Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

August 31st, 1995 – Hogwarts, The Owlery

Harry Potter sat in a window overlooking the quidditch pitch and looked out over the darkening horizon. Hedwig was perched on his knee and was enjoying a very thorough scratching of her feathers.

Harry had been neglecting his duties to his familiar of late, so tonight he was spending some time in her Hogwarts home, just the two of them. Well, if you didn't count the hundred or so other owls perched in various places inside the room.

His owl and his elf were the only two people in his life who didn't make unreasonable demands of him, and Harry wanted to make sure they both felt appreciated. To Hedwig he could offer little but his affection; to Dobby he could offer his bond, a protection of sorts, but he wanted to do more for the little elf. Dobby had been a miracle worker for Harry during his imprisonment at the Dursleys, and he deserved more than a simple thanks.

So Harry had gone to Dumbledore and gotten an "allowance" for the first few months of the school year. It took everything in Harry's power to choke down his disgust at having to do so, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Dumbledore had given Harry 100 galleons and told him to spend it wisely; Harry had immediately owl-ordered a small 10-galleon gold chain that Dobby could wear around his wrist. Harry thought it was a bit gaudy, and he would never wear such a thing himself, but he didn't want to risk buying Dobby something that resembled clothing. He wanted to talk Dobby into abandoning his tea towel, but wasn't sure how to broach the subject.

Dobby was now the only house elf in Hogwarts to own gold jewelry. After Harry had assured him that he wasn't giving him clothes, just a reward for his friendship, the little green guy had hugged Harry's legs and sobbed for five minutes straight. I'm going to have to do something about Dobby's behavior, especially in public, Harry had thought.

It was embarrassing, really, to have someone prostrate themselves before you so slavishly. Still, Harry would trade almost any amount of embarrassment in exchange for the help Dobby could provide him. He had a feeling he was going to need that help quite often in the coming year.

That year begins tomorrow morning, thought Harry. Someone would be apparating him to King's Cross so he could ride the Hogwarts Express with the rest of his classmates. And then the fun would begin. He would finally get to see Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins, and his long summer of isolation would be over.

He would also have to face a horde of classmates who probably believed he was a murderous thug. They had already been suspicious of him at the end of last year, some even blaming him personally for Cedric's death, and Harry could only imagine what the effect of the Daily Prophet's smear campaign would be.

Harry's last week at Hogwarts had gone by quickly. He had spent some time every day in the Come-and-Go Room, and he felt like he was improving slightly in his ability to cast spells. It still felt like he was trying to wade through chest-high water, but his training sessions now lasted longer before he succumbed to exhaustion.

He had spent several hours each day looking through various books on magical exhaustion, magical illnesses, and magical theory, but he could find nothing that explained his sudden lack of magical power. Nor could he find anything related to the subject of brother wands; he could only reckon that the phenomenon was extremely rare.

Harry had also decided to organize his two rambling, disorganized spell notebooks into something more accessible. Harry planned to use the Come-and-Go Room for training throughout the school year, and he knew that Ron and Hermione would insist on training with him. Being his friends could put them in grave danger, so Harry planned to make sure they would know enough powerful magic to defend themselves. They could all use his new "grimoire" to focus on those spells most likely to save their lives.

The rest of Harry's time at Hogwarts was spent finishing up his summer essays and doing everything in his power to avoid Snape. The potions master had returned to the castle just four days before term was to begin, and could usually be found striding arrogantly through the corridors leading to and from the Headmaster's office. Harry had managed to avoid the man for the last four days, and he thanked whatever deities there were for that stroke of luck.

Dumbledore had told him the day before that he would meet with Harry after the Welcoming Feast to discuss advanced training for the year, and Harry could hardly contain his anticipation. He hadn't really believed that the old man would train him, but maybe he had misjudged him. Had Tonks been able to sway him? He couldn't wait to find out what was being planned for him.

If he had known, he would have grabbed his broom and flown as far away from Britain as possible.

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