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Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 1

The Dark Lord

"My Lord…" Pettigrew choked, "my Lord…you promised…you did promise."

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said lazily, his red eyes piercing as he looked around, although he was still keeping an eye on the boy; he did have a knack for escaping. If he wasn't his enemy, he would have had a modest respect for his abilities, but since the boy's escapes put his plans in ruins more often than not, he wasn't happy in the slightest.

"Oh, Master…thank you, master…" choked Pettigrew, getting dizzy from the loss of blood. He extended his handless arm towards Voldemort, who just laughed coldly at his minion, concealing his surprise that Potter was suppressing his own sadistic amusement at Pettigrew's current predicament. "The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please… please…" Pettigrew pathetically whimpered, missing the green eyes of his bound prisoner watching him with a great delight that he couldn't quite mask.

Voldemort snatched Wormtail's left arm, Harry noticed, and forced his sleeve up, ignoring the man's sniveling. He noticed immediately a red tattoo, the same design he'd seen projected into the sky at the Quidditch World cup. It was pretty hard to forget, since he'd been accused of firing it into the sky himself. It seemed no matter where he went, whatever he did, he always had people blaming him for something.

"It is back," said Voldemort softly, and Harry couldn't help but remember the Chamber…his voice back then. What had caused him to become so hideously disfigured? Shaking off his entirely inappropriate thoughts, he tried to think of a way to get out of this. He was drawing a blank… he was tied to a bloody tombstone, for Merlin's sake. Damn Dumbledore for not stepping in and preventing him from participating in the tournament. But Voldemort's voice drew his attention back to what was happening around him as he hissed softly, "They will all have noticed it…and now, we shall see…now we shall know…" Then Voldemort touched the tattoo with his finger and just then Harry's scar seared with pain. What had Voldemort just done? Why could he feel what he'd done? This was different than anything else he'd ever felt in relation to his scar before. The tattoo had gone black now, and he watched Pettigrew scream in agony; the sight of his suffering caused his lips to twitch. Hopefully Voldemort would leave it too long and actually kill the sniveling thing.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" the Dark Lord whispered once more, his red eyes gleaming. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Return? Oh great, he'd somehow summoned his followers; how many did he have? How did he get out of this? His wand was out of reach; Cedric Diggory was dead and no help at all. He had no idea where he was, or how to get back to Hogwarts. In other words, he was done for. Maybe it was for the best…when he died, he wouldn't need to return to the Dursleys. No more abuse, no more peer pressure, no more looking at the disappointment on everyone's faces when he didn't do what they expected. No more charade…no more putting up with people who pretended to give a shit.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," Voldemort hissed softly, "A Muggle and a fool…very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child…and I killed my father; see how useful he has proven himself, in death…"

"Too bad they didn't cremate him then," Harry said bluntly, watching the red eyes flash with surprise at his audacity

Then Voldemort continued on as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. "You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was…he didn't like magic, my father…he left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage…but I vowed to find him…I got revenge upon him, that fool who gave me his name…Tom Riddle…"

"Oh please, you weren't the only one who's had a shitty childhood," Harry snapped, his green eyes flashing in barely suppressed fury. How many times had he wished to kill his own so-called family? Each year his imagined retribution got more and more inventive…unfortunately he couldn't. Dumbledore would know within seconds what he'd done. As much as he hated the Dursley's he'd really rather not end up in Azkaban surrounded by Dementors.

"Listen to me, reliving family history…" Voldemort said quietly. Did he do anything other than bloody whisper?! Harry snarked silently to himself. "Why, I am growing quite sentimental…But look, Harry! My true family returns…"

"I already know your family history, I got the same talk just before you tried to kill me in the Chamber of Secrets…so please, spare me," Harry said, rolling his eyes and shifting his head from side to side; he ached something fierce. True family? His heart sank at the sight of all the wizards Apparating into the Graveyard. Yes, this day was truly his last. Voldemort thought of them as family? That much he hadn't expected. There was so much he was ignorant of; he wished he had answers.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it was yesterday…we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

Harry was beginning to think that Voldemort didn't know how to raise his voice other than to laugh manically. Harry's eyes assessed his surroundings―there were too many Death Eaters, he had not a hope in hell of getting out of this…hopefully they would end him quickly. He didn't want to count his chickens, after all, the last times had been far from pleasant, even with no attempt at a flash of green light.

"I smell guilt," Voldemort whispered, "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."

That surprised Harry. Really, he could smell like a snake? Then he was bound to smell his fear, and that didn't sit well with him at all.

But Voldemort was still talking. "I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact ― such prompt appearances! And I ask myself…why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their Master, to whom they'd swore eternal loyalty?"

Eternal loyalty? Really? How had he gained so many followers; was the blood supremacy notion really that…twisted in all purebloods?

"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort, "They must have believed me broken; they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment."

How did Voldemort know all this? Yeah, Pettigrew had spent…thirteen years as a rat, listening to the Weasleys. There was also Bertha Jorkins, who had died by Voldemort's hand; he would have gotten all the information he possibly could have from her first. If he'd found out about the tournament from her, then it was probable he had gotten more, he mused.

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power, in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"

He had every Death Eater present frozen stiller than statues; he had them hanging on every word, and if Harry was honest…he would have been as well, if he wasn't about to die. Voldemort had a way with words, even the memory of him at the age of seventeen had, down in the Chamber of Secrets. Licking his dry lips, Harry cursed himself once again for letting his mind wander…he had to figure out a way out of here before he was met with a sticky end like Malfoy had promised, when he was twelve. He would hate to prove the git right ― especially considering he was there…he could see his blond hair shining like a beacon in the stillness.

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still-greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort…perhaps they now pay allegiance of another…perhaps even to that champion of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore!"

Harry snorted, unable to help himself; that was a new one, he'd never heard Dumbledore called that. Fortunately, he didn't think anyone had heard him, since the Death Eaters had all flinched at those words, and began shaking their heads, muttering and denying the accusation leveled their way.

"It's a disappointment to me… I confess myself disappointed."

Then what happened next had even Harry fearful and very nearly showing it: the Death Eaters were kneeling before Voldemort, begging for forgiveness, only to be hit with a spell that must have caused unendurable agony if their screams were anything to go by. Swallowing thickly, Harry realized that this must be the Cruciatus Curse…Moody was right then, it had been a favorite of Voldemort's during the war. His stomach tightened into a knot.

"Get up, Avery," Voldemort softly said, "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years of repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail has paid some of his debts already, have you not, Wormtail?"

Harry wondered very briefly why Avery was Avery, yet Voldemort called Pettigrew by his nickname…a nickname that his father James had given him, only to be betrayed by him. Was Pettigrew closer to Voldemort Other than the fact he'd brought him back? He shook off those thoughts, feeling sick.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that don't you?" Voldemort asked, as if curious what denial he might get.

Of course, now, that made more sense than Pettigrew actually giving a shit. Sirius and Remus would have been amused to learn that Pettigrew was terrified of them.

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "Please, master…please…"

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sobbing on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"

Harry grimaced in disgust at the sight before him. Pettigrew was more rat than human…then again, Voldemort was more snake than human, but he hadn't always been that way…Pettigrew on the other hand had always been like that, at least according to Sirius. It could have been bitterness speaking, but either way he was dead…there was no way he could survive this, surely? It would take a miracle, and he had a feeling he was all out of them. Ignoring the conversation going on around him, Harry still absorbed the names of those he could for his own sake, should he actually get out of this in one piece. Then hearing Voldemort speaking again caused him to pay attention… missing Death Eaters?

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters…three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return…he will pay. Two who remain my most faithful servants, one of whom has already re-entered my service," Voldemort whispered, sounding thoughtful.

"He is at Hogwarts, my faithful servant…and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived tonight…" Voldemort continued. "Yes, Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

"I'm sorry to say I left my gift behind," Harry said sardonically, his eyes never wavering from Voldemort's.

"Master, we crave to know…we beg you to tell us…how you have achieved this…this miracle…how you managed to return to us…" Lucius simpered ingratiatingly.

Voldemort finally broke eye contact with Harry and turned to Lucius, "Ah, what a story it is, Lucius, and it begins and ends with my young friend here." Harry narrowed his eyes as Voldemort stalked forward towards him, inhaling sharply at the pain in his scar, as Voldemort's long white fingers hovered just inches from his skin. "You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?"

"You all know that the night I lost my powers and my body, I had tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him ― and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen…I could not touch the boy," Voldemort admitted, his red eyes gleaming wickedly as he leaned further into Harry's face; if he'd had a nose, it would have been pressed against Harry's. "His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice…this is old magic. I should have remembered it; I was foolish to overlook it…but no matter, I can touch him now."

Harry bit his tongue, keeping his face impassive despite the agony coursing through him. He'd never allowed his uncle to get any satisfaction from hurting him…so he wasn't going to let Voldemort or the Death Eaters either. Voldemort had come and actually intended to kill HIM; the target wasn't his family…why? It wasn't like he'd gone around killing children, otherwise Hogwarts would have been empty…surely? Why him? What the hell made him so special, that Voldemort would come and personally try to kill him? He'd asked Dumbledore once, but the old wizard had never revealed why. Voldemort laughed in his ear, before turning away from him again to address the Death Eaters.

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon me. Aaaah…pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body; I was less than a spirit, less than the meanest ghost…but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know…I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal: to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked…for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done me in. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself…for I had no body and every spell which might have helped me required the use of a wand. I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist…I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited…surely one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me…one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body…but I waited in vain…"

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals ―snakes, of course, being my preference― but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill-adapted to perform magic…and my possession of them shorted their lives; none of them lasted long…"

Aurors? The Aurors had searched for Voldemort? So, they'd known all along that he wasn't really dead? Dumbledore was one thing, but the Aurors, the Ministry…he could barely believe it; those sodding shits, were they manipulating him as well as Dumbledore?

"Then…four years ago…the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard ―young, foolish and gullible― wandered across my path in the forest I'd made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had dreamed of…for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school…He was easy to bend to my will…he brought me back into this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plans failed; I did not manage to steal the Philosopher's stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted…thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter…"

"If it's any consolation, you wouldn't have been able to get the stone," Harry muttered mulishly.

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been," whispered Voldemort, having his friends' and family's complete attention, their eyes gleaming as he told his tale to them. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't fear that I might never regain my powers…yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour…I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess…and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me…"

Harry twitched; Voldemort's voice might sound like it didn't matter but the words that came out of his mouth made it seem like he was truly hurt by their actions, or rather in this case inactions. "Try dying before you escaped," Harry muttered, curious that he couldn't even bring himself to say Quirrell's name; he couldn't be feeling guilty, could he? Harry wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes, as he was ignored once again as if he hadn't spoken. What a way to treat your guest of honor, Harry wryly thought.

"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last…a servant returned to me: Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice. He was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends and decided to return to his master."

"Yes, I'm sure it's less embarrassing for him to blame those the same age as him, than a thirteen-year-old," Harry said, glaring at Pettigrew and causing him to squeak for a second before realizing something, then grinning and giving that same little wave he had last year. Just before he'd turned into a rat and run away like a coward to escape.

"He sought me in the country where it had been long rumored I was hiding…helped, of course, by the rats he encountered along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them."

"Course he does, he is one," sneered Harry, still staring at Pettigrew; his gaze promised death. This caused the Death Eaters to twitch; their eyes going from Harry to their Lord, surprise flickering in them. Now, if they had dared to interrupt their Lord once, never mind multiple times, they would be writhing in agony by this point. Yet still Voldemort ignored the boy.

"But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food…and whom should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic? Now see, this is the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail ―displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected of him― convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a night-time stroll."

Harry snorted blatantly at that; Pettigrew convince anyone to do anything? He grumbled inwardly, the magical bindings didn't leave any room for leeway, none at all. Every time he tried to get out, they just tightened uncomfortably around his wrist. Sighing in defeat, he slumped against the statue, taking some pressure off his aching body, sore from having been in the same position so long.

"He overpowered her…brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams…for ―with a little persuasion― she became a veritable mine of information. She told me that the Tri-Wizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things…but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose; I could not possess her, so I disposed of her."

"Wormtail's body, of course, was ill-adapted for possession; as all assumed him dead, he would attract far too much attention if seen. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth: a spell or two of my own invention…a little help from my dear Nagini…a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided…I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel." Voldemort murmured, yet his voice was heard clearly.

He invented his own spells, convinced all these people to follow him, yet he looked like a disgusting half-man, clinging desperately to immortality? Why hadn't he just used a vampire? It would have made things a lot less complicated. Then again, not even vampires were truly immortal... Wait... unicorn blood? Why hadn't anyone said anything about unicorns being killed again, like in first year? A cursed life: it was half the unicorn blood and the snake that had caused this appearance. If he was going to die, Harry wished Voldemort would get on with it already, he was getting hungry. He'd always known he would die starving.

"There was no hope of stealing the Philosopher's Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower…I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strengths…"

He looked like that before he died? Really? Well, that was unexpected, really. How had he gone from the boy from the diary to this…this…disfigured insane guy? No, not insane…not completely anyway, but not far from it either. Harry twitched out of his thoughts when he heard his name, protection? He called it fucking protection? Biting his tongue, he winced when he tasted the metallic flavor of blood dribbling in his mouth. He'd actually bitten hard enough to draw blood; ouch, that fucking hurt. Of course, that was nothing on the feeling of the Cruciatus Curse now being cast upon him. The scream that left his throat was against his will, as agony…unlike anything he'd ever felt... danced over him. Like he'd suffered ten beatings from his uncle simultaneously… Merlin, he'd rather die than continue feeling this but the Slytherin part of him refused…the survivor in him refused to bow down.

Then it was over; the bindings loosened as he slumped against the stone of Tom Riddle. He could barely think, couldn't see…but slowly, eventually his vision returned, although his muscles continued to spasm painfully and were definitely out of his control. He had changed his mind, Voldemort was bloody crazy; meeting blood-red eyes, he stared impassively, not allowing the wizard to intimidate him, refusing to show his fear more determinedly than before. If he were to die today, he would make it, so he was at least worthy of remembrance.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," Voldemort said. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger."

"Just a little longer, Nagini," added Voldemort to his snake.

Standing up straighter he turned to Wormtail. "Now untie him, Wormtail and give him back his wand."

Harry couldn't keep from inwardly cursing when the Death Eaters moved in, completing the circle around the two of them and obscuring the entire graveyard from view. He hissed at Wormtail, causing him to stumble back after returning his wand. He should have let them kill him, but the Gryffindor they all expected Harry to be wouldn't kill him, no matter what he did. Maybe the hat had been right, if he had been sorted into his true house... he probably wouldn't be having this problem. Standing up, he was wary of his injured leg; he had been in the hospital wing often enough, how was it that he didn't know how to heal himself? Wait…there was a spell; what was it called again? ...Ferula, that was it, "Ferula," Harry whispered, tapping his wand against his leg, trying it out; he found it wasn't enough to stop his limping anyway.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort softly asked, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

"Putting on a show isn't going to make it any more impressive when you try and kill someone with only four years of magical education, which by the way sucked," Harry said bitterly, moving again ― damn that spider to hell, it had screwed up his leg big time. "Considering you tried to kill me when I was a baby, you don't really have morals by any stretch of imagination."

Those red eyes flashed again, angrily, before they shifted; his lipless mouth stretched into a smile. "We bow to one another, Harry," he said, "Come now, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners; bow to death…Harry." Voldemort bowed slightly but his gaze never wavered from Harry's.

Harry's green eyes bored into his own before the boy mockingly bowed theatrically, his arm waving out, but his eyes also never left Voldemort's. His lips twitching at the aggravated look on the Dark Lord's face; it might be the last time he did.

"And now we duel," said Voldemort, "Crucio!"

Harry hadn't even seen it coming, but considering he was riling Voldemort up he should have expected it. After what felt like nearly an hour, although he knew it was probably less than a minute, the pain stopped. He was on the ground again; he couldn't even remember falling as pain had just eaten at him. He had, though, kept a tight grip of his wand, which was a good thing. He contemplated just lying there and allowing Voldemort to end this whenever he felt like it. No, he scowled to himself, if this was his last day on this earth, he would make sure he was a worthy opponent to remember.

"That hurt didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?" whispered Voldemort.

"Sure, I'm a masochist," Harry muttered, rolling over and getting himself to his feet, then standing still as he tried to get over the curse which was playing havoc with his insides. "Who doesn't love being Crucio'ed every day? It's the highlight of my night."

"Crucio!" Voldemort snapped, nearly losing his temper.

Harry, however, was ready and leapt aside, almost barreling into the on-looking Death Eaters but barely preventing himself from doing so. There was a scream that lasted for a few seconds before it quit; the curse had obviously hit one of the Death Eaters. Harry chuckled in amusement; they'd gotten a laugh out of him, so why shouldn't he?

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted; it was the only real spell he knew. As the spell formed, he knew he was dead…he was surrounded by Death Eaters and facing Voldemort. He had only one wand. He was dead meat; it would take a miracle to get out of this, and he was out of miracles and miraculous escapes.

Voldemort however was ready for him and shouted his own lethal spell, "Avada Kedavra!"

The green spell formed and left the Dark Lord's wand. Harry expected it to hit him, but it didn't. Both spells collided in midair, and a large golden dome began to surround them. A 'whoa' left his lips as both of them were lifted into the air. Both of them were also tightly gripping onto their wands, not wanting to lose them. The simmering gold that connected both their wands splintered, but the connection remained. He was relieved to see that at least Voldemort had no clue to what was happening; that made two of them. Still, Harry didn't want that connection broken, it had saved his life…. oh he had no idea just how much it would save his life.

Grunting, Harry used both hands to secure the wand that was vibrating painfully, making it near impossible to keep a hold on it. Then a bead materialized in between them and began making its way towards his own wand. He didn't want it to reach him, he thought desperately... then suddenly it was moving towards Voldemort's wand.

Green eyes met red as both combatants began to put as much magic into their efforts as possible, but since Voldemort had just been brought back to his body, he was weakening already. Harry, however, was in marginally good health, and his magic was as powerful as ever. The bead finally reached Voldemort's wand... then Harry's jaw dropped when he saw the ghostly figure of Cedric Diggory emerge from the tip of Voldemort's wand.

Breaking eye contact with Voldemort, he looked down at the edges of the dome. The Death Eaters were prowling the circumference; they were worried…about him? If it wasn't for the fact, they liked to kill people he would have been touched, really. Turning his attention back to his opponent, Harry saw another figure had emerged from the wand, walking stick and all!

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man asked, causing Harry's jaw to drop. It was the Muggle from his dream…it had been real... then how? How could he see through Voldemort's eyes? No, it hadn't been through Voldemort's eyes…. he'd seen the Muggle first…then… Harry swallowed thickly― the snake?! There was something wrong with that. How could he have seen through the eyes of the snake? "Killed me, that one did…you fight him, boy…" the shade of the old man demanded.

Then another figure emerged, one he realized had to be Bertha Jorkins.

"Don't let go now!" she cried "Don't let him get you Harry ― and don't let go!"

Harry rolled his eyes, if he heard that one more time he was going to explode, he got the picture. That was until the next person who came out…was someone he couldn't ever get mad at; despite the fact he never really knew her. His mother, Lily Evans-Potter.

"Your father's coming…he wants to see you…it will be alright…hold on…" Lily said to her son.

"Alright? I'm surrounded by Death Eaters and don't have a way out!" Harry cried; his exasperation obvious. Dumbledore hadn't made sure he knew how to defend himself; he was alone as always, trying to get himself out of messes Dumbledore had started.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments… but we will give you time… you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts…do you understand, Harry?" James said, his voice distant as though driving through a tunnel. It was obvious Voldemort couldn't hear what was being said, although he was otherwise occupied by the ghosts of his victims…Voldemort's face was blanched white with fear, a sight Harry never thought he would see. So that's how he would get back; if only he'd known he would have been able to get away earlier, before Pettigrew reached him after killing Cedric Diggory.

"Yes," said Harry, his sweat making it damn near impossible to keep a tight grip on his wand.

"Harry…take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents?" Cedric Diggory asked.

Harry blinked at the figure of Cedric Diggory, had he just asked him that? Here he was, fighting for his very life; after putting up with all the shit of them believing he'd put his name in the goblet for the sake of mere fame… he dared ask this of him? "I will," Harry said automatically, it was, after all, what everyone would want of him.

"Do it now," James said, "Be ready to run. Do it now…"

"Now," growled Harry, yanking fiercely; as the connection broke all the ghostly figures zoned in on Voldemort, giving him the chance to escape, helping him. Putting aside all thoughts of how much agony coursed through him, he ran like he'd never run before, his adrenaline helping keep him going, temporarily suspending all the pain he felt for a brief moment. Never running in a straight line, throwing in dodges so he didn't get hit in the back by any spells, finally he fell over the body of Cedric Diggory. Turning back, he saw Voldemort's attention was now on him. "Accio!" he cried, summoning the cup.

"Looks like you'll need to feed Pettigrew to Nagini now, since I'm out of the picture…"Harry hissed, slipping into Parseltongue just as he saw the look of surprise once again on that face. He snatched the cup in mid-air, and Voldemort's surprise turning to rage was the last thing he saw before he was thumping down on the grass once again at Hogwarts.

"Harry! Harry!" called a voice as arms roughly grabbed him and turned him over. He wasn't surprised to find it was Albus Dumbledore's worried face hovering over his own. The old man should be worried; Voldemort was back, and he'd almost died because of Dumbledore's damn incompetence. Voldemort's words rang in his ears 'protected greater than the boy even realized' and that hadn't meant the blood wards, since he'd mentioned them along with whatever other protection he meant. It made him sick and furious…if he found out someone had been watching him being abused and had done nothing, that was it, he was done.

"He's back," Harry rasped, "Voldemort's back."

"What's going on? What's happened?" asked Fudge, his face staring down at the two, pasty white and terrified. "My god ― Diggory! Dumbledore, he's dead!"

Things faded out of focus; he could feel someone standing him up, but his leg just about gave out. Someone was helping him stay upright as everyone around them panicked. Harry's vision swam out of focus once again; he was finding it nearly impossible to remain conscious. He could hear voices, but he was unable to focus on what they were saying. Until he was grabbed once again, and a firmer voice was talking to him.

"It's alright, son, I've got you…come on…hospital wing…" Moody demanded.

"I should stay," Harry said, trying to get Moody off him; there was a bloody spy at Hogwarts, he wasn't taking any chances. He doubted it was Moody, they wouldn't use someone so close to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore would have known it wasn't his friend.

"You need to lie down…now," Moody insisted as they left the tournament grounds, until all that could be heard was the clunking of Moody's foot.

"What happened, Harry?" asked Moody.

"Cup was a Portkey," Harry said tersely, "Took me and Cedric to a graveyard…and Voldemort was there…Lord Voldemort…"

"The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?" asked Moody, surprised when the boy stopped.

"The what?" Harry asked, gripping his wand and raising it against the Auror…the only people he'd heard calling Voldemort that so far were his followers. 'My faithful is already at Hogwarts'; a shiver ran down his spine. He was alone with a Death Eater; he couldn't take any more tonight.

"What are you doing, Potter? Put the wand away," Moody demanded, trying to stare him down.

"How the hell did you fool Dumbledore?" asked Harry. The Poly-juice potion... the ingredients Snape had accused him of stealing. So, who was it? He had no idea, and Voldemort hadn't been very forthcoming about it either. He was impressed despite himself, unless...unless Dumbledore had known but allowed it to continue under his nose?

"Did he forgive them, the other Death Eaters?" Moody wildly asked, his wand aimed now at Harry.

"Stupefy! Stupefy, stupefy!" Harry fired, just as voices could be heard at the entrance hall. Moody just grinned sadistically, moving out of the way of Harry's spells, due to his exhaustion he wasn't able to move all that fast.

"Protego! Harry! What are you doing?" Dumbledore demanded after shielding himself from the stunning charm, his shocked blue eyes gazing at Harry in surprised disappointment.

"Don't let him get away!" Harry hissed as Moody ran; the others just let him through. When Harry tried to run after him Dumbledore stopped him. "He's getting away!"

Then in the distance they all saw the wooden leg fly off, and in its place was suddenly a real leg. Then the hair changed, becoming longer and greasier. The figure continued to run, leaving behind nothing but a circular object they all knew to be an eye, Moody's famous spelled eye, and the wooden leg in its wake. Belatedly spells began to fly after him, but it was too late; whoever it was…was gone.

"Damn it!" snarled Harry, forcing himself out of Dumbledore's hold. Why did nobody ever bloody listen? He had to lean against the corridor wall, unable to stay standing on his own power as his legs continued to shake. If he hadn't been used to pain...he doubted very much he would have been able to move from where the portkey had landed him.

"Was that who I think it was?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes wide with apparently shock staring at the school gates where the figure had last been seen. Then he realized something else. "Where is Alastor?" his eyes zoning around as if he suspected the Auror to appear out of nowhere.

"It must have been Poly-Juice potion; he must be alive and close by," Severus stated sharply, his face impassive before turning to lead the search. Not out of worry for the Auror because quite frankly he hated the old wizard, but because he wanted to see him at his weakest. That and to vent, the Dark Lord was back...and Severus honestly didn't know how to feel about it.

A.N - A Massive thank you to HarryPotterLuver8796 for their time in editing the chapter and making it better I appreciate the time and effort that has gone into it.

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self Chapter 2

A/N – I just realised that despite informing my group on Facebook not everyone has joined, so I shall do so here. The story has been taken down to be edited, a new chapter will likely be posted every other day, between my writing the chapter of whatever is on my schedule. Right now, that’s Out of The Darkness. It’s about a hundred and odd chapters so it might take a bit of time however, the story desperately needs it, quite frankly after going over this chapter, I can’t help but wonder how you managed to understand it. I didn’t half go all over the place, back and forth back and forth and giving a very unnecessary overview of Harry’s years at Hogwarts and I'm not going to mention Voldemort's thoughts. 

Chapter 2 

Harry watched the scenery passing, the lush green fields and trees, and birds flying overhead, but he wasn't really seeing it. His mind was miles away, thinking about everything that had happened since That Day, as he liked to call it. Of course, he had played his part ― the part Dumbledore expected from his little hero. It was difficult, more so now than it had ever been, although he wasn't quite sure why. A few months ago, everyone had been hovering around him, in awe of him after seeing his moves on his Firebolt, fighting the dragon. Yet once again they had turned on him, and he was quite frankly tired of it. He almost wanted to give them a real reason to hate him. The fact that Dumbledore kept going on about Voldemort wasn't helping either, it was as if the headmaster wanted as much negative attention on him as possible.

Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Junior was now a wanted man, an escapee from Azkaban prison. Which of course Fudge was blaming Sirius Black for, insisting that they both got away at the same time, without anyone realizing Crouch was missing until now. Despite that announcement, Harry was still being accused of murdering Cedric Diggory; apparently not even his wand or memories were good enough evidence to prove Voldemort was back.

After Crouch got away, Dumbledore had forced him up to his office to recount everything that had happened. The old fart was seemingly unbothered by the fact his leg was bleeding profusely, especially as the blood was seeping through the bandages he'd attempted to make before his duel with Voldemort. To him that wasn't the worst of it; his entire body had ached, and the adrenaline had long ago stopped pumping through his veins. His body had been shaking intermittently, the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse that had been cast on him. By the time Dumbledore had got him down to the Hospital wing he had been dead on his feet, dizzy with blood loss. He certainly didn't need the Dreamless sleeping potion foisted upon him, but he'd taken it regardless. Say what he liked, but it was the best sleep he'd ever had in his life, before he was once again forced to face the reality that was his life at the moment.

For once in his life, he was glad Voldemort seemed to wait until the end of the year to finalize his schemes. So, he didn't have to put up with everyone glaring at him in disgust. Or see the pity in his friends' gazes as they tried to draw him out of his 'depression'. He was used to the idiots at the school turning him into a convenient scapegoat, for the most part. Leaning his head against the cool glass, once again he wanted nothing more than to give them a reason to hate him. He was tired of it, the constant stares and whispers; he just wanted to blend in with the night and disappear. All he could do was think up the most delightful spells to add to his arsenal and count down the days until he could take his money and run in the other direction.

You’d think Hogwarts would be a home to him, but all he did was put on a show and play ‘the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ don’t’ get him started on Privet Drive, he was treated worse than Dobby.

Home... he'd give his wand arm to have somewhere he could call just that. Maybe one day…he just had to wait until he was an adult.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Hermione asked looking at him in concern, her brown eyes filled with apprehension as if she feared he might snap at any given moment.

"He's fine, Mione, leave him alone," Ron said shaking his head; girls, honestly.

"Anything off the trolley?" asked the Witch as the compartment doors parted, showing the large sweet-filled cart she was pulling.

Ron perked up, salivating at all the sweets available for purchase. He looked over at Harry, before frowning; the dark-haired boy wasn't even looking at the door. "Harry?" Ron called, becoming concerned himself now. Harry always bought lots of sweets from the cart, both coming to and going from Hogwarts.

"No thanks," Harry muttered, his breath steaming up the window in the compartment, he wasn’t feeling particularly up to playing the boy hero at the moment. His mind was mulling over the duel, and the decision he’d wished he’d made. The spells he wished he had cast instead of sticking to the spells he’d learned at Hogwarts. It could have all gone spectacularly wrong, he was lucky, he had to admit that.

Ron looked devastated, watching the Witch close the doors and continue on, calling on all other compartments to see if they wanted anything. He could scarcely believe Harry wasn't getting anything; he always, always bought stuff for them to eat. The added benefit was that Hermione barely touched any either, so it was more for him. Hermione's parents were something called dentists, that look after teeth... which was odd, but since Muggles didn't have any magic, he supposed it made sense.

"You should be eating something healthy anyway," said Hermione in what was probably meant as a soothing, consoling manner, but it came out as smug. It helped that she wouldn't need to sit and watch them gorge themselves on a mountain of sugar and become hyper.

"Shut up, 'Mione," Ron muttered, his bitterness bleeding through.

Hermione huffed before diving for her bag, bringing out a book and quickly immersing herself in it. The brooding trio remained silent for the rest of the ride home. Harry was very grateful for that; he just wasn't in the mood to put up with them right now. It didn't help that they'd gone to the headmaster’s office before leaving for the train, and then lied about where they'd been. His mind had gone to one explanation as to why they’d go there then lie.

Harry didn't even look up when the conductor announced they would be in Kings Cross in less than five minutes. There was no point to him rushing to get off the train, since Vernon was always late; it was just another way to show just how insignificant he was to the man. As if he even cared, he’d long since stopped hoping they would miraculously love him.

"Harry, come on, we have to go," Hermione said, sounding as though she was trying to coax a dog from under the bed or out of the house. Without waiting to see if he moved, Ron helped her down with her trunk; unfortunately, on this end they couldn't use magic like they had to get them onboard. At least not until they turned seventeen, then she'd be able to freely use it. That time couldn't come soon enough―she couldn't wait. The first thing she was doing, putting wards on her parent’s house.

"Thanks," Hermione said, in her own way making up with Ron, not wanting to leave things sour, especially now that she knew the Weasleys and herself would be going to Grimmauld Place for the holidays. They were in danger because they were friends with Harry, and they needed to be protected. She took whatever Professor Dumbledore said seriously, especially now, and she would do it. She would go to Grimmauld Place, she wouldn't write to Harry and would keep him safe; the headmaster knew best, after all.

Together they also got Harry's trunk down, seeing as he hadn't moved. Hermione was becoming increasingly agitated by Harry's silence. The way the ride was going, she wouldn't have a problem not writing all summer! This was ridiculous; sure, it had been something difficult Harry had been through, but did he need to go into a strop? Looking out the window she realized they were in the tunnel and had nearly come to the platform.

As soon as the train came to a jerky stop, they left the compartment, and made their way off the train. Weaving in and out of the other students and their parents, they slipped through the magical barrier protecting the train and magical entrance. Nobody even paid the slightest bit of attention to them as they appeared.

"Look, there’s your parents," Hermione said pointing a finger and giving Ron a general direction to them.

"Is that Mad-Eye Moody? What's he doing here? Is it really him?" Ron asked, surprised to see the old Auror up and about so quickly. Everyone knew the teacher they'd had all year hadn't been the paranoid Auror, but a Death Eater in disguise using Poly-Juice Potion. Nobody could deny they'd actually learnt a ton of stuff that year though, even if it had been scum teaching them.

"Harry, your uncle is there," Hermione commented watching the man, he looked very uncomfortable around the wizards.

Harry wanted to close his eyes and curse; his uncle was out there beside the Weasleys? Quickly marching himself towards his uncle he prayed the man hadn't been there too long. Although it was obviously long enough; he looked furious. As he got closer, Harry realized why: Moody was threatening him. What the fuck? Why would the idiot do something like that? As soon as he got home, he knew he would be in for it. Moody gave him a sick parody of what was meant to be a reassuring smile, but Harry paid him no mind. What caught his attention was why he would be threatening Vernon anyway? He never told anyone about the abuse, except Dumbledore. They were deliberately riling him up, Harry had to stop himself from cursing violently. They knew, they all knew about the abuse, but were sending him back anyway. Setting him aside until they needed him again. Harry thought with bile crawling up his throat.

"We'll see you later, alright mate?" Ron said, not promising to write like he normally would.

Harry nodded, catching on to the fact that Ron wasn't his normal consoling self; if anything, he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he just clicked his jaw shut, looking awkwardly at his parents before walking towards them. That was strange, was it something to do with the visit to the headmaster or something else?

"Be careful, Harry," Hermione quietly said, before she too wandered away towards Ron and the Weasleys.

Harry quickly made his hasty exit, with his uncle practically running from the station; for a big man he sure could move when he wanted to. He had noticed the lack of Hermione's parents, was she staying with the Weasleys? Had that been why she had gone with Ron to the headmaster's office? If that was the case, why lie about it? It was such a stupid thing to be deceitful about. But of course, he realized it was something more. Soon he and his uncle were clear of the station and Harry could no longer see his friends…if they were his friends.

Slytherin Manor – Unplottable.

Tom Riddle was better known by everyone as Lord Voldemort, by those courageous enough to say that, and You-Know-Who, by the media and those terrified of the mere mention of him. He'd made a promise to himself that he would be the most powerful wizard alive, and that everyone would be petrified to mention him by name. He had been thirteen years of age then…the world had been his oyster, ripe for the taking. Or so he'd thought; regretfully, the world wasn't as simple as he'd assumed it to be. It wasn't as easy to get his point across to everyone, like it had been to convince the other Slytherins…the first of his followers.

He'd lived up to that promise, for everyone other than two or three people in particular who dared to mention his pseudonym, and those worse ones, who dared mention his Muggle name. Or rather more accurately, the one wizard who dared mention his Muggle name: Dumbledore.

Once he'd sent everyone away, he Apparated himself and Nagini from the graveyard to his home. Barty had done him extremely proud. He had, after all, managed to successfully fool Albus Dumbledore for an entire school year, not only into believing he wasn't a Death Eater, but into believing he was Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody. Young Crouch had saved him, now it was his responsibility to protect Barty, from the Aurors, from the Order, and most importantly from himself.

Voldemort had been sceptical about the entire thing being pulled off; Crouch just wasn't in his right mind. After being held under the Imperious Curse by Crouch Sr. for going on thirteen years, it would take him a long time to return to the Barty he'd known. Of course, Voldemort would have to ensure he was appropriately punished for what he did just after he was…temporarily defeated. There were many things he tolerated that others wouldn't, but torturing magical people into insanity wasn't one of them. The magical world wasn't big enough to wilfully spill magical blood. That was madness; the only mitigating factor that was keeping Crouch Jr. alive was the fact that the Longbottom’s had been actively pursuing him, and were both Order members.

They were idiots; they didn't even know what they were fighting for, just following Dumbledore's every move and all his orders, hoping for the best. He looked up at his manor, one he'd succeeded in keeping a secret from everyone. He'd had his family build it, those who had the ability to build anyway; they'd been paid generously for their time. The land had belonged to his true ancestor, Salazar Slytherin; it had been in his family since the same year as the inception of Hogwarts. Using those ninety acres of land for the proposed school had been the first suggestion from Slytherin that Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw turned down, for one reason or another. It had turned out to be a good thing, since this property was extremely well hidden. In fact, nobody else now knew such a building existed and that's the way Voldemort wanted it. He'd never even seen it finished before he'd met his untimely defeat. Gazing at it now, his sharp red eyes were taking in his surroundings; as always, he was cautious, never truly let his guard down anywhere. Although if there was a place where he could relax, it would be here.

'Rats, Master, so many rats,' hissed Nagini, her snake tongue flickering out as she tasted the air and the very heartbeat of the animal she hungered for.

"Go and get them, Nagini, and I promise, soon you'll eat the one you want," Voldemort hissed back, his long pale hand caressing down the scales of his beloved familiar. No, she was more than a familiar; they were both connected on a level that a normal wizard could only dream of. He had been lucky to find her, and he vowed to keep her close at all times. "Do not go beyond the boundaries of the wards.”

"Yes, Master," Nagini hissed in acknowledgment before she slithered off, her eyes bright with the enjoyment and thrill of chasing live prey with her master safely beside her once more.

Voldemort watched her go before he ventured inside the manor, which specifically had been built and added-on to suit his tastes. The interior and exterior had all been kept in perfect condition. Stepping inside, he could feel the wards expand from inside his chest. He could now feel everything, every animal within clear shot of the wards, especially Nagini. He should have used this during the first war, but he had not.

Voldemort entered the Master bedroom and sat down on the bed. Laying down, he relaxed and relished the feel of having a body once more. Part of him had feared this would never happen; ever since he'd heard part of that Prophecy his life had gone from bad to worse. Red eyes gleaming, he realized he had to hear it all. He needed that prophecy, but how to get it without alerting anyone that he was back? If he knew the Ministry like he thought he did, they would not believe he had returned, such was the fear he had over them. Dumbledore would be swift in gathering up his child soldiers and reconvening the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore was predictable like that.

He pondered what he would do with the boy…

Potter... the boy was the most infuriating person on the planet. How he kept evading him, Voldemort did not know, but he didn't like it. Especially considering he’d gotten away from him and his Death Eaters casting only fourth year spells. Sitting up abruptly, his brow furrowing, he remembered what Potter had said to him: That he would need to feed someone else to Nagini since he got away; he'd never said anything like that tonight. He had promised Nagini that she could eat Potter after he was dead… but that had been months ago. He had been speaking Parseltongue then, and so had Potter tonight. His flat nostrils flared; how had Potter managed to get such a gift? Parseltongue was for Slytherin's descendants only; something wasn't right. Not only had the boy known of his conversation with Nagini, but he'd understood it― how and why?

He had to get his faithful followers out of Azkaban; thirteen years stuck in that hell hole with Dementors for company, he'd be lucky to have them back sane. The Lestrange’s had been his most faithful followers, even if they were a bit extreme―especially Bellatrix, although she was only a Lestrange through marriage. Rabastan and Rodolphus were a little more laid back, probably thanks to their father's influence, one of his earliest friends. Corvus Lestrange had helped him gather the Slytherins together, forming a team (a faction) against Dumbledore and his beliefs. Who was unfortunately too good at enticing others to his side, to see his view. Even before Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald people had been vying for him to help. When he'd actually defeated him, it got worse.

"Wormtail," Voldemort hissed, his eyes flashing red in suppressed irritation, he loathed showing any sign of weakness, especially to Wormtail. "Bring me my potions, immediately!" he detested the idea of the pathetic wizard stepping foot in his sleeping quarters. However, needs a must, he needed to recover. The moment he was well, he would have more spells on these rooms than elsewhere in the manor.

Pettigrew squeaked in surprise, not having expected orders so soon but hastened to comply. His Animagus form was handy for more than just avoiding detection. His sense of smell was greater when he was a rat; it had led his nose straight to his Master. Knowing better than to delay, he turned right back out the door and scurried away to the Potions Laboratory. He knew what Potions his Master was demanding; opening the lab door he shivered in cold and fear. He had always been terrified of Severus Snape; even joining the Dark Lord as he had didn't quash that out of him.

"What are you doing here?" Snape sneered, glaring at the rat and wanting nothing more than to kill the thing. Yet he did not, he continued preparing to brew the potions his Lord had demanded despite the interruption. He knew one day Pettigrew would screw up, and he would wait until then; he would have a free rein after that. Oh, the torture he wanted to inflict on Pettigrew; it would be heaven. He had been at a meeting with the Dark Lord for two hours revealing everything from the past thirteen years since his downfall. Dumbledore knew he was there; he'd demanded he returned which is exactly what he had done as soon as the students left on the train and the term ended hours ago. 

Pettigrew didn't reply, he just snivelled as he wandered over to the potion supplies. With shaking hands, almost dropping them in the process, he grasped two potions’ vials before bolting from the room. He found himself flushing red in humiliation at hearing the derisive snort that followed him out. Why was Snape here? He hadn't been faithful! Snape hadn't found their Lord, he had. He alone had set out to find him, rescued him, and restored him back to his old self. Instead of seeing the ones that terrified him writhing in agony, they'd gotten away with it. What happened at the graveyard didn't count! That was no punishment, that was just a slap on the wrist. He had so looked forward to their screams, but no, they were walking around pain-free.

The overweight weak wizard scampered in, hastily handing both potions to his Master. "Can I get anything else for you, My Lord?" Pettigrew eagerly asked, ready to prove his worth. Almost as eagerly as he was to get away, but unfortunately, he had nowhere to go. He couldn't even spend time in his Animagus form here, it was too risky; he didn't want to be eaten by Nagini ― as his Master had threatened often enough.

"No, be gone," Voldemort snapped, knowing the rat wouldn't go too far. He was nauseated by the sight of him, the smell of him, and the incessant snivelling. To begin with it had been amusing, but it had become old extremely fast. It didn't help that he was tiring so easily; his new body would take a while to recuperate. He certainly didn’t want or trust the rat to be in the same room as him as he slept.

Fortunately for the rat, Pettigrew had brought him back, even if it was out of sheer cowardice. This he had done him a service, and he wouldn’t repay that by killing him. Shaking off his thoughts, Voldemort uncorked the vials and swallowed both potions one at a time. Barely grimacing, he banished the vials. He would be taking the potions for months, he suspected, which was why Severus was in the lab brewing enough to last him. Once the Potions Master was done, he would be returning to Hogwarts to report to the old fool.

Speaking of his spy, he had grilled him for two hours on everything that had happened since he was gone. Of course, until four years ago, there was nothing much worth reporting. Oh, then the information he'd received was extensive, to say the least. Most of it he already knew; Severus had not known he was on the back of Quirrell and had fought to keep the Philosopher's Stone from a mediocre wizard ― and in doing so had gained more trust from the blind old fool he was trying to get in good graces with. Understandable, since it was the first true chance, he had to prove he had 'changed'; the expression on Severus' face had almost made him laugh. The spy had an answer for everything; if he was honest, Voldemort despaired at the thought Dumbledore had truly converted his good friend. He trusted Severus more than any other, perhaps because of their similarities. The fact he drank the potions Snape made, said more about how trusted he was than anything else ever could, really.

