The Truth

A/N: I'm trying to make it difficult for Harry to a degree, but six days to finish a book is really long when he has anywhere from 12 to 16 hours a day to study, but lets just accept it. There's a skip in time for this chapter so I can get to the fun stuff, but I'll give you a basic overview of what he's done, so it doesn't seem outrageous when he does something later. Within the books there are a lot of issues concerning the Fidelius. If you want to know them: . I ultimately take various points and make it my own, which to me, is a lot easier, so just roll with it.

On the subject of parseltongue. Rowling never addressed this, but I always felt he lost the ability once the Horcrux in him was destroyed, but because I want the locket to defiantly be one, and wouldn't ya know it, only parseltongue can open it, I'm not going to go into how messed up this aspect of the books are, but anyway. Still a little iffy with the Chamber of Secrets so I'm going to keep him having the language. The rune he has prevents him from learning to speak any magical language. He already knows one, so it won't be affected. With regards to Dementors and the runes, they still affect him heavily, but can't take his soul. Not really a problem with him being proficient at the Patronus and all, but there you go.

ladysavay, I probably should have addressed this and thanks for bringing it up. Eventually, and you'll discover why, the markings/Azkaban situation will be covered. That said, I'm still laughing so thanks for that.

Monday, July 6, 1996

Harry had spent the last twenty one days in the time field reading and practicing only Charms, finishing his remaining books on the subject. That very day he had spent three hours performing all the seventh year spells and was exhausted. The remaining fifteen days would be reading about advanced Charm theory and attempting to replicate any spells the books provided. Harry had read about the Fidelius Charm and trying to find a loophole that would allow him to become the Secret-Keeper. At first he figured that once learned, it could be cast on the castle with Kreacher bearing the aforementioned moniker, and ordering him not to tell anyone, however the advanced Charm could only be cast on and by a wizard or witch. Even if he found someone else capable of performing the spell, the caster, owner, and or residents were unable to be the Secret-Keeper.

Flitwick was right when he said it was a complex spell back in third year. The wand movements alone, where long and drawn out, but with Harry's memory that wasn't the aspect that gave him pause. It was the magically draining amount of power it required to be cast. He calculated that he'd be bedridden for at least a few days from magical exhaustion depending on the size of the area he wished to hide. Harry postulated that if he could gather a large enough group of people, and replicate whatever the goblin warders had done, he could hide huge areas without taxing himself to the same degree. He filed this idea away for later.

The library in the castle was rectangular, with two long rows on either side of the walls. A conference table was centered between the rows and lead to the back wall of windows. Beneath the wall of pained glass were several plush leather armchairs, where Harry found himself and had started reading an advanced book on memory Charms. Periodically, he would glance over at the left wall that held the Black family's Dark Arts books. It had been getting worse. The itch, the desire, the need to know what truly Dark or that feeling was the book and Mr. Borgin where referring to. He could almost taste the knowledge.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he thought, three more rotations. Just three and I'll find out. Harry had decided to devote the next one hundred and eight days in the time field learning and relearning Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense. He would never say the exact number of days before he allowed himself to crack open a Dark tome, the thought was too depressing, so he simply recited the word three internally. Maybe if I just… NO! Stick to the plan and it'll be that much better when I finally get learn.

Harry had decided to study Potions next, as he had never really delved into the subject, what with the agitating presence of a Professor who loathes you, making it difficult and all. The practical aspect of Potions would be more time consuming than working with spells, so Harry anticipated using the full thirty-six days, and not getting to the more advanced brews. He was also cheating slightly, in studying the Dark Potion book. While some of it had been looked over when trying to find a solution to remove his glasses, he stopped once the useful potion was found. As Harry concentrated not to reread what he had seen in the book with his Pensieve mind memory, he refocused on the text before him.

After Potions he would move on to Transfiguration. That particular subject held the most theory, but in seeing the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort, Harry knew it to be a useful branch. While still angry at his Headmaster, he was able to respect his skill. It was necessary for Harry to have a firm grasp on both Charms and Transfiguration in order to perform Animation and, or Conjuration, as both are among the few that merge both subjects. Personally, he felt that these two should be a separate course offered at Hogwarts. Better if they just cram seven years of Charms and Transfiguration into six and then teach us the other two magics last.

His third rotation, or as Harry referred to it mentally, the final frontier, would be Defense against the Dark Arts. He promised himself that when he was in this month, that he would learn the Dark spells in The Only Real Defense, but wouldn't practice them as the book advised against it. Harry was also looking forward to this month as he would begin dueling a dummy. Many of his old Defense books were about Dark creatures, rather than spells, thus he planned to skip over and come back to them when studying Care of Magical Creatures. This fact coupled with his ability to take to defensive magic quickly, allowed him to set aside a period of each day to practice fighting a makeshift opponent.

