Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

August 25th, 1995 – Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room

The next evening found Harry Potter sitting in a large chair in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Commons, staring listlessly into the fire. The fire was raging despite the temperature outside, as Harry had been feeling chilled and exhausted all day after his morning attempt at training. Like every other day, he had failed to make any progress with his increasingly "wonky magic," as he had termed it. From his perspective, absolutely nothing was going right with his life.

His successes early in the summer were largely due to Dobby—better food, physical training, advanced books. Now that Harry had finally escaped his imprisonment at the Dursleys, those successes seemed worthless. He had the perfect training room available to him at Hogwarts—one that even Dumbledore seemed unaware of—and it wasn't doing him any good.

He had asked Madam Pomfrey about fixing his eyes, but she had told him sadly that there was nothing she could do. There were potions to enhance visual acuity for short periods of time, but there was nothing that could permanently fix one's eyesight. Either one's personal magic was capable of "maintaining" one's eyesight, or it wasn't. Apparently Harry's wasn't. So Harry had read up on sticking charms and similar spells, concluding that he would have to find a way to keep his glasses safe in a fight.

He was also feeling increasingly irritated with his friends. Ron had finally written him after the dementor attack, expressing how glad Harry must be to be free of the muggles. The git hadn't even mentioned that his freedom had come at the price of Dudley's life. Hermione too had written, expressing her sorrow over Dudley's death and her thankfulness for Tonks' presence. She, of course, had admonished him to listen to Dumbledore's advice and stay safe at Hogwarts until they could be together.

Dumbledore had allowed none of Harry's friends to visit, as he didn't want Harry's stay in the school "to appear as special treatment" to others. Harry contemplated writing to Ginny, thinking that she might commiserate more easily with his situation, but he just felt too awkward when he tried to think of how to approach her. One thing Harry Potter was not was smooth with girls.

The only truly positive thing in Harry's life right now was the absence of Severus Snape from it. The greasy git was apparently somewhere in Europe, doing whatever greasy gits do when they aren't yelling at children and eschewing personal hygiene. The headmaster had informed Harry of Snape's important new role in the coming war, and had beseeched him to avoid provoking the potions professor. It won't be me doing the provoking, Harry had thought. Why do I always have to be the mature one?

So this evening found him sitting in his favorite chair and staring moodily into the fire, feeling boxed in on all sides.

"Oi, Harry Potter. Are you in here?"

Harry had been so deeply immersed in his self-pity that he had not heard the door to the common room opening. He peered around his chair to see the pink-haired witch who had saved his life a few weeks ago—Tonks, he thought her name was—walking in his direction.

"Hello. Tonks, right?"

"Right in one. McGonagall said you were in here brooding."

"Well, she was right in one, then," muttered Harry. He was still irritated with his Head of House for so blindly taking the Headmaster's side in their recent conflict.

Tonks was beginning to wonder why this kid seemed perpetually pissed off. Perhaps she could get The-Boy-Who-Brooded to loosen up a little.

"I just thought I'd pay a visit to the new Dark Lord in training; you know, offer my services in exchange for a spot in the Inner Circle," she smirked at him, offering just a hint of innuendo.

Harry groaned in response. A few days ago the Daily Prophet had run an article speculating on whether he had plans to become a new Dark Lord. It was laced with half-truths and lies, of course, but the truly infuriating aspect of the article was its coverage of the recent Dementor attack. It had, in fact, said nothing whatsoever about the presence of dementors. The article said only that Harry's cousin had died under "mysterious circumstances," and that Harry had been charged with several counts of underage magic use. It also hinted heavily that Dumbledore had bribed the Ministry to make the charges go away.

Harry had been livid after the article came out, but, as per usual, the Headmaster had counseled patience and told him he would take care of everything.

"Why are you really here?" Harry asked, annoyed that she was joking about the annihilation of his reputation.

"I come bearing a gift. When I was guarding you, I noticed you had an—ahem—unusual holster for your wand," she said, grinning at him. "This is my old wand holster, from before I finished Auror training. It's nothing much, but I thought you could use it."

Harry picked up the old piece of leather that she tossed in his lap and examined it. It looked well-worn, but still very functional. Wow, he thought, I could have used something like this ages ago.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "This is…well, this is fantastic. I really appreciate it. Er, did you say you were an Auror?" There was slight note of incredulity in Harry's question, as the young woman in front of him looked nothing at all like his mental image of a dark wizard catcher.

Tonks, of course, heard it, and raised a single eyebrow at him. "I did say that, actually. What's the matter, you don't think girls are capable of taking down bad guys?"

"Er, no…my best friend is a girl, and she's brilliant at magic. You just don't seem the type, is all I'm saying," Harry stuttered out quickly.

Tonks was now smirking at him. "Well, it takes all kinds, Harry. I can do one or two things that most people can't."

With that, she changed her features to include long, unruly black hair, a thinner nose, and striking green eyes. She looked like a female version of Harry Potter.

Gob-smacked is the only way to describe the effect of her transformation on Harry; his mouth was hanging open stupidly as he stared at his female counterpart.

Tonks burst out laughing at the look on his face. "I'm a metamorphmagus, Harry. I can alter my appearance to look like anyone I want….well, mostly. I can't change my sex, and I can't change my height and weight all that much."

Harry had finally recovered his voice, and was looking at Tonks with newfound respect. "That's bloody brilliant. How did you learn how to do that?"

"Sorry, kiddo, you have to be born with the ability. You'd know by now if you could do it."

"I grew all my hair back overnight once," Harry said quickly. No longer irritated with her, he now wanted to impress this young witch; she had already saved his life, and now it appeared that she was a talented Auror.

Tonks just shook her head. "Accidental magic, probably. If you were a morph, you would have been freaking people out left and right when you were younger."

"Oh," said Harry, his earlier elation now replaced with disappointment.

Tonks changed back to her "normal" appearance, and wondered at the quick mood swings that this teenager was capable of. He had seemed to ignore her teasing innuendo earlier. That just wouldn't do.

"So I've been thinking of ways you can repay your debt, Harry…" she said silkily.

He looked at her, confused. "What debt?"

"Your life-debt, silly. I saved your life, so now I get to ask you to do anything I want. Within reason, of course," Tonks smiled.

"Oh. Er, what did you have mind?" Harry asked, wondering just how serious she was about all this.

"Weeelllllll….." Tonks started, taking a seat across from him, "First I thought about asking you to father my first-born child, but I don't think I'm ready for a sprog just now."

Harry was staring at her in horror, his face beginning to heat up. He had no idea how to deal with teasing girls.

"Then I thought you could just take me on a few dates; you know, "Beautiful Young Auror Bags Boy-Who-Lived" sort of coverage. But these days I'd just get tagged as your new Dark Lady," she smirked.

"Or maybe I could just ask you to donate your house elf to me for a year or two. My flat is a bit of a wreck…any ideas on how you could repay me, Harry?" she asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

Harry just shook his head at the relentlessly cheerful witch seated in front of him. "You were in Hufflepuff, weren't you?"

"Um, yeah. How did you know?"

"Never mind, I could just tell," he smiled at her. "How about you just hold on to your debt for now. If you end up being around me more, I can guarantee I'll get a chance to repay it in kind."

"Wow, look at the stones on this one," she returned in mock-awe. "That much of a danger magnet are you, kiddo?"

"You have NO idea," he smiled. "In fact, I have a proposition for you. You teach me Auror stuff in secret, and I'll convince Dobby to make your flat shine. The stuff you teach me could help me repay that debt one day."

"Hmmm," Tonks mused. "Quite a proposition, Harry. But why in secret?"

.....

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