The stone had regrettably been destroyed in the aftermath, according to Severus, who had confessed to listening in on conversations when he could. Then it had been confirmed that Potter was indeed a Parselmouth, and he finally gained an answer to the mystery surrounding his diary. Not that Severus knew what it was; none of his followers knew exactly what he'd done to achieve immortality. Or as immortal as one could become in this life. Potter had found the damn entrance in less than a year; the boy was utterly infuriating, and there wasn't a word to truly describe him. How the boy was in Gryffindor he didn't know. Potter was resourceful, too resourceful if he was honest. Lucius had slipped his beloved diary into Ginny Weasley's possession, and she had used it. For a pureblood Witch it was a foolish and idiotic mistake to make. If anything, he would have given it to a Muggle-born who wouldn't have understood how dangerous such an item was. Severus commented on Dumbledore stating that Harry had defeated the 'Monster' in the chamber. Voldemort knew what it was, and it baffled him; just how in the blazes had Potter, a twelve-year-old, successfully defeat a sixty-foot basilisk? What the hell had Dumbledore been teaching him? He must have found some way to educate him, despite the fact he lived with Muggles. There was absolutely no other explanation possible. It truly was a shame to kill someone so capable; Potter was exactly what he looked for in his followers: Someone strong, powerful, magically competent, and extremely intelligent. He had to kill the boy before he got even more powerful and further trained by Dumbledore. He wasn't going to allow the light to win, he couldn't; he'd put his entire life into being heard... and he'd be damned if he quit now.

Potter's third year had been quiet, all things considered; he had learned about Pettigrew's betrayal and gave him the opening he'd needed. His survival revealed to Dumbledore, Wormtail had no choice but to come to him, to save himself from the werewolf and Black, putting into motion the events of this year. Voldemort had to admire the way the boy had completed the tasks, even with Barty at the helm trying to help; he'd done better than any of them dreamed of. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to admire the boy, yet only a fool didn't give their opponent or enemy the respect they deserved... If it was deserved, and in this case it regretfully was. A fully-fledged Patronus at thirteen. Well, Harry Potter was his equal.

The boy was calm in the face of adversity; this was the biggest worry for him. He hadn't seen any sign of real panic on the boy; he'd never been tongue-tied, and had openly insisted on defying him. The brat had guts in spades; nobody ever spoke to him in that manner, not even Dumbledore; Dumbledore liked to scold him as if he was an errant child. This set him on edge, admittedly…but the boy ― the boy regarded him impassively with a mouth on him that would get him in trouble.

This all troubled him, but not as much as the fact the boy had known something he couldn't... shouldn't possibly have known. He had promised Potter to Nagini, after he dealt the killing blow; he had been speaking in Parseltongue and in the old, now run-down Riddle Mansion. If the boy had seen that what else had he seen? How could he see it? That was the point, how and why?

Shaking off his current thoughts, Voldemort was quick to safeguard his rooms from everyone. He was sweating by the time he configured the wards which immediately flared to life. It had taken a great deal of his magic and strength to set them, but he didn't care. He didn't want anyone disturbing him in here, and soon the manor would be filled with his followers.

Those currently in Azkaban wouldn't have anywhere else to go once he got them out of that hell hole. He would need to employ the services of Grant once again, to heal the damage done by thirteen long years stay in Azkaban. Grant was a healer, one of the best; he'd been neutral until his daughter had been beaten savagely by a Muggle-born wizard, almost killing her. Since then, he'd been firmly on Voldemort's side, helping when needed. He always paid Grant handsomely for his services; he had never marked him. He had a lot of followers out there in key places that he hadn't marked, when it became apparent that the Dark Mark wasn't so secret anymore.

Lying back down on the bed, Voldemort groaned in relief as his aching body relaxed again; he hated this needing to lie down every few hours. He had things to do; he couldn't continue on as he was. He'd sent word to Lucius to get the layout of Azkaban; after he had those plans, he would show Lucius the error of his ways. He would also need to send word to the Giants and other creatures, he had alliances to re-build; he couldn't win the war with his Death Eaters alone. No matter how powerful they were, or determined. He needed a heavy arsenal at his beck and call; who better than the werewolves, vampires, Trolls and Giants? It would take Fenrir time to round up his old pack, and garner new supporters along the way, perhaps too long; he would have to wait and see.

Patience had never been a virtue that he possessed…at least three decades.

Later that night

"My Lord," Barty said bowing low reverently until all he could see was the carpet in his Lord’s bedroom.

"Stand up," the Dark Lord hissed; he watched Barty become confused and do as he bid him immediately. This definitely wasn't the Barty he knew; Barty had proved himself before his demise and thus hadn't had to bow since. He had the lower levels bow to remind them of the hold he had on them; whom they had sworn their allegiance to; who they would protect. He knew Barty wasn't himself, and how he had succeeded in fooling Dumbledore for so long was a true mystery. "When did Bartemius Crouch subjugate himself to me?" the wizard hissed, hurt flashing in his eyes before it was gone; nobody would believe it if they had seen it.

"My Lord?" questioned Barty weakly; he didn't understand the Dark Lord's question. The scene with Potter flashed through his eyes, he didn't resist allowing his Lord to see all. Voldemort dug further still, past his murky memories of being under the Imperious curse. Past the memories of his time in Azkaban, past his trial…where he'd begged his parents to help him (refusing him, much to his despair), and back to his capture of the Aurors. Barty, Rodolphus, and Rabastan had barely touched the two Aurors. A few Cruciatus curses had been cast by them, yes; mostly they'd just subdued the Longbottom’s. The person causing the everlasting damage was Bellatrix. She hadn't listened to them when they'd tried to get her to ease off, yet they'd loyally stuck by her side as he'd made sure his Death Eaters did. They had been arrested with her; despite the fact they hadn't caused the Longbottom’s insanity. Barty's biggest fear was not being loyal enough to his Lord…whom he thought of as a father.

"You are loyal, Barty, I know that, never fear…" Voldemort said, his voice soft and soothing. He removed himself from the wizard's mind, easing softly out, not wanting to cause further damage to the wizard... whom he also owed his rebirth to. Barty was all but face down on the floor, exhausted and shivering, yet never resisting. "Amita!"

"Yes, Sir?" a House-Elf appeared, gazing eagerly at Voldemort ― ready to serve him.

"Take Barty to the Blue room; ensure he bathes, feed him, then help him into bed. Grant will be here to see him first thing in the morning," Voldemort ordered, just as he demanded everyone else to do things for him. Amita, however, didn't mind since this was what she was born to do: serve.

"Sir?" Barty asked, looked quite baffled; he hadn't seen such a caring side to the Dark Lord in a very long time.

"Go," repeated Voldemort, his tone deadlier. Barty hadn't been in his inner circle long enough to know he treated those followers differently. Not only were they allowed in his home, but they received certain benefits that most his supporters did not. Mostly, that they could speak to him about ideas, as long as they were respectful about it. Unfortunately, that had stopped when he became obsessed over the prophecy. Regretfully his followers had paid the price, but with a little luck he could earn their complete respect back. He wasn't a stupid wizard; he knew, deep down they had all but given up on him during that last year before he'd met his untimely end. He surmised that was why none of his loyal followers had tried too hard to look for him. To them he had crossed a line, trying to hunt down and kill a one-year-old boy, especially those who had children in his own circle. His hastiness and obsession had been his downfall; if he had listened to the others perhaps things would have been different. Yes, his hasty actions had been unspeakable. They had been right to abandon him, he had gone off the reservation.

"Come, Mister Barty," Amita said; the female Elf touched him and they both disappeared.

He relaxed slightly then, knowing he had to pace himself; Lucius would be arriving soon and he wasn't going to be weak for this meeting. Oh no, once Lucius showed up, he was going to make sure the wizard knew who served whom. He wouldn’t be in bed for one, he would make it too his office, he had timed it so he would be taking his potions just before.

"Devika!" Voldemort called after a few minutes of silent contemplation.

"How may Devika help Master?" asked the House-Elf popping in; this elf was female also.

"Retrieve my potions," Voldemort demanded; he refused to call upon Pettigrew unless he must.

"Yes, sir,"

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 3

It took only two weeks for the Dark Lord Voldemort to find the answers he was searching for. Which was amazing, all things considered, since he had so many plans in motion whilst recovering from the ritual. It was more so due to the fact he was working with only a few clues as to the answers he sought. Well, one clue, really. How did Harry Potter know what he'd said to his snake? There wasn't a single seer in the Potter lineage. Although, he had been surprised they shared a common ancestor, a Peverell, and naturally a Slytherin, which was where Potters Parseltongue skill came from. He'd gotten rid of his branch of the family, presuming there were no other branches left, which was, he realized, a mistake on his part.

Voldemort shook his head amazed, a common ancestor, he certainly hadn't expected that.

"Master's mail," Amita informed the Dark Lord, carrying it forward on a silver tray.

Voldemort wanted to groan, he had always detested groundwork that was mostly made up of paperwork. In the end he took the mail on the tray and she disappeared without needing prompting. Stretching out, groaning in satisfaction as the bones in his back eased at the single movement. Right away he recognized the handwriting, even after all these years. Fenrir still hadn't changed, he rarely put a quill to paper to write to anyone.

Fenrir was a friend of his whom he had taught non-verbal magic. If Voldemort knew how some of his Death Eaters treated the werewolf, they would have paid a very heavy price for it. Although that might have been something to do with his blind insanity getting to be too much for them. He had not been kind to anyone, and not even Fenrir was an exception to that. Voldemort had been unable to sleep, unable to eat, and the urge to kill the prophecy child had ruled out everything else. He knew his followers had lost a great deal of respect for him, due to his past actions. His fear of death had paralyzed him, causing a dark red cloud to form over him.

Setting the letters aside, his wand being nudged as he did so. He'd removed it from his sheath, and stared at it for at least twenty minutes. Potter had used the disarming spell, on him, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard alive? There was no way the boy could have predicted the events that occurred next. The boy was an enigma, and a mass of contradictions, from what he knew of him. For the fiftieth time he couldn't help but regret the necessity for the death of such a capable wizard, it disgusted him to the core to see someone with so much potential wiped out. Magical blood shouldn't be spilled.

Back to his earlier dilemma, it was, ironically enough, the connection between him and Nagini that gave him his answer. Purely accidentally of course, he had slipped into Nagini's mind and watched her hissing about the prey she wanted to eat... well, it wasn't hissing to him, but rather English, with an underlying hissing. It had hit him then like a ton of bricks. He had somehow, someway, created a human Horcrux. Harry Potter was Lord Voldemort's Horcrux. He had meant to create one with the baby's death, but his magic, seeing his intentions, must have come apart as his body was destroyed... imbedding itself in the injured child. He was completely flummoxed; nowhere did it say humans could be turned into soul containers; his biggest worry was what did it mean? What did he do, more specifically? If he tried to kill Potter, he would destroy part of his soul as well. He had no idea of the effect it would cause; what if it left him completely insane? He had so many plans he wanted to implement; he wanted to change the magical world, to make it better, safer.

He shook off those thoughts, he needed confirmation before he panicked. There was no point in putting plans on top of plans until he knew for sure. Although, even as he said this, he knew that Harry Potter was his Horcrux.

Which would mean bringing Potter here. For confirmation. Considering the fact, he could slither out of trouble at every turn, he would have to make sure he couldn't get away. He wasn't sure what he would do if the boy was one of his Horcruxes. He would need to do more research, find out if it could be removed safely from its 'host' or container. He knew there wasn't, he had read the book he had from back to front, and he wasn't stupid enough to try something before understanding it completely. Perhaps a ritual of his own devising?

How did he get Potter from within the protective wards? He could not get near Privet Drive, nor could anyone that wished the boy harm. Not that he wanted to kill the boy…yet. Not until he had his answers, but the wards would still view him as a threat. Rubbing his long pale fingers across his chin, sitting comfortably on his chair, he began to think of ways to get his hands on Potter.

His red eyes flared as an idea hit him; a vindictive smirk flared across his face, which would have made all his Death Eaters cringe. Well, maybe with the exception of Bellatrix, who would have just cackled along with her 'Master' as she liked to call him. The others all called him 'My Lord'; as long as they had shown respect, he didn't mind. Lucius had been all too eager to spill everything, especially with the threat of being killed hanging over him.

The disgraced blonde had told him of Arthur Weasley successfully gaining entrance to his home to search for 'dark artefacts'. How he had worried about the diary being found in his possession; deciding to get back at Weasleys by planting a dark object in his daughter's school things. Of course, he hadn't understood what it would do, he explained while begging for forgiveness on his knees from his Lord. How his own House-Elf had betrayed him, warning Potter and inevitably being freed by the twelve-year-old. Oh, ho, Lucius hadn't wanted to reveal that, but Voldemort knew when information was being held back. A brief stint under the Cruciatus curse wiped any pride from the blond, and he revealed how Potter had done it, then what happened afterwards. A mere House-Elf had put Lucius Malfoy, a pureblood, on his arse ten feet down a corridor. He would love to have seen it, but he refrained from ransacking Lucius' mind.

"Amita!" Voldemort called, setting his face into an impassive mask. He would have to impress on her the importance of her task, if she could get passed the wards. So far, they were good at doing the tasks he appointed them; unfortunately, they hadn't served him long.

"Yes, sir?" responded the female House-Elf, who was dressed in a black, closed winter cloak, you could just make out the hem of a green skirt under it if you looked close enough.

"I have a very important task for you," Voldemort said, his red eyes gleaming, unable to help himself. Soon…. very soon he would find out if he was right or not. He knew he was; he wasn't the smartest wizard to grace Hogwarts' walls for nothing, beating most of Albus Dumbledore's scores in the process. Considering he'd known nothing about Hogwarts until he was eleven, and Dumbledore had been in the wizarding world his entire life... it had left him feeling smug, even if he hated the blasted manipulative, nosy old fool.

"What can Amita do?" she asked eagerly, proud to serve her Master in any way he needed.

"Go to number four Privet Drive, remaining unseen by all others in the house, and bring our new… guest to the dungeons. He will be the only magical wizard on the premises; bring me Harry Potter," Voldemort commanded, his voice becoming taut and even more demanding, if that was possible.

"Yes, sir," Amita said, not showing any reluctance; she lived to serve her Master and would do anything he asked.

The House-Elf Apparated directly into the smallest bedroom, finding herself staring directly into the vibrant, pained green eyes. With quick movements, she hooked her fingers into his clothes and teleported him away.

Harry lay on the bed in the smallest room in the house at number four Privet Drive. Multiple bruises were showing on his aching body; the pain was unbearable. His temple and the front of his head held the worst bruises; after he gotten him into the house, Vernon in his rage had pushed him. With the big man's brutal strength, he'd gone flying into the banister and then onto the stairs. No Quidditch reflexes could have prevented the attack, couldn't have stopped him being so viciously manhandled. It didn't help that Harry was still weakened from after the tournament; the Cruciatus Curse's after-effects didn't just fade away overnight. He had been so disorientated he hadn't felt the kicks he'd gotten to the stomach, he only deduced what happened later when he woke up and found himself in his room. Vernon and Dudley were as vicious as ever, after all, Harry only had to be able to write to them. The 'freaks' never came near the door; the bitterness that crawled through Harry since he knew the fat bastard was right left him feeling sick.

Other than coming into the small room to force him to write to the Order that everything was alright, he was pretty much left on his own, still locked up. Which didn't bother Harry for anything else. He did everything the Dursley's could think of inside the house, they never let him out. He never thought he'd be happy for the pain and distraction his chores offered him. Yet he was. There hadn't been a single owl delivering anything.

He hadn't received a single letter from his friends, and he seriously doubted it was anything Dobby was doing this time. They had been distant with him ever since the night before they left Hogwarts, starting directly after they had come from the headmaster's office. They were leaving him alone, unaware of what was happening in his world, totally cut off. The rage he felt when he thought about it left him panting in rage. He wasn't sure who he was angrier at, Ron and Hermione for going through with it, or Dumbledore for telling them not to write to him. Not even his own godfather had written to him. His godfather. Swallowing back the bitterness and tears, he closed his eyes sighing resignedly, from where he was on his bed. Touching the wound on his face delicately, it was finally beginning to scab over.

Had the Ministry acknowledged Voldemort being back? He somehow doubted it, and that probably made Voldemort happy. How had Voldemort survived that night? Did the reflected Killing curse not have enough power to kill him? And more importantly, why the hell did Voldemort want to kill him? He was fourteen-years-old…had been only one when the older wizard first came to kill him. It couldn't be just because he survived, surely; he'd wanted his blood for a reason. It wasn't just because of his mother's blood protection; there were millions of ways to kill someone in the magical world. He could have used anyone's blood, come back and laid low, without anyone being the wiser, and killed him without him any trouble. After all, he wouldn't have known; how could he have defended himself from something he didn't know was there?

No, there had to be reason; Dumbledore and Voldemort both knew that reason, and it disconcerted him. After all, one was trying to run his life, while the other wanted to make sure he didn't live to see his next birthday. He was completely at their mercy, until he was old enough to pass his owls and officially be an adult. That day couldn't come soon enough; he didn't care what Dumbledore said, as soon as he hit seventeen, he was out of here. Although he could get a house of his own at sixteen in the Muggle world it likely didn't count. The second he could, he really would be out here, maybe go to Australia or New Zealand maybe Egypt.

Harry continued to stare at the yellow ceiling imagining what it would be like to travel the world. To be free of the responsibilities, to do whatever he wanted. Without Dumbledore or the Dursley's telling him what to do. To publish his works and make more money for himself than he could possibly spend. It's likely the money he had wouldn't last long after he bought a house somewhere.

His imagination couldn't stop the growling his stomach was doing, it even cramped occasionally, but Harry was used to this. His entire life he had gone without much food. The summers nowadays were the worst, since he was used to getting meals at Hogwarts. At least on his birthday he got some food from Mrs. Weasley; her care packages at birthdays and Christmases always had food in them. They saved him from imminent starvation.

He startled when a House-Elf he had never seen before popped into his room. It would have been hard not to hear it arrive, since it sounded almost like Apparition, but without the more backfiring-car sound. There was a reason it was called 'popping' instead of Apparating, it sounded as if your ears had popped really loudly. Before he could open his mouth to ask who he or she was, she'd hooked her hand on his too large jumper and they disappeared.

Harry grunted when he landed on his backside, his green eyes wide as he looked around his new surroundings. Swallowing thickly, he realised that he was in a cell. Whatever would happen soon, wouldn't be good― he knew that. The question was where exactly was he? Malfoy Manor? Draco Malfoy had gone on about it often enough, or rather bragged about his home. As if nobody else had Manors in the magical world; seriously, he was an idiot. He got up to explore the confines of his latest prison better. Three stone walls and one cage wall with a door, locked, he realized as he pushed against it for confirmation. Surprisingly there was a bed at the side, a small one to be sure and a toilet. Harry screwed up his nose, the thought of doing the toilet in that was humiliating. There was a window ―barred, of course― above the toilet; he could open it if he wanted to, he realized as he climbed up to investigate it. He did so. leaving it open partially, and walked back to the other side of the cell.

The small movements had exhausted him tremendously, but he refused to lie down, even if the bed was calling for him. Craning his neck to see down the corridor, he found he couldn't do that and keep his glasses on. There certainly wasn't any point to doing it with them off, since he couldn't see squat without his glasses. They might not be the right prescription for him, but it was better than not being able to see at all, so he didn't complain. Nobody cared enough to do anything about, so why waste his breath? Listening intently at the bars, he heard nothing; where had that House-Elf dumped him? Sighing in agitation he stalked up and down the cell, worry churning in his gut. It didn't escape his notice that the damn cell was bigger than his bedroom at Privet Drive - irony abounds, he thought chuckling bitterly. Inhaling sharply, wincing at the pain in his head, ow, it was very painful, throbbing, it had healed moderately, so this spoke of an infection. This wasn't good, he tried to keep it clean, but stuck in his bedroom…didn't provide a lot of ways to do so.

Dumbledore obviously hadn't thought about House-Elves kidnapping him from Privet Drive. Which should have dawned on him, really, since Dobby had been in his house, even performed magic there. A frown worked its way onto his face; had the House-Elf Apparating into Privet Drive tripped the underage wards? No, it couldn't have, otherwise the Ministry would have been alerted the second Dobby appeared, but nothing had happened until Dobby had actually levitated the cake onto the Masons.

Would the Order know of his disappearance? Or would they only realize once he failed to write them? Three days then, before they would know he was gone. That was if they even bothered to check up on him; they were probably too busy doing stuff to try and stop Voldemort... he assumed so anyway, he wasn't sure. He knew nothing of what was going on, since his friends hadn't written to him yet and probably had no intentions of doing so either.

Exhaustion made Harry sit down on the bed. The pain from his ribs was almost making him double over. Hoisting himself further onto the bed, he leaned against the wall, ignoring the grumbling complaints that his stomach made for food. Well, at least he was looking at four different walls here; Hedwig had been out, so she wasn't stuck in her cage. He didn't want to imagine what his uncle would have done to her if she'd hooted at all hours to be let out. He hoped she had the sense to stay away.

Inhaling sharply, choking as he realized exactly what was happening, his scar began prickling ominously. Oddly, it wasn't the same burning agony he'd experienced weeks ago at Voldemort's rebirth. Rather, it was the same prickly feeling he'd had when he was eleven and had met Quirrell's eyes at Hogwarts after the Sorting ceremony before it begun burning.

Voldemort was here, and without his wand ― Harry knew he was a sitting duck. It seemed at long last as if his stubborn luck had run out. Harry's heart pounded steadily harder with each step he heard Voldemort taking; surprisingly, the scar didn't flare up again, other than continuing with the earlier prickling. It was as if it was just letting him know Voldemort was close now. Not that it would matter, surely, he wouldn't survive another Killing Curse?

"It looks like I'm not the only one you piss off, Potter," Voldemort said, gazing at the teenager who was so beaten and bruised. He was slightly surprised; after all, the Order kept an eye on the boy, surely, they wouldn't allow him to come to harm? Evidently that wasn't the case, and it was obviously Muggles that had done it― no wizard would bother using their hands in such an insipid display.

"Miss me?" Harry grinned cockily, quite successfully changing the subject and avoiding it. His grin was slightly lopsided from the swollen red sore on his mouth, courtesy of a punch by his uncle earlier that week.

"For a boy who could be killed any second, you are either stupid or think too highly of yourself," Voldemort hissed, glaring at the boy in warning through blood red eyes. Potter didn't need to know that, as of right now, he had no intentions of killing him.

"Might as well go out with a bang, don't you think?" sneered Harry, watching Voldemort like he was a poisonous snake ready to strike... a fair comparison right now, especially considering he looked like one.

Quicker than lightening, Voldemort had his wand pointed at the teenager and uttered "Petrificus Totalus!" and Harry, hindered by his injuries, couldn't move out of the spell's path in time. The red spell hit him full force, petrifying him and leaving him at the mercy of Lord Voldemort ― knowing what was going on around him, but not able to move or defend himself.

Voldemort unlocked the cell door and approached the teenager, irritated that he had the boy at his mercy and couldn't kill him. He was so irritating, and damn it, he wasn't used to people talking to him that way. He was the most powerful wizard in the world and he deserved respect. Every other teenager would wet themselves if they found out they were standing before Lord Voldemort! With the exception of this one, it seemed; he was too damn mouthy for words.

Staring into the blazing green eyes, he began to realize this boy didn't fear death. Harry was the exact opposite of himself; he feared death more than anything else. Perhaps that was why the boy had been destined to defeat him, not something he could do if he was one of his Horcruxes. He would need to keep the boy safe, out of harm's way. One piece of his soul had already been destroyed; he couldn't risk any others. If he was one, which the older wizard was about to find out for sure.

"Praecantatio summa subrigo sanctificavi te exhibeas nobis!" chanted Voldemort, keeping his hissing to a minimum, not wanting to interfere with the spell he was casting on Potter. Almost immediately after he finished, he saw a halo representing Potter's magical core; even just at the age of fourteen the boy was powerful. He'd known that, but to see it for himself…to know Potter was equal to him in magical strength burned him strongly. Then another halo emerged, just as strong but definitely not showing Potter's magical signature… no, it was one very familiar to him, since it was his own.

Such results were never immediate, unless this spell had been cast on him once before. Which meant someone had cast this on Potter in the past, which could mean someone might know he was already a Horcrux, unless they assumed he'd just gotten some of his magic. He could only think of one person who would want to do it: Dumbledore. Which meant it was bad news for him; the diary and now this…His Horcruxes were in danger; he had to move some of them or risk losing them. That was not something he wanted to allow; he had no idea what would happen to him if his remaining Horcruxes began to be destroyed.

Staring at the boy, Voldemort found himself almost wishing he could just end the boy's life while he was defenceless. This chance wouldn't ever come again; no, the boy was as sneaky as they came. He would try and get away, and there was only so much he could do to prevent it. Perhaps it was time to find out everything about Potter that he could, even the rumours, and build upon it. Try and get the boy to join his side. It wouldn't be easy, after all he had killed the boy's parents. The chances were slim to none but he had to try, the boy was too slippery. Cursing under his breath, Voldemort turned and stalked away from the boy, slamming the cell door closed and locking it with three different charms. Purely as an afterthought he flicked his wand at the boy and left, non-verbally casting 'Finite Incantatem' at him.

Harry jumped from the bed so fast it almost left him light-headed and staggered from the pain. Confusion the most prominent feeling in him right now; why hadn't Voldemort killed him? He'd lain there, unable to move, completely defenceless, and he hadn't killed him? Harry shivered with foreboding, feeling as though something was crawling up his spine. What the hell did Voldemort want from him if he wasn't going to kill him? Was he just playing a game? But why? What would he get out of it? Or was he simply waiting for his Death Eaters to get here and 'duel' with him again. If that was the case, it would be a pretty quick duel since he didn't have a wand on him.

What had the dark wizard done to him? He'd seen the halos surrounding him; he'd never heard of that spell before. In fact, he couldn't even remember half of what Voldemort had said. Biting his lip, he winced as he caught the sore spot; pressing his fingers to it he realized he'd caused it to bleed again. Wiping the blood down his clothes, he saw he had on Mrs. Weasley's red jumper, which was the warmest thing he had. His trousers were far too big though, since they were his cousin's cast- offs. What if that spell had affected his magic? Cursing quietly, he wished he knew what Voldemort had done, although it was obvious, he wouldn't find out any time soon.

Sighing softly, he climbed back onto the bed, feeling very lost; it made him feel vulnerable, and he did not like that. Voldemort had always been predictable, and the fact he wasn't able to predict his actions now left him highly agitated. He should just be glad the wizard hadn't tortured him really… but he felt wrong-footed. Looking at the window he observed that it was still light outside, but he couldn't tell how early or late it was. Was this going to be his last day? Would he soon be killed by Voldemort?

Bunching up the pillow he lay himself down, staring at the ceiling like he would do at Privet Drive. He might as well rest his aching body as much as he could; no doubt someone would be down to torture him sooner or later. The fact that it hadn't happened yet was beside the point, this was Voldemort he was talking about. He pressed his hand carefully to his ribs, knowing that despite the fact nothing was broken it would take weeks to heal them properly. He hated it, it was hindering his movement, and Voldemort wouldn't have been able to hit him with the first spell if he hadn't been injured.

Jerking out of his stupor, Harry looked around, quickly noticing the House-Elf in his cell, a different one who definitely hadn't brought him here. He then saw the tray of food and he laughed, and laughed, and continued to laugh even after the House-Elf squeaked and disappeared. The amusement didn't fade as he lay wheezing on the bed, trying to regain control of his equilibrium. His face was red as he tried to breathe through the pain in his ribs, until he lay there panting in exhaustion. Gulping nosily, he finally began breathing evenly; at last, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Staring at the food, his stomach grumbled nosily as he shook his head.

His own relatives refused to feed him, yet here he was, a captive of Lord Voldemort's, and he was getting food? Poison wasn't Voldemort's style; if anything, the man wanted to be the one to kill him personally. Although there might be something more nefarious in the food; did he dare touch it? Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to the little window and noticed that darkness was beginning to creep up. It was nowhere near black outside yet, but he'd guess it was around six, maybe seven o'clock at night right now.

His gaze couldn't help but wander back to the tray of food, which was still piping hot, if the steam coming off it in waves was anything to go by. It had been over two weeks since he'd had anything substantial to eat, just the occasional cold tin of soup being pushed through the flap, a lot of which he gave to Hedwig to keep her fit and strong. He would have never forgiven himself if anything happened to his familiar, his most faithful companion. It was little wonder his stomach felt like it was trying to rip itself out of his body to get to the food on the floor.

Cautiously Harry slid off the bed, and eased over to the tray, touching it tentatively as if he suspected it would vanish as soon as he touched it. When nothing happened, he slowly picked it up, grunting as he did; would his ribs just hurry up and heal already? Sitting down in the middle of the bed, he placed the tray at the bottom. Sweet and sour chicken on a bed of rice, a goblet of juice, and what he suspected to be Jam Roly-Poly in custard. Suspected only, since he'd never been allowed it, but he'd watched his cousin pig out on an entire trayful in one sitting.

Harry prodded at the food with the plastic fork provided; what, did they think he was going to hurt himself? Or use it as a weapon? Well…the second one would have been a good idea. Harry picked up a bit of chicken and nibbled it slightly, before placing the rest back on the plate and tensing as if he suspected he would be in a world of pain. Yet nothing happened, if anything his stomach grumbled more fiercely at having the smell of food so close, yet nothing in it. Obviously, it wasn't poisoned or drugged; he was still hesitant about eating it though, and why would Voldemort feed him? Unless he wanted him in perfect health when he killed him? That actually made an alarming amount of sense.

He was completely ravenous. Picking up the goblet he took a sip, wetting his parched mouth at the same time waiting to see if anything happened. It didn't taste like it had anything in it, and the only tasteless and odourless potion he knew of was Veritaserum.

Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to eat the food; he hadn't even eaten half of it when his stomach began to cramp violently. He was still starving, yet his stomach was protesting the influx of so much food. Harry didn't stop eating, he'd put up with a grumbling stomach and sore ribs for ages, so he could handle a cramping stomach. It was always the same as every time he went back to Hogwarts after being deprived of proper food for near enough during the summer.

Looking down he could have sworn his stomach looked bloated from the amount of food he'd eaten. Guzzling down the last of the juice, he watched the goblet filling back up in amusement. He left the dessert, at least for the moment, giving his body time to adjust to the large amount of food it had just ingested. The urge to eat the dessert was strong…uncommonly strong. He knew his own limits, but for some reason that was being overridden with the need to eat the sweet treat.

Picking up the plastic spoon, he dug into the dessert. "Ah, shit!" cursed Harry, his voice slightly slurred as the spoon fell with a thud into the nearly empty bowl. He had been drugged after all, not poisoned; no, this was a sleeping potion if he had to guess…it certainly acted like the one he'd been given in the hospital wing at the end of the year. This was his last thought before he fell into the arms of Morpheus, not even able to get worked up or worried.

A sadistic smirk stole across the Dark Lord's features; if anyone had seen it, they surely would have been running for the hills. The old book he had on his desk was laying there innocently enough, but the words on the page were way less than innocent. They were not meant for pure intentions, at least they hadn't been created for that. No, they had been created by a Roman leader, who happened to be a wizard of course, wanting to keep track of his people within his estate. Of course, he wouldn't put half of what Claudius had put into them.

"Armillam!" Voldemort murmured under his breath, flicking his wand in the movements dictated by the book. He watched as pure magic created a strap of what appeared to be bendable plastic, but he knew it would attach itself like a second skin. Un-removable and impenetrable, nothing would remove it, not even all the Wandless magic in the world. He smirked at the colour it had chosen to come out: green and silver, Slytherin colours. He wondered what Potter would think of that.

"Confidunt in vicibus suis," Voldemort chanted, watching as it glowed gold before settling once more. "Limes motus!" Again, it glowed gold. "Sensus," he added for the final time, gazing in satisfaction at his finished masterpiece. Once it attached itself there would be no removing it... well, not unless he did, which he wouldn't.

Looking at the time, he realized he had spent longer than he'd thought on it. He had other things to do tonight. Damn it, why did Potter have to be his Horcrux? Why did fate like screwing with him? Anyone else would have been preferable; Potter should be happy at least ― it had saved him from death. Now all he had to do was attach it to Potter's leg and it would be done.

As soon as he'd finished his dinner and taken his potions, which invigorated him and enabled him to be able do what he needed to without getting exhausted. He felt infuriated with his constant need to rest; he just wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible. Unfortunately, that was going to take a while, his new body was… fragile, but at least he had a body and hands, and the ability to move and eat by himself. It still horrified him that he'd had to rely on Wormtail for help, when he could sense in his mind that all the rat had wanted to do was run. Part of him would have liked nothing more than to kill the rat; he was useless, but regretfully he couldn't do such a thing without cause.

No, he had someone in mind just perfect for his little trip. A vicious grin spread across his face; there was nobody more deserving, he thought, striding though to the main room, which housed his throne and where his Death Eaters would stand when the time came to call them all once more.

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort hissed, causing Peter to jump high in the air at the unexpected summoning.

"Yes, Master?" snivelled the wizard, cowering before Lord Voldemort, clearly terrified of him.

"Bring Crouch here immediately," Voldemort demanded, his red eyes flashing at the sight of the disgusting wizard. The rat would know which Crouch he was talking about, since Barty was already here. The House-Elves would ensure that Potter wasn't disturbed by either of his Death Eaters. He didn't trust Pettigrew not to harm his Horcrux, or Barty, come to that, but the time would come where he would need to tell them all that Potter was off-limits. They would listen to his House-Elves as if they were him; he knew that because Wormtail and Barty both knew the House-Elves couldn't lie about orders they had been given.

"Yes, Master," Pettigrew agreed, leaving immediately.

Voldemort waited impatiently for Pettigrew to return with the older wizard. Barty had wanted to kill him, but he had demanded otherwise. There was no telling when he might be useful, and here he was, being just that. At least being transfigured into something else meant Crouch Senior couldn't get to anyone and blow his plans. Which he had nearly done, time and time again, as he adapted to the Imperius Curse, fighting it off. Just like his son had, admittedly a lot later than Crouch Senior had, but Senior had been in much better health than his son who had been debilitated by his stay in Azkaban.

A few moments later Pettigrew returned with the 'bone' which he placed on the floor and backed away from shakily. Lazily putting his wand hand out, Voldemort summoned the 'bone', having no intention of turning him back until he needed him. After all, only one person would be able to get across in the boat.

"Remain here," Voldemort hissed, glaring at the wizard and daring him to defy him, before Apparating away to the cliff beside Crystal Cave. This was a place he had come during his bleak childhood. A feral smirk appeared on his face when he remembered the looks on the idiot Muggles' faces when he Apparated them here. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, fifthly Muggles who had dared to call him a freak; after that trip…needless to say, they hadn't once spoken or looked at him cross-eyed again. Even now, fifty years later, it caused him immense satisfaction knowing he had put them in their true place.

Jumping from the cliff, he didn't do as everyone else would have and fall into the water; instead, Lord Voldemort flew across the water and landed gracefully at the cave entrance. He didn't waste a second before going inside the outer, obvious cave and over to the 'hidden entrance', then piercing his thumb with a needle he had brought for just this occasion. One drop of his blood fell against the rocks, causing the entrance to give way.

Wandering over to the edge of an underground lake, his hand blindly sought something. Once he had a grip on it, he began to pull on the chain, which shortly afterwards became visible. Magic did the rest as it began to pull the boat towards him; once it had 'docked', so to speak, he stepped down into it, and began his journey to the tiny island that sat out in the middle of the hidden lake. Unlike any other who might have travelled along here, he did not fear the Inferi within the depths of the dark water, since he had created them. Once he was beside the podium which stood on the islet, and the font that contained his Horcrux, he returned Bartemius Crouch Senior to his normal self. Thankfully the man was still alive, but not for much longer; Barty would be disappointed not to see his father's death. Voldemort wasted no time before casting the Imperius Curse on the weakened wizard, to make sure he didn't receive any unsavoury surprises.

Flicking his wand, Voldemort conjured a goblet out of thin air, then he began to dunk it into the potion in the font and feed it to the willing wizard. Well, in this state he was willing; with the Imperious curse on him he was guzzling it down greedily, not feeling any of the potion's effects. He wouldn't remain that way for long. Goblet after goblet of the poisonous potion was poured down Bartemius' throat until at long last Voldemort was able to retrieve his Horcrux from within the font's bowl, placing it safely within his cloak pocket. Removing the Imperius curse from his victim, Voldemort watched with great amusement as the wizard began to show the effects the potion had on him. Moaning in agony, he began screaming and pleading that he shouldn't have done it, wheezing and grasping at his throat as he became increasingly thirsty. The driving need for water caused him to dive into the only available source, the lake; hands immediately began to drag the wizard under. Crouch's wild scrambling for the side of the islet was for naught as the Inferi had too good a grip on him, and he was soon submerged under the sea of water, never to return. Bartemius Crouch Senior was now one of the un-dead, an Inferi; unbeknown to Voldemort or even the currently dying Bartemius, Regulus Black had fallen prey to the lake's dwellers as well.

The goblet was dropped with a clang as Voldemort calmly began to make his way out of the cave. A short boat ride later had him at the entrance, and then he was flying over the intervening sea, since he had placed wards to prevent Apparition from the cave's immediate vicinity. Once he was at the cliff top, he Apparated back to his Manor. He would need to retrieve all of his Horcruxes; he didn't want them out of his sight. He couldn't risk it, if there was even the possibility of Dumbledore knowing about their existence.

A frown worked its way onto his face. There was something missing, he couldn't feel his Horcrux or even his magical signature on the locket. Baffled, he opened it before really thinking and his red eyes widened in shock at the parchment embedded within. Hissing in fury, he opened up the parchment, a scream of rage tore out of him. He had been betrayed! Regulus Black had better be glad he was dead! His wand in hand, he began to blast everything around him to smithereens, unable to contain the lava-like fury bubbling inside of him. The urge to kill and curse everyone within striking distance of him was strong. Where was his Horcrux? Who had it? Who had Regulus Black told?

Terrified, he hastened to the Gaunt residence to check up on another of his Horcruxes.

Here we are another chapter, you'll notice more deviations as I continue in fact, there's already been one :) I've used Corvus for the Lestrange father (Lord Lestrange) like in The Contract :) so I won't forget plus they did like using that name. It's so much better than the horrific one I actually used *facepalm* at least there will be zero confusion ;) R&R please

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 4

Voldemort rubbed at his grey temples, where a headache was beginning to brew at the back of his eyes. He was sitting at the large ornate writing desk that sat at the left side of his room, near the roaring fire which the House-Elves had tended to not too long ago. Every Horcrux he'd been able to retrieve tonight was safely ensconced in his drawer which was quite frankly almost as warded as the property. Even the one in Hogwarts had been retrieved, he was rather fortunate that he'd known the old fool would be absent from the school. He was currently in Russia, attending to an ICW meeting, which was likely to last four or five days in total (between breaks). The ICW had too many different countries, with different ideals, rules and laws, so it was never an easy and quick session.

His hand clenched into a fist, he was not used to being betrayed. Regulus Black had sworn eternal loyalty. All but begged him to allow him to be in his service. This was despite the fact he did not normally mark anyone under the age of seventeen. Once they were out of school, and were fully qualified. He had made an exception with the young Black. Regulus had revered him since childhood; his greatest desire had been to serve him, to be a Death Eater. Voldemort had sensed that, and he didn't need to wonder now what had gone wrong, he had realized already that planning to kill unborn children had… shaken his followers entirely.

Kreacher, the Black House-Elf he had used to enact the safety of the cave for his Horcrux; he must have somehow survived. It was the only way that young Regulus Black could have found out about his Horcruxes. He had underestimated not only the House-Elf, but the effectiveness of his own enchantments. Using House-Elf magic, Kreacher has clearly been able to get in and out of the cave despite the Anti-Apparition spells intended to prevent such a thing happening. The House-Elf must have revealed what they'd done, and Regulus Black must have had himself brought there. Somehow, someway, Regulus Black had died there; perhaps the Inferi had dragged him under? He didn't know, but he had realized Black was dead. Which meant the House-Elf must have his Horcrux; he hoped fervently that it was still whole, that the House-Elf hadn't managed to destroy his locket. The fact he did not know where it was worried him, especially with one part of his soul already destroyed thanks to Lucius' blunder. He couldn't afford any others to be destroyed.

The Diary destroyed, Potter…the Gaunt ring…Nagini …The Ravenclaw Diadem. To think had unknowingly actually had seven Horcruxes as he had wished. He refused to settle until he knew for sure whether the locket was compromised. Where had the Blacks lived again? A baffled frown worked its way onto his face; for the life of him he could not remember. His red eyes flashed suddenly, the Fidelius charm― it was the only reason he would have forgotten; now why would such a charm be placed on the Black residence? Regretfully, that meant even his spy would be unable to tell him of its location. Although, his spy could look for the locket while he was there... but Severus was far too curious for his own good. The marks of a good spy, but he did not want anyone else knowing how he achieved immortality.

Regulus' betrayal hit him harder than it should have; if he had been alive the traitor would have suffered the tortures of the damned. Sane or insane, he didn't tolerate betrayal; when he marked them, he showed his trust in them, let them into his inner circle, and Black had let him down. He had been the perfect Death Eater, eager to prove himself; his own insanity had caused this…were their others who didn't wish to serve him now? Was there a way to regain that trust he had seemingly flippantly discarded in his desire to see the one potential threat that could destroy him defeated?

The locket was beyond his reach for now, as was the cup had been given to Bellatrix Lestrange. Hopefully she had been smart enough to hide it; he would get it back just as soon as he got her and the others liberated from Azkaban. If anything had happened to that cup…he would not be responsible for his actions. Losing one was hard enough, but two? Well, needless to say, someone would feel the full extent of his wrath and displeasure. Lucius had already been made aware of just how dissatisfied he was with him, but he was much too useful to permanently harm.

Against his will, his mind drifted to Potter. Something was nagging at him, about the bruises and busted lip. The Order wouldn't have let anything happen to their precious 'saviour'. If something had and they'd slipped up, why leave the wounds? Why not heal him? Surely Potter would have gone straight to them to complain? Or was he too embarrassed? Having been bested by a Muggle, of all things? No, there was no way Potter had been bested by a filthy Muggle! He didn't even seem embarrassed by the fact he'd seen the bruises. The boy had been as cocky as ever, defiant, and damn it, the boy made the blood rush through his veins in fury. He knew they were guarding the boy; Severus had said as such, but couldn't tell him exactly who was. There had been obviously more than just a few punches exchanged; the boy had difficulty moving...broken ribs? Potter was fast, skilled at moving; a seeker without a broom, he'd had no problem outmanoeuvring him just a few weeks ago. He had not expected his first stunner to hit its target, no matter how quickly he'd drawn his wand attempting to surprise Harry. Yet it had, the boy hadn't even moved from his position on the bed, so the likelihood of having at least damaged ribs as well was pretty high. Perhaps he should get his healer to look at Potter as well as Barty, just to be sure.

Just thinking about the possibility of Potters abuse had Voldemort remember begging Dumbledore to be allowed to remain at Hogwarts…not wishing to return to the Muggle orphanage, to the bombs, the air raids, the terror of not knowing what was going to happen any moment. Not knowing when he would next get a decent meal, since the Muggles had been on rationing. Having a wand and being restricted, not allowed to use it if anything happened…not knowing any spell that could possibly save him from the Muggle bombs. A shudder stole over Voldemort's features, regaining control of himself; he wrapped his cloak tighter around him, insisting it had been the chill. He no longer feared the Muggles; he would make sure no wizarding child had to fear for their lives once he had control over the magical world. He would do it, and his Horcrux would be kept safe and out of the war; he had found a way to ensure it after all.

grumbling under his breath, he took the top letter – which was very short – and opened it up.

