying for. Sirius's comment from when Mr. Weasley had been bitten came back to him and, for the first time, Harry could understand how Sirius might believe that rescuing Harry was worth any cost. He went down to dinner feeling better than he had in a very long time and the happy smile he gave Ron and Hermione seemed to reassure them as well.

"I think you should give it a go," Harry told Ron. "About Head Boy, I mean. Quidditch Captain, too; you're loads better at knowing which plays are good and which ones are rubbish than I am."

"I agree," Hermione said. She gave Harry a bright smile. "Thinking things through?"

"Realizing how important my friends are to me, and how much they give me," Harry answered her. "For all I complain about the bad breaks I've had, I'm really pretty lucky."

Harry's good mood lasted until the Daily Prophet was delivered Tuesday morning. The front page's headline screamed WEREWOLVES ATTACK MUGGLES. The story was every bit as horrifying as the headline. The night before had been the full moon and the Death Eaters had taken advantage of that fact. Four Muggle families had been attacked by werewolves; the Dark Mark floated over all four houses. Five of the Muggles were dead and two were bitten and would transform at the next full moon if they survived. One of the werewolves had also been killed. Harry felt terribly guilty; the attacks would continue until he killed Voldemort.

Tuesday night was another training session with Snape. When he got to the training, Ron and Hermione were also there. "You need to begin practicing with more than one person at a time," Snape said. "They need to learn how to protect you from the other Death Eaters while you're fighting Voldemort. We'll split our time between the two types of fighting." The session was hard and Harry was sore by the end of it, but he welcomed every bruise and sore muscle if it meant he had a better chance against Voldemort.

The attacks were the main topic of conversation as the week went on. The victims might have been Muggles, but there were enough students who had family members or friends who were also Muggles who were worried about them. The students who believed that purebloods were better than anyone else were unconcerned; in some cases, they felt it was no more than the victims deserved for not having magical blood. The Daily Prophet was printing stories and letters demanding that Fudge's policies be examined or that he be replaced entirely. His insistence for a year that Voldemort had not come back, although it had kept people calm while they believed him, was now backfiring. People wanted to know why nothing had been done to try to stop Voldemort before he started attacking. Harry was still receiving letters from people asking what they could do to fight Voldemort. Every day, Harry sent Hedwig with a full load of them to Remus for the Order.

Harry was now spending all of his free time studying the books Snape had given him for his special lessons. He found himself dreaming about the different spells he was studying; all too frequently he was killed by them. The fact that his death in these dreams seemed to lead to victory meant he was becoming less concerned with the damage the practices were doing to him and more concerned with how well he was able to accomplish the objective Snape had set him for that exercise. During one training session, in which he had been "killed" five times but had succeeded in his objective three times, Snape finally called a halt.

"You're not trying!" Snape yelled. "You're supposed to survive these exercises, not just accomplish your objective! You're not working at it!"

"Yes, I am," Harry said, quietly but intensely. "I'm not going to survive Voldemort; the best I can hope for is to bring him down with me. When I'm accomplishing my objective all the time, then I can spare attention for survival."

Snape looked utterly shocked. After a minute, he asked quietly, "Is that what the prophecy says? That you must die to stop him?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I don't think surviving him is possible. He's too strong, too powerful, and worrying about surviving him could prevent me from doing what it takes to destroy him. I'm the only one who can do it." When Snape started to argue, Harry cut him off, "That's what the prophecy says." Harry stopped talking before he started whining about how unfair life is; he'd known that since he was very small. He made to leave but Snape stopped him.

"If you believe that, why are you working so hard at everything? Why bother?"

That was a very good question, Harry thought. He'd never looked at it from that angle. He finally answered, "I reckon I can't quite give up the hope that I'm wrong; that I'm more than a weapon."

Snape looked at Harry very intensely for a few moments. He then pointed at the door. "Get out of here and don't come back until you're ready to win!" he snarled at Harry. "I won't waste my time on someone who doesn't expect to win."

Harry sighed and left. When he got back to the common room, Hermione looked up in surprise. "You're never back this early," she said. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Harry answered, feeling defeated. "Snape decided it was a waste of time teaching me." Harry didn't want to discuss it anymore, so he refused to tell her why Snape had given up on him. He stomped up to bed.

