Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office

Harry followed the Headmaster into his office. Fawkes trilled happily at his entrance, and Harry walked around Dumbledore's desk to the firebird's perch.

"Hello, old friend," Harry said fondly. Fawkes sang a brief but beautiful note in response.

"Maybe you won't have to save my bacon this year, yeah?" Harry inquired, petting the bird's long red feathers gently. Fawkes had saved his life twice now, and Harry wished there was something he could do to thank the mysterious phoenix.

Fawkes crooned at him sadly, and Harry was not heartened by that response.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Harry blushed lightly and returned to the other side of the desk. Settling into one of the comfortable chairs, he waited for the Headmaster to begin.

"Well, Harry, I know you have been anxious to learn some new magic, and given the circumstances I cannot blame you. Alas, I do not have the time to train you myself, and Nymphadora has other important duties. But I believe I have come upon a solution that will satisfy you," he smiled.

Harry was momentarily confused.

"Who's Nymphadora?" he asked.

"Oh," Dumbledore started, then grimaced ever so slightly. "That is Miss Tonks' given name. She is not fond of it, and I would be eternally grateful if you did not inform her where you heard it."

Harry smiled and nodded. It was an odd name, and if it meant what Harry thought it did…. It would be nice to have some ammunition to use against her the next time she tried to embarrass him.

"You said you had a solution, sir?"

"Right," said Dumbledore. "Given your need to defend yourself against Death Eaters, I believe it appropriate that—"

But he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore called loudly, and Severus Snape marched authoritatively into the office.

Harry had turned to see who was interrupting, and he suddenly realized just what the Headmaster was proposing. Snape.

"No," Harry spat, before either of the other men could speak. "Absolutely bloody not. No, no, no. I will not learn dangerous spells from a man who hates me. Headmaster, have you gone mad?" Harry was now standing; his adrenalin was spiking and he desperately wanted to draw his wand on both of these imbeciles.

Snape just loomed by the door, looking distastefully down his nose at Harry. Dumbledore held up his hands in a placating manner and tried to calm him down.

"Harry," he began soothingly, "Professor Snape has ample experience with the Dark Arts. He knows how the Death Eaters fight, and he can show you how to defend yourself properly. Professor Snape does not hate you, but if you are concerned I will personally guarantee your safety during his sessions."

Snape had the audacity to smile at Harry. It was the creepiest thing he had ever seen.

Harry had no intention of subjecting himself to the non-existent mercies of Snape when his magic felt so weak. The slimy bastard would probably "accidentally" kill him while showing him a new spell. Dumbledore may trust him, but Harry knew that Snape was out to get him.

Harry clenched his fists, looked the Headmaster in the eye, and spoke lowly. "You're a liar. This was a set up, and don't tell me it wasn't. I will NOT spend one moment of my free time with Professor Snape, so you had better find someone else to train me. And you had better do it fast."

Harry turned and brushed roughly past Snape as he exited the room. Both Dumbledore and Snape could hear the echo of Harry's angry footsteps as he descended the stairs and then slammed open the gargoyle entrance.

"Well," smirked Snape, "Problem solved, I'd say."

Dumbledore just sighed, wishing that Harry Potter had waited longer to seek his independence.

....

Hogwarts, Sixth Floor Corridor

Harry stalked angrily through the corridors of Hogwarts, unconsciously making his way toward the Come-and-Go Room on the seventh floor. Students who encountered his glowering visage quickly found other places to be or made themselves inconspicuous. When homicidal would-be Dark Lords are angry, it's best not to attract their attention, after all.

How fucking DARE that old man! Harry thought viciously. He swore he would train me! I should have known it was a trap. Train with Snape. Bleeding hell. I should have seen this coming.

Harry was starting to realize that his dreams of learning how to defend himself properly were just that. Dumbledore had never had any intention of teaching him advanced magic. Just what the hell is he playing at? wondered Harry. Is he TRYING to get me killed? Do I have to take on the whole damn world all by myself?

Harry's strides had taken him to the bottom of the stairs that would lead him to the seventh floor and his haven. He desperately wanted to blow something up, preferably something that looked a lot like Dumbledore or Snape. But it was not to be.

From behind him, a hated voice called out mockingly.

"What's your hurry, Potty? Going to meet your pet mudblood in a broom closet?"

Draco fucking Malfoy, Harry seethed mentally, closing his eyes. The perfect end to a perfect day.

Harry turned and saw Malfoy and his two bookends standing thirty feet away. They had to have been following him to run into him up here.

"Are you stalking me, Malfoy? I'm not into blokes like you Slytherin boys are. Sorry to disappoint you."

Draco had not drawn his wand, but he and his goons walked slowly toward Harry, trying to look as intimidating as they could.

"Amusing, Potter. Make jokes while you can. You won't be laughing very much when the Dark Lord dismembers you. With any luck I'll be there to watch."

Harry didn't respond. He just watched them approach. He was in a violent mood from the constant stress he had been under that day, not to mention his recent encounter with Dumbledore, and these Death Eater wannabes had chosen a very risky time to provoke him.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stopped about five feet away from Harry and spread out to block his escape in their direction.

"You'll soon be nothing but an unpleasant memory, Potter. Maybe I'll console your mudblood in her grief. She could be a serviceable concubine before I slit her filthy throat. Tell me, is she talented?" Malfoy smiled at Harry.

Harry was taken aback at Malfoy's words. He had always known Malfoy was a spoiled little wanker, but this level of sheer malice actually surprised him. He must really feel entitled to do anything he wants now, thought Harry. Well, fuck that.

Harry took a step toward Malfoy and lifted the fringe off his brow, revealing his lightning-shaped scar.

"Come here, Malfoy. I want to show you something."

Draco looked uncertain for a moment, but with Harry's wand not visible, he decided to risk it. He stepped forward and leaned in to peer closely at Harry's scar.

As soon as Malfoy's eyes rose to his forehead, Harry took a sudden step forward and drove his knee into Malfoy's groin with all the force he could muster. Malfoy went down instantly, clutching himself and turning as white as a sheet.

.....

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