We'll be by before the new moon – F

Fenrir had responded to his letter with a letter; since he wasn't marked, he couldn't be called. The werewolf likely wouldn't be able to tolerate being marked. Truth be told, Voldemort didn't think it was just Fenrir's wolf, but the man himself. Fenrir hated most wizards, not that he could blame him, since nearly all Wizards and Witches were terrified of werewolves and would kill Fenrir without a second's notice. At least those in the Ministry would, the rest of the population would be frozen in terror. Purely the Ministry's fault, they'd gone too far in trying to make Fenrir out to be some vicious, notorious werewolf beast that killed indiscriminatingly. Trying to bolster the Ministry's image, it had back fired; Fenrir had grown bigger and stronger than they'd anticipated. It was wrong on so many levels, to hunt down a nine-year-old child, blaming him for things beyond his control. Stating he purposely made his way in front of people's windows and turned children, whisking them off to raise them away from their wizarding parents. It was laughable, after all Fenrir had been only nine years old when the Ministry released that information. All just because he'd sought out revenge on Lupin. Unfortunately, the reputation was made complete: he was a savage werewolf, who bit innocent children, who liked biting and eating human flesh... just a bit too much.

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort hissed out, knowing the rat was around somewhere, and he was correct, almost immediately the wizard shifted from his Animagus form to human. "Your arm, Wormtail." he demanded, holding his hand out expectantly, it was time to call Severus again he needed more information on Potter than he'd gotten so far. There was nothing to be done about the Horcruxes at the moment. That and he hated being idle, even if he was recuperating.

Snape cursed quietly as the Mark flared to life, just as he was in the delicate stages of a potion. Pursing his lips, he wondered if it was worth the potential punishment. The Voldemort he had known best wouldn't have tortured him for being late, at least not after he got into the inner circle, which was quite quickly thanks to his abilities. Not only could he brew potions and duel, but he created his own spells and potions and that was something his Lord had admired. Then came the year two years before his defeat, when the Dark Lord had demanded that he gain Dumbledore's trust. If there was one thing he regretted, and not just because of Lily's death either, it was telling the Dark Lord that prophecy he'd overheard. He'd noticed an immediate change in him. Lucius hadn't, and he'd been with him. He didn't think there was a Death Eater out there who hadn't been praying for something to happen. They all knew the Dark Lord had gone down a darker path than they were capable of. At least most of them couldn't, he thought to himself, remembering Bellatrix Lestrange. He had no doubt she'd been the one mostly responsible for the fate that befell the Longbottom family. The Lestrange brothers were more laid back, and had agreed with many others that things needed to change. Bellatrix, however, seemed to revel in their Lord's madness, his bloodthirsty nature.

Relaxing slightly, Snape realized that he had time; if he had been at Hogwarts he would have only just begun to walk out of his Quarters. It would take him ten minutes to get OUT of Hogwarts itself, at a run, and a further ten minutes to get off the grounds. Albeit the Dark Lord probably knew he wasn't at Hogwarts. He preferred the solitude that he could get here, away from Dumbledore's prying eyes. The old fool never ventured near his house.

He'd known he would be busy but Dumbledore was taking things too far. He'd had been to five Order meetings already. He was at the end of his tether; they did nothing but procrastinate, worry, and uselessly blab whatever came into their insipid heads. Mostly about Potter, finding new members, keeping the secret, and trying to get word out about his Lord while the rest of the world was content to think Potter was lying. They had succeeded in gaining a few new Order members: the younger yet eldest generation of the Weasleys, Bill and Charlie; two new Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks.

Bill and Charlie were powerful, so that was concerning, as was Kingsley Shacklebolt―he was a very shrewd man. Tonks was an idiot as far as he was concerned; even under disguise he'd know her the second she moved. She couldn't keep on her own two feet, without knocking something over or tripping up her own feet. If there was anyone that made him need to curse and scream, it was Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody. How he wanted to kill that old man, and nothing would have given him greater pleasure than to take him down. Perhaps his Lord would give him the opportunity to do as such if it arose.

Nobody listened to Moody when he said 'once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater', and it would be their downfall... he hoped.

Stirring the potion, he removed the rod, then cleaned it before placing it on the table. He cast a stasis charm on the cauldron, freezing it at the correct time. Snape allowed himself to nod in satisfaction, knowing it would be fine when he came back to it; he certainly wasn't going to waste the ingredients that had gone into it already. Grabbing the potions that had already been made for his Lord he made to leave. Not even pausing from one movement to the next, he Apparated to where the Dark Mark was guiding him, to the quiet, tranquil, elegant manor (at least compared to Malfoy Manor) before him. It was truly something he wouldn't have expected his Lord to have.

His impassive masks went up; so far, the Dark Lord had seemed patient, and more like his old self, but Severus did not want to get his hopes up. How long before he began obsessing over Harry Potter? Before it was all he would think about? He hoped the way his Lord was being was how he would remain. Perhaps he was hoping that being nearly defeated, practically dead for thirteen years would have given him patience.

Walking forward towards the meeting room, the doors automatically opened for him; he stalked through. "My Lord," Severus said in his dulcet tones.

"Sit, Severus," Voldemort stated, watching his spy closely; was he one of those who had wished for his death? Had he been glad when his downfall had been met at the hands of Harry Potter? Or had he bided his time, praying he returned? He would never know unless he managed to get through Severus' mental shields. Unfortunately, he didn't even think such a thing was possible, Severus was admittedly brilliant at what he did; everything he did he mastered beautifully. Even the ability to fly; like himself, all it had taken was three lessons and Severus was flying like a duck took to water. Severus had impressed him, he had to admit.

"Thank you, My Lord," Severus said, sitting in the allotted seat. The Dark Lord had forgone his usual throne; instead, he was sitting at a table with chairs―like an equal. Something he hadn't done for nearing two years before his defeat. It furthered his hope that his Lord wouldn't obsess over Harry Potter. Speak of the devil.

"Has Potter left the vicinity of Privet Drive since he returned home?" Voldemort demanded, his red eyes noticing a flash of something he couldn't decipher in Severus' eyes.

"From what they've been saying, no, he hasn't left the vicinity of the house," Severus admitted, displeased that his Lord was once again becoming obsessed with Harry bloody Potter. "They've even complained that the letters don't 'sound' like Potter, then they get into an argument about how witnessing the death of a fellow classmate would change him." Severus couldn't help himself, he had to roll his eyes ― it was absurd.

"And your opinion?" enquired Voldemort, his voice cautious now.

Severus snorted in derision, "None of them even know the boy, never mind well enough to send letters to. Black is the only one that might have a clue, but he hasn't said anything at the meetings. Merely complained about being stuck indoors and not being able to write to his godson." Here his lips curled, he loathed Black.

"And why wouldn't he be able to write to Potter?" Voldemort was quite frankly baffled, but he didn't show it.

"I believe Dumbledore has asked them not to. If what I overheard was correct, he believes they might be intercepted," Severus said sighing in vexation. He was very good at listening in on conversations, especially when he stuck to the shadows and was overlooked.

"Severus…do you still hold to the eternal loyalty you promised me upon becoming one with the fold?" Voldemort demanded, trying to catch Severus off guard. He knew though that it would take a lot more than just that question to catch Severus out.

"Always, my Lord, I do not discard my word so easily," Severus said, his exasperated posture no longer present. Instead, he was sitting facing his Lord with a serious expression on his face, his eyes never once wavering from the red ones before him.

Voldemort stared straight into Severus' eyes; could he trust him with such a momentous task? After all he had assumed he could trust Regulus Black as well as Lucius; both of them had hurt him in different ways. Would Severus react the same way as Regulus had upon finding the lengths, he'd taken to achieve immortality? He had no other way of achieving the goal, which was to retrieve his real Horcrux. Since he couldn't remember where the property was or what it was called, he had to rely on someone who knew where the property was. Severus wouldn't be able to tell him; he had no other option.

"I have a very important task for you," Voldemort eventually stated, having no choice but to trust his spy. "It will be tricky as well, since nobody can know about it."

"Of course, my Lord," Severus replied, waiting patiently for what his Lord would ask of him.

"There is a Slytherin locket I require somewhere in the Order headquarters; Regulus Black took what did not belong to him," Voldemort hissed, his anger still brewing dangerously under the surface. "You can leave this duplicate in its place; it can be summoned and is not a danger to you. I want you to come here as soon as you have retrieved it." That said, Voldemort removed the piece of jewellery from his robes, his long, thin, almost skeletal hands passed over the large locket and thick heavy chain that was attached to it. It didn't look like much, but it was Salazar Slytherin's pendant, once owned by one of the most powerful wizards ever remembered. Something that was, by right, his and his alone! He was the last descendant; he had made sure of that. Everyone that had left him in that orphanage thinking he had no family had paid dearly: his uncle…his filthy Muggle grandparents and father, even though they weren't the Slytherin descendants, at least not by blood.

Severus accepted the heavier than suspected Slytherin pendant, his mind whirling a mile a minute. Why would Regulus Black steal the locket? He couldn't say his Lord had killed him, since he too had been disconcerted by his continued absence, in the rare moments he wasn't obsessing over who had the potential to destroy him of course. Could he still be alive but in hiding? A body had never been recovered, if he remembered correctly. His family hadn't even known what had happened, but the general consensus was that he'd gotten in too deep and wanted out. That he had been killed by a Death Eater on his Lord's orders. Which wasn't true; the Dark Lord hadn't ordered such a thing, and Regulus had been an avid supporter, he'd hung on to the Dark Lord's every word. Admittedly he had been like everyone else by the end, wanting his Lord back to how he was before the Prophecy interrupted their strategic moves. Had he been more desperate than the others? More shocked and disgusted? Not that he had seen, but he hadn't been close to Black; they were merely acquaintances if they could actually call them as such. It was a long time to remain in hiding, without money and without being spotted even once. No, there was no way Regulus Black was alive, so what had happened to him, he wondered?

"Your potions, my Lord," Severus said, placing the locket in his breast pocket and handing over the crate of Potions that Voldemort needed to get well.

"Any news on the Order?" asked Voldemort, refusing to dwell on Potter and the implications until he was alone. Or as alone as he could get with Pettigrew skulking around somewhere. At least Barty was proving to be useful to him.

"They have a few new recruits, and from what I understand they have an additional two considering their proposal," Severus grimly stated. "Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Charlie and Bill Weasley have joined, and those they have considering is a disgusting thief― Mundungus Fletcher― and Sturgis Podmore. They are doing nothing more than guarding Potter, trying to convince people you are back, and getting to those whom they consider worthy of joining their Order." Yes, their Order, he didn't consider it as his. They were just a bunch of idiots trying to play hero, for a cause they did not understand. They were basically, in his opinion, running around like a bunch of headless chickens. They brought nothing worthy of note to the table, only he did, or so they should think; he only revealed what his Lord wished him to.

"I see," Voldemort replied, he would have to get Lucius to do a background search on all of them; he wanted to know every little detail about them. "You may go, Severus," Voldemort added absently.

"My Lord," Severus respectfully said, inclining his head before he stood up and departed, hope blooming further. The Dark Lord did seem much better; it relieved him greatly. Except in the look department, he was grey and had snake features and no hair whatsoever. He was a terrifying sight to behold.

Voldemort however, wasn't relieved, he was perplexed. If Potter hadn't been out of his damn house…how the hell did he end up all black and blue? Confirmation of one of his earlier thoughts. He had always been extremely intelligent, and it didn't take him long to come to the only natural conclusion one could reach. Abuse; his red eyes flashed in fury― how he hated Muggles. Why would Potter fight for the light side if he had been abused? It made no sense to him whatsoever; why fight for the Muggles who hated and hurt him? The boy was a conundrum.

Grant would be here today again, so he had to do something with Potter before then; either way the boy wasn't going to cooperate. Nothing he did had ever cowed the boy; threatening, torture... it was as if he was completely fearless. It would be such a Gryffindor trait if it wasn't so damn Slytherin.

He let out a frustrated breath, everything was taking forever; patience had never been a virtue that he possessed. That and he was very easy to anger, he had often wondered if it had anything to do with the strength of his magic. He hadn't been curious enough to investigate; he had other things more worthy of his attention. Plucking two potions from the crate Severus had brought, he downed them in one go before calling the House-elf for breakfast.

Harry murmured quietly, as the Dreamless Sleeping potion began to work its way out of his system. His face was peaceful, something that anyone rarely got to see. Harry's dreams were normally plagued with nightmares; thankfully for most part he wasn't vocal when he was asleep. Most people didn't even realize Harry had nightmares, which was fine by him, the fewer weaknesses they knew about, the better, in his opinion. The Daily Prophet had already ripped him to shreds this year, including the fact he had 'seizures'. Harry's peaceful green eyes blinked open, yawning, Harry sat up abruptly mouth still half open, ignoring the pain igniting in his ribs, the serene mood vanishing like a boat in the Bermuda Triangle. He'd been bloody drugged! He knew he shouldn't have eaten that food, although he had to admit it had been delicious. That and he'd been starving, he would do it again.

Why was Harry's main concern right now; why had he been drugged? What had they done to him? Nothing made sense anymore; why wasn't Voldemort trying to kill him? The unknown was quite frankly freaking him out. His encounters with Voldemort usually only lasted a little while. Go somewhere, be threatened, be nearly killed, thwart him, get to spend time with Poppy in the Hospital wing. After a few days, depending on if he had been unconscious, go to a feast and be patted on the head like a 'good little boy'. Harry's lip curled just thinking about it; if Dumbledore thought he didn't know about his manipulations he was an idiot. He was meant to be sorted into Slytherin for a reason; his self-preservation had kicked in, and he'd done what he'd had to ― to blend in amongst everyone. Just then an urgent need made itself known; ―oh, he shouldn't have drunk all that juice―, and he badly needed to pee. Grimacing at the toilet he groaned, cursing violently; if he didn't do the toilet, he would pee himself and that was the last thing he wanted. Who knows how long he'd be down here? He'd rather not sit in his own soiled clothes. Er, Dudley's soiled clothes.

Harry listened for any sound whatsoever, before edging towards the toilet. They were doing this to torture him before he was killed, he just knew it. Gritting his teeth, he hastily did the toilet, sighing in relief as he did so, before climbing back on the bed. When he did, he felt something on his leg; confused, he hoisted his leg onto the mattress and arched it to the side. His heart pounded desperately in his ribcage at the sight; what the hell was it? First prodding at it cautiously, he then yanked at it. Nothing happened. The green and silver band just refused to budge. His fingers trailed around the length of it, looking for an opening but he found none. His mouth was dry; closing his eyes briefly, he opened them again, fire burning in their emerald depths as he continued to try and remove the thing around his ankle.

His head jerked up when he heard a loud clanging; he held his breath wondering who it was. It obviously wasn't Voldemort, otherwise his scar would have been burning by this time…so who was it? Death Eaters? Surprise flashed through his green eyes when the snake-faced git made an appearance; why hadn't his scar burned? His brow furrowed in confusion, even as his hands continued to try and remove the band. He glared fiercer at the red eyes that lit up in amusement, at his expense no doubt.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Harry snarled, unable to keep his mouth shut. There was no golden boy pretence to put up here. Neither did survival seem to be a thing he cared for, as he spoke to the Dark Lord with a bite nobody else would have gotten away with. Especially if the way the wizard beside Voldemort reacted, he'd inhaled sharply, in shock no doubt, at his words. His green eyes sparked with feral amusement when the red eyes flared with anger, as he sat watching as Voldemort's hands clenched in an attempt to keeping his calm.

Grant watched the Dark Lord out of the corner of his eyes, extremely surprised. Never in all the years, when he had served the Dark Lord, when he needed it, had he seen such restraint on his part. He had expected the boy... no, teenager... to be writhing under the Cruciatus Curse by now. By Merlin, the boy had more guts than the entire Dark Lord's army combined. Never had he seen such blatant disrespect spat at him before. Everyone trembled and bowed before Lord Voldemort; it seemed this young boy was an exception to that rule. Keeping his face impassive, he waited, on what he wasn't sure.

Voldemort opened the cell door, his red eyes never removed from Harry's, his wand held loosely in his fingers. Harry however, wasn't fooled by the seemingly calm display of casualness. Voldemort could strike lightening last; he had reflexes that, even if it burned to admit, that Harry was envious of. Harry remained on the bed, his eyes never wavering from the pair, keeping them in sight which was easy to do from where he sat. Was this it? Would he be breathing his last here and now? It was unlike Voldemort, he liked an audience, and he'd proven that just a few weeks ago. Unless he didn't want to be embarrassed again, but Harry couldn't see how that would happen; he didn't have a wand or any means to protect himself. Why bother with the band? What fucking game was Voldemort playing? Well, he refused to play along; he wouldn't act like a kicked pup! He wasn't scared of death.

Jutting up his chin defiantly, the urge to cross his arms against his chest was strong but he didn't want to leave himself vulnerable in case he was attacked. No, he would put up a fight, even if it was a useless one, just like it had been at the graveyard, again surviving by sheer dumb luck.

Harry shied away slightly, defensively, when the unnamed wizard knelt on the floor. Harry gave him a quick confused look before he scooted back on the bed a bit, so he could keep a better eye on the pair of them. What the fuck was going on? His gaze switched back to the wizard watching him remove... a potions bag? The stranger unrolled it and left it sitting there on the floor before sitting on the bed next to him.

"Drink this," Grant said, his tone as soothing as if he was speaking to a reluctant child. He couldn't help but grin slightly, seeing the look of incredulity that passed over Harry's face. Oh yes, he knew who the boy was, and was very surprised to find that he was still breathing. To make matters even more curious, he was being asked to do a full check-up on the boy? Well, at least his job was never boring it seemed. "It will not harm you; surely you've taken it before?" the healer questioned.

Harry's lips disappeared; his nose flared in anger; he did not like being played. Yet his mind whispered to him why would they give him a choice? Why not just do what they'd done before? Put it in his food and be done with it? He had no idea what the bloody potion was, and he didn't want to find out. The thought of being bound and forced to take it was even less appealing. He knew that whatever happened, he only had the illusion of willingness. Gritting his teeth, he glared some more.

"You've never taken this potion before, have you?" Grant said, becoming quite alarmed; all children going through Hogwarts was supposed to get this potion. It seemed his lord might have other motives about this entire thing. He wasn't stupid enough to ask any questions about it, which was putting it bluntly. "I am a healer, Harry, I am oath-bound never to harm another, and this potion will not hurt you in any way."

"I only have your word for that," Harry sneered, pondering inwardly if it was true. The Muggles had something similar, a Hippocratic Oath; it didn't stop them from murdering people. The news showed horrible things doctors and nurses did, but with magic…was it truly binding? He felt a flame of curiosity almost get the better of him.

Seeing that his Lord was losing patience, he uncorked the potion and took a sip of it himself, showing the boy that it wouldn't harm him. Nobody would be stupid enough to take a sip of a potion that could potentially harm them. "See?" added Grant, holding the potion out.

"You could have taken the antidote before coming in," Harry stated, still not trusting them; he never would.

"Just take the damn potion," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes flaring as his patience waned. The urge to curse the boy was stronger than ever, in fact he was fingering his wand, ready to cast the Cruciatus curse. "Or I will have him pour it down your incapacitated throat."

Grant winced even if that anger wasn't directed at him; the magic pouring off the older wizard was terrifyingly dark in its nature. He glanced at Harry to find him not even slightly bothered. He was beginning to think the boy had a death wish; how could he sit there calmly with this wizard's ire so intently focused on him? The others would be prostrating themselves at his feet by now, begging for forgiveness, doing whatever they had to just to make it better.

"Cr―" Voldemort started to snarl, but not getting to finish before the boy spoke.

"Alright, alright, fuck, I'll take the damn potion!" Harry snapped, thinking, give in today, fight and live for tomorrow. If he was going to be in pain, he'd rather not have the Cruciatus Curse's after-effects thrumming through him too. The pain he remembered had been intolerable. Like the time his uncle and cousin had stamped on his arm and leg, kicking him in the stomach and head and rendering him unconscious within minutes. That had been before Hogwarts, when his accidental magic had Apparated him onto the school roof. Grabbing the vial from the wizard, he glared at everything, furious that he was being backed into a corner. His hand clenched around the vial as he gritted his teeth again. He'd rather lose the battle than lose the war; he would find a way out of this damn place. To do that he needed to be as pain free as possible. If he could accidentally Apparate when he was younger, maybe he could do it again, or do some sort of accidental magic to get him the fuck out of here. A snide voice reminded him he'd just end up back in another prison: the Dursleys'. It was better than dying... no, no it wasn't, really; he was tired of constantly fighting, constantly defending himself, and exhausted from being betrayed and hurt by everyone around him.

The vial must have been unbreakable; since he was clutching it so hard it should have shattered the glass into his hand. Was he really going to do this? He must be off his rocker; sitting there clutching it in his hand he realized he couldn't do it. He'd refused to bow to the Dursleys; he refused to truly mould himself into the saviour image everyone wanted. He damn well wasn't going to bow to Voldemort, he could curse him if he liked. He twitched and was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of a murmured spell, and then he felt it, the alarming sensation of something suddenly hitting his stomach.

Looking down he noticed the vial was empty; he sat glaring at the wizard, seething with fury. He hadn't realized there was a spell that could put potions into his stomach, even after all his time spent in Hospital wing. Then again, he wouldn't be, would he? They would have been administered that way when he was bloody unconscious. Why hadn't he done that to begin with? His scorching glare didn't let up, not even when the wizard began chanting; that just made him tense up even further, coiled ready to strike. If he thought he could get out of here, he would have struck out, but with Voldemort there he knew he'd be on his back quicker than lightening. If he wanted to get away, he would need to do it when he was alone. Maybe he'd get lucky and unlock the cell door.

Then just like that both wizards began exiting the cell. Voldemort didn't let him out of his sight until the door banged shut and was locked with magic again. His hands clenched as he watched them, the urge to punch that smug look on Voldemort's face was strong. Once they were gone, Harry punched the mattress repeatedly, screaming his frustration, taking it out on the only thing there that wouldn't hurt him in the process.

"My Lord, do you think the boy has taken the potion before?" Grant asked, sitting himself down on a seat in the Dark Lord's study. It was dark, not because the curtains were closed but because the room itself was done in dark woods, and dark green colours. It worked well together; he certainly wouldn't have used those colours together but he had to admit it was a sight to see. It was much nicer than the other place his Lord had, in the Muggle mansion. It was a genius move; the light side wouldn't think to look for him there.

"From his unwillingness to take it, I would assume not," Voldemort replied, the appearance of being unbothered by the events that had just transpired evident on his face. However, Voldemort was far from unbothered, but he wasn't about to let anyone in on that annoying fact. Even he remembered the potion; it was one of the first ones he'd ever taken that first night at Hogwarts. All children were required to take it at some point in their lives, and the information revealed was stored in their files. Not only did it give them a past history of all injuries, treatments, and illnesses, it also let them know what the children were allergic to. Purebloods or half-bloods raised in the Magical world didn't need to go through it at school, since their records were automatically sent to Hogwarts when they were eleven. As far as he knew, Severus still insisted that all his Slytherins get the treatment; he wanted to make sure they were being looked after. Considering all the abuse the wizard had gone through, Voldemort didn't blame him.

"He's Muggle-raised, isn't he?" Grant frowned, quite frankly unsettled.

"He is," Voldemort stated, twitching as he remembered something Potter had said weeks ago. He didn't know why he hadn't remembered it before this, but he was remembering a lot lately; it was as if close proximity to his Horcruxes was helping him. The boy had said, 'Oh, please, like you're the only one who's had a shit childhood.' Could he be referring to the loss of his parents? Or were his assumptions right and the boy had been abused? It seemed inconceivable to him; the boy was too sickeningly light, sticking to Dumbledore like a loyal puppy. Then there was Dumbledore… would he really risk his saviour by allowing him to be abused by Muggles?

Grant swished and flicked his wand in a long-complicated motion, then a scroll began to materialise in front of him. He expected it to be long, after all, the boy was fourteen years old, but it was much longer than he'd anticipated. He'd seen patient's decades older with fewer results than this. Eventually his wand stopped producing the results and Grant could snatch it out of the air. Dark or not, the results on the parchment enraged him beyond comprehension. Nobody, not even Harry Potter, deserved this! Yes, the Dark Lord made examples of those who betrayed him, but they were adults and had wilfully done it knowing the consequences. The boy had been a child; having children as he did, just made the matter worse.

"Well?" Voldemort demanded impatiently.

Grant quickly looked up at the Dark Lord, pausing briefly, aware that he could be cursed any minute. His Lord wasn't known for his patience; his hubris was that he wanted too much too soon. Of course, he would never come out and tell him that. His mind drifted to what had happened earlier. If it had been Death Eaters they would have been under that painful curse; he obviously had no desire to kill Harry Potter anymore. Why? And why had he wanted him to run a full diagnostic on him? Better yet, how would he react when he saw these results? He obvious had his suspicions. Instead of saying anything, he handed over the scroll, letting the results speak for themselves in all their grave certainty.

He knew when the Dark Lord had finally taken in the results; Grant barely dared to breathe as the room became unbearable hot with his anger. Merlin, thought Grant, would he be leaving here without being hurt? He couldn't help shrinking back into his seat; pride be damned, the wizard was fucking scary.

"FILTHY DISGUSTING MUGGLES!" Voldemort spat, his rage expanding exponentially. He would find a way around the wards of Privet Drive and he would kill the sons of bitches! Nobody hurt a wizarding child and got away with it, and people wondered why he wanted Muggles put down like the filthy animals that they were? They didn't deserve to live; they were the ones that were depraved.

Stiffening as another realisation sunk in, Dumbledore had to have known, there was no doubt…which had him wondering if his precious Order knew. If they were watching as closely as he'd been told, they probably did. Calming down slightly, his red eyes were still brighter than ever, filled with raw hatred. Hopefully Lucius would be back with something he could use to get through to Potter. It oddly enough didn't fill him with malicious glee at the thought of breaking him, making him see that nobody cared about him, just about the weapon that he was to them. Perhaps it was because he knew Potter had been through enough shit to last him a lifetime. Why should he care? As long as his Horcrux survived... yet he was beginning to see the boy, not the vessel…was that why? Was Dumbledore doing this to see how far he could push the boy, not caring because his, Voldemort's, soul was inside him? No, that wasn't like the old fool, but he did often have others do his dirty work for him. How could the boy be so naïve? He'd seen right through Dumbledore from the beginning, he loved to delude himself.

"My Lord?" Grant carefully questioned, still remaining stiff and as far back in the chair as he could possibly get, hoping to distract him from the Muggles and his fury. "Do you wish for me to repair the damage?" Although getting the boy to drink the potions he'd prescribe would apparently be the biggest challenge of his life.

"Yes," Voldemort replied, his answer immediate and stern. "List the potions, Severus will brew them." He trusted nobody else.

"As you wish, My Lord," Grant said, his voice still careful. "Will I add one to correct his vision, or shall I see about getting him a pair of glasses more suitable?" The ones he had on were causing untold damage; they weren't the correct prescription and they were making his eyes worse. His eyesight wouldn't be as bad if he hadn't been wearing them, that he knew from experience as a healer.

"Correct it," Voldemort stated flippantly; he didn't like weaknesses and glasses were one. If they were removed you would be blind, unable to see any assault coming your way. Grant would know better than to talk about anything they discussed, including the fact he was helping the boy. Yet it didn't matter, all his Death Eaters would soon become aware that the boy was to be untouched; anyone that did would die a horribly painful death.

"Yes, My Lord," replied Grant, eyes slightly wide. He had expected an outright refusal but just thought to cover all the bases like he always did. That potion was expensive, extremely difficult to make; not a problem for a Potions Master like Severus, but nonetheless hard to brew. It was said to be even harder than the Wolfsbane potion; if he knew Severus he would be salivating over the challenge, he was immensely fond of brewing difficult concoctions. Especially if they were forbidden by the Ministry for being 'dark', which was basically anything that required blood. Dark and grey magics were dwindling, soon there would only be a handful of spells you would be allowed to cast, all very sickeningly 'light' in nature. Yes, he was a healer, which actually made it worse; there were potions and spells deemed 'dark' by those fools that could save people, and he was forbidden from using them. Although he had a more personal reason for joining the dark…after what that cowardly Muggle-Born had done to his child.

"My Lord, if I may be so bold…why are you helping the boy? Do you not want him dead?" asked Grant, risking his wrath on the off-chance he might get even a cryptic statement to think on.

"I despise every drop of magical blood spilled, you know this," Voldemort said, his ruby eyes regarding Grant cautiously. However, he wouldn't let the idiotic fools fighting for something they had no clue about bring him down either, so he killed when he had to.

Grant blinked at the wizard, surprised. "You are going back to your original goals?" Then he stiffened; he had not meant to say that out loud. The hope he felt was blazing in his eyes, broadcasting to the Dark Lord.

"I never wavered from them," Voldemort answered, his voice deceptively mild. Well... that wasn't strictly true, he would never admit that, but he realized he would need to reassure his followers somehow. He would not, could not allow anyone else to betray him, he already had to deal with traitors in his midst. Karkaroff was one of them; he had all but imprisoned a number of Voldemort's followers himself. His end wouldn't be easy; he would be dealt with by the very people he had betrayed.

Grant dipped his head in respect, slightly apologetic for questioning him.

"You may go check on Barty," Voldemort replied, adding, "You are free to go afterwards."

"Very well, My Lord," Grant said. "I shall leave the list of needed potions with a House-Elf before I leave."

"Indeed," was all Voldemort said, waving his hand and dismissing him silently. Grant was barely out of the room when he decided he go to the boy and directly get an answer (which he already knew the answer to). So, he had been correct, the boy had been abused, Merlin, the boy was a conundrum.

Another chapter edited for you guys, nothing significantly changed yet but I'm definitely glad for the editing R&R please

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 5

Harry leaned against the wall of his cell, one foot raised and against the wall, displaying a casual stance of nonchalance as Voldemort stared at him. He would never admit that the stare was beginning to wear on him. It was as if he was waiting for something, or trying to confirm something he suspected. He was getting hungry again as well; he hadn't touched either the breakfast or the lunch they'd sent down to him. He refused to be drugged again; he'd spent the afternoon trying to remove the band but had given up that task as futile.

"What game are you playing at Voldemort?" Harry asked, his tone wary and tired. Not just physically; no, he was mental tired too. Everything was all Topsy-turvy; nothing was as he expected it to be, and he really didn't like the mind games going on here. Nothing had happened after that potion had been spelled into his stomach, at least nothing he could feel as of yet, but he wouldn't put it past them to have some sort of delayed effect just to fuck with him more. If he went by the food, it was a day ago, surely nothing could happen now? 

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm not playing any game?" Voldemort replied, his red eyes alight with amusement. Which quite frankly wouldn’t be helping matters, but he liked Potters fire. He knew, should he be stood in front of anyone else Harry’s age they’d be terrified. Even his Death Eaters offspring would never dare to speak to him in such a manner.

Harry merely snorted; they already both knew the answer to that question.

"Why do you follow Dumbledore? Doesn't it grate on your nerves how he adores his precious Muggles and insists they are more than the animals I claim they are?" Voldemort sneered; just mentioning Dumbledore caused him to lose his composure.

Harry narrowed his eyes, not liking where this was going at all; the bastard couldn't be trying to convert him to his side, could he? No, there was no way, Voldemort wanted him dead…well, he did; hell, he wasn't sure anymore and he was beginning to think he was being played big time. Why on earth would he think bringing Muggles up would help that matter? Unless…Harry gulped ― loudly, he suspected…no, that was impossible; nobody knew. Arching an eyebrow in Voldemort's direction he answered, "Why would it?" despite the fact his heart was hammering in his chest. Still exuding boredom.

"I know everything," Voldemort stated, his tone calm and truthful; he could feel what Potter was feeling at the moment: embarrassment and fear. He'd never felt any fear up until this moment…so he knew it wasn't aimed at him, but at what he knew. Interesting, why would that bother the boy so much? "The question is, why do you follow Dumbledore around like a love-sick puppy?" The sneer was back again, he couldn't have helped it even if he tried.

Harry dropped every pretence and a vindictive smirk spread across his face, "Who says I do?"

Voldemort lost all patience, and slid into Harry's mind, wanting to see for himself whether or not the boy was lying to him. Surprisingly enough, Harry seemed to sense his presence in his mind, from the first second he penetrated his memories. He could feel futile struggling as the boy tried to get him out. For someone who was obviously a complete novice at the mind arts he was quite insistent. Some of his Death Eaters couldn't even tug with that much pressure, and they were older and more experienced. Tugging or not, the boy wasn't quite able to keep him out, he was only giving himself a headache. Which he could feel pounding into his own skull; once he had seen the memories, he wanted to see... no, needed to see, he slowly withdrew. Blinking he found Potter on his knees, clutching at his head dramatically as if he'd just cursed him.

"What the hell did you just do?" groaned Harry, rubbing at his temples, had he seen everything he had? He'd rifled through his memories like a hot knife sliced through butter. Still disoriented, he used his hands to push himself off his aching knees and sat on the bed. Glaring at Voldemort through his messy bangs, if looks could kill, the wizarding world would be celebrating to the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ once more.

"The official name is Legilimens, for when someone can read other people's minds. Legilimency and Occlumency are the terms for reading and blocking one's mind. Occluding is the term for when someone can close their mind against external penetration," Voldemort answered, his answer curt curiously absent of any mocking.

"I always knew he could read my mind," Harry muttered, shaking his head. Snape and Dumbledore; it hadn't felt anything like what Voldemort had just done though. If he got out of this, he was definitely going to read up about Legilimency and Occlumency and learn them. Harry wanted to scoff at his thoughts, as if he would ever get out of here; for whatever reason, he was being kept alive and relatively sane. No, his luck had run out, there was no way he could beat Voldemort without a wand.

"Surface thoughts only, he would never risk going any deeper," Voldemort sneered, he too had been a victim of Dumbledore's mind reading. It had annoyed him as a young boy, but as soon as he had acquaintances, he found out just what the Deputy Headmaster and Transfiguration Professor was doing. He had realized just how dangerous the old man was then, but he had gotten even more dangerous after defeating Grindelwald. Nobody could think ill of him, with his disgusting display of being a champion to Muggles and Mudbloods. They didn't even seem to care that the quality of education had gotten worse, not better, since he became Headmaster. The amount of legislation he had seen passed forbidding certain magics, books, and potions was immense. The Dark and grey side of the Wizengamot wasn't big enough to see Dumbledore's legislations denied. His power was too expansive, his own side could never manage to get the power levels even never mind for them to end up in their favour.

Harry shook his head, feeling very odd; he was actually sitting here having a genial conversation with Voldemort. Or what could be passed as one at any rate. He knew everything now, and Harry honestly didn't know what the hell to say or do. Voldemort didn't even need confirmation; he'd read it all from his mind. Did it matter? It wasn't as if he would get out of here. He was a bloody captive; removed from the very place Dumbledore insisted he was 'safe'.

"You want to know why Dumbledore would send you back to the Dursleys, sets up traps to test you, that could potentially have killed you…yet expects you to defeat me?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes filled with fire― as if the boy would be able to defeat him as he was. Then again, Dumbledore didn't want to train him; he knew why. Voldemort watched as the boy's head snapped up to glare at him, unable to hide his curiosity fully. Oh, he knew how much Harry dwelled on that. It was in his mind nearly all the time, but he'd resigned himself to never knowing the full extent of why Dumbledore was manipulating him. He was going along with it just to remain in Hogwarts, aware that Dumbledore could see him expelled at any given moment. Just like he had.

Harry gritted his teeth, did Voldemort know? How would he know? He'd just come back from being a spirit for thirteen years. Unless…unless it had something to do with the fact Voldemort went after him in the first place. Oh, he knew Voldemort hadn't been after his parents, just him; had known since last year, thanks to the Dementors. He had so many questions he didn't have the answer to, but the one Voldemort had just asked was definitely on the top of the list. The second one was why Voldemort had asked his mother to step aside, she was after all a Muggle-born, and Voldemort didn't care about them, wanted to see them dead… didn't he? When the silence continued, he realised Voldemort wanted him to ask! Well, he would be in for a long wait, he wasn't about to beg or ask Voldemort for anything. It wasn't as if it mattered anymore anyway, not unless Dumbledore figured out where he was and rescued him but that thought was ludicrous. If it had been that easy to find Voldemort, the war would have been over long before he was born.

"Haven't you wondered why you have the ability to speak Parseltongue?" Voldemort hissed, becoming amused as Harry twitched. He was beginning to enjoy any genuine emotion he could elicit from the boy. Especially after seeing him defy him for years, then seeing him practically impassive during his rebirthing ceremony. He must admit, he was glad to have a body, but he wanted his true self back; not only would it remind his Death Eaters of their original goals, they might respect him again. He wasn't stupid; he could see how disgusted they were by his new appearance, which hadn't been this bad before this boy had left him nothing but a spirit.

"How can you do that without a snake being nearby?" Harry blurted out, too surprised to censor his mouth. Honestly, he could only do it with a snake without it he couldn’t manage. Question aside, he already knew how he could speak to snakes.

"You did it in the graveyard," Voldemort sneered, not as irritated as he ought to have been. At least he had an answer as to why the boy had his ability, they were equals, and once the boy got used to being here then he would be treated as such. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy had other traits that belong to him; one day he would find out.

Oh, he had no idea.

Harry's eyebrows scrunched down as he tried to remember, had he really spoken Parseltongue? He could never tell when he was, he assumed it might be because he hadn’t practiced. Voldemort had full control of it by his age, recalling the memories within the diary. Harry hadn’t consciously used it since he was what, twelve? It had been an unbearable year, and he had no wish for it to continue. That was before he'd gotten so sick of the magical world and the people in it, trying to mould him into something they all wanted, yet were perfectly content to let him be a scrape goat. It had been this way for four years now, they either hated him or liked him, and he was tired. None of the other students were treated like he was; it was inevitable really, and people could only take so much.

"You, Harry Potter, are my Horcrux," Voldemort said, his voice smug, sinful, and satisfied, as if he was admitting something extremely forbidden. He couldn't wait until he figured out what it was. The expression on his face…just imagining it made him smirk in a self-satisfied way. Perhaps he should let the boy read the book for himself.

A Horcrux? What the hell was that? And he wasn't Voldemort’s! Why would Dumbledore care about him being whatever the hell a Horcrux was? He'd never come across anything in reference to a Horcrux before. The way Voldemort said it though... it must be bad to get that kind of reaction from him. Is that why he'd decided not to kill him? How the hell had he figured out he was some sort of Horcrux anyway? Did it have something to do with the potion he'd given him earlier…or the spell he'd cast on him? If it was so bad why hadn't Dumbledore just killed him? He wasn’t foolish enough to think Dumbledore wouldn’t have done what needed to be done. No, wait, he wouldn’t get his hands dirty, he’d have someone else do it.

"Come," Voldemort said, opening the cell door. Harry just threw him a look of incredulity. He didn't wait for the boy to follow him; he left the dungeons. It wasn't as if he could get out of the manor wards anyway. Although, it would be just as entertaining watching the boy try to leave.

Harry watched Voldemort leave; had the wizard gone completely insane? Why was he letting him out? Unless he knew for a fact, he wouldn't be able to escape. His green eyes went straight to the band around his ankle and his heart sank; could it be? He would find out sooner or later, but he had a feeling that's what it was. Cursing under his breath, he weighted the pros and cons of getting out of this damn cell. He might not get another opportunity, then again Voldemort might be toying with him, it might slam shut as he approached it. Groaning he stood up, edging his way over and grasping onto the cell door; nothing happened, so he stepped outside and began wandering. He was very surprised to find that he wasn't underground; the entire floor was level. Although the passageway out was very narrow with circular stone steps upwards. When he left the 'dungeon' door he wandered straight into a grand hallway. It was beautiful, even he had to admit that. It was like those old-fashioned television programmes Petunia liked to watch when the walrus and its twin were out.

There was a door open to his left, he could hear subtle movements inside. He stood there for long moments, looking longingly at the front door to his right. Where did he have to go? The Dursleys' house to be locked up too? Would Dumbledore even know he was gone? At least here he was getting information, although he knew deep down, he wasn't going to like what he found out. Better yet, Dumbledore likely had no intentions of telling him.

"If you are thinking about running, you won't get far," Voldemort stated, smirking at the boy in feral amusement as he watched from the open doorway.

"Even without this I wouldn't anyway," Harry said, pointing towards the band. Seeing the red eyes flash with some sort of emotion he knew he'd been right; the bloody band would stop him getting away. He had no wand, no way of knowing where he was, or how to get back to familiar ground.

"You are smarter than anyone gives you credit for, Potter," Voldemort said. Even he had underestimated the boy, and his intelligence, something he would elect not to do in future. Voldemort moved away from the door and removed books from the shelves, floating all but one over to the desk he was using. He knew curiosity would get the better of Harry; he would want to know what a Horcrux was.

Harry stared back at the front door before cursing under his breath; finally, he walked towards the library, dragging his feet. He couldn't believe he was standing a few feet from Voldemort and still alive. It was madness, complete and utter madness. Once he entered the library, he noticed that it was huge, bigger than Hogwarts' own library, a lot of the books were dusty old tomes.

Nagini was there, that explained the hissing he'd heard earlier. He eyed the snake suspiciously; who could blame him? The bloody snake wanted to eat him. Every snake Voldemort interacted with wanted to eat him, just take the basilisk for example. A book was floating in mid-air, although not for long; it actually moved towards him and Harry caught it in reflex when it fell when the magic let go.

Harry looked at the front, finding the title: Secrets of the Darkest Arts by Owle Bullock. Darkest Arts? Great, he didn't have a good feeling about this at all. The large black tome was faded and peeled, on the back was the date it was written; it was old ― ancient old. He felt those intense red eyes boring into his head, but he wasn't going to give Voldemort the satisfaction of thinking he was getting to him. He didn't care what was in this thing, he wouldn't react, and he wouldn't let Voldemort win.

Opening the index page, he found the writing was faded and old, possibly medieval. Information on Horcruxes was on page one hundred and eight. It was, Harry found, completely impossible to try and read such a heavy tome while standing. Staring at Nagini and Voldemort he edged around the furthest corner of the room, keeping his distance from the pair of them. Not that it would save him if he was to be a snake dinner, or if Voldemort decided to curse him, really. It was just his way of letting them know he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them.

Sitting down on the chair he pulled it towards the desk he'd settled at, and laid the book down, flipping until he found the page he required. He had barely read two sentences when he wanted to slam it shut. Yet he couldn't, he kept reading in fascinated horror. His stomach almost wanted to rebel; his mind flashed back to the diary in second year…Voldemort had done this when he was seventeen years old?

"H-how?" Harry muttered, unable to look away from the book; he didn't want Voldemort to see the fear written across his face.

"The book is pretty self-explanatory," Voldemort said, feeling the horror, fear, and exhilarating curiosity through the band.