On Saturday morning, a special prefects' meeting was called. It lasted for about an hour and, afterwards, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were kept for a meeting with McGonagall and Dumbledore. "I don't know why," Colin told Harry when he got back to the common room. "Professor McGonagall just said there was something important she needed to discuss with them."

Harry worked on his Potions essay while waiting for his friends to return. It was nearly two hours later when they returned, looking grim.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, grabbing Harry under his arm and heaving him up.

"What? What's up?" Harry asked, his heart in his throat. What had gone wrong now?

"Room of Requirement," Hermione said shortly. Her eyes were red-rimmed but her expression said that anyone standing in her way was in trouble.

Harry followed the other three to the Room of Requirement. Ron walked in front of the door; when they walked in, it had provided a cross between the common room and a section of the library. Once they were all in the room, Hermione locked and warded the door.

When that was done, Ginny walked up to Harry and slapped him in the face. Hard. "How dare you?" she asked angrily.

"Huh? What did I do?" He looked to Ron and Hermione for answers, but he saw the same anger on all three faces. "What's happened?" he asked, feeling panicked.

"Did you really tell Professor Snape that you don't think you'll survive Voldemort?" Hermione demanded.

Harry had expected that, if he'd told them what he'd been thinking lately, they'd be upset. He hadn't expected them to be angry with him. "I was making the point that his priorities were off. He was expecting me to concentrate on surviving; I was concentrating on what I have to do." When he realized the three of them weren't calming down at all, he felt himself start to panic. "I don't want to die; I want to live! But I have to kill Voldemort and my surviving him can't be my first priority! It's like in chess. You know, Ron, sometimes you have to sacrifice a piece to win the game. And stopping him is something worth dying for."

Ron and Ginny flinched at Harry's repeating what Sirius had said to them last Christmas while they waited for news on their father. "Sit down, Harry," Ron said, sitting down in one of the squashy armchairs. Once Harry sat down on the sofa, Ginny sat down next to him while Hermione slung her overstuffed book bag on a table. "When Snape told us what you'd said when training last night," Ron continued, "he said he doesn't believe you'll be able to defeat You-Know . . ." Ron stopped, then snarled, "No, he doesn't think you can defeat Riddle unless you expect to survive. Dumbledore and Lupin both agree."

Harry flushed as he realized that the second meeting had been about him. "Well, how am I supposed to do that? The best I've ever been able to do is stop him for a bit, and I've only managed that by being very lucky."

"You're not ready yet," Hermione snapped. "That doesn't mean you won't be, but you'll never be ready if you've already given up."

"It's not like you'll be doing this alone," Ginny added. "We will do whatever we can, whatever you need."

"And I'll get you killed, too," Harry said, staring down at his hands.

"Stop it!" Hermione said. "Enough! You're going to put your energies into destroying Voldemort, right?" When Harry nodded, she went on, "Then, while you're protecting and rescuing all of us, we'll be protecting and rescuing you. It's very simple, really, and, Harry, we're not asking you. We're telling you. It's not your fault; it's not your decision; you can't do anything about it, so just accept it!"

"Yeah," Ron said. "But I'd say it a lot simpler and a lot more confused." That got him a bright smile from Hermione.

"What about your families?" Harry asked. "Because you're my friends, they're at risk. What about . . ."

"My family," Ron said bluntly, "is right in the middle of this war. We're not in it because of you; we're in it because it's right. Whatever happens to us is not your fault."

"In fact," Ginny added, "you're our best chance of getting out of this alive."

"As for my parents," Hermione said, "they're still angry with me about my not telling them things but they're quite proud that I'm in the middle of this, fighting for what's right." She leaned forward. "Harry, let other people help you save people; that's what friends are for."

Harry sat looking at them. He couldn't say anything, he was so completely overwhelmed. Fortunately, the others seemed to understand. They gave him a few minutes to pull himself together.

"Now, let Hermione tell you what she's found," Ron finally said. "She's been ready to burst since last night. Tell him, Hermione."