Monday, July 13, 1996

Yawning loudly, Harry Potter rose out of his bed and began his day of rest and relaxation. It had been just over seven months since he had first activated Corvin's time turner, and nearly four of those were spend studying the core subjects of Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense against the Dark Arts after his month on Charms. The time had changed the boy-who-lived in many ways.

Physically, Harry now gave off a commanding air. Muscles that were once small and rare could be seen in abundance while bulging from his form. He had grown just enough to push past six feet, and seemed to tower above the house elves, who would gaze upward in awe. The black hair that had always retained a look of being constantly ruffled was longer and just enough of it could be pulled back into a loose fitting ponytail to barely touch his lower neck. Raven locks still fell across his forehead, though his famous scar had diminished to be scarcely visible, as it blended into the color of his skin.

The young man's eyes spoke of power and knowledge. One could pick him out in a room full of strangers by the way his magic rolled off of him. The mind of a far more mature individual was filled with theory, spell lists, and the comprehension of subjects exceeding the grasp of many. The new Harry Potter rivaled all the recently graduated Hogwarts students on any of the four core subjects.

The young wizard could perform all his spells silently and was able to create several casting chains, for a quick succession of fire. He had been right in anticipating that his proficiency in defensive magic would lead him to excel faster than the other subjects, Though his first experience with dueling was certainly interesting.

Flashback: July 12, 1996

Closing The Only Real Defense, Harry blew out a heavy sigh. He had been able to go through all his Hogwarts' year books on Defense in fifteen days, though he refrained from the practical portion in anticipation of getting to the book before him. What he discovered within said pages yielded no further revelations regarding what true Dark meant. The text was useful, sure, but it didn't tell him what he wanted to know. This is my own damn fault; I should have read the Dark Arts theory like the rest. Taking another deep breath, continued, Its only twenty two more days including one in actual time, and then I'll figure it all out.

Three-fourths of his Hogwarts Defense books were useless. He had no current desire to learn about the animals, places, or objects that the Ministry deemed Dark. Instead, Harry memorized shield spells, counter curses, and beginner's dueling tactics. The information seemed to be ripped from the books and stuffed into the teen's mind. He finished them all in just under a week. The Potters, the young wizard discovered, had a knack for Transfiguration and dueling. Because of the latter, a multitude of both advanced dueling tactics and stances, along with the comparative magic of defense filled the shelves on the right side of the library.

Some of the books concerning Defense were similar to others, and many took on a repetitive tone, but Harry pushed through. Book after book found its way into his hands until finally he took up The Only Real Defense. He had been tempted to snatch it up after he finished the N.E.W.T. level readings, but knew that the book was advanced, and he needed a thorough grasp of the subject. It was only a day later, where he currently found himself, that he wished he had incorporated practical work into his reading. He now sported a slight headache as he got up and moved into the dueling room.

He always used the room for testing out spells, and even tried a few on the practice dummies. The make-shift enemies, whom he had childishly named some variation of Draco Malfoy, lined the wall, numbering a total of ten. The blondies, ponces, and ferrets, all looked like mannequins, with pale, blank faces.

Harry began practicing his silent casting. Oddly enough, the higher the year level, the more reliance on shields, dodges, and other solely defensive measures there were. The school's curriculum seemed to teach the younger years silly jinxes that couldn't really do any harm, but they tapered off and became stunning spells or some other variation that left an opponent immobile and alive. He knew it wasn't a bad way to teach Defense, and since it was labeled as such, it made sense that the class focused more on protecting yourself than countering. Whatever the wisdom behind the course material, Harry had recently come into the view that a good defense is a strong offense. Put them down, they don't get up, and you live. Seems like a good way to protect yourself to me.

It only took an hour for Harry to get the Hogwarts spells down silently, and even he was impressed with himself. The more advanced magics required more power, focus, and took longer, but eventually he was successful in casting silently. While the majority of Defensive spells were predominantly shielding, the higher level spells touched on offense briefly.

Harry had been casting for seven hours and just gotten back into the dueling room, from dinner, when he decided to practice with Ponce, the "prettiest" dummy. Casting a silent levitation charm and bringing the faceless humanoid to the center of the room, Harry proceeded to follow the instructions from the book he had found within the room long ago. The practice dummies had skill settings ranging from one to ten. They could be instructed to fight individually, or as a team, and either with magic, their physical bodies, or both. Unfortunately they were limited to only the stinging hex, or stunning spell, so Harry couldn't test the strength of his various shields.

