Chapter - 13 : Strategy
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The last week of the term was not pleasant.
Professor McGonagall's injunction not to gossip might have held one eve while the situation was still so much in flux, not even her disapprobation, however, could quell the Hogwarts rumour mills for long.
No one was suicidal enough to try to interrogate him, nor had anyone actually said anything specific, but after two years of walking these halls, he knew when he was being gossiped about. Somehow – and he wasn't sure, but he was betting on the other petrification victims – Ginny's death had become common knowledge by the afternoon of Ron's departure. The Daily Prophet headline the next morning was all it took to set rumours aflame.
He sat through the interminable – and inevitable – announcement at dinner that night. Dumbledore kept the public story vague, alluding to 'remnants' of Voldemort that could still cause grief. The Basilisk's existence was announced amid gasps, and his slaying of it also touched on. According to Dumbledore, Harry had arrived too late to save young Ginny, and the headmaster asked they be sensitive about his feelings. No mention of the diary, or Lucius Malfoy, was made.
While other tables immediately erupted into gossip, his surrounding housemates at least made an effort to be circumspect. Hermione was to his left, shielding and distracting him as best she could. He was grateful, but all too aware of the empty space on his right where Ron would normally be doing the same.
The days after that were an exercise in restraint.
He could only be thankful that the whole 'heir of Slytherin' nonsense seemed to have been dropped. Even Hogwarts's rumours (he thought with a touch of bitterness) seemed to draw the line at believing he'd petrified one of his best friends, and killed the little sister of his other. The prevailing rumour spawned in its place – that it had all been aimed at Harry from the beginning, first to isolate and frame him, later to kill him – was probably inevitable.
At least that pompous little bastard Ernie Macmillan was squirming for 'promoting' an evil plot.
Harry might have accepted Macmillan 's apology, but the Hufflepuff had been partially responsible for making his life hell that year. If the other boy learned a little bit of what it was like to be the public target of malicious whispers, it'd probably do him some good.
Meanwhile, the exams started in earnest, and isolated from it all, Harry quietly made plans.
He 'd gone to Hermione first.
"Ordering books, Harry?" She blinked at him with clear surprise from across the table, paused a moment in double checking some of the facts slated to be made into Transfiguration note cards. He wasn't sure exactly why she bothered, since he was positive she had them all memorized anyway by now, but it seemed to be a comfort.
"Yeah," he sent her a smile. "I figured if anybody would know about ordering them by owl, it'd be you."
"Well, sure. I mean, I've got Flourish and Blott's standard catalogue. Four galleons and I get a new issue every month as long as the store's in operation. But, why?"
He gave her a level stare. "Because I want to order some books?"
"Harry! I got that part. Honestly. But what I meant is that, well," she floundered a second before continuing, "you've never been interested in academics before. And now you're ordering extra books for summer reading? What are you planning?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
She made a sound a bit like a spitting cat, and he had to laugh. "No, I swear I'm telling the truth." He turned serious. "I've lived three years of my life in the wizarding world: one year as an infant with my parents, two years here at Hogwarts. My time at my aunt and uncle's doesn't count – they're about as far from the magic world as you can get and still be on Earth. Three years, Hermione, and I've been attacked three times. I don't think it's going to stop."
She was watching him closely, and he could see her thinking furiously behind brown eyes. "And you want to order a bunch of books on Defence, or, or curses? Harry… tell me you're not planning anything stupid. Practicing magic at home. Running off to kill Lucius Malfoy. You're only twelve - he'd kill you!"
He was shaking his head even as she spoke. "I'm not reckless, Hermione. The only way I'd try that was if I was pretty sure I could kill him. I don't even have a clue where to find him right now! Not that I would have been at all disappointed if he'd been just a little bit slower at dodging last Friday – I'd have been only too pleased if the sword had pinned him to the wall instead of just getting his cloak. But I'm not foolish enough to believe a book on curses and several weeks of practice casting them are enough to take on an adult follower of Voldemort. And can you imagine the reaction when the order came in, if the clerk gossiped and the newspaper got word of it?" He rolled his eyes and adopted a breathless, news announcer voice: "'Boy-Who-Lived Buys Books on Dark Arts!' Up next: 'Interview at Flourish and Blott's – Harry Potter Going Dark?'" He gave a snort of disgust, and shook his head. "No, I'm not saying I won't be requesting a book or two on Defence, but mostly I'll be ordering history books."
"History books?" She narrowed her eyes. "Explain."
He let his eyes unfocus as he struggled to put to words a concept he couldn't really explain even to himself. "It's… it's like." He sighed. "Right now, I don't even really know anything about Voldemort, or Dark Lords, or fighting at all, really. I mean, I don't know how Voldemort got followers, or power, or how he conducted his campaigns."
"Is that it? You just want to know how Voldemort fought in the past?"
"No, not quite. It's more like- like I want to know how Dark Lords of the past have usually gained power, and how they're usually defeated. What made some of them win for a while, and what made them easy targets for the ministry? Was it something about the Dark Lord's themselves? The way they were fought? And how were they fought? I'm not talking about dueling, more about…" he struggled to find the words. "About how the conflict is shaped. Armies or raids or spies and back dealing. Why did it end the way it did?" He made a sound of frustration. "I'm not explaining this well."
"No," She shook her head, sounding somewhat… impressed? "No, I get it. You're not talking about dueling tactics; you want to learn strategy."
"Yes! I mean, obviously it isn't enough just to kill leaders, not when it leaves people like Lucius Malfoy walking free. If it gets bad again, I don't want to leave behind any more of Voldemort's followers free to kill my friends or their family."
She was still looking at him like he 'd announced he was going to climb Mt. Everest this summer. Dubious, but a little impressed. It was somewhat aggravating.
"What?" he asked, a tad sharper than he'd intended.
"Nothing. It's just. Honestly, Harry, I didn't think you'd be this mature. You don't really like studying, and you're smart enough to know theory's not your strong point like practical magic is. I half expected you to dive into memorizing all sorts of curses and jinxes, and not pay any attention to a larger picture. In the past few days you've grown up a lot, Harry." Her voice turned just a little wistful as she continued, "And you were already one of the most adult twelve-year-olds I know."
He gave a last glance around and sighed. "You know I killed Quirrell last year." She took a deep breath, and looked like she was about to interrupt, so he shook his head. "No, I'm trying to explain things. You deserve to know since I'm asking you for help." She settled back in her seat, obviously willing to wait and listen, so he began again.
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IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE BY 25+ ADVANCED CHAPTERS YOU CAN DO IT BY GOING TO
(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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