Hermione pulled a stack of parchment from her bag. "I started with the fact that he marked you as his equal. You're right that he appears to be more powerful than you but, when it comes to raw power, I don't think it's true." When Harry started to object, Hermione pulled out her wand. "Be quiet or I'll hex you. Once I go through all of this, we'll discuss it, all right? Now," she continued, lowering her wand when Harry made it plain he wouldn't interrupt again, "he has decades of experience on you; that's one of his advantages. The other one is that he has all of his Death Eaters' power he can use. That's one of the functions of the Dark Mark; it acts as a way for Voldemort to take power from his Death Eaters. I want to ask Professor Snape if he's aware of that."

"He wasn't," Harry said, remembering. "He knows now; I told him that when I took over his body that time."

"Oh, good," Hermione said. "More confirmation. Now, I have an experiment to try. Hold these." She handed Harry four rings. They were each different; two were for women and two were for men. She had Harry put one on his right ring finger and hold the other three in his right hand. Then, she pointed her wand at Harry and said "Phoenix Signum". The rings got warm for a minute, as did Harry's chest. "Do you feel OK?" When Harry nodded, she took the rings back and put one of them on her finger. "Now . . ."

Harry immediately felt a connection from the ring he was wearing to Hermione. He could feel her magic on the other end and he could tell that he could take all of it as his own. His stomach churning, he yelled, "Take it off! Take it off!" as he ripped his ring off his hand. "What have you done?"

"I told you we should have discussed this with him first," Ginny said, glaring at Hermione.

"It's OK, mate," Ron said, patting Harry's shoulder. "We want to help you. That's why there's four; one for each of us."

"Harry, that's why I used rings," Hermione said, looking horrified. "The Dark Mark is permanent; it can't be removed. His followers can never change their minds or leave him. These," she held up her ring, which she had taken off, "can be removed. If we think what you're doing is wrong, we can just take off the ring and that's it. We can change our minds."

"You're mental! It, it feels too good. It would be too easy to just . . . use it."

"We trust you," Ginny said. "Now, you have to trust us."

Harry finally nodded, still feeling rather sick. "I'll keep the ring, but I won't wear it."

"Harry," Hermione said timidly, "it works better if you wear it all the time." When he looked at her sharply, she said, "If you start abusing it, we'll take ours off and that will be that."

"Yeah, we don't want our grandkids fighting a new Dark Lord with messy hair and glasses." Ron grinned at him but Harry was afraid that was exactly what would happen.

It was a relief to have the first Quidditch match of the spring that afternoon. It was Slytherin against Hufflepuff. It wasn't the best game; even with cheating, Slytherin was by far the better team, but it was a relief to be able to stop thinking about Voldemort and Death Eaters. After Slytherin won 210-40, Harry went for a walk to Hagrid's.

Hagrid wasn't at his hut. Harry suspected he was in the forest visiting his brother, but Fang was there and was very happy to see him. Harry had a peaceful hour playing fetch with the huge boarhound. Hagrid finally returned and told Harry all about how well Grawp was doing and how much he was enjoying socializing with the other intelligent creatures he was meeting. Harry promised to go with Hagrid for a visit as soon as he had time.

Just as Harry was getting ready to leave, Hagrid put his hand on Harry's shoulder, stopping him. "Harry, I know the others were goin' to talk with ye abou' this, and they'll probably do it better than me. Getting' rid of Voldemort by yer dying isn't right. Ye have to believe you can win. There's too many of us who love ye; ye know that, right?"

Harry nodded, touched that Hagrid would bring it up. "It's not that I want to die, Hagrid," he reassured his large friend. "It's just that, as Dumbledore says, there's things worse than dying. Letting Voldemort win is one of them." When Hagrid started scowling, Harry hurried to say, "But Professor Snape is teaching me how to win, so don't worry about me, all right?"

After insisting for several more minutes that it was important that Harry survive, Hagrid finally let Harry go. As he walked back to the castle, he decided never again to say anything less than optimistic to anyone on his side. Any hint that he didn't think he could beat Voldemort and survive seemed too traumatic for his friends.