Tapping his wand to Ponce's chest and setting him to level one, magical use only, Harry stepped back. On the pale white sternum the number one, followed by the letter M appeared in black ink. Once at a respectable distance, Harry called out, "Begin." The dummy came to life instantly and moved to raise its fingerless fist, before its living opponent hit it with a quick stupefy. Ponce fell back and the markings on his chest disappeared.

Harry levitated the mannequin upright and reset it to level two. The scene was repeated, until he got fed up and skipped level five and moved straight to ten. Once called to life, Ponce moved both hands and simultaneously shot the stunning spell. Harry moved to dodge and just barely missed the left flying red light before his world went dark.

End Flashback: Monday, July 13, 1996

Harry had discovered that day that level five was when the dummies began dodging. After analyzing his memory of the scene, it was uncovered that Ponce fired his first dual stunners, and then moved his hands off to the right to fire again, almost immediately. When Harry had thought he wouldn't be able to test the strength of his shields he was only partially correct. At a higher setting the dummy's spells were a near constant barrage that trained his stamina in holding up a shield, but wouldn't gauge its strength in powerful, short burst curses.

Since the dummies only fire two spells, he couldn't judge which shield to bring up, due to the fact that nearly every one could defend against the two. He found, however that taking multiple hits to one shield, then bringing up a separate one enabled his reflexes to grow. Soon, the ability to take a hit from an incoming spell with one shield, only to give his wand a quick flourish and take another with a completely different shield was becoming second nature.

To rectify the monotony of only being attacked by two spells, the wizard deemed that stunners would act as killing blows, and must always be dodged, while stinging hexes could be shielded, but the same one can't be used within the span of four others. Harry had restarted at the beginning and trained himself to easily dodge and shield against the level one dummy. Ponce's casting at this level was slow, and his movements similar. Truth be told, he looked like a first year Tonks, stumbling around. Level two increased casting speed and variety of movement, while this continued slightly until level five.

At the halfway mark, Ponce would dodge and occasionally use his other hand to fire. Harry was "killed" at level six. He knew he could take the dummy down, however the constant movement helped his training, along with recalling shields quickly. Harry would fire fun spells designed to change appearance just for the sake of both keeping up the "game" and practicing firing accurately when under attack. Ponce at level eight was rather difficult, and Harry only had been training with him on this setting for a day before he deactivated the time turner, but was excited to continue.

Today was his last out of the time field before he began his study of the Dark Arts. Harry had trained twice as long in both the gym and dueling room, attempting to calm his excitement. He knew that because of his sleepers' rune, just three hours short of twenty-four hours awake, he would drop without warning. Due to his ever increasing nerves of what tomorrow would bring, that situation was looking more and more likely if unable to fall asleep on his own.

Thinking back over the last few months, he recalled his conversation with Kreacher and discovering that the Order was on to them both. Apparently anti-elf wards had been set up at Grimmauld place and Kreacher was unable to return. When the wrinkly creature, he didn't completely loathe, had told him about Ron and Hermione being there he was more than a little upset. Sure they're there for me, but neither of them have a reason to be! What are they doing for the war! What is any of the stupid Order doing, except playing babysitter and where's Harry! Useless idiots! Oh that's right those two are there to SPY ON ME! It took over half and hour to completely calm down.

Surprisingly, Harry and Kreacher were getting along to a degree. The wizard had occasionally added a bit of anti-blood supremacy here or there into their conversations and the little racist was coming around on some points. Eventually, Kreacher had taken less and less convincing to believe what his Master was saying. Whether this was because he was starting to think for himself on the subject, or simply due to the fact that Harry had said so, one couldn't be sure. While the topic of blood purity of wizards was often the main source of their discussions, the boy-who-lived once brought up the touchy subject of half-breeds.

"Kreacher, why do you not like werewolves?" Harry had asked.

In his usually muttering sneer, he replied simply, "They're half-breeds."

As was usual in their conversations, Harry played to be thinking out loud, "Yeah, I get that, but they can't control it right?"

"No, but they's still being filth."

"Hmm," Harry mused aloud, "Would you rather be a disgusting Muggle," he didn't dare try and convince him to accept them, "or a wizard?"

"A wizard Master," Kreacher answered instantly.

"Of course you would. But let's say you were bitten and turned into a werewolf. Is that your fault?" Harry actually enjoyed their little talks and he felt it was good practice trying to convince the miniature lunatic to come around. The elf's ideals were modeled after the type of people Harry hoped to turn to his way of thinking.

After a bit of thinking and a deep frown, Kreacher replied, "No, but Kreacher would still a filthy half-breed."

