Shades of Gray -- Prologue
“Professor Quirrel… he’s dead, isn’t he?”
“…yes.”
He had killed someone. It hadn’t been said, but Harry had seen what his touch did to the man. In fact, he had latched himself to the man’s face for that very reason. At the time he hadn’t really given much thought to what that would mean. But now he felt the uncomfortable weight of the knowledge that even though it had certainly been in self-defense, his hands were stained…
He had taken a life.
“Professor Dumbledore…”
“Yes, Harry?”
Harry fidgeted with the blankets that covered his bed in the hospital wing. He had just recently woken up from his ordeal in the fight for the Philosopher’s Stone, and while he desperately wanted answers to his many questions-most of which Dumbledore had answered straight forwardly-he found himself wary of asking this one question. If indeed Dumbledore would or could answer it at all…
“That night ten years ago… even though my parents were some of those fighting against him, Voldemort said that my mum need not have died… that she died protecting me. He didn’t attack us that night to kill my parents. He attacked us to kill me. My question is-why me?”
For a moment, Harry didn’t think Dumbledore would answer. The elder wizard sat at Harry’s bedside, staring pensively into vivid green eyes for many moments.
“I believe you have a right to know that answer… but before I can tell you that, you must do something.”
“What?” asked Harry.
“Though they are few and far between, some wizards are capable of penetrating another’s mind with their own in order to seek out knowledge and memories. In turn, there is an art of magic involving barriers in mind that can protect against such intrusions. This art is called Occlumency. Before I can safely give you the knowledge you seek, you must first be able to defend yourself using such fortifications. Learn this art-be able to repel others from your mind and guard your secrets well-and I will give you your answer.”
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
“Ah, Harry… back again so soon?”
Indeed, it had been but only a few days ago that Harry had stood in this very spot covered in blood and ink after the climactic confrontation in the Chamber of Secrets against the memory of Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort. But after all the progress he had made that year, and the revelations down in the Chamber-
“I’m ready Professor… for the truth… about Voldemort and I and that Halloween night 11 years ago.”
With Hermione’s help and Gildroy Lockheart’s signed passes into the restricted section this year, Harry had found several books detailing the finer points of the arts of legilimancy and occlumancy. They had poured over each book with references on hand to clarify any terms unknown to them. And finally, a year after the assignment, he felt he was ready.
He felt a tentative presence in his mind attempting to slide through his barriers into his memories but he each time it tried, he swatted it away. Finally, the vague probe turned into a rush of force and Harry threw up his carefully constructed barriers completely. It felt like a mallet hitting a gone, and Harry flinched back from the mental force, but the defenses held.
“Incredible job, Harry! A true testament to your hard work! I’ve hardly seen such amazing barriers in recent years, let alone in one so young! To survive an attack of such force with not so much as a crack…”
“Then please, sir…”
A pause.
“Very well. The truth.”
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
‘The one with the Power to vanquish the Dark Lord Approaches…’
‘…he will have Power the Dark Lord knows not…’
‘Either must die at the hands of the other,
For neither can live while the other survives…’
Harry leaned against the head board of his four-poster bed at Hogwarts.
“Run Lily! Take Harry and go!”
“Not Harry! Please not Harry! Kill me instead!”
He had only been back at Hogwarts for his third year for about a week now, and already things had begun to stir…
As terrifying as the revelation of the prophesy had been, he supposed it wasn’t so much of a shock. Sure, he had gone through a bit of denial, because really-him have a power Voldemort knows not? The idea was laughable at best. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Voldemort had not attacked that night because of any real threat from his parents or even from him at that moment. He was only a baby at the time, and no matter how powerful or skilled James and Lily had been, when Voldemort had set his eyes on them specifically even they had needed to go into hiding. No… it was because of the promise of what he might become. What was it Ron said once? Ah yes… A good defense is an active offense.
Harry sighed and rolled himself out of bed, going to his trunk to pull on his robes for the day and his invisibility cloak. It was now four o’clock in the morning-two hours before the curfew was due to be lifted. But with the dying words of his parents and the haunting words of the prophesy floating through his mind, occlumancy or not, there was no way he was getting anymore sleep this night.
