Chapter 1
Harry dove behind a tombstone, just barely dodging the unfamiliar spell Voldemort had shot at him. The man hadn't even said anything. How was he supposed to fight if he didn't know what curse Voldemort was doing.
"Harry," Voldemort said coldly, "I am not in the mood for playing hide-and-seek. Come out here and face me -- or perhaps you'd like to hide like a coward?"
Harry racked his brain for a spell he could use. He suddenly recalled a spell he'd found while researching for the second task, a charm that filled a fifty-foot diameter space with thick fog. He'd be able to sneak back to the cup and Cedric's body without getting caught.
However, the fog spell wasn't nonverbal, and given that Voldemort was so much older and more experienced than Harry was, he would definitely know a spell to either get rid of the fog or see through it.
So, he would need a distraction first. Harry decided upon one of the twin's favorite spells.
"Displodo!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at a cluster of tombstones near the Death Eaters.
They exploded, sending fragments of stone everywhere. The noise was amplified by the spell. The Death Eaters shouted in surprise and pain, trying to dodge the pieces of graves. In the commotion, Harry was able to cast the fog spell without being heard.
"Clever boy," he heard Voldemort mutter, almost sounding impressed. "Thorfinn, what spell is this?"
Harry quickly crawled in the direction of the cup and Cedric's body while the commotion continued. He managed to latch onto Cedric's body and the portkey just as the fog was cleared.
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The rest of the night was a blur. Harry was whisked away to the hospital wing by Remus, ignoring Dumbledore's and Moody's attempts to talk to him. Dumbledore and the Minister followed them and asked Harry to explain what happened. Rita Skeeter's articles had had their toll on the Minister, however, so Dumbledore and Remus were the only ones who believed Harry. (And the huge black dog that was currently curled up on Harry's bed.)
Madam Pomfrey gave him some dreamless sleep and forced the Minister and headmaster to argue outside of the hospital wing.
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When Harry woke up again, the hospital wing was empty. He sat up carefully, making sure not to jostle his leg.
Voldemort was back. Voldemort was back, and Harry knew he was the one expected to fight him.
In first year, he had tried to tell McGonagall that the Stone was going to be stolen, but she didn't listen. He had even tried telling Flitwick later, but the short professor hadn't believed him either. He had realized that he was the only one who knew the Stone was going to be stolen, which meant he was the only one who could stop him. So, he did, as best he could. Dumbledore should have known, this close to someone stealing the Stone, that the letter from the Ministry was fake.
In his second year, everyone thought Harry was Slytherin's heir. They all thought Harry could do something like that. The teachers did nothing to find or stop the real heir, even Dumbledore. (Harry later thought that Dumbledore knew exactly where the Chamber was but couldn't enter because he couldn't speak Parseltongue.) Harry, once again, was the only one who could get into the Chamber and stop the monster and the heir (or so his twelve-year-old mind thought) and so was forced to take on a Basilisk. Dumbledore hadn't scolded Harry for putting himself in danger. He had scolded him for breaking school rules, and then gave him and Ron a trophy.
By third year, everyone saw him as a heroic Gryffindor. So, when Sirius escaped, everyone assumed he would go fight him. Dumbledore hadn't used his status as Chief Wizengamot to save Sirius. He had told two children to break the laws of time.
And when Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire....
Harry frowned. Dumbledore hadn't done anything when his name came out of the Goblet. Dumbledore seemed so concerned for his welfare, why didn't he get Harry out of the tournament? With the power and intelligence that the old man had, surely he could have found a way. And he had even thought, however temporarily, that Harry had entered the tournament himself. How the Merlin could he have tricked an ancient magical object into thinking there were four champions?! He barely knew enough magic to pass his classes!
Harry had never really trusted Dumbledore, not since he had been forbidden to stay at Hogwarts during the summer instead of going back to the Dursleys. But, going over Dumbledore's reactions to when Harry was in danger, or broke the rules to be a hero, he trusted him even less.
Judging by Dumbledore's actions, the old man was trying to groom him to be heroic and not leave the heroics to the adults.
Harry rubbed his face tiredly. Dumbledore was a powerful, respected man, even now, and he couldn't let Dumbledore think he didn't trust him. He could either disappear (not for long, given how many people were still Dumbledore's sheep and would immediately come looking for him) or follow along with Dumbledore's plan, which was to fight a wizard who was older, more experienced, more powerful, and more intelligent than Harry.
Him surviving the fight in the cemetery was lucky, and he hadn't even fought Voldemort. Harry needed to be a lot better at dueling. And he needed to know what curses Voldemort was going to use so he could either block it or dodge.
He needed someone to tutor him to be a better dueler.
But who the Merlin would-
The door opened, and Moody entered. Harry almost facepalmed; why didn't he think of the retired auror?
Moody didn't bother with pleasantries. "How did you get past the Dark Lord?"
Harry frowned a little. The only people who called Voldemort that were Death Eaters.
"I used Displodo and Nebulus," Harry said slowly. "Displodo for a distraction, and the fog charm while no one could hear what I was saying."
Moody raised a brow, looking faintly impressed. "You do know that Displodo is considered Dark, don't you, Potter?"
"I didn't, actually," Harry said bluntly. "I have no idea what makes a spell Dark or not."
"Dark spells the Ministry claim are Dark, or spells that are actually Dark?" Moody asked.
"There's a difference?" Harry asked.
Moody nodded. "The Ministry makes spells illegal if they can be used to kill."
"But Bombarda can be used to kill, and even the Levitation charm," Harry said incredulously.
Moody snorted in agreement. "What makes a spell actually Dark is that it is fueled by emotion. Any emotion."
"You can fuel the Killing Curse with love?" Harry asked. He cocked his head. "Kind of like euthanasian."
"What's that?"
"Muggle doctors -- Healers -- use it when they can't save their patient," Harry explained. "It kills them quickly and painlessly. Isn't that what the Killing Curse is?"
"It's what it was made for," Moody said gruffly.
A sudden thought struck Harry. "Wait, does that mean the Patronus Charm is Dark?!"
Moody grinned in response.
Remus had taught him a Dark spell?
Harry shook himself. "I barely made it out of there alive. I need to learn how to fight Voldemort without dying."
Moody twitched at the name. "Why?"
After a moment of silence, Harry said, "Voldemort keeps coming after me, specifically. He had my name put in the Goblet of Fire, and he used me to get a body back -- albeit a really ugly one."
The man looked a little offended.
"You put my name in the Goblet," Harry guessed.
"And what makes you think that?" Moody asked.
"You called Voldemort the 'Dark Lord,' and you just looked offended when I called him ugly," Harry answered.
"Clever boy," Moody agreed. "I've been stealing Polyjuice ingredients from Snape all year."
"Who are you really, then?"
"Can't tell you that," Moody grinned.
"Are you going to kill me?" Harry asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"The Dark Lord is intrigued that you were able to escape him," Moody shrugged. "And that you used a spell that is considered Dark. He wants to keep an eye on you. For now. He will eventually end up killing you, but until then, he wants you alive."
"So, I still need to learn how to duel," Harry pinched his nose. "I would ask you to teach me, but..."
"I need to leave before Dumbledore catches me, so I wouldn't be able to help you anyway," Moody told him. "But I can tell you a few people who would be willing."
"It needs to be someone that doesn't trust Dumbledore and doesn't follow Voldemort," Harry insisted.
"That narrows it down to Snape, Lupin, and Flitwick," said Moody. "I've got to go, Potter; but before I go..." He pulled out the Marauder's Map and tossed it to Harry. "Useful, that." And he left.