"Yeah, but you can't control that. No more than you can control being a house elf and me being a wizard. Why don't we think about it for awhile and talk later on." Harry knew it would be more difficult to manipulate people who could actually think, but he hoped that because of that fact, they would also see the truth easier.

Tuesday, July 14, 1996

Harry Potter had woken up, activated the time device, preformed his morning exercises, and eaten breakfast. Now he sat, a single book sat before him on the long table in the library. He had waited for months to open a Dark Arts book. The potion book claiming to be on the subject had been rather worthless, but Harry knew the others would be different. He knew that the "forbidden" side of the library would give him the answers he sought to know since that day in Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Breathing deeply, almost nervously, Harry Potter opened his first book on the Dark Arts.

The tome was old by the look of it. There were stains on the cover, and the excited wizard was careful not to damage it. No breaks were taken, no meals were eaten, and Harry continued. His eyes, which at first had held child like wonder and excitement, were currently those of deep concentration and fascination. If he hadn't been sure that the book wasn't cursed, he might have been concerned by the fact he couldn't look away. The entranced wizard read, and read, and continued to read through the day. His body seemed to be of like enthrallment, as he never felt the need for sustenance or a reprieve.

The book held no grand spells or complex theory; it simply stated exactly what Harry had been looking for, the truth. The difference between what the Ministry considers "Dark" and the reality of the art. There was no comparison. The distinction between the two was insurmountable.

The Dark Arts were pure, magic in its most basic form. The majority of the spells classified as such were destructive, painful, horrific, but there were those, those that differed. This magic was the epitome of balance. The curses took, but like the runic seals that were marked upon his flesh, they also gave.

Harry learned about the feeling, about the cause for it, and why it existed. The book told him that when casting a spell or curse meant to harm, meant to maim, or meant to torture, the caster would experience a counter effect of the curse. The sensation was different and personal to every witch or wizard, but it was always one of great enjoyment. The reaction to the continuous use of Dark spells was addiction. The caster would, given time, or the constant use of such magics, come to require their daily use.

At first Harry was thrown off by this fact. The dependence on spells that were meant to harm or kill was unsettling. Continuing to read, he learned an easy solution to counteract the potential for harming the innocent.

Though one addicted to their use may be driven to cast upon the blameless, the Dark Arts merely require a living or temporarily living entity for the sensation to occur. The ability to transfigure or conjure animals is highly recommended for one seeking to delve into the purest art of magic. While cursing another intelligent being, like the caster a single time, multiple castings on lower life forms will result in the same sensations Dark magic provides. The maximum addiction level one may achieve through use of the art is twice daily.

Finally stopping, Harry stood from his chair and began to pace. His thoughts running over what he had just read. With the advanced memory, nothing escaped his focus. So since the Dark Arts cause one feeling or effect on whoever they're being cast on, the opposite sensation is experienced by whoever did the casting. Keeping his brow furrowed in thought he continued. Being addicted to a form of magic is disconcerting, but the most I would ever need to do would be casting a few spells on conjured animals twice a day. Harry's train of thought stopped abruptly. I? I couldn't do that. I couldn't… Tilting his head, he stayed silent, until finally letting out a deep breath. I could! I am! I need to know, to experience whatever this feeling is. Besides, not all of them give some sort of sensation.

It was true. The Dark Arts were equality. The spells meant to harm, gave the opposite in return, but the ones meant to heal required sacrifice. Harry read about the ways in which he could bring someone back from the brink of death, by sacrificing either yourself, or another. He discovered ways in which to replace severed limbs by ripping them from others. The healing magical aspect of the Dark Arts differed from the offensive spells, in that no feelings were experienced unless the wizard performing the sacrifice chose himself as the giver, and those were not pleasant feelings. So much good could be done with this. Prisoners for life could be used to help those in need. Those more deserving, who could have been hurt by the very animals that are being held! It was with this last thought, that Harry Potter resolved himself to mastering the Dark Arts.

The only thing that stopped his curiosity and him from running into the dueling room was his experience with the runes. He had rushed in and applied the Confutos Memoria without realizing he could never become an anamagus. Harry didn't regret getting the marking, but he should have known all of the facts beforehand. This was the reason he returned to the book on the table.

In the next few days Harry could be found pouring over Dark Arts texts, scary looking tomes that paled in comparison to many of their contents. He had discovered that Bellatrix was right when she told him he had to mean it. The intent required for the Dark Arts differed greatly from the visualization needed for many other spells. Oddly enough, he could see the similarity between Dark curses and the Patronus Charm. Both utilized the strong emotions associated with a memory to power the spells, but while the Patronus uses memories to evoke feelings of happiness, the opposite is true for Dark spells.