"No, how am I still here? The diary was killing Ginny, so how hasn't your soul overtaken me?" croaked Harry, and why the hell was he asking Voldemort this instead of running far and fast? But where would he go? Dumbledore obviously knew this... transferred some of his magic into him indeed! What a lot of bullshit! The test in first year hadn't been to make him stronger, or to see how powerful he was…had Dumbledore wanted him to die? Had he hoped he would die at the Dursleys? Was he disappointed every time he emerged victorious?

"It doesn't work like that, albeit there hasn't ever been a human Horcrux before…it is a unique situation; if there has been one in the past, it was certainly never written about. The Ministry of magic tried to destroy all books pertaining to Horcruxes a long time ago, along with all other books on Dark magic. As hard as it may be to believe, Dark magic doesn't automatically mean evil. During Dumbledore's tenure as Headmaster, over two hundred books have been removed from the library at Hogwarts. Instead, he has been filling it with books about filthy Muggles, and light magic, and let's not forget all the other classes he's stopped," Voldemort admitted. "The soul-fragment has never affected you before; I doubt it will do so now; it merely gives you the ability to speak Parseltongue... unless of course we are related."

"If he knew, why was he keeping me alive? And why the hell haven't you killed me?" Harry hissed, fuming, he wasn’t even going to touch on the fact they were related. He knew they were; it had been one of the most difficult ventures he’d ever undertaken, keeping it from Ron and Hermione when he was with them nearly all the time.

"Because you were prophesized to be my downfall," Voldemort said, speaking softly, he need never raise his voice. When he spoke, people listened, especially if they knew what was good for them.

"Huh?" was the only sound Harry could make, as he stared dumbfounded at the Darkest Wizard in Britain. That was the last thing he'd expected; he was prophesized to defeat Voldemort? He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, how the hell could he defeat Voldemort? Well, he already had, but that hadn't really been anything to do with him, had it? He was finally getting the answers that Dumbledore had refused to tell him. "Say what?"

"A year before you were born, a prophecy was made, but my spy was only able to hear half of it before he was discovered and thrown from the premises. It stated that someone with the power to defeat me approaches, born to those who have thrice defied me, born as the seventh month dies," Voldemort whispered, watching the teenager's eyes widen in shocked incredulity.

"They defied you three times?" asked Harry, his lips twitching in amusement.

Voldemort stared at him... not the slightest bit amused. More confounded than anything, the boy was speaking about his parents as if he wasn't hurt at their loss. Then again, he knew you couldn't miss something you never had; yes, it might be his fault, but it was their choice to join the Order and engage in war; he would never have touched them if they hadn't. Well, that wasn't true, if the prophecy had still been uttered, he would have gone after them, Order members or not.

"Surely I'm not the only wizard or witch that was born as the 'seventh month dies'," Harry muttered petulantly. It wasn’t very specific, was it? It was beyond the realm of credulity to go after someone on a few words, wasn’t it?

"No, there were two boys that were close enough to fit the prophecy," Voldemort explained, "You of course, and Neville Longbottom. I chose you because you were the most like me. A half-blood; I saw myself in you before I even met you."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, you agree that Half-Bloods are more powerful, but you want to go out and kill all the Muggles and Muggle-Borns?!" cried Harry, rubbing his temples; he just didn't get Voldemort's logic at all.

"Who said anything about killing Muggle-Borns?" Voldemort arched an imperious brow, or what would have been, had he had hair. Instead, he looked very alien in his attempt.

"You did, at the graveyard: champion of Muggles and Mudbloods, ring any bells? Muggle-borns are smarter, more motivated, and more powerful than any of your Death Eaters, and you can't deny that!" Harry snapped, glaring at Voldemort.

"Dumbledore IS a champion for Muggles and Mudbloods," Voldemort calmly said, staring Potter down.

"You don't get it! We need new blood, without it we will all end up like Crabbe and Goyle," Harry blurted, disgusted at the thought, almost laughing at the face Voldemort pulled. "Keeping the family 'pure' comes at the expense of squibs, near-squibs, and the pureblood lines are going to fade out."

Voldemort stared blankly at the boy, not sure what to think at the moment. Honestly, he was confounded; Harry never reacted like he expected him to. It was as if he was on a different frequency than everyone else; he'd just found out he was a Horcrux and here he was going on about Muggles and Muggle-borns. Even speaking about his parents had done nothing but caused him to smirk and state 'They defied you three times?' as if nothing had amused him more in his life. Yes, there was something about the boy, and he found it impossible to retain his disdain for him. Harry was speaking to him out of turn and he actually didn't care, other than to feel respect that the boy wasn't cowering before him? Why? How could that be? Anyone else would be on the floor screaming in agony at this point, so why was he different? Was it because he recognized that the boy was his equal of sorts? Because he knew the boy was a Horcrux? Unfortunately, not, he had grudgingly respected him and his stoic display in the Graveyard.

"There is no such thing as a Mudblood! Or a Muggle-Born; their magic came from somewhere. I'll bet you ten Galleons that you'll find my mother is a descendant from a pureblood line somewhere," Harry snapped, irritated that Voldemort was just looking at him without reacting to anything he was saying.

"You shouldn't make bets you will never win," Voldemort replied, his red eyes gleaming dangerously.

"What's wrong? Scared I'm right?" Harry ground out through gritted teeth. He already knew he was right; he’d done the test; he knew exactly who his mother was related to.

"This bargain won't get you out of the manor in an effort to escape," Voldemort stated, why was the boy so adamant about this? Did he seriously think it would stop his plans from going forward?

Harry blinked in surprise, both at the fact Voldemort had seemingly accepted the wager and the fact that, for some reason, Voldemort thought it was an escape attempt. He just kept staring the older wizard down, refusing to budge; he would be proven right, and Voldemort would have to rethink some of his strategy. If it saved people's lives in the process then he would consider it a double win; when he was proven right, surely Voldemort wouldn't continue this vendetta he had against Muggle-Borns.

"Very well, let's go," Voldemort announced standing up; he found himself enjoying the cautious look the boy sent him. Harry had every right to be cautious; he was unpredictable, vicious when he needed to be. The boy didn't have anything to worry about, but he wasn't going to tell him that. He deserved to worry about when he would strike, after everything he'd done. He had to give him his due, when Nagini snaked forward, Harry didn't even twitch.

After a fifteen-minute walk, they entered a dark and dank room. Once the light was on Harry realized it was a potions lab. There was something oddly familiar about the setup, from the way the drying racks were set up, to the bin in the corner, and even the position of the corks in the middle of the table. His heartbeat pounded faster; of course, it shouldn't have even taken him this long― he was an idiot. It was almost an exact replica of Snape's private potions lab, where he had scrubbed clean the cauldrons during detentions, although sometimes that was held out in the Potions classroom. Snape was a spy, but who was he playing? Voldemort or Dumbledore? Did that mean Dumbledore was aware that he was missing? Or kidnapped, more like. What would happen to him if he was removed from here with the band on him? Knowing Voldemort... he actually didn't want to know. It would probably involve more pain, or death actually; Voldemort wouldn't want him to get away.

He gaped when Voldemort set up a cauldron and actually began to do prep work! Watching him work, it didn’t take long for Harry to notice there wasn't even a book in sight; he was brewing it from memory. Moving his hand, he pinched his leg and winced, he was definitely awake then, yet he didn't want to believe this was real. This had to be the most absurd day in his life; considering what all he'd gone through to date, that said a great deal. Why the hell was he here? Damn it, he wanted to get away… yet his bloody mind continued to remind him he had nowhere to go.

"No need to look so surprised," Voldemort snapped, irritated at the look he was receiving from the boy, as if he couldn't do anything for himself. "I surpassed Dumbledore's O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s; one didn't become Head boy by being insignificant or incompetent."

Harry's lips twitched, he sounded just like he did in the diary, although the one in the book was much easier on the eyes. "Yet instead of taking control of your inheritance and going through the Ministry to get your changes made, you took the path of least resistance, leaving carnage and death in your wake?"

"Do you think anyone would have been willing to listen when they had their hero Dumbledore in charge?!" Voldemort snarled; red eyes gleaming with raw hatred for the meddling old fool. He had tried what the boy was suggesting, it hadn’t worked.

"You were smart, you could have become the Minister of Magic, and then proceeded to make any change you wanted!" Harry protested almost enthusiastically. "You would have had the entire female population following you around like puppies, and charmed the men into thinking you were Merlin reincarnated! They're nothing but sheep! They do what they're told and believe everything they hear!"

"I'm sure they would have allowed all Mudbloods to be barred from the magical world. And all the filthy Muggles exterminated," Voldemort retorted sardonically, regaining control of himself just in time to add the next ingredient into the cauldron. Thankfully the potion wasn't a complicated or time consuming one, and soon he would be able to prove Potter wrong. It was however, extremely expensive, due to several of the ingredients that were required within it.

"What is it with you and Muggles and Muggle-Borns?" Harry cried in exasperation. He looked around the lab until he found a seat and walked over to it. His ribs were killing him; he wouldn't remain standing much longer. Sitting down on the stool he continued watching Voldemort. Would the wizard answer him? He didn’t get it, Voldemort was a half-blood, like him.

Voldemort didn't answer him, deliberately ignoring the question; he did not have to answer to Potter. He didn't like the familiarity the boy had with his youngest Horcrux. He seemed very sure that he could have made the changes he wanted, aware of the inheritance he had, not that it was much. Just a Slytherin vault that the Gaunts mustn't have known about and of course the land and a few properties. They may have been Slytherin descendants, but they were stupid; they didn't even think to ask the goblins or enquire about potential vaults. Harry had even alluded to the fact his looks would have had women and men all hanging on to his every word. If he could get a hold of his diary, he would be able to collect the memories of his soul part even if the horcrux itself was 'dead'. If it was even possible, although if there was anything he knew about Dumbledore, it was that he would keep it 'safe' in his office. He was an old fool, predictable but powerful.

“The potion should be used for everyone entering the magical world,” Harry commented, his stomach grumbling hungrily. He was regretting his hasty decision to refrain from eating breakfast and lunch which had been brought to him.

"You won’t, it's one of the potions your precious Dumbledore made illegal in the late forties," Voldemort responded.

"He's not mine," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "Why?" what good would it do to make such a potion illegal? He’d brewed it, it was in no way difficult.

"Because it requires blood," Voldemort sneered, "He's made all potions that require blood illegal, even if the blood is required to be willingly given."

"Ever thought it was so he could continue the war?" Harry asked raising an eyebrow, crossing his arms, and examining both the potion and the dark wizard. "That potion would allow every single Muggle-Born to see that they had pureblood relatives; if the direct lines were gone, they could be in for a substantial inheritance. Dumbledore isn't stupid; he could have prevented the last war."

"You are extremely sure about that," Voldemort said acerbically. "Have you brewed this potion right under Dumbledore's nose?" That thought made him extremely gleeful, more than anything else had since his resurrection. Dumbledore thought he had the perfect little weapon; little did he know he was being played expertly by a fourteen-year-old, who had been playing the game since he was eleven. Sending the boy to the Dursleys to be abused was the single most stupid thing he could have done. The old bastard was under the impression that abuse makes people malleable, desperate for approval, easy to mould and control. He had severely miscalculated; abuse made you strong, defiant, unmovable as steel, and it was so easy for them to blend into their environment. In other words, Harry had adapted his behaviour to what the people at Hogwarts wanted to see, wanted him to be, like a chameleon changing his appearance.

"I have, with great difficulty," Harry said. "Especially seeing as my biggest concern was to stay under Dumbledore's radar until I could get away from both him and my relatives. Which meant my playing by his rules and only doing small things that would be seen as innocuous." What the fuck? Why had he just confessed that? Was he out of his mind? But Voldemort had already seen everything in his memories, so he was only telling him what he'd already seen. This was Voldemort! He'd wanted him dead for as long as he'd been alive.

Of course, Harry would underestimate the hold Voldemort had over his Death Eaters and how much he valued his own soul.

"Give me your hand," Voldemort demanded imperiously.

Harry gave him a look that suggested he was completely insane. He just knew if Voldemort had a nose, it would be flaring dangerously…but as it stood, he didn't have one ― which made him slightly more intimidating.

Hissing under his breath, he passed over the needle. "Three drops into the cauldron," Voldemort commanded, his red eyes warning Harry that he was pushing the limits. While the boy had a point to distrust him, he was beginning to tire and quite frankly he'd never been very patient. He was not going to allow Potter to realize how easily tired he was in this borrowed body. Hopefully Severus would bring the potions soon, so he could begin the ritual to reabsorb himself, the main soul fragment from one of his Horcruxes. This would give him his appearance at the age he had been at the time of creating whichever one he used. Snape was the only one he honestly trusted to brew the potion; not even he had the confidence to brew such a complicated potion.

Harry weighed the pros and cons of complying with Voldemort's order. He had nothing to lose; he wanted to prove his point and hopefully make Voldemort understand. Muggle-borns weren’t the problem, and frankly? He didn’t care enough to advocate muggles.

"Stubborn boy," hissed Voldemort, seconds away from cursing the brat; this had been his idea.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Harry snarled, his magic flaring and making his green eyes glow eerily, reminding Voldemort of the night he'd lost his body. Stepping up to the workbench, he prodded the needle into his thumb with more force than necessary, but Harry was used to pain; it didn't hurt all that much. What had he said? Three drops? Well, thought Harry, here goes, time to prove Voldemort wrong. Squeezing his thumb over the cauldron, he allowed the three falling drops of blood to blend into in the potion, turning it a vibrant red.

"Watch who you are talking to, Potter," Voldemort spat, breathing heavily, his wand clutched in his hand; of all the impudent things! He had the brass neck to talk to him that way? Oh, he was so very tempted to curse the boy, and wondered briefly when it would stop. Potter kept pushing his luck, and one day he would snap. He finally forced himself to calm down, still glaring at the unrepentant teenager who looked just as furious as him just because of the word boy. Then again, he had just been in the boy's memories; he had seen things, but it didn't mean he knew everything. He hadn't realized the word would spark such a fury in him. "Dumbledore calls you that all the time; as sickening as it is, you do not react so negatively to him."

"Do you know how hard it was to sit there with a smile on my face when all I wanted to do was punch that smug face and demand that he not call me that?" Harry grimaced, shuddering in disgust. “I knew if I asked him not to, he’d just do it all the more.”

Voldemort gave him a commiserating look, fully agreeing with that statement. It was regretfully all too true, he loathed his name, yet Dumbledore continued to call him by that name. Regardless of who paid the price for his insolence.

"Accio blank parchment!" Voldemort chanted, and as quickly as the summoned item flew at him, as he snatched it out of mid-air.

Voldemort sucked up some of the potion into a dropper, then as quickly as possible spread it across the top of the parchment. Immediately it hardened to a crust, as if it was wax and unable to stay in liquid form without heat. Voldemort tapped his wand against it, saying nothing, but sparks shot out of his wand indicating some sort of non-verbal magic had just been used. Immediately writing began to pen itself out on the parchment, bleeding down further to where it was still rolled up. The parchment got wider and longer as the text went along, accommodating itself for the apparently long family line that belonged to Harry Potter. Handing the competed parchment over, Voldemort didn't try to keep from smirking, he was so sure he would be on the receiving end of ten galleons soon.

Not that it was about the money, it was the principle of things.

Harry accepted the parchment scroll and unrolled it. He didn't pay any attention to his father's long line, but rather he studied the line belonging to his mother. The further up he got, the more he could sense the smugness oozing off Voldemort.

"Well?" Voldemort impatiently snapped when the boy continued to stare at the genealogy vacantly.

"You owe me ten galleons," Harry muttered, still searching for the name he knew to be there. Ah, hah! There it was, he set the name right bang in the middle so it was unmissable.

Voldemort came around the bench to see himself, convinced he was right despite the implications that Harry had already performed the lineage potion. His red eyes widened in frank astonishment when he saw where the boy was looking. The Potter family had been removed from the sacred registry for not being 'truly pureblood', but that was clearly a lot of drivel now. Lestrange; Harry Potter's maternal great-grandfather was a bloody Lestrange. He must have been adopted by the Evans family, since the next name that appeared was Marcus Evans, followed by Harold Evans, then Petunia and Lily Evans. To top it off, Potter's grandmother on his father's side was a Black; the Malfoys made an appearance up the Lestrange side as well. However, the Gaunts name caught his attention; he stared at his own name in disbelief. There were the Peverell brothers, and then the Slytherin line. So much for Potters being in Gryffindor as long as the line had been going. It might not even be due to the Horcrux that Harry had the ability to talk to snakes. They had turned out to be very, very distant cousins. So much for killing off his entire family... well, he had done for at least his immediate line.

Quite frankly, he didn't know what the hell to think. "This isn't to say it's the same for every Muggle-Born," Voldemort stated, not ready to totally concede the point just yet.

Harry grinned at him, and it took Voldemort a second to catch up on why, and he wanted to curse, he'd just said Muggle-Born! Glaring at the boy, he silently told him there would be swift retribution if he dared mention it to anyone or anything. "Still not ready to admit defeat?"

"Do you even know who the Lestrange’s are?" Voldemort sneered; his red eyes gleaming in triumph. Would the boy be so smug about all he'd learned when he found out they were his most loyal followers? Oh, the look on his face would be worth remembering, that was for sure.

"Yes, they tortured the Longbottom’s into insanity; they were sentenced to Azkaban for life for being Death Eaters…very loyal to you…they claimed rather loudly that you would be back and they'd be free. That you would reward them most faithfully for trying to find you; the Longbottom’s are purebloods!" Harry said pointedly.

"They are," agreed Voldemort. "How do you know what they said?"

"Dumbledore's pensieve," Harry smirked, his green eyes glinting deviously. "The sanctimonious old fool thought I got accidentally sucked into it."

Voldemort chuckled gleefully; he really was beginning to like this side of Potter very much.

"Even if I hadn't, you mentioned them in the graveyard. It wouldn't be hard to figure out they were Death Eaters," Harry pointed out.

"Do you have any idea how many of the sacred lines run through you?" Voldemort asked. He would have been desperate to get Potter on his side, with his lineage.

"Sacred?" Harry asked blankly.

"Yes, the name for what was thought to be the Twenty-eight pureblood families still 'pure', but the name Potter can be added right back to it," Voldemort stated. "The Lestrange’s are one of them, as are the Blacks and Malfoys and the Gaunts, which we are the last living descendants from. Sixteen of those families are loyal to me."

"I assume the four founders are part of that?" Harry frowned; Merlin, this pureblood mania was driving him insane.

"No," Voldemort stated. "There is a book written about it by Cantankerus Nott; you may read about it, if you wish."

Harry snorted, greatly amused by the horrific name. Still, he was interested in reading it, to see the situation from someone else's point of view despite the fact it differed from his own beliefs. Contrary to popular belief, he did love to read, and did so frequently, and it had resulted in a lot of lost sleep over the years. He did not dare to read the books he’d found in front of everyone. The room of requirement had proven to be wonderful place for educational reading materials.

Not much changed in the story yet, but I did change the fact Harry brewed the potion in secret and given an explanation as to how Harry knew a bit more information despite being under Dumbledore's nose :)

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 6

Voldemort drew the rune circle, using his blood in pure form from a large gash in his palm. Inside the runes with him was Ravenclaw's Diadem; this ritual and his Horcrux combined would give him the appearance of his thirty-year-old body, but none of his knowledge would be lost as it merged the two forms together. At least in theory it would, but he was extremely positive it would work― he had done all research. If there was anything he was good at, it would be just that. He would have preferred, but not liked, using his Diary, that would have given him half his soul back, but he was having to use the Diadem; he refused to look like a teenager, not that it was possible at any rate. The diary was lost to him unfortunately.

Taking a deep breath, he placed the uncorked potion just outside the rune space he'd created, yet within arm's reach so he could grab it when he needed it. Gripping his wand tightly, he began chanting. One by one each rune began to glow brightly, as if it was on fire, as each phrase of the chant reached its crescendo. Three minutes into the chant all the runes were alight with the fiery blue flames, but it touched nothing but the blood runes Voldemort had drawn up earlier.

Two minutes later a mist began to form around the Diadem, drifting to surround Voldemort briefly before going back into the Diadem. It continued with this cycle until the mist began to become larger each time it went back and forth, until an almighty cloud hovered over the Diadem... before slamming into Voldemort at an alarming pace.

Voldemort screamed in agony, dropping to his knees; he felt as though he was being torn apart again, just like he had that fateful Halloween night. Unbeknown to Voldemort, the other Horcruxes in his desk began to vibrate, but nothing emerged from them, they just felt the presence of their 'host' so close by. Muddled by the pain lancing through him, it took him a few seconds to realize he had to drink the potion…otherwise this torment was for nothing. He just didn't think he could move; no other magic was allowed to co-mingle with the ritual, so he couldn't summon it.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he almost doubled over in anguish just moving his arm but with determination his fingers curled around the unbreakable vial at last. Panting desperately, ignoring the sweat trickling down his body, he drew his arm up, his mouth opening both to take the potion and to scream as his bones protested very heavily at his actions. Gargling the potion, he almost spit it out with a muted scream, but he stopped himself by sheer force of will. He swallowed the contents as quickly as possible.

The transformation itself was less painful than his soul piece being reabsorbed; in fact, it was a bit like consuming Poly-Juice potion. His skin bubbled and changed; he was still the same height, but his very pale grey fingers and hands changed to a healthier colour; skin-coloured, but no less thin―he'd always had elegant, fine hands.

The runes which had just been on fire abruptly blew out as if a sharp wind had swept through the room. The ritual was done; taking a deep breath he wavered to his feet, and began to inspect himself, much like he had done in the Graveyard. Stepping up to the mirror he tentatively touched his cheek, his nose... he had a nose once more. Most importantly, he had his hair back; the only thing that had not changed, he realized, was his eyes. They were still that deep ruby red... he could live with that. No more disgust, no more delays in their plans; he would get his followers' loyalty back and ensure it one hundred percent, and at the same time show what happened to traitors.

Flicking his wand, the blood and the runes were gone leaving the room back in its normal state. Satisfied, he all but glided to his rooms, and settled himself for the evening.

Unfortunately, once he was safely ensconced in his bed, his mind wouldn't shut down and let him sleep. His mind kept wondering 'What if?', What if Potter was right? What if all Mudbloods were just descendants from pureblood lines? It meant they did belong in the magical world, but the true Muggles still posed a real danger to the magical world…and Mudbloods came from Muggles; their parents were Muggles, which was still a danger… Squibs shouldn't be allowed leave the magical world. They should remain, it would prevent more influxes of 'Muggle-Borns'. That didn't help all the squibs who'd left before…who knew when magic would spring forth in their families again? Why didn't all the children become magical if they had a pureblood ancestor? Like Potter's disgusting aunt. Oh, she would die, just as soon as he could get near the family. Potter was his, and nobody hurt what was his and got away with it (with the obvious exception of himself).

Just then Voldemort jumped from his bed as if he'd been scalded, as magic, extremely strong magic, coursed through him, through the manor, and oddly enough, he thought, Potter? Blood wards… impossible…. the blood wards couldn't have just been transferred here! He was the reason they'd been created in the first place… unless… unless they'd never truly held before…until now, for the first time. His declaration of Potter being his had inadvertently caused the wards to spontaneously settle here, of all places. He began to pace, extremely agitated; ever since Potter had shown up things were going wrong. Not bad wrong, just wrong in ways he didn't like.

Merlin, he just wanted to Obliviate the last few days from his mind, go back to the way he was before. His preconceived notions had been shot to hell, in more ways than one.

Albus Dumbledore lay in bed, thoroughly tired and exasperated. His name was being dragged through the mud; he was moments from losing his position as Wizengamot chief, just because he was trying to alert the world to the danger they were in once more. But that didn't bother him as much as the fact they were also smearing Harry's good name, after he had worked so hard to create Harry in the image of a beloved saviour.

He had put him with Muggles to make sure he was humbled, modest and meek, especially when it came to the public. And to build up his image even more, he had put the boy through trials, even setting him up to save the school so the students would tell their parents and news of how heroic he was would spread. Harry was perfect; he couldn't have made him any better if he'd tried harder. Which of course he hadn't, since that had been the Dursleys' job for ten years, and for every summer after he'd started at Hogwarts. He couldn't allow the boy to forget where he truly belonged, after all; he was nothing special, and Harry had to be reminded of that.

No, when the time came, the boy would sacrifice himself for the greater good, allowing him, the great Albus Dumbledore, to finish Voldemort off for good. He would get the praise and accolades while the world mourned their dead saviour, and continue to look to him to lead them. That was the only reason the boy had survived thus far― a dead hero was better than a living one, at least to him. He couldn't have everyone looking to Harry for leadership in the end, now, could he? Not with how malleable the boy was; he could make everything Albus had done for nothing.

The only thing that really irritated him was Minerva' constant harassment about Harry's living situation. For the past thirteen years she'd gone on about it; that the Dursleys were the worst sort of Muggles, how Harry was far too skinny when he came back to school each time, and his clothes weren't exactly right. Fortunately, with the changing times, Muggles now liked wearing their clothes baggy; hence he was able to get out of that one. Not that it mattered, she'd never let it drop; his only consolation was she fussed about this to him in private. He couldn't let anyone else begin to doubt Harry's living situation. And although he had heard talking here and there that concerned him, he would deal with it soon enough.

He did contemplate bringing the boy to Hogwarts for safety, the Ministry was moving against them, and he knew what they were capable of. He would think on it later, right now he had to allow the wards time to replenish to keep the blood magic appeased and stronger than ever. They were pretty much useless now that Voldemort had Potters' blood running through his veins, but it would still stop Voldemort and the Death Eaters from getting anywhere near Privet Drive. That was the main thing; if he thought for a second that breaking the blood wards would weaken Voldemort, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The Order would keep an eye on the goings-on in the Ministry, and if anything got out of hand, he'd bring the boy to safety. He sincerely hoped nothing happened, with all else that was going on; he really didn't want to have to keep an eye on a soon-to-be fifteen-year-old boy. The Order was doing everything they could to get people to join, to see that Voldemort was back; regretfully they weren't having much success. Alastor had gotten three Aurors onside, they were very promising and he was grateful for that.

Glancing at the time, he sighed softly, it was so unbelievably late. Closing his eyes, Albus began to meditate and make sure his mind shields were fully up, giving him peace from all his thoughts and worries. But his mind quieted down at last, and he was just drifting off to sleep when a bright white light caused him to startle slightly. Wide eyed and fully awake now, he sat up. It was a Patronus Message, and it had to be from someone in the Order. Why would they be getting in touch with him so late?

'The wards on Potter's house have disappeared,' the Patronus said in Shacklebolt's voice before it disappeared, leaving the room in shocked darkness.

What the hell? thought Albus, staring dumbly at the space where the Lynx Patronus had been just moments ago. When his mind finally processed the message, he jumped from the bed and hastily began to dress. Not even bothering to remove his nightwear, he just placing a closed cloak over them. Rushing out of his quarters, he closed the door and hastily descended the spiralling stairs in the dark. Only once he was at the bottom did he wave his hands, and his office lit up brightly.

"Fawkes, take us to Privet Drive, immediately!" Dumbledore called out urgently.

Fawkes trilled, calming his human down, before spreading his magnificent wings. He took fight briefly before landing on the headmaster, then flaming them from the office to where he had been asked to go.

"Headmaster, what is going on?" Arabella Figg asked as she stared at him in surprise before jumping up from her daisy covered couch. Her cats stared at him before going back to napping; it was night time, after all. She had just been ready to go to bed herself... quite literally, since she'd just turned her TV off.

"The wards have come down," Albus declared, saying nothing else. Fawkes disappeared in a flash of flames as Albus left the squib's home. The old wizard ran down Wisteria Walk, making his way to Privet Drive with haste; he couldn't allow anything to happen to his weapon. He was Voldemort's Horcrux, and only Voldemort could kill him. It was imperative that it was him who did the deed. Since the Dark Lord believed the prophecy, Albus knew that wouldn't be a problem, but he didn't want the boy dead yet, not when the war was just beginning. He needed the boy's aid to help with recruitment for the Order; he brought people hope by just being who he was. If he died, people would lose hope; they wouldn't join him in his quest to bring an end to the darkness.

Wand out now, he approached Privet Drive cautiously, but he was surprised to find that there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. No Dark Mark, no Death Eaters, no Voldemort; the area was in darkness. Some houses were still lit like a beacon, but... nothing. Flicking his wand, he realized it was true; the wards were gone. What on earth had happened? If Petunia had done something stupid, he would make sure it was the last thing she did.

"Kingsley?" Albus whispered, looking around the area in front of number four, where Kingsley was keeping watch over the property.

"I'm here," the Auror answered, removing the cloak keeping him invisible to everyone.

"What happened?" demanded the headmaster.

"I was watching the house as usual, when I felt as though thunder was going through me; the wards caused a backlash," Shacklebolt said while rubbing at his chest as if it pained him. It was a good job the wards hadn't been more powerful; he dreaded to think what would have happened in that case. The probability of his heart stopping due to the magical flux was extremely high. "When I came around, the wards were gone. I cannot feel anything."

"Is Harry still inside?" Albus asked, playing the concerned headmaster. Nobody would ever find out he was more than willing for Potter to die to end the war. They loved the boy too greatly to forgive even him if they found out; no, it was a secret that would die with him. Which would definitely be decades after Potter. What the world didn't know... wouldn't hurt them.

"He should be, but I've not seen him," Shacklebolt admitted. "I was only unconscious for a few seconds until the wards snapped completely." He would never admit how painful it had been, and that the only thing keeping him still standing upright was his sheer stubborn pride.

Making a small noise of agreement, Dumbledore moved onto the house's front step, deeply concerned. The wards should never have broken like that; there was something going on, something he'd missed. He'd impressed the importance of maintaining the wards to both Petunia and Harry; neither would have dared disobey him. Opening the letter box, he pressed his wand inside and chanted out a spell to let him know how many inhabitants were in the dwelling at number four Privet Drive. He expected four to be the total; after all, there had been no attack, he just had to figure out what happened to the wards.

Yet the results were extremely alarming, only three people were in the building. He calmed himself down; just because there were only three people here, it didn't mean anything. Perhaps the husband was out, or the son; there was nothing to say Harry wasn't there. "Point me, Harry Potter!" Dumbledore stated calmly. When his wand didn't even twitch... he became rightfully alarmed.

"Point me, Harry Potter!" Dumbledore declared once more a little louder, but again nothing happened.

"He isn't here," Dumbledore admitted, and the boy was obviously out of range for the spell to pick up his magical signature. This was not good news, not good at all.

"He has to be. He hasn't left the property, not on my watch," Shacklebolt objected; he hadn't been outwitted by a fourteen-year-old, he knew that much.

"Alohomora!" Albus muttered, letting himself into the house, not seeing it as breaking and entering―after all, he was Albus Dumbledore.

"Lumos!" Shacklebolt chanted, giving themselves some light as the two wizards began moving around the main floor of the house, checking for any signs of something having gone wrong. Maybe Harry had been killed in the backlash of the wards coming down? The thought left Kingsley cold, but there was no sign of anyone down here. They were probably asleep; it was late. "Downstairs is clear," he whispered so as not to wake the Muggles up.

"Let's check his bedroom," Albus said, before he began to make his way up the stairs. The climb took no time at all, as the house was small. Well, at least compared to Hogwarts and all the stairs they had to climb every day. He was utterly perplexed; where was the boy? He couldn't have gotten past the Order members.

"What the hell?" Shacklebolt muttered on seeing all the locks; why did they have a dozen locks on the door? Not that they were intact, in fact they weren't even latched. Pushing the door open, his wand waved around the room, which was bare. It was squalor. The room was disgusting, dusty and just extremely shabby, especially when compared to the rest of the house. Considering the boy didn't spend much time here, he might understand why it was bare, but the griminess of it was truly disturbing. "It doesn't even look like it's been used lately; we need to inform the Order, Albus, and find out when they last saw him."

"Yes, we do," Dumbledore agreed looking around. None of this place screamed that a wizard lived there. His trunk and possessions weren't even there. Had the boy run away? When he got his hands on the boy, young Harry would rue the day he decided to try and neglect his duties. He didn't dare wake the Muggles up, so he would have to wait until tomorrow morning to speak to Petunia. He didn't have the same thoughts for the rest of the Order though, as he quickly removed the coin from his pocket and scheduled an emergency meeting.

They had to begin looking for Potter straight away before it was too late.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Tonks asked as she rubbed her sleepy eyes, slumping down on the at least clean chair in the dirty townhouse, aptly named Grimmauld Place. To think her mother had often been here to see her 'aunt' or cousins, Reg and Sirius... Oh, she knew a lot of tales, and they usually made her smile. Not tonight though, since she'd just gotten off a twelve-hour shift at the Ministry one hour ago, only to have to make her way here.

"No," Remus replied, shaking his head. He'd made coffee for everyone; it was sitting on the table for them to help themselves. He'd received the meeting notice half an hour ago, but he was already staying in Grimmauld Place anyway so he hadn't had to travel. He had a lot of apologising and catching up to do with Sirius, after all.

"Who's missing?" Tonks wondered, looking around to count heads. Snape, Shacklebolt and Dumbledore; they were the only ones who had yet to make an appearance, she saw.

"Does anyone want some biscuits?" Molly asked, tamping down the urge to do something, anything. She was always anxious these days, despite the fact her family was completely safe here in Grimmauld Place, along with Hermione Granger. The kids were fast asleep, not that they would hear anything since Albus put pretty strong wards up to keep their meetings a secret.

"No thanks," various voices murmured tiredly.

"How long do we need to sit here for?" Charlie asked his father; he had just gotten here from Romania to help with the war and was exhausted.

"Not long," Arthur assured him. "If you want go back to bed, I'll let you know what happen―" he cut himself off as the headmaster, Severus, and Shacklebolt made their appearance through the kitchen door. The wards were promptly thrown up by a worried looking Dumbledore. Arthur Weasley wasn't used to seeing the headmaster looking anything but sure of himself, so he was quite rightfully alarmed by it. Severus moved into the corner, arms crossed as he stared at nothing in particular and looking to be in an even worse mood than usual. Severus did look more exhausted than the rest of them, probably due to his duties; Arthur couldn't help but feel sympathy for the wizard. It couldn't be easy facing You-Know-Who and lying to him successfully on a routine basis.

"Who was the last person to see Harry Potter?" Dumbledore demanded, not even taking a seat; he stayed standing at the head of the table staring at them grimly. He was speaking solely to those who had been on Potter-watch duty.

"Well…I saw him the second day of the holiday, doing the gardening," said Dedalus Diggle a thoughtful look upon his face.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked urgently. What was wrong with his godson? Quite alarmed by the way Dumbledore was talking.

"Has anyone seen him the last few days?" Dumbledore asked ignoring Black, deceptively calm.

The silence spoke volumes as they looked at each other.

"Where is Harry?" Sirius shouted; he did not like being ignored. "Is he alright?" he refused to let Dumbledore ignore him. Not when it came to Harry and his safety.

"He is…missing," Dumbledore cautiously said. "The wards around Privet Drive have disappeared this evening."

Suddenly everyone who had been tired and sleepy ... discovered that they weren't feeling so tired after all. That grim news had certainly woken them up, injecting fear into their systems.

"What would cause them to disappear?" Molly asked worriedly, wringing her hands together as her fear grew. Harry was the only hope they had of surviving this war, what if something happened to him?

"They shouldn't have, that's the problem," Shacklebolt said, evading her question somewhat.

"What do we do? Start looking for him?" Doge asked, sitting up straighter, as always willing to do his bit to help the great and powerful Dumbledore.

"It's too late right now, we have no idea where he could be, and cannot search the Muggle world in the dark. I will ask Tom if he's seen Harry at the Leaky Cauldron ― hopefully he has gone there," Albus said, taking back control of the meeting. Everyone knew that the boy had done that the last time he'd run off. He would also be summoning the Knight Bus, to ensure Harry hadn't used the bus service to go anywhere else.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing while he's out there alone," Sirius cried, worried for his godson. He needed to be out there helping look for him. Merlin, he hoped Harry was alright, he prayed he was.

"Sirius, there is nothing we can do right now. We have to be smart and cautious about this; we must remain calm. He has no doubt gone to the Leaky Cauldron like he did before," Minerva said, agreeing with Dumbledore and supporting him like she always did in public. "Albus is right, Tom will know."

Sirius grudgingly nodded his head, his godson had done that the last time, after all, so he saw no reason why Harry wouldn't do it again. Why had he left Privet Drive to begin with? Didn't he understand the bloody dangers out there now, with Voldemort back? "When we find him, can he stay here?" Sirius asked, his voice hopeful.

"No, he will be going back to his aunt and uncle," Dumbledore immediately declared.

Sirius just shook his head without replying, giving in, and not demanding anything further. He knew regardless of what he said that Dumbledore would get his way. He was tired of it, but what could he do? He was a wanted wizard, without Dumbledore's help he would know nothing of what was going on. This was better than the alternative. Although, he hoped Dumbledore changed his mind. He wanted his godson here, safe, with him.

"I'll begin searching for him in the muggle world as soon as it's light enough," Remus volunteered.

"I'll help!" Tonks said, always eager to help, "I'll be fine as long as I get to the Ministry on time for my shift."

"Good," Albus said agreeably, "I'll call another meeting later, hopefully by then Harry will have been found." His mind wasn't as easily calmed as his sheep were, though. Although, it was obvious that Harry had left on his own accord, his trunk and owl cage was gone. If the boy had been kidnapped, he certainly wouldn't have had his things taken with him. He was just worried what could happen if they didn't find the stupid boy first. He had to keep this very quiet, he dared not risk the other side becoming aware.

"Should I go to the Burrow in case Harry decides to go there?" asked Molly.

"No, it's unsafe to go there, you know that," Albus said immediately. He didn't want her dying on him and leaving him to deal with her heartbroken family; they would be no use to him grieving. Or worse, the remaining Weasley's deciding to back away from the relative safety of Grimmauld Place and the war. They were too useful to him for that to be acceptable. Especially the elder of the Weasley's.

"Why don't you just write to the boy?" Severus suggested sardonically, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. They were idiots, the lot of them. Making mountains of molehills, he was too exhausted for this stupidity.

"I will," Dumbledore said, twitching in irritation at the tone of Severus' voice; he didn't appreciate it at all. He put up with a lot to keep the dark wizard close, since Snape was one of the few Order members to bring really decent information to the table, due to his spying on Voldemort. He kept them one step ahead, otherwise he would have ensured a timely demise for the snide git. The Potions master had brought a lot of trouble to him over the years, especially with the way he treated the students. He could say nothing against it either, since that was exactly how he wanted Snape treating Potter.

"Do we tell the children?" Arthur asked, not sure what he could say to Ron ― how did you tell your son that his best friend had disappeared off the face of the earth?

"Nobody else can know; the more people who do, the more chance of the dark side finding out. That cannot happen; we must get him back," Dumbledore said almost violently at the thought of other people finding out.

"Alright," soothed Arthur, trying to calm the seemingly unhinged powerful wizard down.

"Keep your coins close by," Dumbledore demanded before he quickly Apparated away. He had to speak to Tom immediately. He could not delay; he must be found at once.

Severus was the first to follow Dumbledore's lead and apparated away; he had no desire to spend any time with the idiots in the Order. He returned to Hogwarts, and made his way to his quarters for some rest. He hadn't promised to help them look for the boy, and had no intentions of doing so anyway.

The Leaky Cauldron was always open, it was the pathway between the Muggle and Magical world, so it was an important establishment. Although, you wouldn't think so just looking at it, and luckily Muggles couldn't, not unless they were with someone magical, of course. Tom wasn't on at all hours though; he had someone working for him during the night for those patrons that needed anything. They didn't serve food during the night ―the kitchens were closed― but they still sold alcohol.

"Is Tom available?" Dumbledore asked, wasting no time.

"No, sorry, he's not," the young wizard replied, barely looking up from his current task.

"I need to speak to him; it's urgent," Dumbledore stated sharply, in no mood to play around. "Tell him Albus Dumbledore needs him." Tom stayed in the Leaky Cauldron; it was his home as well as his job. It had been in the family for two generations, and Albus had known the owner since he was a little boy, clambering around the pub, talking to the patrons.

"Yes, sir," was the night man's swift reply, and then he was moving towards the office and opening the door. The other door on the far side of the office led to Tom's private rooms; he'd never had to disturb him before, so he was a little hesitant.

Knocking on the door firmly, he waited with bated breath.

"Who's there?" came the groggy reply.

"It's Ross, sir, Albus Dumbledore said he need to speak with you, it's urgent," the young wizard tentatively replied.

"I'm coming," Tom said right away, "Let him know I'll be there momentarily."

"Yes, sir!" Ross said immediately, scampering off to tell the wizard what Tom had asked of him.

"He will be with you in a minute, sir," Ross said upon finding the wizard still waiting.

Albus nodded grimly, giving no other thanks or recognition for what the young wizard had done. Waiting impatiently for Tom to make an appearance, each second felt like hours to him; he was feeling at the end of his tether. He didn't think he would get any sleep tonight; he was far too worried about his weapon to rest. Sighing inaudibly, Albus couldn't help wishing he had just kept an even closer eye on the boy; sometimes he was more trouble than he was worth. If he wasn't so important to his plans, he'd leave the brat to make his own way, danger and all; it would be nothing more than he deserved.

"Albus? What can I do for you?" Tom asked, appearing from the office doorway and staring at the headmaster in obvious concern. His appearance slightly ruffled, in his haste to dress and see to the headmaster.

"I need to speak to you in private," Albus said, not wishing for the other wizard to overhear them.

"Of course; take a break," Tom said to Ross, flicking his wand and casting a privacy bubble around them without even waiting for Ross' reply. "What's wrong?" he was far more powerful than people gave him credit, even Dumbledore, who watched a little impressed.

"Have you seen Harry Potter lately?" Albus urgently asked.

"Harry? No, I've not seen him for a year now," Tom answered; the last time he had seen him was when he had come to them from the Knight bus. Gave everyone a right scare, the boy had, disappearing when the infamous Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban prison.

"Are you absolutely positive?" Dumbledore urgently pressed.

"Yes, in times like these I always demand ID; he hasn't come here…has he gone missing?" Tom asked, concerned for the little boy he remembered so well.

"Yes, but you cannot speak of this," Albus gravely told him.

"Of course, you can count on me; if he does appear here, I'll let you know at once," Tom reassured the genial headmaster, so concerned now for his missing student. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have considered doing such a thing. However, everyone knew he wasn't just Harry's headmaster but also his magical guardian.

"Thank you, Tom," Albus gratefully said, his grandfatherly mask firmly in place.

"I'll keep an eye out," Tom added, after a few seconds of silence, Albus just stared behind him, lost in thought. Unlike everyone else, Tom believed Harry and Albus about the fact You-Know-Who had returned.

Albus nodded before apparating away, to the wards of Hogwarts. Then removing his wand, he slashed it down in a downward motion. Seconds later the large purple tripe-Decker was in front of him, and Stan was giving his speech about the bus.

"Have you had Harry Potter on this bus?" Dumbledore firmly inquired, cutting off the wizard in mid-spiel, having no interest in anything he had to say.

"Potter? No, he hasn't called the bus," Stan said, looking at the elderly wizard in confusion.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked again, keeping the desperation from his voice.

"Yes, sir," said both Stan and Ernie, staring at Dumbledore now in apparent interest.