Perhaps he would stop by the library. Though he doubted he’d find the ‘Power he knows not’ amongst its tomes, it never hurt to prepare. And with his destiny (or doom, depending on how you looked at it) now essentially confirmed, it was time he started his preparations in earnest. Then maybe if he was lucky, he might actually live to see his majority.
Hopefully those lessons Dumbledore had mentioned they'd start having this year would also come in handy...
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
“Expelliarmus!”
“Avada Kedavra!”
Success! His conversation with Tom Riddle in the Chamber second year had piqued Harry’s curiosity about their many similarities. One of which was the shared cores of their wands. It took much searching through several musty tomes Harry was fairly certain hadn’t been touched in decades, but finally he had come across the term-brother wands. And with it came the description of the rare phenomenon known as Priori Incantatem. Apparently, when wands which share the same source for their cores are forced into combat they, for all intents and purposes, ‘refuse’ to do so (oh the irony!). Instead, Priori Incantatem occurs. While this in no way would help Harry in defeating the mad wizard, it could at least serve as a last line of defense and distraction.
Though, when Lily and James had appeared from Voldemort’s wand, he believed this could very well work well in reverse… but he had to get back to Hogwarts. His parents were dead, and unless he could escape he’d be joining them soon.
His heart was pounding as he dashed madly amongst the grave stones. Streaks of light in all hues of color flew past and around him while Voldemort’s furious screams echoed through the night. He was almost there, almost there... a pale yellow curse grazed his left arm and he felt it go completely numb-a paralysis curse.
The cup was there… Cedric’s body just a little further off… With his left arm completely incapacitated, he’d half to grab everything with his right hand but he had no choice…
With his right hand, he held his wand and grabbed Cedric’s dead hand, “Accio Triwizard Cup!”
The cup flew towards him and he grabbed it with his right hand as well. He was barely holding on, but it was enough! He was going to make it!
He felt the pull behind his navel just as a shout rang out, “Avada Kedavra!”
Green flooded his vision and the sound of rushing water flowed over him as the portkey lifted off. He felt a jerk in his consciousness as magic warred about him and through him. Pain unlike any he’d ever felt-even the cruciatus curse-wracked his body and he involuntarily let go with his right hand.
And then he was flying, and floating and falling all at once… the last thing he felt before falling into darkness was harsh feeling of his body hitting solid ground.
“…yes.”
He had killed someone. It hadn’t been said, but Harry had seen what his touch did to the man. In fact, he had latched himself to the man’s face for that very reason. At the time he hadn’t really given much thought to what that would mean. But now he felt the uncomfortable weight of the knowledge that even though it had certainly been in self-defense, his hands were stained…
He had taken a life.
“Professor Dumbledore…”
“Yes, Harry?”
Harry fidgeted with the blankets that covered his bed in the hospital wing. He had just recently woken up from his ordeal in the fight for the Philosopher’s Stone, and while he desperately wanted answers to his many questions-most of which Dumbledore had answered straight forwardly-he found himself wary of asking this one question. If indeed Dumbledore would or could answer it at all…
“That night ten years ago… even though my parents were some of those fighting against him, Voldemort said that my mum need not have died… that she died protecting me. He didn’t attack us that night to kill my parents. He attacked us to kill me. My question is-why me?”
For a moment, Harry didn’t think Dumbledore would answer. The elder wizard sat at Harry’s bedside, staring pensively into vivid green eyes for many moments.
“I believe you have a right to know that answer… but before I can tell you that, you must do something.”
“What?” asked Harry.
“Though they are few and far between, some wizards are capable of penetrating another’s mind with their own in order to seek out knowledge and memories. In turn, there is an art of magic involving barriers in mind that can protect against such intrusions. This art is called Occlumency. Before I can safely give you the knowledge you seek, you must first be able to defend yourself using such fortifications. Learn this art-be able to repel others from your mind and guard your secrets well-and I will give you your answer.”
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
“Ah, Harry… back again so soon?”
Indeed, it had been but only a few days ago that Harry had stood in this very spot covered in blood and ink after the climactic confrontation in the Chamber of Secrets against the memory of Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort. But after all the progress he had made that year, and the revelations down in the Chamber-
“I’m ready Professor… for the truth… about Voldemort and I and that Halloween night 11 years ago.”
With Hermione’s help and Gildroy Lockheart’s signed passes into the restricted section this year, Harry had found several books detailing the finer points of the arts of legilimancy and occlumancy. They had poured over each book with references on hand to clarify any terms unknown to them. And finally, a year after the assignment, he felt he was ready.