He had been a little worried that since he had such a hard time with the Dementor repelling Charm, he'd struggle with the Dark Arts. It wasn't until he recalled his struggle with finding a happy memory that he realized most of his were aimed to toward depression, fear, and anger. The latter would help in casting the Dark Arts spells.

It wasn't just the intent Bellatrix had mentioned. Harry recalled through his hazy memories, her telling him he had to want to cause pain and righteous anger wouldn't hurt long. This brought up an interesting dilemma. How can I want to cause pain? I know I don't have to want to hurt whoever I'm casting on, just an idea, the thought of someone. His thoughts continued as he stretched his mind to pinpoint the source of anger. What makes me ang…traitors! Traitors like Wormtail, like a certain pair of former friends! People like Petunia, who can't stand up for their own beliefs in the face of others! Sheep! The crystal clear memory of Kreacher telling him about Ron and Hermione at the Order meeting was enough to make Harry see red. After some time to calm down, he re-visualized the memory. No matter how many times he say and heard it, his anger enveloped him. The added thoughts of what Wormtail did to him and his parents, what Petunia allowed her precious Dudley and Vernon to do to him, spurred his hatred on until the very thought of the word blinded him with rage. One solitary word that he put all his malice, contempt, and feelings of betrayal into, one word that would lead to his success in the Dark Arts… traitors.

Harry's studies into the Dark magics inevitably lead to the Unforgivables. Interestingly the cruciatus curse was the only one which was qualified as "truly" Dark. The intent to cause pain, the sensation one experienced when it was cast successfully, the fact that it was deemed the Darkest of all spells, and Harry's own personal experience under the curse made him realize why it was so feared. While the other two Unforgivables required the same level of intent as all Dark spells, neither resulted in any sensation, thus blurring the lines between Dark and "Light" magic. From what Harry could understand, it was the harmful effects of both the Killing, and Imperius Curses that pointed them toward the Dark Arts. However, because Avada Kedavra was absolute, death was instantaneous, and painless, no feelings could be experienced. Likewise, the Imperius Curse removed freewill, if the caster's intent was strong enough, yet during the experience of being controlled, a mindless acceptance, which wasn't all too unpleasant, was endured. The polar opposites of both of the Unforgivables resulted in them being placed in a grey area of magic.

Harry was nearing the end of his theoretical observations into the Dark Arts on the thirty-third day in the time field, when he came upon something called the Atrum Vinculum. He wasn't sure what to think after reading.

The Atrum Vinculum, or Dark Bond, allows for a connection to be created between fellow Dark Arts users. The link between these Dark wizards and witches allows for a subtle form of camaraderie. This is not to say that all those using the Dark Arts are on friendly terms. The bond simply makes it easier to become acquainted with those other sorcerers who use the Dark magics. Strong emotions such as hate or love are intensified by those under the effect of the Atrum Vinculum, thus an enemy does not suddenly turn ally as a consequence.

Harry didn't know how to feel about this. Rising from the armchair, he began walking throughout the castle. As he moved through the illuminated corridors, he thought. Okay, so… I hate Voldemort right now. I'll probably hate him even more if this bond thing happens to me. I hate Death Eaters, so same situation. I'm angry at Dumbledore, the Order, my friends, and the Ministry. Will I have the same amount of hate for them as I do for Voldemort?... Doubtful. I may be angry right now, but I don't hate them. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts of all the unsettling emotions stirring within him, he tried to look at the positive aspects. I'd be able to determine other heavy users, and thus find out if they could be accepting of my group. The families who practice the Dark Arts, but aren't siding with Voldemort could have potential. If the Decretum was filled with members who practiced such magic, it would mean I have a group who believes as I do, and the effect of the bond would provide unity. We would be a group gathered, not in fear, but amity. This could lead to the Decretum's members putting aside any differences and join under the singular goal of peace.

Resolved to fully accept what the Dark Arts would bring, he moved into the dueling room. Thinking quickly of what he would like to test his first Dark spell on, a cruel smile spread across his face. With a swirl and jab, a rat, eerily similar to a certain anamagi appeared. A silent engorgio and petrificus totalus later, Harry took a deep breath. Concentrating all his hate, intent, and wanting, truly wanting to cause those who have wronged him pain, he raised his wand. With one last look into the fearful animal's eyes, he cast the Dark spell and felt it.

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing the second half of this chapter and am really interested in what you think. The reviews have been great and it makes me work faster, but I probably only got one more chapter that I can put out in the next two days before I move a little slower. I still plan on getting one to you guys at least once a week.