"You've picked nobody up at Privet Drive or its surrounding streets?" Dumbledore questioned.

They both shook their head, not sure how many times they'd need to say it. They hadn't picked Harry Potter up. He'd gotten away with it the first time, but they both knew now what he looked like.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said before twisting away and storming off towards the school. Just wait until he got his hands on the boy, he would regret it deeply. In fact, he wanted so badly to send him a howler... But he couldn't risk him being in a Muggle environment; an owl would just have to do. If it came to that, he would just follow the owl and see if he could get his hands on the boy that way. Stupid boy, always interfering and messing up perfectly good plans; why, of all people, had it had to be him? Even Longbottom would have been preferable; at least that boy did what he was told.

There we are, hopefully with a bit more free time I'll get more chapters posted per day so it's uploaded altogether sooner :) this was just spelling mistakes and such that were edited nothing big x

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 7

Severus sat in his rooms, which were deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, a place that had always been a sanctuary for him. Nobody came down here, not even Albus Dumbledore, although he would Floo call him from time to time, but mostly he just used Patronus Messaging. He had created the idea during the last war, or at least he was taking credit for it. For all he knew, Albus had taken credit for someone else's work; he wouldn't put it past the old hypocrite. Severus sat swirling the tumbler of whiskey in his hand, his face utterly conflicted as he stared into the flickering flames of the fire, not really seeing it in front of him.

He had absolutely no idea what to do. It was obvious the Dark Lord didn't have Harry; if he did, he would have called all the Death Eaters together once more. At least he assumed the Dark Lord would have called, he would want to show that Harry escaping more than once was just sheer happenstance ―blind luck― and that he always got his way in the end. It had been something he admired about the Dark Lord, his tenacity; he was willing to go to any lengths necessary to get what he wanted. That was, he'd admired it until his Lord began hunting down toddlers because of a stupid seer's words. He was so conflicted; his loyalty had always been to the Dark side. He was a dark wizard, it was…natural to him. But so many books, spells, and potions had been adjudged 'dark' just because of ignorance and fear. Of course, this was just on the British Isles; everywhere else wizards freely practiced Dark Magic. Durmstrang was a perfect example; they had actual defence classes, not just the rubbish they taught here.

His brow furrowed as he tried to work out what was going on with the Dark Lord; he had been acting very…curious since his return. Not curious as if he was doing things differently, it was the questions he'd asked, and the potions he'd requested. The Dark Lord had never been a vain man, as evidenced by his deteriorating looks over the past few decades before his downfall. The Dark Lord certainly wasn't malnourished, so he had no real reason for those potions either.

He knew it was only a matter of time before word got out about Harry's disappearance. This left him in a very tight spot; did he tell the Dark Lord and risk him finding the boy he was doing his hardest to protect? Or did he keep silent and end up cursed into next week for failing to inform him? With that was the very real possibility of falling totally out of favour and having the Dark Lord kill him as a traitor. Which he would be in that case. Not to the cause; the cause was always his own, close to his heart. Muggles should never know about magic, and he should be able to freely brew whatever potion he felt like, without 'breaking the law' just because some idiot had come along and labelled it 'dangerous'.

Raising his empty hand, he rubbed at his temples, feeling torn in two. This couldn't continue, it had almost torn him apart over the year he'd had to endure it last time. Even then he had felt as though he was betraying all that he was, all that he would ever be. He wasn't a light wizard, but unfortunately his ties to the past kept him precariously teetering on a thin line of rope.

Dumbledore of course had been so eager to have someone so far up in the enemy's ranks in his flimsy Order that he'd tried to emotionally blackmail him into it. He had allowed the old coot to think that he'd succeeded, but he'd always made sure that the information he passed along was nothing that could bring the Dark side down. Even during that time, the other Order members were just a bunch of sitting ducks, getting picked off one at a time. He'd watched their pained faces, mourning the loss of each member as the organization slowly all but crumbled. Then the worst thing imaginable happened: not only had the Dark Lord died, he had taken out the one thing, the one person Severus cared about before being disembodied.

He had assumed Dumbledore would have had him arrested with everyone else, until he realized that Dumbledore somehow knew the Dark Lord would be back. He had sworn a Vow while in a tight spot, swearing to keep Harry safe. It was just too bad the boy was as light as they came, since the Vow would have been negated if Harry didn't want help to defeat the Dark Lord. No, he was now in a tighter jam than ever. He wished he could trust the Dark Lord to tell him everything. Unfortunately, he was just…too far gone, too obsessed with the prophecy and killing Harry, instead of trying to convert him to their side. The thought of it happening now though was laughable; the Dark Lord had killed the boy's parents, and had tried to kill Harry numerous times over the years. That and for the fundamental reason that he'd gone after a one-year-old baby. A magical child, which was the ultimate sin one could commit in a pureblood world.

Gulping down the whisky, Snape realized that the cube of ice was already gone, indicating how long he'd spent lost in thought. He still had no idea of what the blasted hell he was going to do. Severus didn't so much as react to the burn surging down his throat; the clink of the class hitting the arm of his chair and the crackling of the fire was all that could be heard. Why the hell did the Dark Lord have to believe in a stupid prophecy? And why the hell did Lily have to be so bloody damn pure and honest and good ― joining the Order which had sent this entire situation down this path. He didn't have any faith in predictions; you chose your own path, which in a way was exactly what the Dark Lord had done. He had chosen to go after Harry, and this was the results of it.

Where was the damn boy? Why run away? Why now? The boy wasn't scared of anything. It was quite frankly infuriating how fearless he was; it had made him utterly impossible to protect. For some reason he didn't think the boy had run away; if he had planned on doing so, he wouldn't have waited until now, he would have done it years ago, surely? Unless the pressure was getting too much for him; everyone seemed to forget he was just a fourteen-year-old boy. He too would have buckled under the pressure of being expected to face such a powerful wizard at such a young age. Still, this was so out of character for Harry that he just couldn't believe it. If he wanted to stay away, Severus would help him, he just wanted to know he was safe.

Groaning under his breath, he stood up, unaffected by the alcohol, or rather not impaired; he'd only had two glasses spaced out over so many hours, he honestly hadn't kept track. Flicking out the flames burning in the fireplace, he carefully ensured they was thoroughly doused. Grasping a handful of Floo Powder, he stepped into the fireplace and yelled in his destination: "Spinners End!"

It wasn't long before he was standing in his childhood home; everything was covered in a small layer of dust that had accumulated while he was away. He didn't linger long, merely regained his footing before he Apparated to his next destination. Now there was no way for Dumbledore to trace him to there; to Spinners End, yes, but not to the Dark Lord's hideout.

Taking a deep breath, inwardly he was unable to believe what he was about to do. The urge to backtrack and return to Hogwarts was strong. If he told the Dark Lord and Voldemort found Harry first, he really didn't know what he would do. Looking back wistfully, he summoned up his steely courage and resolve. The Dark Lord knew he was here now, he would have been alerted the second he Apparated onto his land. Stepping forward, Snape suddenly stopped in confusion. Rippling tendrils of his magic out, he was surprised to feel blood wards on the property. He could sense something vaguely familiar about them, or the magic itself, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. Regardless of that, he could feel the wards humming... welcoming him into the property? Baffled to the core, he stalked up the path and into the building, not sparing another glance at his surroundings as he walked with purpose towards the hall the Dark Lord used to greet them in. His mind was still dwelling on the wards; there was something going on, he just couldn't put his finger on what.

Severus entered the room, his gaze falling on the figure in the middle, sitting on the Lord's seat. His jaw unhinged momentarily before he regained his iron-clad composure. He could scarcely believe his eyes: it was not Lord Voldemort standing in front of him... no, it was Tom Riddle. Somehow, someway, the wizard he'd only heard about, and whom the elder generation had revered was back. His heart thumped dangerously fast in his chest; if the Dark Lord was sane…and went back to his old goals…this was going to tear him apart. Well, more than it already was. Breathing deeply, he tried to steady himself; unfortunately, sane or not, he would continue going after Harry.

In fact, the Dark Lord looked to be as deep in thought as Snape had been just ten minutes prior.

"You have news, Severus?" Tom demanded. His snake-like quality might be gone, but the demanding steely undertone was very much still present. He might look different but those red eyes could still burn holes in you without any effort whatsoever.

"Harry Potter has gone missing from his home," Severus managed to get out without stuttering, feeling as though his heart was about to explode. He had actually done it; he prayed that the Order somehow managed to find the boy before the Dark Lord did. He hated this feeling of confliction; at this rate he was going to go grey before he turned forty.

"Missing?" Tom repeated. Well of course that was what they would think. After all, the House-elf had brought boy's possessions to the manor. He had gone through them thoroughly to remove the tracking charms that had been placed on various items. The first item he'd discovered to be spelled was the boy's glasses; he had to admit he would have placed one on those too. There had been others placed on Potter's invisibility cloak, his owl, and last but no means least, the photo album which he had not opened, allowing the boy that much privacy at least.

"Yes, My Lord," Severus respectfully confirmed, surprised when no move was made to start searching for Harry. What was he missing? He was receiving jarringly fragmented pieces of puzzles, unfamiliar attitudes; had he somehow slipped into an alternative universe?

"I see," Tom said, remaining calm, taking delight in the obvious confusion and wariness he could feel coming from Severus. "Anything else?"

"Nothing. The Order will begin scouring both the magical and muggle worlds to look for him," Severus stated, sneering out the word muggle with distaste and heavy disdain. There would never be love lost between him and a muggle; he loathed them all, not necessarily enough to kill them, but he'd rather never go near one.

"Keep me appraised, and I will send a House-elf for the potions I requested in twenty minutes," Tom curtly replied. "Now go, before he gets suspicious." Dumbledore believed that Severus or any of his Death Eaters only came when called after all.

"My Lord," Severus said, nodding curtly before he turned and left the way he came.

Lord Voldemort watched him leave; blood red eyes boring into his back. He wanted to trust Severus, and he really did. If there was anyone whom he could feel kinship with, it would be that wizard, maybe even Potter as well. Three wizards with muggle blood in their veins, three of the most powerful wizards in the magical world…muggle-borns who could potentially have magical ancestors. He hadn't wished to believe it, yet the evidence was staring him in the face; he needed further proof though. He needed the blood of some muggle-borns to test, to see if there was magical blood in their veins.

Who would have thought love would somehow enable people to change their beliefs more thoroughly than fear could? He had always considered it a weakness, but now he realised it was what motivated most people. It was the same reason that stopped his most loyal from coming to him when he needed their help most. Oh, he wanted to believe they thought him dead, but that wasn't true, his mark had still been present; faded, true enough, but still there, proving he was still alive. But they had been too terrified of his ways to find him and continue with the quest they had all at one point believed in.

He would have to change, he realized, if he were to have any hope of his most loyal remaining that way... if they even were still loyal now, or just serving out of fear. He couldn't help but curl his lip; he wasn't a man fond of change, in fact he loathed the very thought of it, but to get things back to the way they were, without the prophecy clouding his vision... It would take time for them to trust him again.

Harry groaned weakly, sitting himself up as he rubbed at his temples. He felt as though Dementors were circling around him; with the obvious exception of not being cold he exhibited all the other symptoms of their presence. He felt like they'd been sucking the life out of him; straining inwardly, he realized it wasn't life he felt drained of... but his magic? What the hell had happened last night? He had proved to Voldemort that his mother wasn't a 'muggle-born' witch, but a descendant of magical people. The Lestrange's at that. He had noticed Voldemort's shock at the appearance of the 'Gaunt' family; clearly, he hadn't known they were actually related.

Standing up, he had to hold onto the wall as a dizzy spell hit him. Harry concentrated on breathing evenly as he squinted to see around himself as always without the aid of his glasses. He had expected to be escorted back to the cell he'd been in before, when Voldemort had had enough of him, or rather, just got too exasperated and angry to be anywhere near him. He was actually surprised he hadn't been cursed; Voldemort must be losing his touch, not that he'd ever tell him that. Instead, he had been shown into a very…luxurious room, and he hated to admit it but it oozed wealth. There was a queen-sized four poster bed beside a sliding door that opened out into a balcony. A bathroom next to it, a built-in walk-in cupboard... it was the kind of place he'd always imagined owning some day in his dreams of when he was free of the Dursleys. Other than the bed it was empty though; everything looked brand new, as if it had just been bought. The wood still had that new smell to it, as did the bedding.

The bedroom door was open, he noticed that it didn't even have a lock, not that he was surprised; even if it had one, it would be easily unlocked. It was a simple spell; one he'd known even at the age of eleven: 'Alohomora' he thought to himself. He poked his head out the door and looked towards both ends of the corridor cautiously, expecting who knows what to be lurking there, but nothing, not even a sound could be heard. As he made his way down the corridor, he went back to his original though, what had happened last night? A frown appeared on his face as he continued to walk; there was a very familiar feel to this place, a feel that shouldn't be there.

Just as he was about to open the last door, he finally realized what it was that he now sensed: the blood wards! The wards that had kept him 'safe' in Privet Drive. What the hell were they doing here? Why had it affected his magic? Why would they protect this house? They were supposed to protect him from the only other person that was here! He could actually feel them in a way he had never in Privet Drive.

"Come in, Potter," Tom demanded.

Harry shuddered at the feeling of déjà vu he experienced, flashing back to the dream he'd had last year on, quite frankly, almost this very day. The dream where the snake, Nagini, was telling Voldemort that a muggle was at the other side of the door... before he killed Franks. He was just someone who had been looking after the property even after the Riddles had died. Harry understood why he had been able to see out of Nagini now; he was a Horcrux, just like Nagini was. They were connected to each other, just like he was connected to Voldemort.

Harry opened the door reluctantly, finding himself in some sort of hall, which was doubling as a dining room apparently. There were plates full of breakfast foods lying on the table, and his nose caught the smell of it all, causing his stomach to rumble hungrily. Then his half blind eyes caught sight of Voldemort, causing him to freeze, and gulp loudly. Holy shit, thought Harry to himself, as an unfamiliar emotion swelled through him but left just as quickly. He continued to stare at the wizard dumbly.

What. The. Fucking. Hell. Was. Going. On? Harry thought, feeling as though he was going insane. Voldemort was changing his looks and attitude faster than Draco Malfoy went through new robes. It was like looking at an older version of the teenager from the Diary Horcrux during his second year.

"Lost for words, Potter?" Voldemort asked, smirking in satisfaction. As always, it was amusing being able to elicit genuine emotions from the boy. Harry was squinting to see properly; it was the first time he'd noticed it, perhaps because the boy had infuriated him too much for him to notice before.

"No," Harry said, immediately snapping into gear, glaring at Voldemort for good measure and arching an eyebrow at the hand that twitched.

"Drink these," Voldemort commanded, placing three vials of potions on the table beside him.

Harry wasn't inclined to do what he was told... especially considering he was being held captive by Voldemort. Yet his mind returned to what had happened in the dungeons what felt like days ago.

"I do have other means at my disposal to ensure they are taken, Potter, and I guarantee you won't like any of them," Voldemort snarled, his patience completely gone. To damn bad the Imperius curse wouldn't work; it had been humiliating when the boy had successfully broken out of his curse, and in front of his Death Eaters no less. Inwardly he knew it had nothing to do with magical prowess, but rather with the boy's mental state; his mind was unyielding. He would find Occlumency and Legilimency a piece of cake, of that he had no doubt. "I think I've proven by now that I do not want you dead, otherwise you would be."

"What are they?" Harry asked; none of them looked familiar to him.

He was seriously reconsidering having let Potter out of that cell; did he grate on everyone's nerves like he did his?

"One will correct your eyesight, another will heal your injuries, and the last one will give your body the nutrients you've been missing thanks to those despicable muggles," Voldemort replied, spitting muggles out as if it was the nastiest of words.

Correct his eyesight? He liked the sound of that… "Let me guess: the potion to correct my eyesight is illegal?" Harry asked sounding indignant.

"It's also extremely complicated and expensive, only a few Potion Masters can even brew it," Voldemort explained; was that anger he heard at the unfairness of potions being termed illegal? Perhaps it wouldn't take much to turn Potter to him after all.

Snape was Harry's immediate thought; he knew he was right without even having to wonder. Which meant what? That Snape was really on Voldemort's side? Or was he really spying? Did he dare drink the potion? What if there was something wrong with it? No, he doubted Snape would mess up a potion intentionally; he wouldn't risk his cover or Voldemort's wrath this soon in the game of war that was currently brewing on the horizon. He had no choice anyway; he wasn't under any illusions that he really had a choice. Voldemort would force him to drink them one way or another; he still couldn't get used to the fact Voldemort wanted him kept alive! Still, it was better than being hunted by him, he mused quietly, especially considering he really didn't want to fight him. It didn't mean he wanted to be stuck here though, but as he'd already thought several times before ― where else could he go?

Tom stalked up the stairs to where his most loyal follower was currently healing from the mental damage done to him after spending over a decade under his father's Imperius Curse. For a wizard who hadn't been in Azkaban, he was in very bad shape, not just mentally but physically as well. It made Tom despair at the state he knew his other followers would be in; the thought that he might have lost them to insanity was disheartening, to say the least. He couldn't help but also wonder what the Lestrange's would think upon learning that Harry Potter was related to them. He knew they would react negatively, unlike the teenager he currently had in his home. It didn't seem as though much could trouble Potter; had he truly been through so much that little bothered him anymore? Or was he just that good at hiding his genuine emotions? He hadn't been when he was eleven.

The child he remembered had been very vocal back then; nothing had changed in that respect; he was just more bitter at the world in general. Yet his emotions had been obvious in his face, in his eyes... much like his mother, who had stood defiantly in front of him, refusing to move aside. That sort of foolhardy courage and pride was what he liked in his followers. It was just too damn bad that Dumbledore continued to get his claws into generations of children and convince them that his goal was to exterminate all muggle-borns. At the beginning it hadn't been, things had just gone bad towards the end there, along with him losing his sanity.

Opening the door to Crouch's room he observed what was happening. Voldemort knew the healer realized he was there by the stiffening of his spine. The wizard was still deeply uncomfortable with him, but he was loyal, and that was all that mattered. "How is he?" Tom demanded of Grant.

"He's doing much better, My Lord," Grant said respectfully. "He will be fine to get up and about soon," although, he thought unhappily, it hadn't been good for him to have been taking Poly-Juice Potion for nearly a year on top of everything else. He had to stop himself gaping, he knew without a doubt that it was his Lord but his looks had changed so rapidly since he saw him last.

"My Lord," rasped Barty, trying to get up, to see if he was needed. He wondered if his sight was playing tricks on him.

"Stay down," Tom ordered, his red eyes flashing in irritation.

Almost immediately Barty stopped moving, doing as he was told.

"I have a guest in the manor. He is not to be touched under any circumstances; if he is…death is the consequence for anyone stupid enough to disobey me," Tom commanded, his tone showing just how serious he was.

Barty desperately wanted to ask who it was that the Dark Lord held in such a high esteem, but he didn't dare. He would find out sooner or later, since his Lord was kind enough to allow him to stay here... since he had nowhere else to go. Not only was he 'dead', but if he tried to claim any of the Crouch estate, he would end up back in Azkaban before he could draw another breath. He was essentially homeless; regretfully there was nothing he could do about that. Ever since he had returned, he had been going from one emotion to another so fast it felt like he was getting whiplash. He didn't know what to think anymore, and that new look of his Lord's just wasn't helping matters. He'd heard of the Dark Lord and his good looks, mostly from Lucius' father, and later from his portrait. He had assumed they were exaggerating, having being so enamoured with the Dark Lord... but boy…he was wrong to have doubted them. "Yes, My Lord," he said, realizing belatedly he had not replied to his demand.

"Good," Tom stated sharply. He knew Barty would heed his warning; it was the others he was more concerned about. He didn't have to be worry about that yet; it would take a while before he could break his people out of Azkaban. He had quite a lot to organize before then, including finding out if Dumbledore was guarding the prophecy. With the Headmaster already knowing he was back; he wouldn't put it past the old fool to guard it. With his Order, he probably wouldn't have many people guarding the room…with Potter 'missing' he might not even have anyone guarding it. Still, it was a bit too risky to try for it at the moment until he knew more. He still had to know what it said, but regardless of what it did ― everything was already set. He couldn't kill Potter, wouldn't kill him; he couldn't risk destabilizing his soul any more than it already was … he had no idea what killing another part of his soul would do to him.

So, it didn't matter what the prophecy revealed in the end, but he still had to know what it said.

Turning swiftly, he left the room without saying another word. Tom returned to his office, and sat down in the dark room, his scarlet eyes zoning in on the piece of paper showing Harry Potter's family tree. Could the boy be right, or had he just been lucky? It wouldn't be the first time; it was as though Potter had been bottle fed Felix Felicis at birth. The amount of luck the boy had was just utterly irritating and diabolical. Although Tom mused, it was perhaps a good thing, now; not only would he be immortal as long as the boy lived, he could potentially gain one of his greatest allies.

He just needed to know which buttons to push. Dumbledore was evidently already one of them. How the boy didn't hate the filthy muggles he didn't know. He hadn't been abused to the extent the boy had, yet his hatred was sealed... but it wasn't solely for that reason. No, the war also had had a huge impact, even though he'd never admit that to any living creature.

There was one way to know for sure whether the boy was right: administering the potion to other muggle-borns. The thought made his lip curl in disgust, but if the boy was right ... his plans would need to be altered to make sure squibs couldn't leave the magical world ― that way he would prevent another influx of muggle-Borns. He found himself startled by his thoughts, had he just made plans without first knowing whether the boy was right? Damn Potter to hell, he was getting under his skin and into his mind, spreading his peace-to-all-living-things attitude at the same time.

The wards alerted him to the fact Grant was now gone; Pettigrew was in the kitchen, no doubt hiding from him. This thought brightened him up and caused him to smirk. Potter was in his library, and Barty was still in his room, which did surprise him. He'd expected the wizard to get up regardless of his orders to find out who he had placed strictly off-limits to any harm. His followers might think he didn't know them but that was far from the truth, he knew them better than he knew himself sometimes.

To test Potter's theory, he would need someone with access to muggle-borns; that only left him with one option: to use Severus to find out for him. This wouldn't be possible until after the summer holidays; he would demand Severus do it with the first-years when Hogwarts started back up. That way the ignorant children wouldn't have any idea of what was going on. They wouldn't know enough to tattle back to the fool Dumbledore and bring attention to Severus' orders. The Potions master was more important than finding out if Potter was right or not, at the end of the day, since it was vital, he always knew what the enemy was up to. That is, if Severus was truly on his side and providing accurate information; there was just no way to know unless he set the wizard up. He had no reason to suspect anything as of yet, but if he did have to... he wouldn't be pleased.

Tom didn't even twitch when Nagini slithered into the room; he merely moved his hand so it trailed down her body as she slithered by until she'd wrapped herself around his chair and across his lap. She was perhaps the only living creature that hadn't reacted to his new looks. She was just as always, happy to have someone taking care of her. Whoever said snakes were independent creatures had it wrong, not that he cared what others thought of snakes.

"Master? What's wrong?" Nagini hissed, sensing his chaotic emotions and wishing to help him even in the smallest measures.

The Dark Lord had to remember that it wasn't as safe as it used to be to speak to Nagini... not with another parselmouth in the manor. The disgruntled look on his handsome face would have had Harry laughing uproariously; too bad he wasn't there.

Severus himself sported an extremely disgruntled look on his face as he stared at the disgustingly normal house. The lawn was immaculate, not a blade out of place; the plant beds didn't have a single weed in them. The magical world wasn't messy per se…but this was a nightmare. It was too Muggle for his tastes; how had he ended up here? Oh yes, Dumbledore, as always demanding his presence. It was odd that he hadn't allowed Minerva to come, she usually went with him... Snape wished Dumbledore had let her. No, instead he had demanded him and Moody to follow him.

Severus made no attempt to hide his disgust; Dumbledore would just assume it was at the situation and being so commanded. The old fool would never come to the conclusion that he still loathed all muggles, which he did; Dumbledore was just blind to his true character. He had been all too easy to convince of his change of heart, but the only thing he'd cared about was saving Lily... which hadn't turned out well at all, obviously. The rest Dumbledore had assumed on his own, and Severus wasn't about to clue him in otherwise.

It seemed only Moody could see through his masks, although he hadn't even looked at him suspiciously since getting out of that blasted trunk of his. It had affected the paranoid Auror more than he cared to admit; it probably stung more than a little that his 'old friend' hadn't even realized it wasn't him. It made Snape inwardly grin in feral satisfaction at the thought of Moody in there, biding his time under the assumption that Dumbledore would figure it out and he'd get out. Those thoughts had surely tapered off after the first few months. Oh yes, he would never let the Auror live it down... and he was just waiting for a time when he could bring it up and rub it in his scarred face.

Severus reluctantly moved closer when Albus began knocking on the door. Then to his horror the biggest, fattest teenager he'd ever encountered answered the door. His black eyes were wide; how on earth could the boy get around the house? Had they enlarged the doors to make sure he could fit? Dear Merlin, muggles truly were insane ― he was surprised Potter was so thin if this was the sort of family he'd grown up with. Getting anything, he wanted, even if it was evidently unhealthy; did the parents not have even a small measure of control with either boy? This boy looked unpleasant but the words out of his mouth made him even more so.

"What do you freaks want?" Dudley grunted, staring at them rudely. He knew they wouldn't use their magic on him ― his parents told him that they weren't allowed.

"Hello, Dudley! We're here to speak to your parents, are they here?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling brightly as if nothing pleased him more than to talk to the boy. Truth was, he was admiring the boy's tendency to make Potter's life as unbearable as possible. He couldn't have planned that better if he'd decided to ensure it had happened himself. The boy's parents had created such a child in Dudley as he had known Potter would turn out to be like if he'd been left in the magical world to be pampered. It proved his decision right at the end of the day... not that it mattered, as Potter would still die sooner or later.

Dudley grunted before turning his back on them and lumbering towards the kitchen. The House shook in his wake, almost groaning under the stress of having such a heavy-set burden day and night to hold up. "MUMMY, DADDY! THE FREAKS ARE AT THE DOOR!"

"Freaks?" Severus hissed, his face twitching in anger at being called such, that vulgar little word. It brought back memories of his childhood, specifically ones dealing with his father and Petunia… Surely, she hadn't raised Harry calling him a freak? No, the woman had adored Lily…although they had fallen out when Lily had gone to Hogwarts. They must have made up at some point since Petunia had been at her wedding. He'd heard the rumours about Black terrorising them from the other Order members. He heard the boy squeak when he spoke before he disappeared from view altogether.

"Regretfully Harry didn't have as good a childhood as I hoped," Albus sadly lamented, his twinkle gone and his body hunching as if he'd just suffered a physical blow of pain.

"Which means what exactly?" Severus asked coldly, the sinking feeling in his stomach causing him a great deal of concern.

"What do you want?" Vernon Dudley barked loudly, his beady eyes looking around them at the neighbours. He could just see their faces pressed up against their windows seeing the freaks in front of his home. He was perfectly normal and he didn't want the neighbours thinking otherwise. They were supposed to have the freak for the rest of the summer according to the crackpot old fool.

"Do you know where your nephew is?" Moody also barked loudly.

Severus stared straight at Vernon Dursley, the bad feeling in his stomach growing to epic proportions. He saw that Vernon reacted to the word 'nephew' as if it physically repulsed him to have a nephew. This wasn't the reaction one had to a nephew they cared for.

"The lazy freak has disappeared," Vernon grunted, gesturing towards the stairs and having nothing further to do with them.

Severus' eye twitched; neither Dumbledore nor Moody seemed surprised by this attitude. Why? Surely Dumbledore wouldn't send Potter here if he knew…then again, he had basically admitted that he had sent him back here knowing his childhood wasn't 'great'. Dumbledore had this huge tendency to underestimate things, or rather understate them, as the case may be. He had to find out just how 'not good' Harry's childhood had been; it seemed as though he might be looking at why the child had chosen to run.

Stepping into the house, Severus moved towards the first door on the left and peered into the living room; nothing. Moving swiftly towards the kitchen, he saw her there, sitting down with a cup of coffee. Three large packets of biscuits were lying on the table between the two biggest people he'd ever encountered. The sink was overflowing with what he assumed was the remains of breakfast... they surely had just eaten? Yet they were eating again; he told himself he really shouldn't be surprised. His eyes narrowed in on Petunia― she hadn't changed the slightest in all the passing years, other than becoming sourer, it seemed.

"YOU!" she spat, her brown eyes glimmering with disgust and a good amount of fear.

She remembered him then; good, he would find it easier to get answers to his questions. "Where is Potter?" Severus demanded; in the background he heard Albus entering and Moody lumbering up the stairs in a second attempt to find some sort of clue that Shacklebolt had missed, no doubt.

"The lazy boy didn't come out of his room when I called him to make breakfast; he wasn't anywhere to be found," she said just as bitterly as her statement of recognition had been.

"You heard nothing?" Albus patiently enquired, as if he was used to dealing with Petunia's attitude.

"We told you, the boy disappeared," Vernon shouted. "Now get out of my house, and don't darken my doorstep again! You told us when we took the boy in, we wouldn't have to deal with you freaks!"

"The wards are no longer as…efficient as the blood wards, we really should find somewhere safer for you; Voldemort might come here," Dumbledore said; he couldn't let anything happen to them, after all. The boy would go back to them with or without the blood wards.

"The freak isn't here; he has no reason to bother us!" Petunia sniped, adding, "Leave us alone."

"Do not be so easy to dismiss my advice, Petunia. I cannot spare the people to watch over the house; we must concentrate our efforts in finding Harry," Albus warned.

"Then go and find the brat, but do not bring him back here," she said, sick and tired of Harry and the wizarding world... who were forcing their presence on her and her family. Of course, she knew Dumbledore would just force her to take Potter back in, so the longer he remained gone the better it was for them.

Severus was quite frankly aghast at the manner in which she was speaking; she genuinely held no love for Potter. He had assumed the boy had been spoiled beyond comprehension, pampered and doted on by her. How could he have misread everything so egregiously? For a child who spent his life ignored…he did display all the signs, he belated realized…but they could be construed as a disregard for the rules. He was used to being ignored, so he didn't ask for the teachers' help, instead he just tried to help on his own.

In the kitchen of Privet Drive ―the home of the Boy-Who-Lived― his preconceived notions were shot to hell.

Albus hearing Moody clambering back down the stairs and went to investigate, hoping his old friend had found a clue as to where Potter was. The tracking charms he had put on the boy's possessions had vanished; he was either under the wards of an un-Plottable property, or he had found and removed them. The second was as unlikely as the first, so he wasn't sure what to believe anymore; what he did know was that Potter was getting harder and harder to control every year.

"Anything?" Albus enquired, his tone genuinely desperate.

"Nothing, everything belonging to the boy is gone; there's no sign of a struggle or magic. It seems as if he's left on his own accord," Moody muttered darkly. Of all the foolish decisions the boy had made ― this topped the list. He was in a significant amount of danger and he decided to run away? Now they had to look for him and keep Black from freaking out... No, they'd leave that to Lupin. Although they might need the werewolf for his sense of smell if they caught up to Harry and get close enough that his scent still lingered. They would worry about it when that time came; they just needed to get the boy before something happened, they couldn't repair... like death at the hands of the Death Eaters or Voldemort.

"Then there is nothing for us here, they didn't see or hear anything," Albus told him, frowning in concern.

Severus stared down at Petunia, only half listening to the other wizards' conversation. She was worried, terrified really. Uncaring of the consequences, he slid into Petunia's mind, meeting no resistance ― not that he expected any; she was a muggle. Then like a film reel, he summoned all of her memories dealing with Potter and they played for him like a movie on fast forward. She knew he was doing something, and was able to see the same memories he could, but her attempts stop him were futile. Her memories showed Severus that the problem wasn't just them ignoring Harry, it was abuse…but she rarely lifted a hand to him. She just doled out the occasional smack with anything close to hand... such as a frying pan. It was mostly Vernon Dursley who was physical with Harry. Snape viciously ripped himself from her mind, causing her to feel faint and clutch her head in agony.

Vernon opened his mouth to roar at the wizard, what about he didn't know but since he blamed magic for every little thing... this was no exception. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to, since Severus had viciously penetrated his mind, making no secret of what he was doing ― not that it mattered, since neither Albus or Moody had returned to the kitchen. He couldn't blame them; these were the most disgustingly rude people on the planet. That was the nicest name for them really, he thought as he watched Vernon's memories of Harry's life under this roof. Severus removed his wand, his face filled with seething fury as he pointed it straight at Vernon's heart. He would be saving other people the pain of having to look at him. He should kill Dursley where he stood and save two boys in the process, before the disgusting brat ended up more like his father than he already was…Snape had a feeling it was far too late. There was no hope for Dudley Dursley; he would probably die before he reached his thirties, the way he was going. Severus' grip on his wand tightened as he fought with himself; killing Dursley in the open would only grantee him a one-way trip to Azkaban.

"Severus?" Albus called, sounding slightly irritated ― not to anyone else, but Snape knew Dumbledore well enough to know when he was losing his patience... and incidentally his mask of kindness along with it.

He gave the Dursleys a look of such utter loathing that conveyed the depth of his emotions. His eyes blazed with 'I'll be back'; the Dursleys would die, just as soon as he could do it without drawing suspicion on himself. Not that it would, really, after all he 'hated' Harry Potter, so why would he kill his family? Dumbledore had to keep that impression at least; he couldn't let him find out how he really felt.

"Let's go," Severus coolly stated as he emerged from the kitchen, his face a calm, composed yet bored mask. He left the Dursleys trembling in fear, two of them with massive headaches and the knowledge that their actions had been laid bare for the wizard to see. When he left, he closed the door behind him, sparing a vicious smirk at nothing; they would regret their actions. It wasn't solely for the fact it was Harry Potter but because he detested abuse ... and what had happened to Harry was as bad as it could get. He didn't blame the boy for running, he just had to find him before the Order and the Dark Lord did, and keep him safe from those who sought to use him or kill him.

"Where is the boy?" growled Moody; he had no idea where to start. He shifted the hat he had on his head, making sure it covered his magical eye. Despite the fact it was covered, he could see perfectly clearly with it ― as if such an item would fool his eye. He had on trousers that went down his leg, covering his wooden stump.

It was a good question, Severus thought; where would a boy go to hide? He wouldn't be stupid enough to go to the magical world or any of his friends. It would be a question of whether Harry had taken money from his vaults, or stolen from his family to stay in a motel or hotel. He wouldn't stay in the immediate vicinity; if he was smart, he would have walked a few miles before stopping. Was he seriously contemplating hunting the muggle world for the boy? He hated this world, but he did know a great deal about it. He and Potter would never get on, but they didn't need to for him to make sure the boy was safe. With narrowed, thoughtful eyes he followed Albus and Moody back to Grimmauld Place where the rest of the Order were already waiting to get their orders. The idiots would end up lost; they didn't have a clue about the muggle world.

It would have been hilarious watching them try ― if he wasn't on a mission himself now:

Find Harry Potter.

"Has Ron said anything?" Albus enquired, staring at Arthur.

"Nothing, he's unaware of what is going on, as per your request, Albus," Arthur pointed out kindly, slightly exasperated at Albus changing temperaments as of late.

"How about Hermione?" Minerva asked, worried about Harry being out there alone. If anyone, Harry probably trusted Hermione the most.

"No, they've not been in touch with him…perhaps that's why he's done this?" Molly suggested.

"Does she suspect anything?" Albus asked, knowing the girl well enough to know if she did suspect something, they wouldn't just be keeping an eye on Black and looking for Harry, but keeping an eye on the determined witch too.

"I made it sound like we were making sure that they were sticking to the rules," Molly said brushing it off. Evidently, she was not as concerned as Albus was when it came to Hermione Granger, perhaps brushing off the teen's intelligence at the same time.

Severus sat through everything stoically; his mind wandering like it hadn't before. Were Granger and Weasley using Harry? Telling Dumbledore everything the child said and did? Were the Weasleys using Harry's desperate desires for a family to make sure he stayed light? The thought quite frankly sickened him to the core. He'd thought he had seen it all, by both sides.

Severus stood up abruptly, not even waiting for Albus to give them leave as he walked out of Grimmauld Place's kitchen and Apparated to Spinners End. He barely landed on his feet before he was pacing back and forth in his small living room, his cloak swishing behind him and knocking the empty potion vials he had on small tables skittering around to the floor.

His world was being torn asunder; any remaining loyalty he had drained completely. Not only that, but his hatred of Dumbledore heightened exponentially. He had no idea what to do; if he thought he was stuck a day ago…well, he felt even more conflicted and torn than ever. How did he protect Harry Potter without breaking his word? His Lord wanted Harry dead; he refused to allow it. The Dark Lord wouldn't stop until Harry was dead… and the light would never let him go and would continue searching for him even if the Dark Lord took over; they believed wholeheartedly in Harry being the one that must end the war, just because Dumbledore said so.

His stomach finally rebelled against the images he'd seen of the abuse and he vomited violently down the sink in the kitchen... which he made it to by the skin of his teeth. He had failed in his vow ― all thanks to Dumbledore. Would he even be able to convince the boy to stay hidden if he found him, or had the manipulations run so deep that he couldn't even contemplate the thought of being betrayed?

There we go, still no major edits, just spelling and such so far :)

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 8

Harry sighed softly as he walked out of the bedroom and ambled towards the library, his thoughts chaotic. He was still shocked at what he’d found out, that he was a Horcrux, but it made a lot of things make sense. All the tests... it had been Dumbledore’s way of trying to get him to defeat Voldemort, or at least trying to get Voldemort to kill him, and with it the piece of his own soul that was currently inside Harry. Either way, Dumbledore hadn’t cared in the slightest what happened to Harry, and it had made him furious. All those years of playing by his rules just to survive…and that was what Dumbledore had wanted all along. It made him long to wrap his hands around the old fool's neck and rip his head from his insufferably smug person. He didn’t like the thought that he had been played, but considering how old Dumbledore was… he was just a novice at the game. 

He’d gone from one prison to another all his life; would he ever be free to do as he wished? He did acknowledge that his situation could be worse; just because he was a Horcrux, it didn’t mean Voldemort had to let him roam around this place, but he did. He was getting fed here, something he didn’t get at the Dursleys'. Voldemort really didn’t need to give him all this freedom, so why do it? Just because he didn’t want to kill him anymore? Life was bloody odd, that much was certain. No, Voldemort was trying to get him on his side, he realized; after all, keeping someone locked up only worked for so long, before they got away or were rescued. You were actually better off getting them on your side, that way they would fight to remain where they were, and wouldn’t try to escape. Would Voldemort do that? With only a minuscule chance of it succeeding? It just didn’t sound like Voldemort.

Harry sat himself down on the comfortable seat in the library, one he’d silently claimed as his own. It was the most comfortable; he’d sat in each one every time he visited. Well, when he wasn’t asked – yes actually asked – to go to his rooms. The fireplace was lit, and the window was slightly open letting in a breeze as Harry read the Sacred Twenty-eight book that Voldemort had recommended. It was fascinating to read it from their point of view even if it was utter stupidity.

Harry's head jerked up when he heard the flapping of wings. ‘Hedwig!’ Harry thought, but his heart was dismayed when he realized that, no, it wasn’t his faithful owl companion. It was a tawny brown owl, like the ones you usually see at Post office, although a few of the students in the school had them also. His hand went to the window and he paused briefly; would he even be able to get to the owl without the bracelet on his leg reacting? Knowing Voldemort, it would be something incredibly painful. It was obvious Voldemort wouldn’t let him get out, not that he wanted to risk it. He had absolutely nowhere to go... and he would never crawl back to Dumbledore; the thought turned his stomach. 

Well, he’d never been a coward before; he wasn’t about to start now. He opened the window completely and allowed the owl to come in. It hooted much like Hedwig did when she was delivering something to him... although Hedwig didn't hoot, she churred. It flew onto his leg, causing Harry to grin; he hoped Hedwig was okay wherever she was, and was able to hunt. If anything happened to her…then there would be hell to pay. Removing the string around the bird’s leg, he absently stroked its head and neck; they loved it when you did it. Although, he had met his share of owls that loathed being touched by anyone other than their owner. 

Then just like that the owl took flight, flying back out the window and away until it was nothing but a blot on the horizon. He loved flying; it made him feel free, as free as that owl had looked. He always hoped he was some sort of Animagus that had wings, so he could fly without a broom. This library had books…there was probably one on Animagi? And from what he knew, you didn’t need a wand to transform. He didn’t have anything else to do, though, so why not? 

Opening the paper his eyebrows shot up, as the headlines blazed in front of him. 

Boy-Who-Lived Missing - Running away from the lies?

Harry’s nostrils flared as he read the article, then he squashed the newspaper as he tried to keep his cool. Merlin, he could bloody kill Rita Skeeter, the lying, manipulative, disgusting bitch. It didn’t surprise him that the Ministry were all too happy to go along with the lies, making him seem even more deluded and a murderer to boot. Dumbledore had apparently ‘declined to comment’ after being ‘unavailable’ for the past twenty-four hours. Of course, he would be; by the looks of things, the shit had hit the fan. Was Dumbledore out looking for him? Was Sirius? Probably and the Weasleys, maybe even professor McGonagall… Not to forget Snape.

“Now what has happened to cause the ire of Harry Potter?” Voldemort drawled, staring at the boy from the door. The band had alerted him to Harry being close to the window; he had assumed the boy was trying to leave so he'd begun to make his way to the library. There had been nothing further but a pang of heartache from the bond, then pure unadulterated hatred scalded him. Hatred he understood, he revelled in it, really; then he saw the boy sitting with the paper. Now, the paper had worked in his favour since his return, making Dumbledore out to be a meddlesome old insane fool. It had always amused him, but he knew it wouldn’t last. They would be praising the old man's name before long; it made his lips curl in disgust.

Harry curled his lips in disgust, and passed over the newspaper without a word. He knew that Voldemort would understand.

Arching a brow, he accepted the newspaper and slid into his favourite black leather seat. Crossing his legs, he read the entire newspaper while Harry went back to reading the book. He was pleasantly surprised that the boy was reading one he had suggested. He was roused from his thoughts on the articles with a question from Harry.

“Why did you decide not to be Tom Riddle? To then change your name to Voldemort to make everyone too scared to say it? Doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose of the name change?” Harry asked, staring at Voldemort curiously. Not that it was easy to think of him as Voldemort any more, with the way he looked now. It just reminded him of ‘Tom’ in the chamber of secrets; Voldemort was the face on the back of Quirrell's head, the snake-faced bastard he’d faced at the end of the tournament. Tom…Tom was the seventeen-year-old who’d tried to kill him with a sixty-foot basilisk. A boy who had been exactly like him, was exactly like him.

“Evidently not everyone is too scared to speak it,” Voldemort said, irritated. He did not owe the boy an answer to that question, and so elected not to give one. He hated being called Tom, or reminded of his muggle name, and the boy continued to bring it up; why he didn’t curse him into next week he didn’t know. It wouldn’t harm his Horcrux; after all, he’d put him under the Cruciatus Curse before. 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “I find it ridiculous, that's all. It took Hagrid three tries to actually say the name loud enough for me to hear: You-Know-Who, and it’s pathetic. He didn’t deserve what you did to him.” 