He felt a tentative presence in his mind attempting to slide through his barriers into his memories but he each time it tried, he swatted it away. Finally, the vague probe turned into a rush of force and Harry threw up his carefully constructed barriers completely. It felt like a mallet hitting a gone, and Harry flinched back from the mental force, but the defenses held.
“Incredible job, Harry! A true testament to your hard work! I’ve hardly seen such amazing barriers in recent years, let alone in one so young! To survive an attack of such force with not so much as a crack…”
“Then please, sir…”
A pause.
“Very well. The truth.”
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
‘The one with the Power to vanquish the Dark Lord Approaches…’
‘…he will have Power the Dark Lord knows not…’
‘Either must die at the hands of the other,
For neither can live while the other survives…’
Harry leaned against the head board of his four-poster bed at Hogwarts.
“Run Lily! Take Harry and go!”
“Not Harry! Please not Harry! Kill me instead!”
He had only been back at Hogwarts for his third year for about a week now, and already things had begun to stir…
As terrifying as the revelation of the prophesy had been, he supposed it wasn’t so much of a shock. Sure, he had gone through a bit of denial, because really-him have a power Voldemort knows not? The idea was laughable at best. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Voldemort had not attacked that night because of any real threat from his parents or even from him at that moment. He was only a baby at the time, and no matter how powerful or skilled James and Lily had been, when Voldemort had set his eyes on them specifically even they had needed to go into hiding. No… it was because of the promise of what he might become. What was it Ron said once? Ah yes… A good defense is an active offense.
Harry sighed and rolled himself out of bed, going to his trunk to pull on his robes for the day and his invisibility cloak. It was now four o’clock in the morning-two hours before the curfew was due to be lifted. But with the dying words of his parents and the haunting words of the prophesy floating through his mind, occlumancy or not, there was no way he was getting anymore sleep this night.
Perhaps he would stop by the library. Though he doubted he’d find the ‘Power he knows not’ amongst its tomes, it never hurt to prepare. And with his destiny (or doom, depending on how you looked at it) now essentially confirmed, it was time he started his preparations in earnest. Then maybe if he was lucky, he might actually live to see his majority.
Hopefully those lessons Dumbledore had mentioned they'd start having this year would also come in handy...
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
“Expelliarmus!”
“Avada Kedavra!”
Success! His conversation with Tom Riddle in the Chamber second year had piqued Harry’s curiosity about their many similarities. One of which was the shared cores of their wands. It took much searching through several musty tomes Harry was fairly certain hadn’t been touched in decades, but finally he had come across the term-brother wands. And with it came the description of the rare phenomenon known as Priori Incantatem. Apparently, when wands which share the same source for their cores are forced into combat they, for all intents and purposes, ‘refuse’ to do so (oh the irony!). Instead, Priori Incantatem occurs. While this in no way would help Harry in defeating the mad wizard, it could at least serve as a last line of defense and distraction.
Though, when Lily and James had appeared from Voldemort’s wand, he believed this could very well work well in reverse… but he had to get back to Hogwarts. His parents were dead, and unless he could escape he’d be joining them soon.
His heart was pounding as he dashed madly amongst the grave stones. Streaks of light in all hues of color flew past and around him while Voldemort’s furious screams echoed through the night. He was almost there, almost there... a pale yellow curse grazed his left arm and he felt it go completely numb-a paralysis curse.
The cup was there… Cedric’s body just a little further off… With his left arm completely incapacitated, he’d half to grab everything with his right hand but he had no choice…
With his right hand, he held his wand and grabbed Cedric’s dead hand, “Accio Triwizard Cup!”
The cup flew towards him and he grabbed it with his right hand as well. He was barely holding on, but it was enough! He was going to make it!
He felt the pull behind his navel just as a shout rang out, “Avada Kedavra!”
Green flooded his vision and the sound of rushing water flowed over him as the portkey lifted off. He felt a jerk in his consciousness as magic warred about him and through him. Pain unlike any he’d ever felt-even the cruciatus curse-wracked his body and he involuntarily let go with his right hand.
And then he was flying, and floating and falling all at once… the last thing he felt before falling into darkness was harsh feeling of his body hitting solid ground.