A derisive snort left Voldemort’s mouth. “I blamed him falsely, yes, but the events that transpired afterwards were solely Headmaster Dippet’s choices. If that idiot couldn’t tell the difference between something that petrified the students and something that could only bite, that is not my problem.” Then he added, “And I am to believe you wouldn’t have done the exactly same thing if the roles had been reversed?” knowing full well the boy would have done so. He would have killed his own relatives if he knew it would have enabled him to stay at Hogwarts. The boy could lie to his heart's content, but he had seen the darkest recesses of Harry's mind, he knew his darkest dreams and desires. 

Harry’s jaw almost dropped. Well, he hadn’t said that when he was in the diary the last time. When you thought about it…it made him feel like an idiot. Frowning, he began to think about it. From what he could see when Cedric fell, he did look petrified like Mrs. Norris; if the two conditions looked so much alike, how could they distinguish the difference between a killing curse and a petrification? For that matter, how could they expel Hagrid without a shred of evidence, even if the Head boy had said something? Then again, when had the wizarding world ever needed proof before they condemned anyone? he thought with savage disgust. “When has the wizarding world ever needed proof before condemning anyone?” he sneered in disgust, he would have grown up with his godfather if things were ran proficently in the magical world. 

Would he have done the same thing? Well, the only reason he’d gone on those crazy adventures was to keep Hogwarts open. If there had been no other alternative…he would have. That made him feel like a terrible person, for all of a few seconds, but he would have done anything to stay away from the Dursleys. It was survival of the fittest; you did what you had to do. 

“Well, would you have?” Voldemort pressed, his ruby eyes twinkling in vindictive pleasure. He knew what the boy would do, whether he would admit it or not. He took great delight in bringing out people's baser, animal selves, making them acknowledge what normal society would condemn them for. Apparently, though, he’d brought it a bit too far out with Bellatrix; he would need to rein her in. If such a thing was even possible at this point; he would just have to have the damage assessed by his healer. 

Harry didn’t rise to the bait; he just gave Voldemort his best blank stare. He knew that look well, and he didn’t respond to it anymore; Vernon usually got that look in his eyes when he screwed up. Of course, it had been a long time since that had happened; instead, his uncle just pounced on him for half-assed excuses. Harry shook off his thoughts, determined not to dwell on them; it wasn’t like Vernon could hurt him here. No, here he had to watch his back from every single Death Eater…and Voldemort. Just because he’d left him alone until now, it didn’t mean things would stay that way. He might just be lulling him into a false sense of security, although he wasn’t sure if he believed that. Voldemort liked to play games, but not these kind of mind games. 

“Supper is ready, take your potions,” Voldemort snapped, disgruntled. The boy was more Slytherin than he had anticipated, which would mean getting through to him would be more difficult. When he realized how he'd sounded, he added in a silky, threatening tone, “Ignore it, and you will wish you hadn’t.” Harry had taken to eating all his meals, and taking his potions but he still warned him just in case he got any ideas.

Harry knew better than to think Voldemort wouldn’t follow through on his threats, which probably just made him want to defy them all the more. Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Narrowing them to get a better look, his heart jumped into his throat. It was fucking Pettigrew! Now he was worse than pissed off. Hearing the chittering he’d been familiar with for three years made him grind his teeth. Moving into action he ran towards the door, timing it perfectly, and then he just happened to accidentally stand on the rat. 

An unholy squeak turned abruptly into a scream of agony as Peter Pettigrew turned back into his human form once more. 

“Potter!” Voldemort hissed, his eyes gleaming; he glanced down at Pettigrew before dismissing him. 

“What?” Harry responded, staring at his captor with exaggerated innocence while making sure there was no mistaking that he had in fact actually meant to do it. 

Voldemort glared at Harry for his impudence, but he had bigger things he needed seeing to than Pettigrew being healed. 

“It’s hardly my fault, he shouldn’t be sneaking around spying,” Harry stated, the obvious implication behind it laid bare for them all to hear. Glancing at Pettigrew, he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his emotions in check. If he thought he could get away with it, he would strangle the rat where he lay still crying in pain. He felt that Pettigrew was pathetic, and he allowed that emotion to show through. Not that he could have stopped it, really. 

Even without a wand the boy was able to cause havoc; he should have known. Feeling his true emotions while observing the boy, he realized Potter was able to conceal his feelings extremely well. Considering he had been able to try and eject him from his mind, it shouldn’t have surprised him. He had already admitted to himself that the boy would be good at Occlumency and Legilimency. “Get over here,” he hissed in warning. “Now,” he added when the boy had the audacity to glare at him. 

Harry fought with himself for a few seconds before the smell of the food did it for him. Shrugging his shoulders he stepped over Pettigrew; looking down at him, he smirked in a way that said he would be doing it again, the first chance he got. If he was stuck here, he might as well have some fun. Part of him did wonder how far he could push Voldemort before he did something in retaliation. Although, he did get the feeling Voldemort couldn’t care less about Pettigrew. Or would he be like that no matter what he did? Hmm... well, he’d consider that a personal challenge.

“Leave us!” Voldemort demanded of Pettigrew. 

Staring at the potions, Harry could scarcely believe this was happening… he had been kidnapped by Voldemort, kept alive, allowed to roam, was being given potions, and no matter what he did ― Voldemort didn’t seem to care. It was fun pushing his buttons but he only went so far. It had definitely been more fun to get Pettigrew back though; he would need to do it again very soon. He heard the wizard (if he could be called that, really) whimpering some more as he practically crawled out of the room, terrified of what Voldemort would do if he didn’t go. 

“Stay here,” Voldemort ordered before he was out of the room, locking the door behind him. He’d planned it that way; he couldn’t let Potter have a free rein when he wasn’t there to stop him. It was becoming apparent that he wouldn’t be able to leave him with Pettigrew, otherwise he would come back to find one of them dead. He would put all his money on Potter coming out on top; as much as it turned his stomach to admit it. The boy had a knack for getting out of the most damning situations intact. Even when he wasn’t trying to kill him, it still irked him something rotten. 

Harry stood up and moved towards the door and tried to open it; it wouldn’t budge, unsurprisingly. Smacking his fist against it, he swore under his breath before wandering towards the windows and looking out, but he was unable to see anything. Grumbling under his breath, he sat back down and began eating hungrily. His stomach was getting used to three meals a day now. He was recovering much quicker with the potion; if he got out of here and into a situation like that again, he would need to remember to take a nutrition potion. The nausea he usually had to endure for weeks when he returned to Hogwarts – when he got to actually eat – was nowhere to be seen.

‘What was he up to? Who was here?’ Harry wondered, ‘And why didn’t he want him seen?’ Pettigrew knew, and he was the weakest link as far as Harry was concerned. Then again, he knew Pettigrew rarely left Voldemort’s side, so there wasn’t much chance of someone finding out from the rat. What would Dumbledore do if he knew he was here? Harry wondered, as he scarfed down his supper as quickly as possible. Kill him in hopes of destroying the Horcrux, now that he was, what? Expendable? Unreliable? Terrified that he would join Voldemort for real? Did Dumbledore even consider it a possibility? Had he played his part so well that Dumbledore would have decided not to kill him? No, a big resounding no. What would Sirius think? Would he side with Dumbledore and let him be killed if he learned the truth? 

Once he finished he moved back over to the window, taking his book with him. He wanted to see who was here, if anyone was; but he didn’t see any other reason for locking him in this room. Opening the book, he began to read about the sacred lines from a pureblood’s point of view again, he was half way through. The smugness literally dripped from every word on the page; admittedly, the author did write why they were so important. From what he could gather and understand, it was like a hierarchy, with the sacred lines at the very top. They were powerful, wealthy, and had a big influence on the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts council, which was a set of twelve governors at the moment. Apparently, there were supposed to be more. What was not explained was how they were important on the Wizengamot…wasn’t that just a bunch of wizards who decided on whether a Witch or Wizard was guilty and sent them to Azkaban? 

He was curious; he would need to see if he could find a book on the Wizengamot as soon as he could get out of this room. His brain was beginning to get cramped with all this new information he was trying to digest. It was like he was finally getting to let his mind free, but the information he was absorbing was vital in understanding the Death Eaters… maybe he might be able to stop the mindless killing, if nothing else. Anything he could do was a good thing, since apparently, he wasn’t going to be able to do much else. He’d already proven that muggle-borns were just descendants from some pureblood family whose magic had died out. Surely Voldemort wouldn’t be able to dismiss the information? The look on his face had been hilarious; what couldn’t be denied was that his mother hadn’t been the ‘mudblood’ he’d spat at her. 

What would his mum think right now? She’d just wanted him to live; this was him, living whether he liked it or not. It was better than looking over his shoulder wondering when Voldemort would strike. Of course…the same still applied, he apparently just didn’t want to kill him. Did it really matter what they thought? The part that wanted his parents' approval so badly screamed yes, but the more realistic side, the Slytherin side, if you would, knew they were gone. Living his life to please them would just make him miserable. He would have been different if he'd been raised by them, but he hadn’t; he’d been given to abusive sons of bitches who had taken delight in trying to squash the magic out of him... as if such a thing was possible. Harry believed they had made him more powerful, more aware of his magic, even if he hadn’t realized consciously what it was. 
Realizing he wasn’t going to be out of here any time soon, he began to read the rest of the book. 

------0------

Severus accurately Apparated exactly three miles east of his current location and muttered the locating spell, anchoring it by using Harry’s name. When his wand remained still, he wanted to curse nastily, but he had run out of curses thirty-nine locations ago. It seemed impossible, but with all the Apparating he had done…he’d truly been at a loss for words, and had begun repeating ones he’d already used. He sighed tiredly; he’d been at this all night; it was much safer doing it at night. Harry would be less likely to be on the move, and he wouldn’t accidentally bump into anyone. 

Determined not to give in, he Apparated once more, a further three miles east of his current location and once more used the spell. He wasn’t one to give up easily, but even this was lowering his spirits. He had been all over London, Crawley, Worthing, Brighton and Eastbourne, and Hastings. 

Harry couldn’t have figured out how to take the trace off, so the spell should have worked if he was in the area. Which he knew the boy wasn’t; the spell was never wrong. Harry couldn’t have gotten that far, surely? Unless of course he had taken the train somewhere else, and actually was out of the country. It was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to find him using this means. That meant he might have to resort to other… darker methods. To do so would require him to have something of Harry’s, preferably something with body fluid on it, like spit, sweat, or blood. 

There was nothing at Hogwarts that could help with that, and then suddenly an idea bloomed. His heart twisted; he didn’t like the thought of going back there…but if it could potentially help him find Harry, then needs must. It was a long shot, he had to admit it, but nonetheless Severus Apparated straight into the condemned building at Godric’s Hollow… where Lily had breathed her last. 

Severus swallowed thickly, remembering the last time he was here very vividly. Only this time there were no bodies; they were buried in the cemetery not far from here. All he needed was a toy Harry had used ―and chewed― when he was a baby. It would still work with the potion; despite the fact so many years had gone by, the saliva would give him Harry’s exact location it was his DNA after all.

Moving up stairs, he took his time, not touching anything as he did so. The place was quite frankly overgrown; weeds and everything were growing inside of this house that Lily probably had adored. The door was blown off its hinges, still as he remembered it. He didn’t understand how Harry had survived the roof falling in on him like that, coming out with only a scratch; it was unbelievable. The crib was half intact; his eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw the crib mattress covered in old blood. He closed his eyes, flashing back to the night as he remembered it. There had been nothing there, what had caused Harry to lose so much blood AFTER the attack? Was it even Harry’s blood? But there hadn’t been anyone else there. 

Something had happened…but what? Shaking off his thoughts, he resolved that he would find out later…much later, if it was possible. He probably wouldn’t be able to let the puzzle rest until he had his answer, either. Using his wand, he cut out a large square chunk of the mattress and shrunk it before placing it inside a bag. Then he narrowed his eyes once more and began looking around for something... anything, really, just in case it wasn’t Harry’s blood. He always felt the need for a backup plan if things didn’t work out well. 

He found a cuddly toy snitch, a typical thing for babies to have; levitating that, he placed it into another bag he had with him. He never went anywhere without the assortment of items he usually used for collecting potion ingredients. The bags were usually for gathering potion ingredients and herbs. He never expected to be using them for this. Slipping the bags into his pocket he quickly Apparated away, not wishing to remain in there a second longer. Not only did it bring up bad memories, the building was very unstable he dared not risk the ceiling falling on him. He didn’t want to have to come up with an explaination for Dumbledore.

Of course, he Apparated into Spinners End, someplace that was only just slightly better than where he had been. At least in his opinion, but it was habitable, so he couldn’t complain too much. Add to the fact that it actually had a safe foundation and a roof for over his head, it was definitely much better. He swiftly made his way to the lab, ignoring the potions he had already bubbling away; he would be alerted a few minutes before anything needed to be added to one of those. 

If the Ministry were to see what he was brewing…he would be in Azkaban before he could deny all knowledge. He seriously doubted the Dark Lord would help him out of that one. He would be useless as a spy; of course, he could just claim to Albus that he had been forced to brew the potions…and Dumbledore, too desperate to risk losing his spy, would be all too eager to make the problem go away. 

Grabbing an unused but clean cauldron, he poured water from his wand into it with a quick ‘Aguamenti’ before spelling flames under it and quickly got to work. It would take less than three hours for the potion to be complete. The rest was a waiting game to see if he would find Harry with anything he’d brought with him. He had no idea if it would really work; it should in theory, but theory wasn’t real life. 

True to his thoughts, it took less than three hours, in fact only two hours and fifteen minutes for three of the potions to be complete. He hadn’t just completed a single potion, but three. He couldn’t risk the toy snitch he’d taken from Godric’s Hollow not working; although he had a feeling if the toy snitch didn’t work the blood wouldn’t either. Once the blood was immersed in the potion it would become wet, and there should be enough DNA in it to guide him towards Harry Potter. The reason he was using the saliva first, was for one sole reason - he didn’t want the potion taking him towards the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had Harry’s magic, which meant it might not even work, he could be stretched both ways and end up splinched or guided towards both the Dark Lord and Harry. Waving his wand he extinguished the fires under the potions, knowing if it boiled over even for ten seconds extra the potions would be ruined. 

Picking up the bag with the toy snitch, he used a spell to snip a piece of it off, there was no need to put it all in the potion. Picking up the cut piece, he stepped back knowing it would explode and he would rather not get a boiled potion spitting in his face. He would have levitated the piece but magic and potions didn’t work very well together - as he told his students, there would be no wand waving in his class. With precision he flicked it into the potion causing a small explosion, waving the smoke away he ladled it up and placed only a drop onto the parchment - praying that it worked. He was in a rush against time, against three different organizations to get to Harry first, the Dark Lord, the Order and of course the Ministry of magic. He was surprised Harry had managed to remain hidden, but it boded well, it gave him the time he needed to find him and keep him safe from all that would see harm coming to him. He’d been through enough, he doubted they’d ever get on but he didn’t care about that he had promised Lily something and intended to see it through. 

Peering at the parchment, waiting for the results with bated breath. Unfortunately, as each second passed he began to become extremely discouraged that nothing was appearing. Apparently, the saliva wasn’t enough, or it had really been too long and exposed to the elements and it had become contaminated. Just as he was about to banish the potion, its contents and the parchment it began to squiggle, black lines began to form as it began to map out an area - giving him Harry Potter’s exact location. 

He knew the location well, and it seemed he was far too late. 

The Dark Lord already had him. 

Groaning in frustration, he slumped against the stool, what the hell was he supposed to do now? The Dark Lord had been more of his normal self, perhaps he could be convinced that they were better off keeping him alive and converting him to his side? He scoffed at his own thoughts, the thought of Harry joining him was laughable, he was so light…so blinded that there was no way Harry could possibly conceive working for the dark side. The added fact that the Dark Lord had killed his parents, this would be the one thing that would prevent it even if he was capable of opening the child’s eyes to the fact, he had been manipulated from the second he’d entered the magical world. It might not even just be Harry, it potentially could be Granger and Weasley as well, he just didn’t know. 

Then it dawned on him…he hadn’t been called, the last time he had tried the Death Eaters had been called. Perhaps he didn’t want to risk an additional embarrassment? It just didn’t seem like something His Lord would fear, especially not from a fourteen-year-old child. There was something going on, he was sure of it, thinking back to their previous conversations, especially about the one regarding Harry Potter. He hadn’t seemed overly concerned about the boy or the fact he was missing not that he would be concerned just elated. He hadn’t called the Death Eaters and immediately ordered a search for him. In fact, he had even asked his opinion on the boy! He needed answers, no matter how sane his Lord appeared right now, he knew the likelihood of getting an answer from him was less than zero until he wanted to share - and to add insult to injury he would end up with a torture curse on him for his troubles. 

He would just have to risk it, what other choice did he have? He knew where Harry was, and he had sworn a Vow to protect him. If he failed then his life was forfeit just like Harry’s was if he couldn’t stop this madness. If he couldn’t get the Dark Lord to change his mind, the only thing left might be to actually tell him the truth. Either way it seemed as if his death warrant was signed, as soon as the Dark Lord knew he would have to die protecting Harry - the wizard would know he was useless to the dark side. He would probably make the assumption that he was firmly on Dumbledore’s side, which wasn’t true, he couldn’t stand the old fool or teaching unworthy students how to brew potions. 

Looking around his Potions lab, he wondered if he would live long enough to see it again, he made his way to the door. Wincing in pain, temporary blinded by the brightness that met him. It was daylight now, he’d been at this all night, his stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten.

Severus didn’t stop, not even to gather something quick to eat, he spun on his heel and Apparated away.

--------0 

Voldemort stared down at the small glowing orb that had been cause of the source of his madness and downfall all those years ago. He had entered the Ministry and it had been quite ludicrously easy especially seeing as he had been under the influence of Poly-juice potion, and as Lucius Malfoy no questions had been asked. The pitiful spells Albus Dumbledore had on the prophecy had been easily bypassed - as easily as it was to pass the guard on duty – whoever it was. He had been tempted to let Nagini have at him, but instead chose to keep a low profile; he didn’t want the Ministry to know he was here after all. 

Only Dumbledore and perhaps a few of his pathetic Order members even knew about the Prophecy. If he realized it was gone…and tried to talk about it nobody would believe him. To the world he was an insane crazy old fool, and the longer it stayed that way the harder it would be to repair his reputation. It would take him a while to even realize it was gone unless he personally went down to see for himself. He had left a replica in its place, and a good one at that so it would take serious investigating to realize it wasn’t the original. 

For so long he had wanted to know what this thing said, now that he was so close to it that he could taste it he was unsure about hearing it. What if he had set up his own destruction? What if it told him of his own death by Potter’s hand? He wouldn’t be able to prevent himself killing the brat. With it he may be destroying his own sanity, which until recently had been lost to him. It wasn’t something he relished happening once again; he had been a fool to think he could split his soul into so many pieces without consequence. 

Nobody could accuse Voldemort of being a coward, he thought to himself, and with that the prophecy slipped from his fingers and smashed against the floor. And with it came Trelawney’s voice, shrieking at the top of her lungs, the words of the prophecy. The first three were familiar to him as he had obsessed over it for so long…while wondering about the other half. 

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…  

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

Voldemort sat up straighter, his face intense as he waited for the next one…finally after so long he would hear, he would know. 

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…

The breath left him as he thought of the mark adorning Potter’s head, the damnable scar. His worst fears were being realized, he had set in motion his own downfall. If he had heard this…knew the entire thing he may not have acted so rashly. He had set their destiny in motion, he honestly didn’t know what to think now. 

But he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…

Voldemort’s red eyes twinkled unmercifully, how dare they think he wouldn’t find out? As if Potter being a Horcrux was a power, prophecies had the tendency to be very vague. Oh, he knew, and that was why the boy was currently still alive. The power to keeping him alive, the power to keeping himself alive. Together they were immortal, bound together by a soul they now shared. His soul. Nothing could harm it except for him. 

And either must die at the hand of the other…for neither can live while the other survives…  

Voldemort snorted in a very un-Dark Lord like fashion, very smart with the word play, but he hadn’t become the greatest wizard in the world by chance or happenstance. He was smart and powerful, and had the best grades Hogwarts had ever seen; he had even outdone Dumbledore in some subjects. Neither of them was just surviving…if he could just get Potter onside, although it truly wouldn’t be that difficult, Potter hated Dumbledore with a passion that rivalled his own. 

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.  

The thought that Potter was powerful enough to destroy him did not sit well with him, but he knew now that it wasn’t an outright duel, no the power laid within him, his Horcrux. He would need to keep the boy alive and out of harm’s way, but given his tendency to get into trouble…he would need to make sure the boy knew how to fight. Then he needed to concentrate on breaking his followers out of Azkaban. It looked as though the boy would live then, not that it seemed to be a damnable problem for the boy - he seemed to like to push everyone’s buttons to see how far they would go. He didn’t fear death, and that was a new prospect to him, everyone feared death, even him. 

Dumbledore wouldn’t know what hit him, due to the fact he had made the same mistake again by leaving another boy to be abused he had ensured he would win. 

He would make sure of it. 

--------------0 

Harry was wandering around the manor, trying to come upon Pettigrew again, but so far, he wasn’t having much luck. He must have a little hole he liked to climb in as a rat. He couldn’t very well search every little small hideout fit for a rat, which would take him days…although he did have a lot of time on his hands. Perhaps he should learn Wandless magic as well as how to be an Animagus, he honestly hoped he didn’t become anything like Pettigrew. He absolutely refused to call him Wormtail that was something his dad and Sirius had thought up to give him when he’d been a friend. He was nothing but a cowardly, stinking, disgusting, ugly betrayer now. If he could only get Voldemort to send him to the Ministry Sirius would be free. He wasn’t trustworthy, to any cause, if he could betray one, he would and could betray the other. Maybe he should put those doubts into Voldemort’s head; well, he might as well have fun while he was stuck here. 

Although it looked as though every time Voldemort left he would be locked up in a single room. He wasn’t happy about it and had expressed his sentiments to Voldemort quite happily. Oh, it had amused him to see him clenching his teeth and fists, and still do nothing. If he needed further proof that he changed…he wouldn’t need to look anymore. Voldemort in the graveyard would have cast that spell in seconds; the power was quite…heady to have. He honestly wanted to see how far he could go before Voldemort lost it and actually cursed him.

So here was investigating the manor, which was tastefully done for a Dark wizard that is…no thrones made of skulls or dungeons full of prisoners. If he had just stumbled upon the place he wouldn’t have thought twice about going in, that probably made it even more deceptive. Sliding into another room, he found it occupied. It definitely wasn’t Pettigrew; no…it was who had they said it was? Bartemius Crouch Junior? He had posed as Mad-Eye Moody. He must have been good to fool even Dumbledore unless the old fool had known, but it seemed like an awfully big risk to take for so little reward. 

“You,” muttered Barty wide eyed, completely shocked. So, this was who his Lord held in such high esteem? Why was he protected so? He had been trying to kill him for years...he just didn't understand it at all. All through this year he had been planning and re-planning Harry Potter's death. What had he missed? Something had happened damn being trapped in this bed. 

Harry briefly wondered what that was about, he was just about to turn around and leave when the door automatically slammed shut on him. 

“NOT AGAIN!” snapped Harry, slamming his fist into it, before yelping in pain and jumping around like an idiot until the pain dulled slightly. “Fuck!” well at least it wasn’t broken, he thought to himself. Unfortunately, it just meant he was trapped in a room with a man who had seemed utterly insane the last time he saw him. Someone must be in the manor again. He didn’t have a book to read this time, hopefully it wouldn’t be too long.

“Are you alright?” asked Barty, concerned. 

“Who are you, and what have you done with Crouch Junior? You know the one that tried to kill me?” asked Harry, staring at the wizard as if he had lost his mind. Why the hell would he be concerned about him? The whole world had gone weird and he didn’t like it at all. 

“Do not call me that,” twitched Barty hissing slightly, he absolutely loathed being reminded who his father was and what he’d been named after. “And I didn’t try to kill you,” he hadn’t really had the chance. 

“That’s only because it was too public and everyone else arrived before you could,” snorted Harry, as if he was stupid enough to believe that one. 

“And yet you are alive,” said Barty, his tone now filled with nothing but curiosity. 

“Unfortunately,” muttered Harry glaring at the door darkly. 

“Why?” was then asked, when his Lord had said there was someone here…he hadn’t expected it to be Harry ‘I won’t die’ potter. 

“Why don’t you ask him?” grinned Harry ferally his mood changing too quickly for even the most experienced men to keep up with. “I’m sure he would just love your opinion.” 

“I’m not a masochist.” muttered Barty under his breath. 

“No just a sadist.” sniped Harry, thinking of the Longbottom’s. He couldn’t have been more surprised when Barty looked away…was he embarrassed? Or ashamed? That wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting. What the hell?

“Believe it or not…we weren’t always like that,” sighed Barty. “We just lost sight of who we were and what we hoped to accomplish. We became the monsters the light side were saying we were.” 

“Tell that to Neville Longbottom, it wasn’t enough that you tortured his parents you had to show him the spell up close and personal.” hissed Harry, and not to forget him. It wasn’t just the Cruciatus Curse that had been shown but the killing curse as well. Although Lucius Malfoy had almost said the spell in his second year - he hadn’t actually seen the spell formed and used to kill a living creature - even if it was only a spider. Why wasn’t he fighting back? Using some sort of excuse? Getting angry? It was odd, unless…unless Voldemort had made it clear to them that he wasn’t to be touched. Well, if that was the case, he would definitely need to have some fun with Pettigrew.

“I was playing my part,” stated Barty, sharply, “I was playing an Auror who was known for his suspicion of everything and everyone…which admittedly played in my favour. It’s exactly what Moody would have done, showed everyone the consequences of those spells especially with a war on the horizon. Do you think Dumbledore would have allowed it if its not exactly what he had planned…what his friend would do?” sarcasm thick when speaking of Dumbledore and the thought of the old fool actually having friends. 

Harry had to concede the point…it obviously was what Moody would have done otherwise Dumbledore would have ended up suspicious. He hadn’t really thought of it like that before. It didn’t really matter, after all they’d done what they had and nothing could undo it. It was hard to decide who was worse, him for doing it or Dumbledore allowing it knowing exactly what he was putting him and Neville through. Wasn’t it enough that he had heard his parent’s death all last year because Dumbledore had allowed the Dementors in the school? He wasn’t stupid enough to think they would have been there unless it was something Dumbledore wanted. He probably suspected that Sirius was really innocent - he wasn’t overly surprised when they’d claimed he as. And he hadn’t assumed they’d been hexed like everyone else. 

“Why are you here?” Barty asked again, really wishing for an answer. 

“Same reply as before, ask HIM!” muttered Harry, looking around the room, it was just like his in layout and everything in it. Well, there were books here and a bag but other than that it was the same colour scheme as his. “Haven’t you been reading the newspapers?” 

“That rag? Its only purpose should be for lighting fires,” sneered Barty, grimacing in distaste. “Plus, it only writes what the Ministry allows them to write.” 

Harry didn’t question how he would know such a thing since his father had been on the run for the Minister of Magic position. Popular for throwing the Death Eaters into prison without trial and giving the Aurors the freedom to use the killing curses. His dislike for Crouch came from the fact he’d forced him to compete in the tournament and had a hand in locking up Sirius without trial. The only reason the wizarding world had become disenchanted with Crouch was due to his son being a Death Eater. They were so fickle it was actually disgusting and abhorrent to him. Still, he hadn’t expected to have a…slightly normal conversation with Bartemius Crouch junior of all people. “How are you so…normal?” asked Harry, staring at Crouch, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Excuse me?” asked Barty surprised. 

“What? You’re not spitting and demanding to know what he had done to the other Death Eaters!” stated Harry defensively, eyeing the books Barty was reading, curiously.

“Potions,” grunted Barty, glaring at the teenager. 

“They have potions that can help mental illnesses?” asked Harry in curiosity staring over at the vials slightly impressed. 

“I am not mentally ill,” hissed Barty insulted. “They just help people who’ve been exposed to Dementors,” the other potion helped clear his mind of the affects the Imperius Curse had on him. He was filled with potions, but he couldn’t deny the results, he was feeling more like his old self.

Harry nodded his head, wondering why Sirius hadn’t been given those potions. He sure could use them, although he couldn’t say for sure since he didn’t know Sirius as well as he would like. He’d only seen him a few times and written with him every now and again, but surely, he shouldn’t act the way he did? He took too many risks, acted as if he was still seventeen years old…and could only get reprimanded not thrown back in Azkaban or kissed by a Dementor. He was thinking of the time Sirius had wanted to meet him when the whole tournament fiasco - comparing him to his father saying he was less like him than he thought. That had surprisingly hurt him, just like Remus’ words had when he basically told him he was ungrateful for his parents sacrifice because he was wandering Hogwarts at night. He hadn’t felt the same fondness for Remus since then…and when he had heard nothing from the wizard it had cemented his anger for him. He wasn’t the only student who wandered the castle! The hypocrite used to do it too. 

“Here,” said Barty, throwing a book at the bottom of his bed next to Harry.

“Dark arts?” stated Harry, reading the title green eyes gleaming.

“You were better than some of the seventh years I taught,” grunted Barty, sounding a bit like Moody in that moment. “You have a natural affinity for that branch of magic.” 

“Hmm,” was the only sound Harry made as he moved to get himself comfortable, crossing his legs. Might as well get comfortable considering he had no idea how long he’d be here for. Last evening had been over an hour and a half before the door opened.  

“Plus, its funny imagining the look on Dumbledore’s face if he saw you reading a book like that…he often commented on you being his greatest creation.” the sadistic grin was back, showing Harry that he wasn’t completely different and Harry took comfort in that. 

“Yes, just hilarious,” Harry told him a deadpanned look on his face. Creation? That’s what he was? Something that Dumbledore had created? Pft, that’s what the old fool liked to think. He must have really had him fooled, either he wasn’t as good as he liked to think himself…or he wasn’t as powerful as he made out. He was obviously powerful, Voldemort was scared to go up against him, or was he? After all he’d only ever heard that from his classmates, they wouldn’t know any better than him what the last war had been like. He didn’t know anything…so perhaps now was the time to find out. 

“Why did you join?” asked Harry, not even pretending to read the book - as interesting as it actually looked. Was there more to the Dark side than the evil, insanity, and pureblood-melodrama, the relentless pursuit of power and to dominate all wizards and witches without caring about the consequences or repercussions. Their savagery and eagerness to cause people as much pain as possible as their bloodthirsty killing?

Barty gave Harry a measuring look, as if judging the sincerity and reason behind him asking. “I respected and admired the Dark Lord, and I believe in the cause.” there was more to it than that but he refused to tell the teenager that. He craved the Dark Lord’s approval, he thought of him as a father, he had been there for him when his own biological father had not, had taught him everything he knew…it wasn’t hard to admire him, his power, his knowledge and abilities. His biological father had never been around, not for as long as he could remember him, he spent all his time at the Ministry, even when his mother got sick and even during her dying days he had never been around. He had never cared about his mother or him, and he loathed him with all he had. 

“And the Cause?” questioned Harry seriously, giving Crouch his undivided attention. He heard the door clicking open, nobody was there it was just magic letting him out now that whoever was in the Manor either gone or told about him…he would go with gone. 

“We are the ones that question the logic of the Ministry, who believe in good and evil, light and dark, but the reality is there is no good or evil only power and those determined enough to seek it.” stated Barty. 

Harry blinked, flashing back to his first year “There is no good and evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it.” Voldemort had said that. 

“That’s it? That’s the speech you give to people considering coming to the Dark side?” asked Harry blankly. 

“Surely you are smart enough to realize there is no such thing as good magic,” sneered Barty irritated. 

“I get that, but why is it worth being killed over?” Harry said to him. He wanted to know why they were willing to risk everything, see their side of it everything he knew was one sided. 

“Only someone naïve could ask that,” Barty told Harry sardonically. “All other schools allow the practice of Dark Arts, teaches them how to perform the spells and stop yourself being dragged into the thrall of Dark magic. It’s only dangerous when you do not know how to control it, those too weak to master it. More and more magic is being classified as Dark, all this knowledge, this power…a way of life is being deemed illegal because of one old fool.” 

“What does Dumbledore have to do with magic being made illegal?” asked Harry, cutting in surely his hold wasn’t so complete that he was able to fool everyone within the Ministry? Crouch was passionate about it, each word proved that without a shadow of a doubt. 

“His word is basically law, has been since he defeated Grindelwald, anything he said goes, it’s just the way it is. There aren’t many that would stand against Dumbledore and risk being an outcast of society so they follow his example. Those that don’t want to come here and find other likeminded people, those that believe all magic is a gift and should be allowed to be practiced without scorn ridicule and being sent to Azkaban.” Barty told him, surprised the boy was still interested and willing to listen to his side. “Why do you think he made sure you remained in the Muggle world?” 

“Wait…what do I have to do with this?” demanded Harry, trying to keep up with everything. The war had been going on far longer than he’d been alive. This had nothing to do with him.

“That night you became a new hero, the new hero. If you had stayed…everyone would have clung on to your word…not Dumbledore’s. The interest started up again the second you returned to the magical world surely you noticed it? But he made sure you were secluded at Hogwarts, the press anyone from within the Ministry he made sure you were unavailable. He also made sure that your little escapades were kept under wraps, if you had grown up with a magical guardian you could have sued Hogwarts to its back teeth and Dumbledore for what happened.” 

“Um…” Harry was blown away; he didn’t know what to say to that! 

“It’s ironic that he shows his disgust at all things considered Dark magic when the spells he surrounded your home in were as dark as they come…its’ not called blood wards or blood magic for nothing.” sneered Barty, his total disgust for Dumbledore showing. 

“They are?” commented Harry, surprised. They had gotten way off topic, maybe he should just ask Voldemort what his goals were…or what they had been when he first started. It made him wonder just how ‘dark’ his spells would be if they were published.

“Since Dumbledore came to power…over a dozen classes at Hogwarts have been cut from the curriculum, the last one I heard he was trying to remove was Divination. All that magic lost…because of one mans opinion of what magic should be…meanwhile he doesn’t practice what he preaches.” said Barty. 

“So this war isn’t with the muggle-borns then…it’s with Dumbledore?” Harry was blown away, all those deaths and for what? Because of one wizard who was determined to apparently squash all magical knowledge other than what he deemed ’proper’ he wondered if he could find out about the classes. Hogwarts: a history! That would be able to tell him about the classes surely? 

“Dumbledore and the Order, essentially yes,” confirmed Barty. 

He needed to read Hogwarts: A History and ask Voldemort a few questions…hopefully he would be in a revealing mood. If not then he would just continue to ask him until he got his answers. He guessed Pettigrew was safe for now; he had more important things to worry about.

He needed to talk to Voldemort, to find out more, and look up information about the blood wards and ask about the Order.

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 9

"I did not call you," Voldemort stated, narrowing his eyes on Severus as he entered his office. He looked extremely irritated, a look he normally only sported after having to endure an endless Order meeting in the past, and even then, it was never this obvious. Turning his chair around slightly, he observed the normally composed wizard, actually fascinated by the fact Severus had lost his composure so much that he was displaying it to him. It was as rare as Lucius Malfoy running around naked, that is to say not at all. Had his cover been blown?

"Forgive my impudence, My Lord," Severus said quietly, walking towards Voldemort and bowing swiftly. This was the only warning Voldemort had to know this conversation was going to be long and gruelling. Severus did not have to bow; the only reason he would be doing so was because he was going to tell him something he would not like ― at all. "What are you doing with Harry Potter?"

"How did you come by this information?" Voldemort demanded, hissing out the words in anger. The bigger ―and more immediate― question was did Dumbledore know? Was his hideout compromised? It had better not be, he always had the junior Death Eaters meeting at various locations, mostly Malfoy Manor, to throw off anyone figuring it out if they were tempted to betray him. Only his closest and most trusted knew about this place; was his trust misplaced? Quite frankly his desire to know was the only thing staying his twitching palm from cursing Severus into next week.

"On my own, My Lord," Severus rushed to answer, slightly surprised that he wasn't being tortured. While the Dark Lord he'd known back in the day had taken suggestions, he would never allow anyone, not even his second or third in command, to question his decisions no matter the occasion. "I've learned a lot of disconcerting information, especially regarding Harry Potter."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes further until they were nothing but slits. "Why would you be searching for Harry Potter so earnestly?" he demanded. And so urgently? He did not like where this was going; unbidden, the memory of a teenaged Severus kneeling before him wishing him to spare the life of Lily Evans flashed before his eyes. Yes, he was keeping up pretences, but to go to such great lengths? Something wasn't right there.

Severus tensed, knowing he would just have to be truthful and hope for the best…there was no alternative. "I swore a Vow to keep Harry Potter safe." Oh, there was something worse than curses…the silence, the long seething silences.

"So, you did betray me, Severus," Voldemort stated with a feigned calmness.

"My Lord, all I ever asked for my loyalty was for Lily Evans' life to be spared; her son was all that was left of her. My allegiance has always been to you, never Dumbledore." Severus said quietly. "Upon your defeat, Dumbledore requested that I take a Vow and protect the child to my best ability."

"I see," Voldemort replied, his anger building into epic proportions. He was trying to lay the blame at his feet? He had tried to keep his word but the bloody woman hadn't moved aside. Not only that, she'd given her stubborn nature to her son.

"Ever since the Vow was created, I've been unknowingly breaking my word," Severus added, sweating slightly at the unbearable hotness in the room due to his Lord's magic. "I recently discovered that Potter was abused, and that isn't the worst of it… I believe Dumbledore has been manipulating the boy from the moment his parents died."

Voldemort's anger faded, as he arched an eyebrow; knowing Severus as he did… it probably involved mind reading. "You have proof?"

"Of his abuse?" Severus questioned, his tone cautious and surprised.

"The manipulation," Voldemort replied grimly.

"Only my word, and of course the memories should you wish to see them," Severus answered. He couldn't have been more surprised that he wasn't being cursed; he wasn't sure what on earth was going on. This wasn't how he had envisioned this conversation going, he had yet to be cursed to the floor.

"Put them in the pensieve, Severus," Voldemort directed, his tone dark, trying to stop himself from punishing the dark wizard for his actions. The only thing that stopped him was the sense of truth he could feel coming from Severus; he was loyal to him, and Dumbledore had forced him to make the Vow. Now that the boy was firmly within his grasp, it would ensure that Severus remained on his side; oh, he knew Severus would keep his word and protect the boy ― the perfect body guard. He summoned the pensieve and left it afloat for Severus to put the memories in. The question remained whether to trust Severus or not, he'd already hidden much from him and the thought of being betrayed made his blood turn to ice.

Severus was unable to help himself. He glanced at the Dark Lord, trying to gauge his mood but those red eyes seared into his own filled with raw fury. Calming himself, he began to remove the memories that he required. He was desperate to ask why he hadn't killed Harry, but he didn't dare; he had gotten away with questioning him earlier, he wasn't about to tip him over the edge. The Dark Lord wasn't exactly known for his patience. Once the memories were in, the silence continued.

"My Lord?" Severus questioned; his tone hesitant.

"Leave, Severus; if anyone finds out…" Voldemort trailed off purposely; he had no need to finish his sentence for the wizard to understand what he meant. Severus knew he would keep his word too. He would not tolerate another betrayal like Regulus Blacks.

"My Lord… my Vow…" Severus added, swallowing thickly and wondering if he should just kill himself and be done with it now.

"The boy will not be harmed," Voldemort hissed in irritation, he did not like being questioned. Watching the wizard stand and turn towards the door, his hands twitched as he suppressed the urge to lash out. He waited until Severus was at the edge of the door before speaking, finding amusement in the way he stiffened. "Do not return without the locket."

"My Lord," Severus nodded his agreement before sliding out, still feeling out of sorts; he hadn't been cursed and that thought kept rattling around in his mind. He would not think on anything else here, not until he got to the safety of Spinners End.

After lunch Harry was just about to leave when instead he turned and spoke to Voldemort.

"Where's my trunk?" Harry asked, giving Voldemort a glare just for old time's sake; he didn't want the wizard under the impression he was just going to play along. He was stuck here, a prisoner, so he was going to make damn well sure he made every day torture. Hell, even his glasses ―not that he needed them anymore thanks to the potion― had been taken from him when he was put in the dungeons, and he knew that they had taken the trunk― it was the only explanation for why they would think he ran away. "And my owl?" If they'd hurt Hedwig, he would make sure Pettigrew didn't last another day. He would twist the head clean off the rat's bloody body, and relish every second of it.

Voldemort turned to look at Harry arching an eyebrow, clearing not about to grace him with an answer. The boy did not get to demand things from him, he was Lord Voldemort... he couldn't even be bothered finishing his own thoughts. Potter didn't care who he was, or how he threatened him, apparently; he would just do as he pleased. It irritated the hell out of him, yet at the same time he felt a smidgen of respect flaring in his body. Nobody other than Dumbledore and his Order dared to defy him, and even then, the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't actually dare to rile him up the way this boy did. "Just what makes you think I have it?" Voldemort asked coldly, giving the boy one of his fiercest glares ― one, he might add, that would have his Death Eaters almost peeing themselves in fear.

"They think I ran away; the only reason they'd think that is if my stuff is gone, just like last time," Harry told him, his lips pursed as if to stop himself adding anything else.

"Let me guess, you didn't get far?" Voldemort smirked sardonically, "Someone you know showed up afterwards to keep an eye on you?"

Harry blinked, stiffening notably; he had a feeling he was missing something. How the hell would he know something like that? And he said it like it was a bad thing… part of him had thought at the time that they came because he was there; the Weasleys could barely get by without staying at the Leaky Cauldron when they had a perfectly usable house. He'd assumed it was to keep him safe from Sirius Black, who at the time was thought to be a traitor and had led Voldemort to his parents... resulting in their deaths.

"Let me guess, Order members?" Voldemort was sneering ferally now.

"Barty mentioned that last night, the Order I mean, I don't think he was meaning Dumbledore's order of Merlin…I meant to ask, what is it?" Harry asked, side-tracked about his trunk for the moment.

Voldemort stared unblinkingly at Harry, for a brief moment truly rendered speechless. Interesting, Harry didn't even know about the Order of the phoenix? Didn't know about the organization his parents had joined? Dumbledore's vigilante group? One Dumbledore is likely using Harry's good name in order to gain more members? "You do not know what the Order of the Phoenix is?" he asked the younger wizard.

"No," Harry said, sitting up intently, his curiosity piqued. "What does it have to do with Dumbledore?" intrigued.

Voldemort nodded slowly, "Follow me," he stood regally, and moved out of the dining room, as always, not even looking to see if Harry was following him.

Harry trotted after him, for once not complaining or making him wait, or even watching him suspiciously. He was truly curious to know what it was all about. He padded into Voldemort's office, his eyes drawn to all the books, the urge to read them ever present.

A pensive was removed from a cupboard, and set in the middle of a conjured table in the middle of the room. Harry's eyes lit up, wondering what memories he was going to get to see and who they actually belonged to.

Instead of being immersed in it, Voldemort muttered an incantation under his breathe, and light lit up above the pensive. Harry watched in fascination, unbeknown to him, this was one of the many creations that the Dark Lord Voldemort had invented in his time.

"The Order of the Phoenix is an underground movement, formed Dumbledore in an aid to prevent the dark sect winning." Voldemort informed Harry, as pictures of the Order members flashed in front of him, "He created it in the 1970s when I returned from abroad and continued my quest of ridding the world of whom I deemed unworthy."

"That's Moody," Harry said, commenting on the face of the wizard as he went by, although, he'd been vastly different, yet still recognizable.

"Many wizards and witches joined the Order, Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn, Edgar and Emily Bones, the Prewitt twins, Fabian and Gideon. Marlene McKinnon." Voldemort named the ones projected above the pensive.

"I'm surprised you remember them." Harry commented surprised.

"Don't be, they were…worthy opponents, exceptionally powerful, the actions we took were…regretful. It's a shame Dumbledore dug his claws into them so young and made them believe that so called 'dark' magic was evil, and the light was the only socially acceptable way to go. I tried to make them see otherwise, but regretfully, it wasn't to be. They were taught that way of thinking at the age of eleven, they never stood a chance. Now the younger generation learn from their parents and it's reinforced at Hogwarts." Shaking his head sombrely, "You see, Dumbledore picks his favourites, treats them well, lets them off with instances that should have seen them expelled. However, he knows they'd be far too useful to him to allow it. Each generation becoming weaker, not in power, but in knowledge."

"Then there's of course, those that attended Hogwarts with Dumbledore. Powerful in their own rights but extremely gullible." Voldemort informed Harry, giving a name to each person that had joined Dumbledore's order.

Harry froze when he saw Dedalus Diggle, then worse, Arabella Figg appeared. The seething fury Harry felt knew no bounds. "Ouch!" yanking back into here and now when an overpowered stinging hex hit him.

"Judging by your reaction, you know them?" Voldemort questioned, a thoughtful look on his face. He had seen many of Harry's memories, naturally, but not them all, and he'd watched what memories he could glean on fast forward. So, it's only natural he missed like seventy percent of the memories.

"I know them," Harry said, a seething cold fury on his face, "Didn't know they were magical though." Figg had never once given an indication to being magic, why the bloody hell did she live in Wisteria Walk?

Voldemort snorted derisively, "Only one of them can be declared magical, only by a small margin, Dedalus Diggle is just a few points off being a squib. His father Darragh Diggle actually gave one million galleons to the Headmaster Dippet to…have his son admitted to Hogwarts." He wasn't a squib but he didn't have enough magic to attend Hogwarts.

So, Figg was a squib, she knew about the magical world his entire life. Knew about the abuse he suffered and likely told Dumbledore all this time. The desire to kill them was so strong that it physically hurt to remain standing. "They all knew about how I was treated…how I am treated, Moody and Mr. Weasley threatened my uncle, they know." And it made the rage fade away into a sickened pain of betrayal. "Why didn't they ever tell me?"

"You didn't think Dumbledore would risk you learning anything before he was ready for you to, did you?" Voldemort pointed out, watching the boy, his magic was immense, it cloaked the room, had anyone ever seen the boys magic fully unleashed?

"Didn't you ever wonder how they found you when you ran away, how they always managed to find you?" Voldemort enquired dangerously, standing up and circling the boy, trying to intimidate him.

"I wasn't exactly hiding," Harry pointed out simply; moving to make sure Voldemort was always within his sight.

"Tracking charms," hissed Voldemort, his red eyes gleaming. "On everything you hold most dear."

"Guess you and Dumbledore are alike then," Harry stated, calm as you please, his leg jerking where he currently had the band around his ankle that prevented him from leaving. No doubt there was a tracking charm in that as well, so Voldemort knew where he was; it certainly explained the doors getting closed closest to where he was, trapping him within.

Then suddenly Harry fell to the floor, a startled scream leaving his lips before he controlled it by biting down on his lips. Just as he had, the spell let up. Groaning, he looked up at the wizard. Oh boy, he'd found what pissed him off, it seemed: being compared to Dumbledore reduced Voldemort to a murderous rage. The spell hadn't even been on that long, just a few seconds, certainly not as long as it had been in the graveyard. It had been a warning, a powerful one at that since he'd done it without speaking or his wand. Grunting, Harry got to his feet, crudely wiping away the blood that had formed where he bit his lip, staring at him and refusing to let his fear rule him or let Voldemort think he was intimidating him. He was used to pain; it was all he knew, so he was using the wrong incentives to get him to do anything he wanted this way.

"That was just a taste, boy," Voldemort snarled, right in his ear, "Do not test me on this." He was already seething from Severus' visit.

"I'll say," muttered Harry, loud enough for Voldemort to hear. "How did you do that? You didn't even say the spell... you don't even have your wand." He couldn't help but be awed, although a slight whine could be heard as he spoke.

"It's something that will no doubt come easy to you, Harry," Voldemort stated dangerously. "From what I've heard, you are exceedingly good at the Dark Arts at school. I can only imagine how much that must have irritated Dumbledore." Barty had told him everything, up to and including the fact, the fourteen-year-old lad could fight off Barty's Imperius curse whereas nobody else could. Not even the seventh years had been capable of it.

Even saying his name caused Voldemort to get furious. Being so close to him Harry could feel his magic spike as he said 'Dumbledore' with more consternation than when Snape said his name ― not something he'd ever thought possible.

"Actually, it's a class everyone expected me to be good at," Harry muttered bitterly. Merlin, his body hurt; he just wanted to sit, or preferably lie down, and rest his aching muscles. He would not show weakness, he absolutely refused to, not here, not now.

"Your classmates perhaps," Voldemort replied, nodded briefly, "Not Dumbledore." Of that he was one hundred percent certain. What normal thirteen-year-old could successfully cast a fully-fledged Patronus charm? Or what fourteen-year-old could beat the Imperius Curse cast on him by a powerful wizard, and yes, Barty was powerful ―he didn't take on mediocre wizards, only the best― unless of course they had a certain value or use to him, such as Pettigrew.

"Can't you just remove the tracking charms on my stuff and give it back to me?" Harry asked, irritated, getting back to his original purpose. He didn't want to talk about Dumbledore; he wasn't any fonder of him than Voldemort was.

"Idiotic boy, I already removed them!" Voldemort hissed. As if he was stupid enough to leave tracking-charmed items on his property. He might as well shoot the Dark Mark into the sky and declare this was where he lived for all to see. No, he didn't want Dumbledore finding out about this property. He would let him assume he would be using his Death Eaters' residences as he had done in the past. No doubt he'd have people watching those areas hoping for signs of activity. What the hell was so special in the trunk that he had to have it back? He had ensured there was nothing in it that could be used as a weapon or aid in his escape.

He sounded like Snape, was Harry's first thought, or had Snape got it from Voldemort? He was curious, but enough to find out? No; he'd already antagonized Voldemort today, after a short rest he would focus his energies on Pettigrew. Unfortunately, the git was just as good at hiding here as he had been at hiding out from the entire magical population. He belatedly realized that Voldemort hadn't told him how he was able to use magic without a wand and without words; in a weird way he'd even complimented him! Now wasn't that bloody weird?

"Amita!" Voldemort curtly stated. "Bring Potter's trunk to his room."

"Yes, Sir," said the House-elf who appeared, then promptly disappeared again.

Harry stared at the space where the House-elf had previously been, a calculating look on his face.

"Don't bother trying to get the House-elves to help you; you will not like the consequences if you do," Voldemort added as he reclaimed his seat. He'd had enough of the boy for today, hopefully he would have the sense not to antagonize him further; he was furious as it is.

'Suspicious much?' thought Harry, before turning and leaving, deciding against saying anything... he would wait until tomorrow. Although he definitely wouldn't be comparing Voldemort to Dumbledore again; as he'd told Voldemort in the graveyard, he wasn't a masochist. Plus, he wanted to see if any of his things were missing. Only when he got to his room did he realize that he had not gotten an answer about Hedwig; Merlin, he hoped she was okay.

Harry made his way quickly to his room. He missed Hogwarts. The ambient magic surrounding the school helped him, kept him as safe as it could and truthfully, he would miss the school. Despite Dumbledore, his manipulations, and everything bad that had happened, the school in a way had been his home. Sighing softly, he sat down on the edge of the bed. His trunk had been brought just as instructed. It hadn't passed his notice that the House-elf looked well cared for. He found it ironic really, since Dobby was a fine example of what the Dark side was capable of.

Nothing was what he expected it to be, he couldn't help but think as he looked through his trunk, making sure everything was there. The things he cherished most, the cloak, photo album… but there was one thing missing. Panic settled in; every single spell, charm, and potion he had created was written in a little black book he had stolen from Dudley, when he was eleven, just after the summer started after his first year at Hogwarts. "Please, no!" Harry thought, beginning to rummage through his trunk, until it was empty. "No! no, no, no, no!" Harry muttered, before forcefully calming himself down, and beginning to put the items back in the trunk one at a time, until everything was in it except his photo album; there was still no sign of his black book.

He froze momentarily; where had he put it? Had he managed to sneak it past his uncle? Or kept it in his trunk? If he hadn't put it in his trunk then there was a good bet that it was still at the Dursleys'. If they were looking for him… they might find his hiding place, they would find his book. All his work was in that thing, it was the one thing he was most proud of. It was solid, tangible proof that he wasn't Dumbledore's golden boy, not completely, that he was his own person with his own beliefs. He couldn't let it get into the wrong hands, especially after everything he'd learned about Dumbledore ― Harry wouldn't put it past him to use the spells and potions he'd created now. Damn it, he couldn't think clearly, the days at the Dursleys' were always murky due to the fact he mostly always ended up with a head injury. Mostly from Vernon, but Dudley didn't help matters any either; honestly, he couldn't remember anything clearly as soon as he stepped foot in that house.

Groaning in despair, he realized he was going to have to ask Voldemort.

The thought left a thoroughly disgusting taste in his mouth.

Standing up, he moved out of the room, wondering why he was even doing this. There was no way he was going to let him out of this place… and he'd laugh himself silly if Voldemort went himself. Maybe he would send the House-elf; he really wanted that book, enough to ask Voldemort. Peering in the extremely large and extravagant dining room, he saw nothing, shrugging his shoulders he moved through the landing, wondering where he could be… the library? Or office? With a new destination in mind he quickly moved, remembering where it was and what he had learned the last time he had been there.

Opening the door he grunted in frustration, why the hell couldn't he use the damn horcrux to find him? It hadn't let him down before! Always tingling like an annoying reminder that he had survived an attack somehow that nobody else had been able to. Just then he felt dizzy, grasping a hold of the door only for it to slam shut on his fingers, but he felt nothing as his mind was… there was no other word for it, transported to another… the room was dark, in front of him was paperwork, Nagini was purring ― did snakes purr? In front of the fireplace. Just as abruptly as it started it stopped, making him jump and grimace in agony, cradling his hand as he fought to stop himself screaming. Fuck, that hurt; he used his shoulder to rub at his head. What the hell had happened? What had he just seen? It was like first year all over again, the time he'd seen Quirrell in his mind.

"Potter," Voldemort hissed staring at the boy, furious beyond all measures at the audacity of what he had just done. How dare he? It didn't help that he'd been unable to prevent the access to his mind. All the occlumency shields in the world had been useless against the attack, and it hadn't even been a vicious attack, just a probing, seeking reach. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just end your life right now?" He was seriously tempted to do it; he didn't care that Potter was his Horcrux; it was a violation of his privacy that he could not condone.

Harry stared at Voldemort, eyeing the wand in his hand. He wasn't known for his patience, so he was surprised he was still standing there and not under the Cruciatus curse again.

"Believe it or not… I didn't mean to; this isn't the first time it's happened," Harry said deciding to be completely truthful ― maybe he would be willing to let him get his book if he did. "I heard you and Quirrell talking in what I thought was a dream. I didn't remember it when I woke up, didn't believe it. I put the pieces together after, and I just thought my scar acted as stupid early warning system. There's no need to snort; I was eleven and I had no idea how else to explain it! It hurt like blazes whenever you were near… well, until now." He scowled darkly at the wizard for being such a derisive arse. "It usually happens when I'm asleep. I saw you when you were this disgusting baby thing; you killed that Muggle when Nagini told him on like a tattler." He doubted he'd ever grow fond of Nagini, but being threatened as food wouldn't help that.

Voldemort's lips disappeared at the comment about him and his familiar; fortunately, he was more curious and cautious, if truth be known, about this connection between them. "Did it ever occur again?"

"I don't know, I think so; it might have been the same night but I saw Crouch as well," Harry admitted, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember exactly what happened last year and what he had seen. "There was talk about the Quidditch World Cup, and you feeding me to Nagini," he added, thinking back and finding it was probably the last time he'd seen anything. "I was just looking for you and then I felt myself falling, I must have grabbed for the door and it shut on my hands but I didn't even notice. All I saw was a room; it was dark with a few candles, documents spread out, and Nagini in front of the fireplace."

"What were you thinking about?" Voldemort snapped, speculation circling, as ideas began to thrum through him.

"Er…" Harry started, he under no circumstances wanted to admit he was thinking about him when it happened. "Just… you know, nothing… I was looking for you." Biting his tongue, he stared at Voldemort without emotion, cursing himself inwardly.

"Interesting," Voldemort muttered distractedly wondering how he could stop it from happening again.

"I don't think so," Harry said bitterly, still clutching at his hand which was thumping in agony.

"Give me your hand," Voldemort demanded imperiously.

Harry gave him the same look as he had when the dark wizard had asked for his blood.

"I do not have time for games, give me your hand or keep it that way," Voldemort's patience was gone, replaced with anger.

Well, when he put it that way… Merlin, he hated how smug Voldemort always was, then again when it came to magical abilities, he had every right to be. Moving his wrist, he held it out his mask crumbing only slightly, as Voldemort took a hold of his wrist and began to mutter under his breath. Almost immediately the pain abated and the swelling went down.

"Now why did you wish to see me?" Voldemort was admittedly curious about that.

"I need your help," Harry grumbled, looking as if he would rather eat horse manure than actually go through with this… asking him for help.

"Well?" Voldemort stated, arching an eyebrow, impatiently, things weren't going well with the creatures; as of now they seemed to wish to remain neutral, and he couldn't have that.

"Did you take any books from my trunk?" Harry asked, already suspecting the answer.

"No, Potter, I did not," Voldemort sniped, indignantly, but he quickly remembered that nobody knew about his past… well, this boy didn't at any rate, he thought, thinking about Dumbledore with distaste.

"There's something I want from the Dursleys'; it's hidden… would you let me go for it? Or send someone?" Harry asked, not showing just how precious the item was to him ― that would be guaranteed to raise a lot of questions he didn't want to answer. They were still standing outside the library; the house was quiet, so quiet in fact you wouldn't believe that there were two other people here. Well, one and a disgusting rat he had oddly enough not come across since he'd attacked him… if it could be called attack. The look on Voldemort's face was the only answer he needed. Desperate now, he quietly spoke, "I'll owe you a boon as long as it's not to kill or harm someone." The only exception he'd make to that is if it was Dumbledore or the Dursleys.

"That is a dangerous proposition to make Potter," Voldemort warned, his lips twitching. The boy certainly was a snake in sheep's clothing if he knew about the Slytherin house system and how the house was run.

"I want it," Harry replied strongly, he wasn't about to back down. If he had to find a way to leave on his own then so be it, he would get his damn book back if it was the last thing he did. He wasn't about to sit around until Dumbledore found it and realized just how little Harry cared about his precious cause. He wasn't exactly sure why he cared whether they found out or not, he had just gone so long that it was instinctive for him now to be this way. For his own survival people had to underestimate him; even Voldemort still did. Plus, it was his; nobody else should get their grubby hands on it.

"It must be of greatest importance to you," Voldemort said speculatively.

"Yes," Harry stated eye twitching slightly, but nothing else gave him away - or so he thought he had no idea Voldemort could sense his emotions due to the band across his ankle.

"If we go, the muggles die," Voldemort spat, he had seen the boy's memories, or rather his aunts and uncles, if they had a right to be called as such; he had seen what they'd put the boy through thanks to Severus' use of Legilimency when confronting them.

"Is that your idea of collecting the boon?" Harry asked, almost hopeful that was all he wanted.

Voldemort stiffened. Oh, there was nothing Gryffindor about this boy at all, and he revelled in it really. If and when this got out, he hoped to see the look on the old fool's face. He had done it again; with his manipulation he had caused another powerful wizard to crave nothing but vengeance in his heart. He had no doubt the boy wasn't completely evil; he had a problem with needless death. He did wonder if the manipulation went deep or if it was how he honestly felt on his own. Would that be his boon? He wondered; perhaps it could build trust, but he suspected the boy would accept his terms whether it was the boon or not… and he was an ultimate Slytherin himself. "No," he told him.

Harry's lips pursed, before he reluctantly nodded. He had known as much even as he asked. "Alright." Could he even leave? Or was Voldemort going on his own? "If you're going, how will you get passed the wards?"

Voldemort smirked, "There are no wards." He failed to tell him they had; in fact, the blood sacrificial magic had settled around his hideout ― probably due to the fact he wanted to protect the boy and keep him alive; it sensed that. It would keep his place safer than any ward he could place. The Order would never find it ― Dumbledore would never find it.

"What do you mean?" Harry's voice went low in anger, green eyes blazing with righteous fury. His magic reacted to his anger much like the time when Marge had said his mother was 'bad blood', with Petunia agreeing with her like a simpleton, not realising it was her blood too.

Voldemort just arched an eyebrow, not bothered in the least by the powerful magical display… alright, maybe he was, just a little. He was used to it; he used to do it when he was a young boy in that disgusting muggle orphanage. Used it to scare the hell out of the other children and make them so terrified of him that they would never tell ― they would do his bidding. This boy was supposed to be his equal, magical equal; he could see that being the case. This was another proverbial nail in Dumbledore's coffin he thought entirely too smugly. By the time he was finished with the boy, he would be wishing, no, begging to be allowed to participate in Dumbledore's death. "Exactly what I said," he replied just as darkly. Admittedly he didn't have the whole story, but he would soon acquire it from the fifthly Muggles.

"It's under my bed, there's a loose floorboard," Harry revealed, hoping he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

"There is no need to tell me," Voldemort stated, looking out of the window. "We shall depart under the cover of darkness,"

Harry stared at him for the longest time, judging him, seeing if he was serious… or if he was playing with him. Unfortunately, he couldn't get a read on the older wizard. Despite his youngish looks, he gave nothing away; he had an inscrutable mask perfected to a T. Harry nodded his head, only time would tell if he was serious or not. Either way, he had feeling this would teach him a valuable lesson: whether he could trust him. With that he walked away without so much as a thank you. It was his fault it had been left there in the first place, he didn't deserve a thanks. Yet he was allowing him to get it… turning around just before he exited the corridor he turned back and grudgingly said "Thanks," albeit even if it was grudgingly before he was gone, cursing himself for being an idiot.

A smug smirk twitched at Voldemort's lips. The boy didn't have much of a defence in his mind; he could clearly see what he was thinking. So, this was a test, was it? It was a good job he was going along with it. A boon from Harry Potter? Well, of course he would, just for that alone. It was too bad he had stipulations on it, but it should go well in the end, he was confident. He always got what he wanted; the boy would be his, at his side willingly before the end. He wouldn't need to manipulate him either, just showing him the manipulation that the so-called light side had heaped upon him would do it for him. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it; they were giving him Harry Potter on a silver platter. Chuckling to himself, he turned swiftly and went back to his study and revaluated his plans.

Things were getting good ― very quickly.

Later that night

"I assume you have your cloak with you?" Voldemort stated standing in the doorway of Potter's room, finding him spread out on the bed reading a book, wholly unconcerned about being with him, if the laxness of his body and location of his wand at the bedside table were anything to go by.

"What?" Harry said looking up. The book was so good he'd lost himself in it for… three hours, he realised as he looked at his watch.

"The proper way to address someone when you did not hear them is excuse me or pardon," Voldemort commented, irritated by his manners.

Harry laughed; he couldn't help himself, he just burst out laughing at the hilarity of this situation. "All things considered; I'm surprised I turned out the way I did; you'll see for yourself." The Dursleys liked to act all uppity but they weren't.

"Indeed," Voldemort drawled quite amused and not showing it. Most people cowered at the sight of him, for good reason admittedly. Yet this boy had no problem speaking to him as though he was not an evil wizard who had the dark side under his thumb… dare he say, as an equal? He wasn't used to it, and quite frankly he had no idea how to react to it. Sarcasm he was fine with, but actually taking without sarcasm… well, it was decidedly odd. When it became apparent that the boy would say nothing more― never mind excuse his manners― he repeated himself. "Invisibility cloak, now."

"Aren't you worried I'll run away?" Harry remarked as he stood up with grace that wasn't normally present due to his injuries.

"No," Voldemort stated sharply. He would punish him severely if he tried, but even if he did, he would not succeed, the ankle bracelet he had put on the boy would prevent it.

As if sharing his thoughts, Harry looked down gazing at the green band, his lip unconsciously curling.

"Move," Voldemort reminded him curtly, they couldn't wait any longer.

"Alright," Harry said, without grumbling. He wanted the book too much to risk annoying the hell out of Voldemort; he could do that later. Maybe even test his spells out on Pettigrew… the thought brought a wicked smirk to his face as he grabbed his cloak from his trunk. It fell back down with a thump but neither took any notice of it ― too used to the sound since they were eleven. "Why right now?" He sensed that it wasn't just because it was dark.

Voldemort just gave him a steely look. Right now, there was only one wizard at Privet Drive guarding the place, the rest were out 'looking' for the boy. Not that they would ever find him of course, but this was the best time to get to the Dursleys' and make them regret the day they'd lifted a hand to a wizarding child. He honestly didn't understand why the boy wasn't darker than him; he'd had a worse childhood than him and that was saying something. The wizard on guard happened to Mundungus Fletcher… he wasn't even worth killing; he was a waste of magic.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, impervious to Voldemort's glare as he moved out of his bedroom. Boy, that was really strange saying that still. At Privet Drive he always thought of it as Dudley's second bedroom; his only bedrooms had been here and his cupboard. One second, they were moving through the manor, the next second he was grabbed and Apparated; it was tough enough being warned but when you weren't it was ten times worse. "This isn't Privet Drive," Harry said his tone guarded.

Voldemort refrained just slightly from rolling his eyes at the obvious statement. After a few seconds, he grabbed the boy again before Apparating once more. This time it was just at the entrance to Privet Drive. "Cloak on," Voldemort stated warningly.

"Why aren't your Death Eaters here? You don't normally go somewhere alone." Harry was feeling very perturbed by this turn of events, it contradicted everything he thought he knew about him.

"No? Evidently you do not know me very well, Potter," Voldemort insisted, disillusioning himself so he couldn't be seen. "Go. Be careful once we get to your house, there is an Order member on duty just in case you return." His tone for that single one was utterly patronising.

"You're actually acting concerned," Harry muttered knowing that he wasn't.

"Whether you believe it or not, nobody magical should be left with filthy muggles; not even you, my young nemesis, should be left to be abused… you would think Dumbledore would learn his lesson after the first time, not repeat it an additional two times," Voldemort admitted, as they walked, Voldemort just slightly behind the boy, sensing where he was and every step he took.

"Three times?" Harry rasped, stopping moving as he digested what he had learned.

"Move," he hissed irately; he had a timeframe and did not wish to remain longer than necessary.

Harry started walking without another word. He knew the way to number four blindfolded. Three times? Voldemort was obviously one of them, and he must know of the other person he had done it too also. Dumbledore was old, why didn't he ever learn from his mistakes? Unless it was a calculated move? A risky move to be sure… how quick would the wizarding world turn on Dumbledore if they learned the truth? What if he could convince Voldemort that destroying Dumbledore's reputation was the way to go? To get him out of the picture and take over without killing people? Hopefully he would put his distaste aside for Muggle-borns when he realizes the truth that they were from a magical line… a squib line, but magical nonetheless. His mind calculated all the possible ways to succeed in his new found mission.

He was so deep in thought that he almost missed the house, but he made it seem as though he hadn't, thankfully not needing to backtrack. Unfortunately, he backed into someone, they were invisible too so either they were concealed or were using an invisibility cloak as well. Cursing quietly under his breath, he froze, then the person did remove a cloak, looking around suspiciously. "Potter, is that you?" Mundungus asked, cautiously, knowing about the boy's invisibility cloak.

Harry rolled his eyes; he was a bloody idiot, whoever he was. Just then a red curse barrelled into the now visible wizard; now that did surprise him, why a stunning curse?

Voldemort ambled over to the unconscious wizard, pressing his wand to his temple, murmuring, "Obliviate!" and manipulating his memories to make him think he had simply fallen asleep on the job. "Remove the cloak." They were safe for now.

"Who is he?" Harry asked actually curious as he peered at him. He was filthy and smelled absolutely foul. "He smells worse than the Leaky Cauldron," he admitted, his nose screwed up slightly at the smell of alcohol and stale smoke. He hadn't met a wizard or witch yet who smoked, or even smelt like that. He gasped in shock when he heard a quiet chuckle, Voldemort had laughed? A genuine laugh but still a laugh! Not that evil sarcastic one.

"This waste of space is Mundungus Fletcher," Voldemort sneered, his voice filled with distain. "A member of Dumbledore's precious Order."

"Err… why do you consider them a threat?" Harry murmured in confusion, even he could have taken him down. He was actually quite disappointed in Dumbledore if this was the best he could get. Maybe it wasn't, perhaps he thought it unlikely he would come here again, using his better resources elsewhere. He hadn't been in the pensive that he could recall, then again it was dark, and the soft glow from the house wasn't doing much. He could smell him far better than he could see him.

"I do not," Voldemort replied calmly, sounding slightly insulted.

Harry bit down the, 'no, just Dumbledore,' but refrained; he didn't want to be cursed, thank you very much… nor did he want to be dragged back without his book. Keeping his cloak tightly held beside him, he crept closer to the house and opened the door as lightly as he could. He knew from experience that they were more than likely watching TV which was always loud. Harry's gaze went straight to the cupboard his eyes hardening slightly before he began to walk up the stairs.

Voldemort had seen the boy's reaction, but it was nothing he didn't already know. Ten years of being kept under the stairs in a cupboard; he may have killed the boy's parents but he wasn't in any way responsible for what Dumbledore had done. There was bound to have been plenty of wizards and witches salivating at the possibility of raising the last Potter heir. Dumbledore's need for constant control over everyone had led to this. Curiosity got the better of him and he walked over to the cupboard and opened it. His eyes were drawn to the childish scribbling; 'Harry's room,' written in crayons if he wasn't very much mistaken. His red eyes flashed in fury. This boy might have been his nemesis―he should have revelled in it―but truth was he didn't condone abuse. It was no laughing matter, and in this he could safely say he was better than Dumbledore.

Hearing booming laughter coming from the living room caused him to close the cupboard door and make his way to the bedroom where Potter was. He would deal with the Dursleys soon, but death was too good for the likes of them, perhaps a few weeks under his property would be good for them. Oh, how he would love to let Bella have at them, there was no other more inventive, perhaps except Severus. He just arrived at a door filled with padlocks when the boy exited the room with a book.

"All this for a book?" Voldemort said dryly.

"It's not just any book," Harry said defensively.

"Clearly," Voldemort replied, before a sadistic glint came to his eyes and he made his way downstairs.

"Are you going to do it here?" Harry asked as Voldemort quickly stunned the three muggles, so quickly that not even Petunia or Vernon had managed to give a single sound at the magical display.

Was that excitement he heard in Potters' voice? Surely it couldn't be? Perhaps he had imagined it. "I thought you said no killing or hurting anyone?" He voiced his thoughts with rancour; the boy was a hypocrite it seemed.

Harry paused for a moment before he admitted, "Some exceptions deserve to be made."

Voldemort had to nod curtly at that, he had killed many but none had been better than those who'd abandoned him: his father and grandparents. "To answer your question, no, not here,"

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Do you wish for it to be quick and painless?" Voldemort would be surprised if the answer was yes.

"I want Figg taken too," Harry stated, green eyes cold as ice. "She lives in Wisteria Walk."

"Are you offering another boon, Potter?" Voldemort was impressed despite himself. Being here struck a chord in the boy, one that drove home his vengeance with brutality.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "I've already gave you one." He didn't want to offer up any more.

"I'll take that as a no then," Voldemort stated, just to see how much Harry wanted it. Any hit to the Order was good in his book, but the boy didn't need to know that. "Amita?" he called, gazing at the Dursleys, his lip curled slightly. He didn't even want to touch them, let alone move them, hence his idea to use his House-elf.

"Yes Master? How can Amita help?" she spoke clearly, it was obvious to Harry that Voldemort couldn't stand ill manners.

"Take them to the lower dungeon," Voldemort demanded. If Potter thought his abode had been bad… well, it was nothing on the lower dungeons. Those were for his true enemies, those that would not come out of it alive; they never did. Anyone he wanted dead always ended up dead, with one obvious annoying exception.

"It's an Order member, are you really going to pass that up?" Harry asked shrewdly. His hands still clutching the book close to his chest. "Dumbledore obviously trusts her, or she wouldn't have been sent here." Bitterness coated each word. "He'd probably be furious," Harry added, playing to his need to see Dumbledore suffering to get him to do it.

Voldemort just smirked sadistically, finding himself genuinely amused. Either it was due to his mental state being more stable or just how the boy could make him actually want to take the woman without collecting on a boon. He knew the right thing to say, although everyone knew of his hatred of Dumbledore.

Harry fist pumped when he noticed that when they exited number four Privet Drive, they made their way towards Wisteria Walk. That was until Voldemort said "If we take her, I want to see what was so important in that book you'd come back here for." Given all the abuse the Dursley's had doled out to the boy, he honestly didn't think there was anything (short of actual revenge) that could have seen Harry returning.

"Fine," Harry grumbled, conceding it, anything was worth getting revenge on those who had betrayed him.

"I do believe I upheld my end of the bargain, Harry," Voldemort purred, his hand extended, red eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. He shouldn't enjoy this so much, but it was fun, and he didn't do fun. A verbal sparring partner that wasn't afraid of him… it was a new experience. Both infuriating and liberating, in equal measures, he was unsure of how to feel about it but as always, he put it down to his returned sanity and Potter stubbornness. Or should he say the Evans stubbornness in the boy? Lily Evans might have thought she was just a muggle-born but she wasn't, she was a Lestrange― a light Lestrange, as laughable as that sounded. Between the Potter and the Lestrange blood running through his veins, along with the Black and distant Malfoy, it was little wonder he had such a hot-headed yet stubborn creature. He did not even touch upon the fact they were related, that was just too annoying to contemplate.

With a long-suffering sigh, Harry thrust his hand out, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the book. He would get it back, he knew that. Yet the fact Voldemort was going to be looking at everything he'd ever written was worrisome. Nobody had seen inside that book, absolutely nobody and Voldemort was really smart; a genius really, he outdid Dumbledore's scores while at Hogwarts. Part of Harry worried about being laughed at; what was worse was he shouldn't care what Voldemort did or said. He should have expected something like this to happen when he asked to go to Privet Drive to get the book. It was better than owing him another boon; he was surprised that Voldemort didn't enquire where he got his knowledge of Slytherins though.

Voldemort grasped a hold of the book, amused by the boy's reluctance; he had agreed to it after all: Figg captured with the stipulation he got to see the contents of the book. He was very curious as to what the boy could place so close to his heart to give him a boon, considering he'd already been through his trunk―and yes, every single item had been touched and inspected thoroughly for charms; those found were swiftly removed. This book wasn't something of sentimental value; he had seen the boy's photo album. He honestly couldn't see it being anything worthy of his attention but he was unable to curb his own curiosity. Then, one finger at a time, Potter finally let it go, looking extremely disgruntled and possessive. That he understood all too well, he didn't like anyone touching his things either. His private books stayed in his study; the library was filled with the others books he wasn't too possessive of.

"You may read any book you like, if you find it in here, it remains in here, is that understood?" Voldemort said feeling generous. He doubted the boy would be able to understand many of them, at least not for a few years yet; they were extremely advanced texts.

Harry stared at the side of Voldemort's head, wishing that he still looked like snake-face; he didn't know why but having him look like Tom from the chamber, only older, was very unnerving, he couldn't quite figure out why yet. He couldn't help but wonder why he was allowing him to do this; he had a feeling that people rarely got in here. Most meetings were held in the hall they ate their food in, at least he assumed so; he didn't know for certain since he was always shut away whenever someone else entered the Manor. He just had a feeling not many people were afforded this courtesy. Only time would tell.

"Do you have anything on Occlumens?" Harry enquired, gazing around. The books were old; Granger would have loved it in here.

"Occlumency," Voldemort corrected, all the while silently summoning a book to him. "Here," he gestured for the boy to collect it without even looking up.

Harry took it and moved over to the couch that was near the fireplace which was lit. Sitting down cross legged he placed the book in the middle and opened it. He wouldn't have been able to do that before, he idly realized, as he began to read the introductory page that explained what Occlumency was. He couldn't believe Voldemort of all people had been the one to correct his eyesight; if there was a potion, why hadn't anyone told him? Hermione? Madam Pomfrey? He just didn't understand; why not just tell him? Oh, wait, he knew, it was 'illegal' just because it needed a drop of the intended recipient's blood. Foolish so it was.

Voldemort couldn't have been more surprised when Potter actually sat down in his office and began reading. Everyone went out of their way to avoid him as much as possible, with good reason: he had always had trouble controlling his temper. He couldn't tolerate fools; thankfully his Death Eaters weren't all insipid idiots, just a select few he though with derision, Pettigrew being the primary one. He had his uses; he'd brought him back, and he awarded loyalty with loyalty. The rat would get no better than that from him. Until he did something to screw that protection up, and this was Pettigrew he was thinking about; he always ended up doing something idiotic. Turning back to the book, he flipped to the second page since the first 'index' page was empty.

He froze, staring at the page and writing ―Muggle pen; this wasn't done with a quill and ink― these were spells. "You started your own Grimoire?" he asked, feeling speechless. How was this boy just fourteen?

"A Grim what?" Harry asked distractedly, this book was very informative; he wanted to continue reading it.

"A Grimoire," Voldemort repeated, very patiently continuing, "A Book of Spells; they're usually handed down from family members, the ancient families have a family Grimoire, or they did. Not all of them have one anymore. Many were either lost in time or destroyed by vengeful or paranoid relatives that didn't want their descendants to have their knowledge, or felt they were unworthy. There is also the case where families publish their findings, and making the Grimoire essentially useless."

"Oh," Harry muttered; well, that made sense. "I guess." He hadn't done it for anyone else… just himself. He had nearly three months of boredom every summer, stuck in a room unable to do anything, so it was only natural that he wanted to take his mind off it, and that was what he had done. Or times where his friends had fallen out with him. Those where when his most inventive and bloody curses were made.

Voldemort was quietly amazed. Very few families had the knack for spell-crafting; the Prince's were the ones well known for that, hence why Severus found it very easy to create his own. That wasn't the only reason; Severus was brilliant, even if he would never tell the wizard that. He picked his favourites and trained them. While Bellatrix was… attentive, and sought praise for her work, which was rightfully earned, Severus had been able to learn much faster.

Now these spells, the ones that Potter had created, were very Dark in nature, extremely so. They were spells that had one single objective in mind: torture, in every manner possible; they made the Cruciatus Curse pale in comparison. Perhaps that was because the results would actually BE physically there, only to be healed once the curse ended. And this was only five pages of them; the book looked well-worn and thumbed through, so he was assuming there were a lot more of them. His red eyes gleamed wickedly; he honestly wanted to use them.

"Have you ever thought about destroying Dumbledore's reputation rather than killing him?" Harry asked, bringing Voldemort out of the perusal of his book.

"Oh? How do you propose I do that?" Voldemort replied dryly.

"By revealing the truth," Harry told him confidently. "Spin it the right way and they'll be threatening to pull out their children from Hogwarts. The Ministry would rather have Dumbledore removed than allow that to happen. Hell, even go so far as to say he was indirectly responsible for Myrtle's death by allowing you to continue your quest. If the papers anything to go on, it will be really easy right now. They're already calling him all the names under the sun." And him as well. "Away from the protection of Hogwarts and the teachers… well, he would be vulnerable."

"And you think I care for playing games?" Voldemort sneered; despite the fact he actually thought the idea was a rather ingenious one. He'd always wanted to destroy Dumbledore… he hadn't once thought about removing him from the protection of Hogwarts ― he would be, as Harry said, vulnerable, easy to kill.

"Really?" Harry scoffed, "What was last year? Instead of just getting Crouch to kidnap me at the start of the year you put me in a bloody tournament that could have killed me before you got your precious blood." Harry sneered at Voldemort, watching his hand clench from the effort of controlling his fury. "You take unnecessary risks, needless risks." It was stupid, but he definitely wasn't going to say that out loud. "You also put your Death Eaters in harm's way for no reason. Crouch wasn't even fit for something like this, either; I'm surprised he pulled it off without revealing who he really was."

"Until you figured it out and outed him to everyone?" Voldemort argued; his argument was weak at best, and he didn't like that. He didn't care for an argument on what could have been anyway; the boy obviously still didn't know just how closely he was monitored, but that would come out in time and the squib would help with that. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with the boy, he honestly found it difficult to keep his eyes off that Grimoire of Potter's. He would never have expected this of Potter, he thought he'd been too busy playing Dumbledore's golden boy. He'd only said he hadn't cast anything while at Hogwarts… he should have seen the omission for what it was.

"I suspected something was going on for months, I just didn't understand what was happening. Not until after I was kidnapped did, I put the pieces together," Harry hissed, which was the truth. "If I had just figured out how the damn map worked sooner…" He wouldn't be here, Moody-Crouch would have been caught, and he would have probably endured another endless summer at Privet Drive. He didn't know which he preferred in all honesty. He was locked up here as he was at Privet Drive… he wouldn't be able to go back to Hogwarts… he honestly had no idea what his future looked like at the moment. But he wasn't treated too badly here, in fact it was the best he'd been treated all his life. He'd take Voldemort's Cruciatus curse to being in agony from being beaten by a Muggle. Speaking of his dearest uncle, he took savage pleasure in knowing he would suffer.

"Just how small is the lower dungeon?" Harry asked distractedly, forgetting his earlier argument with the Dark Wizard. Unbeknown to him his face was reflecting his dark desires.

Voldemort arched an eyebrow. Honestly the boy baffled him to the core; one minute he had the nerve to argue with him, the next he was asking him questions. One minute he wanted to curse him, the next laugh uproariously at the fact Dumbledore had actually been deceived. Even he hadn't been able to fool or manipulate Dumbledore, the old wizard had seen through everything he'd tried. Admittedly he had been less than tight lipped about what he could do when Dumbledore first appeared―his first mistake. Still, the boy insisted he didn't want to kill or harm anyone, yet this Grimoire declared otherwise. Obviously his earlier Cruciatus hadn't gotten through to the blasted boy that he wasn't going to allow himself to be disrespected.

"Small enough," Voldemort stated, gazing shrewdly at the dark look on Harry's face, "Tell me, Potter, why is it that you are so reluctant to kill anyone when this book is a compilation of spells that claim you do?"

"I couldn't show it," Harry confessed, shrugging his shoulders, "Not at Hogwarts, nor at the Dursleys'. I had two different masks I used to survive; I never got to be me unless I was in my room…"

"It was your way of letting off steam," Voldemort deduced; imagining his spells doing what they should was his only way of remaining sane. "You do realise how dangerous that was? You could have cracked under the strain and ended up with multiple personalities." He didn't care, he just enjoyed reprimanding Potter, or so he tried to convince himself.

"What does it matter? I did what I had to, to survive and that's that," Harry commented. "Where are the lower dungeons? I didn't see a way down."

"You have not seen the property in its entirely," Voldemort said dismissively, facing away from the teen, no longer interested in their conversation. Potter's book was much more interesting, for the moment at least. A few pages in he began to notice a deviation; not only was the writing becoming more legible, but neater and tidy. More importantly it wasn't just curses, but also charms and potions. One in particular seemed created to bulk someone up… interesting. It would do exactly as it said, he realized, reading the instructions. Potter must have planned on using it at some point; he wasn't by any meals skeletal, though, probably due to his Quidditch training, if the Gryffindors trained like the Slytherins did in his day. So yes, he would say his form wasn't too bad. He had seen the memories from the Tri-Wizard tournament, which of course included the second underwater task. Severus would actually find these recipes very interesting; from what he'd been told, the boy was useless at Potions. Evidently, they had been misled in that respect as well.

He could say with certainty that he actually looked forward to getting to know the real boy under the masks.

"It says here you'll know when you find your centre so that you can begin erecting your rudimentary occlumency barriers; it doesn't explain how. Does that mean it's different for everyone, or so noticeable that you can't miss it?" Harry asked, unaware that over half an hour had passed as they lost themselves in their current reading materials.

"Both; finding your centre is extremely easy, finding what holds your barriers is uniquely individual," Voldemort replied, surprised the boy had understood that. The book didn't make it easy; it was a difficult art to master. He himself was one of the best; he would say Severus was next to him in terms of impenetrable barriers.

"So, it's not just a matter of magic holding it then," Harry deduced.

"It could be; do not dismiss the idea. Magic is the most primary defence in keeping your mind secure, think of the elements when you meditate, or somewhere that you feel safe," Voldemort stated, irony seeping into his voice. He didn't think Potter had been safe anywhere; he doubted the boy considered here safe; despite the fact he actually was. He wouldn't allow anything to happen to him, he was far too important for that.

Harry nodded his head in contemplation, before going back to the book, ignoring the niggling feeling of rightfulness that he felt at this situation. This was not right; he had been kidnapped. It didn't matter that someone actually wanted him to learn magic for once in his life… that they were helping him… no, he didn't want to think on it. He'd never been able to read a book in peace; if he picked anything up, Ron would complain and whine, wanting to do 'something'. Not that it had been any decent book either, just his school book for the year. That and making sure he didn't do too well with his homework, with the exception of DADA. He also liked the fact he could ask questions without getting talked down to, as if he was a stupid idiot.

Hermione, she was absolutely prone to that, ask her a question and he was left feeling like an idiot. Truth was though, Hermione just repeated what the book said, which didn't help, not like Voldemort just did. He explained it in a way he could understand.

Speaking of friends, why hadn't he heard from them? Why hadn't they written to him? He doubted a House-elf was stopping his mail again. Closing his eyes, he set his upset aside, and continued to read the information contained in the book.

"How did you keep this hidden so successfully, Potter? Did you take it to Hogwarts with you?" Voldemort enquired. He could feel magic on the book, he just couldn't figure out what spell it was. If he couldn't, it had been spelled that way using one the boy had invented.

"Yes; I didn't bring it out often, though, I rarely got to be left alone," Harry admitted. Sometimes his mind couldn't help but come up with something and he just had to figure it out and write it down. "Last year at Hogwarts was good for a while, mostly because nobody was talking to me because they thought I'd put my name in the cup," Harry sent a glare at the older wizard for doing it in the first place.

"What spell did you put on the book?" Voldemort asked, and why the hell could he read it? Oh, oh, that was just precious, he waited for bated breath for his assumptions to be confirmed.

"Blood magic," Harry grudgingly told him, "Only someone with my blood can supposedly read it, unless I add them to the ward that prevents the written words from being visible… it's in Parseltongue so nobody can just add themselves in a bid to circumvent the spell." Blood magic as good as it was could be circumvented, someone with a lot of power…like Dumbledore. Unless he was giving the old fool too much credit, but Harry was not stupid, no magic was entirely infallible.

Voldemort just smirked once more. The boy had the potential to be a prodigy but instead of flourishing, his talents had been suppressed. It was wrong on so many levels, it actually disgusted him. He would teach the boy everything he would ever need to know. He had never taken on someone to train quite so young.

"Do you plan on using some of the potions you created?" Voldemort enquired closing the Grimoire.

Harry looked up suspiciously, "Yes…" he replied cautiously, eventually.

"And if I found a suitable teacher for you, will you behave?" Voldemort asked, glaring at Harry in warning; he didn't want a cheeky reply.

"You want me to play nice with Snape?" Harry gaped, "I thought you didn't want anyone to see me here?" If Voldemort trusted Snape to be with him then there was no doubt about it… he was definitely on the dark side. He must have proof of Snape's true loyalties; Voldemort wouldn't risk him getting away… then again, he couldn't escape due to the band around his ankle. Would Snape be the same in a private setting? Or would he treat him how he usually did? 

"Yes," Voldemort replied, ignoring the second part of his statement, he didn't have to tell Harry anything.

"If he doesn't start, then fine," Harry answered seeing that Voldemort's intense look wasn't going to let up until he gave him his reply. "I don't care what you do, but I won't let him treat me the way he does at Hogwarts; I won't hold back ― I have no reason to now." He had nothing to hide here; it was strangely liberating. Damn it, he wasn't supposed to like being here. Seeing the wizard holding his book out, he stepped forward to accept it. Then he saw the large scroll of parchment sprawled out along the length of his desk. Harry narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, "Is that Azkaban?"

Voldemort rose an eyebrow, silently impressed, "Indeed; how did you figure that one?" There was no name, and he very much doubted the boy had seen the prison.

"It's surrounded by water, it's a single building, there's a boat out on the other end," Harry said, gesturing to the areas to demonstrate. "Sirius told me he had to swim to shore, those black blobs I'd say were Dementors and those I'd guess the red ones are Aurors, probably at their stations…" he added pointing to the red dots, symbolic since the Aurors were always dressed in red. "Let me guess: you're going to try and get your followers out by bursting in and revealing your return?"

"And what would you suggest?" Voldemort commented, actually genuinely curious to see what he would come up with… probably something that didn't involve people dying. Leaning back, he observed the youth pensively.

"Well, how did Barty get out?" Harry asked, "Nobody seems to have thought anything of it when he died… so?" he prompted.

"Polyjuice potion," Voldemort replied curtly, already seeing new possibilities beginning to emerge. "His mother switched places with him and died in the confines of the prison within days." Barty's hatred had become so heightened after that day, Barty had loved his mother, and would never have willingly let her die there alone surrounded by Dementors. Even if it meant staying in the prison. Unfortunately, he hadn't had a choice, he'd been immediately placed under the Imperius curse, and drank Polyjuice potion, becoming his mother and being forced to leave her behind.

"They've been in prison for what? Thirteen years? Why not use Polyjuice potion and have a mass accident that kills them before they turn back… although it would look suspicious if all of them did die at the same time… I don't suppose you have anyone working in Azkaban on your side?" Harry suggested, "It would make it easier to make it all look like natural causes if they died at different times, but they'd need the Polyjuice potion continuously until they did die. Or a potion or something that makes it look like there was an outbreak of wizarding flu that killed them all? They wouldn't look too much into that, wizarding flu pandemic has happened before… or dragon pox. It would give you the time to get them better before the magical world realised you were back and they'd have a chance to recover without having to watch their backs so much; the Auror force would be out in masses trying to protect everyone."

"What about a version of the Polyjuice potion that's permanent?" harry was murmuring under his breathe, "That would only take care of one problem, the others would always be wanted wizards and someone would notice eventually…I wonder if there are potions or spells to change someone's features?"

"I thought you didn't like playing 'games'," Voldemort pointed out his lips twitching slightly in pride. It would seem Harry was trying to help his side, perhaps getting him to remain neutral or actually join him was possible.

"I also said you take unnecessary risks with your followers. If you attempt something of this magnitude, you'll lose at least a few…" Harry bit out; the Aurors were no slouches, look at Moody. He had brought down dozens upon dozens of Death Eaters. "Sometimes the best path is the one with least resistance, like not going in half-cocked and making your presence known… that was your purpose, right? To remain 'dead' while you slowly rebuilt your ranks or something?"

"Just where do you expect me to get thirty-five people? This isn't including anyone else who wishes to join without arousing suspicion?" Voldemort asked, leaning back his face impassive, his eyes gazing at Harry's with a hint of shrewdness in those red depths. After being dumped in Azkaban there was no doubt quite a few others would willingly join him to be free. They would have to prove their loyalty to him, but that would come afterwards, once they'd recovered from the exposure to Dementors.

"I'm guessing Polyjuice potion works on muggles? Just collect the worst sort of Muggles and put them down in the dungeons until you need them. Not the Dursleys; I want them to suffer more for what they've done," Harry suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"Just what is the worst sort of Muggle to you, Potter, that you would allow them to be killed in such a manner?" Voldemort enquired his voice deceptively mild. The boy really didn't stop surprising him. He'd never thought about using muggles, there were plentiful, one or two going missing would hardly raise eyebrows in the muggle world. Yes, it was a good idea, now to see if Polyjuice potion works on them.

Harry's lip curled, "Abusers," his voice cold and harsh as he uttered that single word. "Just think about it: Dumbledore and his group, the Order, they are the only ones that believe it." He still couldn't believe that Dumbledore had a group of followers of his own, it really was a fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort. "The longer you can keep it hidden, the more it will frustrate Dumbledore to no end. Your problem is you want too much too soon, and you fight for it instead of doing it subtly. Hell, make it so they don't ever find out you wouldn't need to put up with any resistance that way."

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry spoke again, "When have you seen the Dark winning while battling it outright? There is always someone out there willing to be a hero, and powerful enough to do it too. Do something different from them and you might succeed." Life wasn't a story book; he knew not everyone wanted to be a hero, and the damsel didn't always want to be rescued... but the story was always the same… changing that changes the rules, and just maybe the ending might be different too.

With that Harry ended the conversation, took his book back and sat back down and immersed himself in the Occlumency book it was deeply fascinating.

He again refused to dwell on how nice it felt: no pain, no masks, just peace. He couldn't believe he had found it with Voldemort of all people… but he couldn't be too picky.

There is a new written scene where Voldemort explained who the Order was and mentioned them by name all of them but still ends with Harry on the end of Voldemort's wand lol R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 10

One Week Later

Albus Dumbledore was beyond furious; he had been searching high and low for Potter now for a week and three days. Nobody had even so much as caught a glimpse of him. The only meagre consolation he had was that Voldemort was just as much in the dark as the rest of them, he knew that due to Severus' spying for them.

That wasn't to say Voldemort didn't know about it, unfortunately he did; the Ministry had found out and were also searching for Harry, splashing that fact across the newspapers. Between the Aurors and Death Eaters, the Order was being stretched to the max to try and find the boy first.

The Ministry had found out due to the disappearance of the Dursleys; thankfully they hadn't known about Arabella.

Their disappearance did worry him. Why take them at all? Why Arabella? He feared something more was at work here. What if someone had found out? What if they were telling Potter everything?

No, nobody had found out; he always made sure that he had all his bases covered. Yet it was the one thing that made all this make sense. Potter had simply run away, and in that time, Voldemort had taken the Dursleys in his anger and possibly killed them or tried to get the information out of them. Not that there would be anything useful as they didn't know where Potter was.

Harry had been secluded in the Muggle world; he had made sure of that. Other than school, the boy went nowhere. He'd be more lost in the Muggle world than the magical world.

Perhaps he should step up his searches in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. All it would take was for the boy to be within the vicinity of the spell, and he would get him back.

This would not happen again; he was through playing with kid gloves…two years in a row of pulling a disappearing act. Idiot of a boy, he was all that stood between a free world or world domination at Voldemort's hands. No, he was far too important to be allowed free rein; this had to be done, for the greater good.

The old schemer sighed in contemplation; he would need to find the boy first before he could employ the measures to secure him. Perhaps it was time to tighten his hold on the boy's friends, Granger and of course the Weasleys.

Plucking out a lemon drop, he untwisted the wrapper and plopped the sour candy into his mouth, already feeling the calming affects that came courtesy of the potion they'd been dipped in. There was a special selection doctored with Veritaserum, charmed to make the person seeing them want one, so he didn't have to force the sweet on them and cause suspicion.

He had the entire Order looking for the boy right now, spread thin, and scouring every inch of the country repeatedly. He wasn't about to give in, he couldn't; the whole world depended on him. He hated that it was Potter, not him, but he believed in the prophecy completely. It was why he had ensured it came to pass. Then dropped the boy off with people he knew would despise every breath he took; his parents had seen to that one themselves.

"Albus, you asked to see me?" Severus enquired, entering the Headmaster's office dressed entirely in black, his face made of stone.

"Ah, Severus, come in, have a seat," Albus said, sitting up straighter.

"You wished to see me?" Snape repeated, strengthening his mental barriers. Nobody had gotten past them since he had perfected them, and nobody was going to now either. Especially not Albus Dumbledore; he might think he was stronger, but he had nothing on the Dark Lord, who had taught Severus secretly before he had pretended to repent ― showing the headmaster only what he wanted him to see while the old man 'taught' him how to hide his thoughts. He hadn't even suspected that Severus already knew everything there was to know. That plan had been put in motion before Lily had been targeted.

"Tell me, Severus: is there a way to track Harry down?" Albus asked his gaze shrewd.

Severus arched an eyebrow, "There are many ways to track a wizard down, as you well know, Headmaster, and as far as I am aware you have tried each one only to be met with constant failure."

"Any other means?" Albus corrected.

"I hope you are not implying what I think you are, Albus," Severus warned, narrowing his eyes in displeasure.

"You know how important Harry is to us. Only he can end the war; only he has any chance of stopping Voldemort." Albus said, not even blinking as Severus winced at the pain. "You swore to protect him; we need to find him so we can do just that before he is found by the Death Eaters and taken to Voldemort."

Severus bit his tongue to stop the words he so wanted to spout at Dumbledore. The old coot knew damn well the mark hurt whenever anyone was stupid enough to say the Dark Lord's name; it didn't matter that it wasn't him, it just reacted.

He was being asked to brew a potion that Dumbledore had fought against, stopped, and made illegal; his hypocrisy knew no bounds. "It's not that simple. To create it I would need fresh blood, or hair," Severus eventually ground out through gritted teeth.

"How fresh?" Albus frowned, disappointed and irate. He needed to find the boy and he didn't care how he went about accomplishing it.

"A week," Severus lied bare-faced, and Dumbledore would never find out as the books weren't specific. He had a good idea now, since he had found Harry using saliva and blood that was over a decade old. It was true the house in Godric's Hollow had been made into a shrine and sort of preserved, which might have had a bit to do with it, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure. No, the boy would remain safe where he was, and he never thought he would hear himself saying that.

The world was turning on its axis and he was just going with the flow, trying to stay sane.

"I see," Albus muttered. He had neither blood nor hair of the boy anyway, so that wouldn't have worked. He wished he had taken the time to gather some now. It would have made this infinity easer.

"The boy will show up," Severus scowled, "You know how he is; he likes attention. He's a spoiled, selfish brat, and I've been telling you that for years, Albus. You continued to let him off with things that would have seen an ordinary student expelled. You've spoiled him and allowed him to think he's above the rules; it's little wonder he thinks he can pull stunts like this and come back whenever he pleases." He took perverse pleasure in the way Albus paled and his lips disappeared; the old man knew that he was right, and that was the biggest satisfaction of all. Unfortunately, he also knew he was wrong, Harry hadn't been spoiled but Dumbledore wasn't aware he had looked into the minds of the Muggles Harry had lived with.

"Perhaps you are correct, but after this latest stunt, no more," Albus replied in a clipped tone. "He will learn the consequences of his actions one way or another. Starting with no more Quidditch, or Hogsmeade outings; all extracurricular activity will be banned."

"It's about time, Albus," Severus stated. In a way Albus was being blindsided, he had no idea the Dark Lord had Harry, and that he hadn't come on his own violation. He trusted him, such a fool; he believed that the Dark Lord didn't have the boy… where else did he seriously think the boy would go? The leash had been kept too tightly wound for Harry to contemplate the idea of leaving.

"Yes, yes, it is," Albus said, his eyes darkening slightly as he thought of Potter and all the plans he had derailed and the time he was having to waste to find him.

He had to get the Order ready; Voldemort would be making his move soon. Add in the mess with the Ministry and he just found it difficult to keep himself calm. To make matters worse, he had just received word that the Minister was appointing a teacher at his school, and there was nothing he could do about it, since he couldn't get anyone to fill the position. Nobody wanted to risk being his DADA teacher anymore, due to the things that continued happening. Unfortunately, the word had spread despite how hard he tried to keep it contained for the last few decades.

Severus couldn't help but think Albus was really losing it; his real nature was beginning to show through cracks in his otherwise perfect façade. He truly didn't do well when he couldn't see all outcomes, when all his chess pieces were not where he wanted them to be.

A startled hiss left his lips as his mark heated up; it wasn't a full meeting; he was being requested specifically. It hurt worse when everyone was called, as it took more power to call them all and the Dark Lord couldn't prevent it from doing so. He doubted he actually cared; this was nothing compared to the Cruciatus curse he delivered if you failed him.

"Go," Albus said, his eyes wide; was this it? Would he learn that Voldemort had Harry now? "Return as soon as you are able." He had to know; he wouldn't stand for being in the dark a second longer than necessary.

Severus stood up with a grimace, not even bothering to reply to the old fool's words. It wasn't as if he could just interrupt the Dark Lord and ask to leave. What did Dumbledore think he was? A newbie at being a spy? At working for the Dark Lord? He didn't think so. No, Dumbledore could sweat for all he cared, he'd rather live to see his next birthday… which was, ironically, in four months' time, less than that if you went by the dates since it was very early January, the ninth to be exact.

The mark didn't burn continuously until you went to him when he only required your presence alone. He still didn't dawdle, though, he had no idea what kind of mood the Dark Lord was in, and so far, he had been… different, a lot different than what he remembered, even in the beginning before the prophecy. Nott senior had said it was like having 'his old friend' back. He was unsure if he meant in looks or temperament, but it had caused excitement within the ranks, hope rekindled.

Ten minutes later he was out of the school and beyond the wards. He looked around ensuring that he was unobserved - flicking a ward up just to be sure -then he pulled up his sleeve and pressed a finger on the Dark Mark, pushing his magic into it, and the immediate sensation of side-long Apparation caught him. The scenery in Scotland disappeared and he reappeared outside the Dark Lord's hideout.

The wards tingled as he passed them. Right now, the Dark Lord would know he was here, before he even stepped foot in the manor. He had yet to see Harry, despite the fact he had been here a few times already, mostly on his own, though sometimes with Lucius. As always Malfoy was up to something and not in a sharing mood.

"My Lord," Severus said nodding respectfully as he entered the hall used for meeting purposes and of course eating.

"Severus," Voldemort said, "I have a task for you, if you're up for it. Sit." He wondered what Severus would make of the potions Harry had made as he gestured to the seat opposite him, so he could keep an eye on the wizard.

"Of course, My Lord," Severus said, taking a seat as instructed. Anything that kept him away from Dumbledore… the longer the better.

He honestly couldn't stand the sight of the old fool, and he was keeping an annoyingly close eye on him lately. Wanting to know everything that happened and if he'd found anything out. Merlin, he hated the way his eyes brightened up every time the mark hurt. So yes, he wanted to be away as long as possible, make him sweat.

"But first, what do you think of these potion recipes?" Voldemort asked, handing over the parchment. He had an eidetic memory, and he had merely written down three of the more impressive ones. Not that they weren't all impressive, and he was dying to try out some of the spells himself. Everyone thought he was bloodthirsty; well, they'd obviously not met the real Harry Potter locked up in the golden boy yet.

Severus took the parchment completely baffled, which was occurring more and more often these days. While he was glad for the change, it was just so weird seeing it occurring. He began to read, as the Dark Lord sat languidly in the chair, waiting for his opinion.

"Do you wish for me to brew these?" Severus questioned, not surprised that the Dark Lord could create something like these; he was a genius even at Potions. His excitement carefully hidden; he always did love a challenge.

"I asked your opinion," Voldemort corrected him, his tone deceptively soft.

Severus blinked; he felt as though he was being tricked and so as always, he fell back on his instincts ― he trusted them. "They're perfect. Ingenious really," Severus admitted, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or rather himself under the Cruciatus curse; he was tense waiting for it, yet it did not happen.

"And if I told you a student at Hogwarts had created them…, what would you say?" Voldemort smirked. Oh, he enjoyed getting a rise out of his followers, and he always had done. Maybe not in this way, but he was beginning to like it, nonetheless.

Severus snorted before he could help himself, "I would find it very difficult to believe, My Lord. No student there has shown this capacity for Potions."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, "These recipes are from a fourteen-year-old boy." His anger leaking out at the way Severus had spoken to him. But if he wanted him brewing potions today, then he couldn't curse him. Regretfully, brewing required a steady hand, otherwise there would be nothing saving him from cursing the wizard for his doubt of his character.

Severus' eyes widened, understanding Voldemort's omission. He couldn't mean… could he? "Potter?" he muttered incredulously; this he didn't believe.

"Indeed," Voldemort stated, "Everything you thought you knew about the boy… he wanted you to see. He has created more spells than you did in your youth, ones that make your Sectumsempra pale by comparison. All this time we thought he was the golden boy, following Dumbledore around like a lost puppy. We were so wrong, it's entirely laudable." His red eyes were gleaming wickedly as he spoke, enjoying each reaction Severus had to his news. "You and I, as well as everyone that has come into contact with that boy have been duped."

Severus bit down the urge to ask the Dark Lord if he was sure, and it certainly wasn't a joke― he wasn't known for them. He couldn't be mistaken, the boy had no occlumency shields, which he knew for sure since he knew when the boy was lying. Granted, only when he actually looked him in the eye, which wasn't too often, due to the fact he hadn't treated him well, despite the fact he was sworn to protect him.

"I… do not know what to say, My Lord," Severus confessed; he wasn't sure about anything anymore. Did that mean Harry wanted to be here? If he was dark, then this was the side for him… and nothing Dumbledore did could change that.

"The prophecy?" he ventured cautiously.

"I must confess I acted rashly," Voldemort admitted, finding it distasteful. "It is no longer applicable. I have deciphered it, and I believe Dumbledore has incorrectly interpreted it to suit his needs."

"You have it?" Severus didn't dare look up, "I was under the impression that it was being guarded… My Lord."

"And it is. No one will ever be the wiser; Dumbledore is not to know. Now tell me what is going on with the Order?" Voldemort asked, changing the subject completely.

"They're stretched thin looking for Potter, although there's always one spared to guard the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries; all other plans are on hold. I believe the old fool is losing it, the longer Potter is out of his control. He all but instructed me to brew an outlawed locating potion that he hasn't tried yet; I told him you needed hair or other fluids no more than a week old… something he doesn't have," Severus told him, his black eyes flashing in fury at the old man's duplicity.

"I didn't think otherwise," Voldemort sneered, warming up to the idea of destroying Dumbledore completely. Murder was too good, he wanted everyone to see the pretence that was their leader of the light. Perhaps Potter might have a few other good ideas up his sleeves. "Harry would like to learn to make his potions; you will tutor him… and fairly, Severus… as you would your own godson. His magic is as dark as our own; he is family. Do not disappoint me." His theory regarding the potions was sound, but without proper tutelage it would be a difficult potion to create. He was aware Severus hadn't given Harry that, it was a miracle he was as good as he was really.

Harry? thought Severus his eyes widening slightly before he regained control, struck dumb by what he had just heard. He never called anyone by their first names, at least nobody new; only the inner circle got called by their first names and that wasn't all the time either… usually the last name when he was very displeased. First name when he was moderately happy when his plans were all going accordingly. "I won't, My Lord," Severus promised, successfully managing to get the words out.

"Good. He will be down momentarily," Voldemort said dismissing him.

Severus stood up and nodded once, laying the parchment on the table before leaving. Yep, the world was spinning out of control. Yet why did he feel a sense of elation and excitement coursing through him? There was one thing he did know: he couldn't wait to see for himself.

Severus Snape waited anxiously in the Dark Lord's potions lab, not sure whether he dreaded seeing Potter or was excited at the prospect of seeing the boy who had Dumbledore hoodwinked. After all, nobody had managed to hoodwink Dumbledore as of yet, not even the Dark Lord had been capable, and this was a wizard who could convince an Eskimo to buy ice.

Merlin, it made him want to chuckle in disbelief: Dumbledore duped by his very own golden boy for four years. There was no doubt it was true; the Dark Lord wouldn't have made such a glaring error. No, he would have gotten this from the boy's own mind, Severus thought as he paced restlessly. His face was impassive as he waited; nothing other than his strides gave his agitation away.

The Dark Lord had called him Harry! The turn of the tide was currently upon him… no, them, the dark sect. To call the boy Harry? He would like to have seen them interact, to see how the Dark Lord reacted; he was not positive but if Potter did join, he would be placed at the highest standing. There would be no other place for him. If he joined, he would be giving the Dark Lord the war; without Potter on the light side, they would lose. So yes, the only conceivable place was at his right hand.

His excellent hearing picked up the sound of footsteps; straightening up, he stiffened his spine and waited for the boy to appear. There was nothing on the workbench beside him yet, since he hadn't currently been brewing. There was so much he wanted to know, but if Potter was as good as he was believed to be, the chances of getting anything out of him were slim to none.

Then the boy stepped in, opening the door further to allow himself access. He was still the same boy Snape remembered from the leaving feast, minus the large round glasses that made him look like his father. Without those glasses he saw straight into Potter's eyes, so very much like Lily's. He belatedly realized who had received the potion the Dark Lord had requested him to make. He had thoroughly enjoyed making it; the challenge of brewing such an intricate, exacting potion always was exhilarating. He realized there wasn't an ounce of emotion on the boy's face; was this one a mask? He wasn't sure how to approach this boy, who was a Slytherin with a Gryffindor veneer.

He had a book in his hand, and Severus wondered if it was where the Dark Lord had obtained the potion recipes from.

"Mr. Potter," Severus finally settled for, his black eyes gazing shrewdly.

"Sir," Harry replied, nodding curtly.

Severus arched an eyebrow, feeling distinctively put out for reasons he didn't quite understand. "Since I am not your professor at the moment, you may call me Severus," he told the teenager, extending an olive branch, a truce of sorts… and if Potter was a Slytherin as he suspected, he would understand that.

Harry smirked, giving a short nod, before stepping into the room properly and moving to stand across from Severus with only the workbench in the way. "If you can set aside your feelings for my dead father, whom I don't know, then you may call me Harry."

He had no difficulty understanding what Snape was attempting and deciding to go with the flow for now; he would rather brew a potion without Snape breathing down his neck. Plus, he would actually like to learn from him; regardless of his character, he was the youngest Potions Master in Britain as well as the best. Voldemort wouldn't have anything less than the best, he'd surmised. Harry knew he was good at theory, but when it came to actually brewing potions, he had no idea how good he was.

"Indeed," Severus replied in answer, "Very well. I am told you've created a few potions of your own, how would you like to see your creations turned into something more?" He crossed his arms over his chest as he gazed pensively at Harry. Evidently the boy was much better at Potions than he knew, but how much better remained to be seen.

A challenge? Harry thought. The question remained though, should he trust him? He didn't have much to lose either way… or did he? "I need your blood― I'm going to key you into the wards on my book so you can read it; otherwise I'll just copy them… your choice?" Harry stated, shrugging his shoulders.

He had no doubt Voldemort had shown him some of his potion recipes; otherwise, Snape wouldn't be this calm about him being in his precious potions lab. At least he didn't think so; he could be wrong, but the response Snape gave would probably give him his answer. If he said yes, then he knew for sure; if it was a no, then perhaps Voldemort had just ordered Snape to teach him.

Severus paused briefly, thinking on the recipes he had seen that the Dark Lord had written down. There was little doubt Potter had an astonishing grasp on theoretical potions… he very well could be a prodigy in the making. With firm guidance he may even be quite the potions brewer, and who was he to turn such a thing down? He was a Slytherin after all. "Very well," Severus gave his answer.

Opening the drawer, he removed a scalpel and absently sterilised it wandlessly and non-verbally. As Harry placed the book on the table top, he sliced his palm and placed it on top of the book; he could feel the tingling immediately afterwards. He withheld the gasp of astonishment at the feel of Potter's magic; it was strong and powerful, more so than he had ever detected on the boy. His magic was neutral at this point in time, presumably due to the fact he hadn't actually been able to cast any dark magic.

Potter then began to hiss in Parseltongue; the magic he could feel at that point turned dark.

He was able to conceal his magical affinity?

How long had he been able to do that?

He truly had covered all angles when it came to this enormous 'Gryffindor, golden boy, light wizard' disguise. Then again, he had no idea how Parseltongue actually worked; perhaps speaking the spell had made the magic being used right then lean towards the dark and his actual magic was still neutral? As far as he understood it, Parselmagic was something else entirely. He was rather envious of it really, all Slytherins and dark wizards were.

"I'm impressed," Severus stated wryly, watching him flip through the book containing spells which the Dark Lord told him made his 'Sectumsempra' look mild in comparison. That spell was a favourite of his, unfortunately he'd had to quit using it due to the fact Dumbledore knew the spell was his. To use it again he would need to imply someone else was using it, then bemoan at the fact it was his fault. It would need to be one of his old classmates, or someone who had known him at school when he'd invented that particular spell, but it was something to figure out later; right now, he was laying low, there would be no battles as of yet.

"This one," Harry said, holding the pages apart. He wanted to use it himself, on himself.

"Very well, gather the ingredients, two sets," Severus answered, pointing towards the cupboard where the potion ingredients were stored. "Everything you need is there," he added, his eyes roaming over the list of ingredients before nodding in affirmative that his thoughts had been correct.

The potion Harry had created was almost like an advanced nutrition potion, but it didn't just give you the nutrients you'd missed out on, it smoothed over the damage, makes it like you'd never missed out on them and helped you bulk up both in height and weight.

Harry wandered through the cupboard, his eyes widening at the impressiveness of it. It was double… no, triple the size of Hogwarts' potions cupboard, and held ingredients you sure as hell wouldn't find at the school, he thought as his gaze caught some of the names as he passed them.

It was quite the impressive layout, labelled alphabetically by potion, with ingredients and herbs on different sides. Then there were the ones at the bottom in complete darkness… thankfully he was used to the layout; obviously Snape had either done it here first, or had it rearranged when he was called back into the fold. It was done the same as it was at Hogwarts, thus he was used to the order of things.

Grabbing a tray, he began to put the ingredients he needed in, doubling the amounts as he had been told. He couldn't believe he was with Snape ― and was actually going to brew a potion! He was excited! Who wouldn't be? He had created this potion and had been dying to brew it for so long. Who wouldn't when he was so rail thin and short?

By the time he had all the ingredients they were tipping precariously on the tray. He carefully made his way through, he should really be making two trips, if the ingredients fell, it would be a potential catastrophe.

Evidently Snape agreed with him, because the vials began to float onto the table, two at a time. The look on his face spoke volumes, but he wasn't saying anything and wasn't that just weird? Why would he hold his tongue? It went against everything Harry thought he knew about the Potions Master.

"Next time do not take foolish risks," Severus berated, unable to curb his tongue seeing the look on Potter's face; he was just waiting for it and wondering why it wasn't happening. "Some of those ingredients are extremely volatile."

"I know," Harry said, "It won't happen again," he conceded knowing it had been foolish in the first place.

Severus stared - was the boy deliberately trying to wind him up by acting so out of character? He had all but apologised! Harry was either trying to see how far he could push him before he snapped back, or he actually wanted to brew enough to keep his head down and do as he was told. To be quite frank he wasn't sure which one comforted him the most. Perhaps he just wasn't easy to wind up as he had believed over the course of Harry's education. "Begin the preparation stage," Severus directed; there was no way the boy felt anything but loathing for him surely? Masks or not, he had made Harry's potion classes harder than they needed to be.

Severus moved and began to prepare the ingredients, deviating quite a few times despite the instructions saying otherwise. Wisely Harry made no comment, but Severus could see he was extremely curious by his actions. One glare for him had Harry concentrating on his own ingredients.

Harry itched to write down the changes Snape was making to his set of ingredients. He would just have to try and remember everything and write down the adjustments, although that might not be the wisest course of action; he could end up getting them wrong and things would go boom.

They worked in silence, pouring the requested amount of water into the cauldron and allowing it to heat before the first stage began. This particular potion required an hour long, non-stop brewing cycle, and then it had to be left to cool for thirty minutes before adding the Hemp.

"I know how the Dursleys treat you, Potter," Severus informed the boy, as soon as the first cycle ended. Almost at once, the boy closed up; there was absolutely no emotion, positive or otherwise, there to see. "Did you ever inform anyone?" He already suspected (knew really) the answer to his question but wanted to be sure.

"Why do I get the feeling you already know?" Harry couldn't help but spit out, seething inwardly.

"I want confirmation," Severus stated, confirming Harry's thoughts… or not denying them at any rate.

"I've lost count of the people I've told," Harry snorted bitterly. Why was he even discussing this with Snape? The man hated his guts! Yet he had sort of suspected the wizard was like him, wore masks… which meant nobody got to see the real wizard beneath. Still, that hatred hadn't been faked… but he had been nothing but respectful since he stepped through that door just little over an hour ago. Then he realized he'd answered his own question; Snape knew about the abuse. It made his lip curl that Snape of all people pitted him. "I don't need or want your pity!" he added sharply, cutting the hemp a little harder than he should.

"Good, because you shan't get it," Severus sneered.

Harry smirked, rather pleased to see some of his old Potions Master shining through.

"Who?" Severus hissed, getting back to the subject at hand, not allowing Harry to change the subject on him - a skill he must have mastered fully by this point, if he had gone as long as he had without anyone suspecting anything off about him.

"What does it matter?" Harry asked, eyeing Snape suspiciously. He seemed awfully concerned; he was acting as if he had to know who he had told… but why? For what purpose could it serve? Unless there was something he didn't know, which wouldn't surprise him in the least. Still, the only ones he wanted revenge on were down in the dungeons, which he still hadn't found yet… but he'd made it his life's mission to find it.

"Tell me," Severus demanded, without his usual bite but no less firm.

"No," Harry answered, "Not until you tell me why you want to know. You hate me, don't pretend you don't. Really, that is just pathetic. Therefore this conversation makes no logical sense whatsoever." And Harry didn't like when things made no sense.

"I used to hate you, Potter," Severus sighed, "Not anymore." He'd hated a nameless faceless child the carbon copy of his father, a shadow of a wizard who'd died eleven years prior. Hate was a strong word really, he'd detested how difficult Harry made it to protect him, as he'd sworn a vow to do.

"So it is pity!" Harry snapped, green eyes glaring defiantly at Snape.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, Potter, it is not," he told him honestly.

"So, why the hell do you want to know?" Harry blurted out, his eyes never wavering from Snape.

"I swore a Vow to protect you, Potter, and I failed," Severus hissed out in his frustration.

Harry stared his mouth agape, wondering if he had somehow stumbled into an alternative reality. Why on earth would Snape swear a Vow to protect him? He was actually angry that he had failed. You would think he would be all too happy about figuring out a way around it. Then he began to realize a few other things, "You Vowed to protect me, and it went against everything you are. You're a dark wizard, aren't you? You don't spy for Dumbledore; you're really on Voldemort's side. It didn't help that I was the son to a man you hated, but why swear a Vow in the first place? Was Dumbledore testing your allegiance?" It sort of made sense that Dumbledore would make sure there were plenty of people to ensure that 'the-Boy-Who-Lived' survived. He had been forced to serve the light side because of him, thus betraying all he held dear.

"Do you want the truth, Potter?" Severus asked pensively, perhaps the boy did understand and would be able to understand everything else.

"Do I?" Harry asked in turn.

"Who knows?" Severus murmured; how would Potter take the knowledge that his disgusting Potions Master loved his mother? A ding alerted them to the fact it was time to start brewing the second cycle. Automatically he moved towards the Hemp and added it, stirring twenty times anticlockwise, then added the Bistort when required.

There were only two cycles for this particular potion, second one not as long as the first, half an hour then the potion would be left to cool down.

Adding the crushed Marjoram, he stirred it, surprised by the fact Potter wasn't demanding answers left, right, and centre. He was quickly realising it would take a while, despite knowing, for it to sink in that Harry wasn't who he'd thought he was.

"I notice you haven't named it," Severus said once he had stirred it for the last time. Removing the stirring rod, he immediately wandered over to the sink and cleansed it properly and sterilized it. He opened the drawer after he had wandered back and placed it in its position.

"No, I've not," Harry answered slightly bemused, not expecting the comment; he had assumed they would start talking about their paused conversation. Maybe Snape had changed his mind; he hoped not, he actually did want to know. Bringing it up made that too obvious so he remained silent on the subject, cleaning up now that his potion was done.

Shaking his head in bemusement, he saw that the potions were noticeably two different shades of purple; he was under no illusions whose would be the best.

Harry stared at the cauldron - he had actually brewed it. For the past two years he'd constantly thought of brewing them himself, ordering the ingredients over owl order. Unfortunately, he hadn't wanted to risk it; he was watched too closely, on all sides. Even if he did it during the night, he wasn't about to risk Snape having some sort of ward on the potion cupboards and labs.

"You wanted to know why I swore to protect you?" Severus started, deciding to be honest with him, a way of apologising for his actions over the years.

"I guess," Harry said, plopping himself on the stool, in a casual display of nonchalance, but the look on Snape's face made him realize he wasn't fooling anyone, let alone him. Was he losing his ability to act or was it just because Snape's eyes had been opened to the real him?

"What do you know of your mother's side of the family?" Severus enquired noticing Harry going completely bewildered at his question for a mere second before his mask snapped into place. Oh, that was very well done; he suspected his parents were the only real way to get to the boy under the mask. He was vividly reminded of last summer, where the boy had blown up his cousin's aunt.

"Nothing, she never speaks of them," Harry said in distaste. "Well, once, when Hagrid came for me; apparently they were proud that she was a witch, to have one in the family. Other than that, she liked to pretend they didn't exist."

"That is true. Petunia was always jealous of Lily's ability. In fact, she wanted to join her at Hogwarts. Actually wrote to the headmaster begging to be allowed to go," Severus informed him, a sneer on his face just thinking about the wretched woman.

"How do you know that?" Harry didn't know whether to be shocked or in denial.

"I met your mother when we were young children, eight years old; we lived in Spinners End. It was I who told her she was a witch, and I who taught her everything I knew about the magical world in turn. We became the best of friends, and remained so even after we were sorted into different houses at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, it all ended very badly; I called your mother by a foul name, after I had been humiliated by your father and his three friends during our fifth year. You see, she did not like my… affinity to dark magic. When the Dark Lord targeted your family, I went to him and begged that he spare her; it was all for naught as she still died."

"He did try," Harry told him, albeit very grudgingly. "He told her to move aside a few times when he came that night… it never made sense to me," he admitted his brow furrowed. "He killed everyone that stood in his way, even my dad, yet decided that my mum was to move aside? It's nice to have a full picture." To actually understand.

Swallowing thickly, "Wh… how do you know that?" Severus managed to get out without making too much of a fool of himself.

"Dementors," Harry stated, after a few seconds of indecisiveness. Snape was smart; he'd probably figure it out himself anyway.

Severus merely nodded, he couldn't even begin to imagine how that had been for the boy last year if that was what he saw and heard. He hadn't acted all that differently either; he must be quite the accomplished actor and he was proud of him despite himself. The Dark Lord had kept his word; he had tried to save Lily, but he also knew she would never in a million years have stepped aside and let the Dark Lord hurt her child.

"Potter… why are you being honest with me?" Severus questioned, finally asking what had been on his mind.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged staring at him; it wasn't like he was getting out of here, so he had nothing to lose.

Severus narrowed his eyes, having gleaned his thoughts, what had the Dark Lord done? Reaching under the bench he picked up a crate of brand-new vials and placed them on the worktop, and began to fill them with the potion, he would need to speak to his Lord and do something before this went pear shaped.

"My Lord," Severus said dipping his head as he waited at the door.

"Enter," Voldemort stated, turning to face the wizard after placing the book that had been in his hand on the table. He had research to do, and he was busy as it was, without constant interruptions… but Severus was an inner circle member; he brought back information that wouldn't be otherwise obtained.

"Permission to speak freely, My Lord?" Severus asked; he had to know why Potter had been thinking what he had.

"Very well but be quick," Voldemort replied his red eyes narrowed in contemplation. He couldn't deny he was curious about what his spy and Harry had been up to… other than brewing potions. He knew his spy well enough to know he wouldn't rest until he had answers.

"Potter cannot leave - how?" Severus questioned.

Voldemort smirked, "I tied an item to the wards and in turn placed it on Potter," and it worked like a charm.

"Do you not realise the risk in this?" Severus said, "The boy has the potential to come to you on his own; forcing him to remain will cause him to rebel. Let Dumbledore finish what you have started, and believe me, it isn't going to take much for him to come here on his own."

"It's a risk I cannot take," Voldemort denied vehemently.

"Why? The boy is hardly going to tell anyone that he spent the summer here. He's a consummate actor, and he will have everyone around him believing what he says. Trust me, my Lord, let him come to you on his own, it's the only way you will gain his true allegiance. Sooner or later, he will find a way to remove what you have placed on him, and there won't be a second chance… his hatred for Dumbledore and those Muggles will make him see there is only one place for him," Severus argued. He didn't want to risk Potter going back to the old fool and actually staying on the light side. He had his chance to uphold his Vow and stay on the side he truly believed in. The Dark Lord had the Dursleys, so he wouldn't be forced to go back into an abusive home. To keep him here against his will… it wasn't a good idea.

"And if he does not come?" Voldemort replied with deceptive softness.

"He will," Severus answered assuredly, "Here his talents will flourish, he already sees this. They won't be accepted by the general population, and IF he didn't come, you would have nothing to fear, the boy obviously doesn't care about the war. Come to think of it, I don't think anyone has asked Potter what he wants, or about his beliefs. Each encounter he's had, he's only done what he had to in order to survive."

"I will think about it. Return to the old fool, say nothing of what has occurred," Voldemort reminded him.

"Yes, My Lord," Severus answered, bowing once more before he turned and swiftly made his way out past the edge of the wards in order to apparate.

Levitating the books from his desk, Voldemort swiftly made his way through the manor, holding his thoughts until he got to the safety of his office before making sure nobody could disturb him.

He couldn't help but dwell on what Severus had said.

There was some truth to it, and Potter did have the annoying ability to slip through the cracks with ease. The boy was as dark as they came; the light certainly would never understand him. But letting the boy go? Was it a risk he was prepared to take?

Reverse psychology… there was no doubt the boy wanted to return to Hogwarts. If Harry was anything like him, he would consider Hogwarts home.

Narrowing his eyes, his fingers trailing back and forth across his chin, he distractedly continued to think on what Severus had suggested.

A/N – big thanks to Luna4917 for helping me get this story edited so we can get it back up and running! 3 3 it's already looking so much better with the first of many mistakes being written out (like Harry knowing the order when he shouldn't have) silly me! And naturally having it edited so it writes smoother is awesome too! 

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 11

Harry stood in Voldemort's study, having been summoned there five minutes ago at the least. Voldemort had then studied him for a few minutes before speaking, causing Harry to stare at him in disbelief, wondering if he was still dreaming or had perhaps heard incorrectly. His disbelief narrowed into suspicion, why on earth would he want to do such a thing? It made no logical sense to him, and he was quite frankly baffled. "Er…what?" he managed to rasp out, experimentally pinching his leg to see if it hurt ― which it did. He certainly wasn't dreaming, it seemed.

"I do not like repeating myself, Potter," Voldemort stated smoothly, leaning causally against his desk, regarding Harry with curiosity and just a hint of anger in his red eyes.

"But, why?" Harry asked stiffly, not trusting that the offer was genuine. The offer seemed sincere, but anything spoken from that face did! Voldemort himself had said he was very good at charming people around him when he needed to. This was something that Harry couldn't deny; Tom was charismatic, very much so. Harry couldn't see the bigger picture here; with Dumbledore, everything was entirely obvious. Or so he liked to think.

"You know, anyone else would have been salivating at the idea of learning from me, Potter," Voldemort said, his lips twitching as he thought of the faces of those who had been informed of that in the past. The revered, awed looks… it never got old. Yet here was Potter glaring at him in suspicion. Perhaps the boy was right to do so; he rarely did anything out of the 'goodness of his heart', he did things that would benefit himself in the long run.

"Yes, well, I'm not everyone," Harry replied, contemplating the prospect of learning. He couldn't deny that he was excited at the prospect, and getting more so when it seemed another shoe wasn't about to drop. To learn one of the most ancient magics in the magical world? He would be a fool not to be, and despite what everyone thought, he wasn't a fool. Which was why he knew there had be a reason behind this. The question was whether it was actually worth it.

"No, no you most certainly are not," Voldemort stated calmly, taking his normal seat in his office. "I demand an answer by the end of tonight; the subject will not be broached again," he said in clear dismissal, his quill already working fast and furious against parchment, as he had many plans in motion, and while his return wasn’t publicised, he knew the Order would begin moving against him.

Harry stared, it was rather quite disconcerting, really. He looked like a normal scholar right now, not a Dark Lord planning on taking over the magical population. He could only hope that Voldemort had listened to him, that he wouldn't go around killing Muggle-borns. They were just as magical as the rest of them; they had been born special and they deserved more than death just because the purebloods had thrown their children out upon finding out they were a squib. If anyone was to blame, it was them. If they'd just allowed their kids to stay… there would be no 'Muggle-borns’, technically speaking. It was the one thing he was surer of than anything else in the world. He wasn't sure why, though, since he didn't have definitive proof… but yes, he believed it with the whole of his being. It was instinctive, almost as if he had picked up the information somewhere but not knowing where.

Turning around he left, hesitating at the door for a second before exiting. He had wanted to remain and read the book on Occlumency; he had been reading it for an hour or so each day. Since he was only allowed to read it here, well, he was constantly interrupted and asked to leave in no uncertain terms; obviously Voldemort didn't want the Death Eaters to know he was there. The book was a large tome, so to read it all was taking him a while. What he had read so far was definitely intriguing to say the least.

Did that mean he wanted to take Voldemort up on his offer to learn Occlumency and Legilimency from him? Admittedly he couldn't see Voldemort ever allowing him entrance to his mind! The book said once you had perfected Occlumency, then you would find the other art extremely easy. That Occlumency was actually the most difficult to master out of both of them. This made sense, since Occlumency was a defensive spell while Legilimency was an offensive spell.

Shaking off these thoughts, he gazed around shrewdly; he still wanted to find the lower dungeons, but everything else he had tried so far had failed. He doubted anyone else could tell him ― even if they wanted to, since this place was probably new to them. When he’d had his visions, it was Riddle Mansion they had been staying in, and this certainly wasn't it. No, this place was steeped in magic, and not just in the wards, so there was no way this was the place. Added to that fact, it was very different structurally.

He had looked in nearly every nook and cranny of the place, trying to find an area magically concealed or anything that led to a dungeon… other than the one he had been kept in, but so far, all his thoughts and efforts had failed. Huffing in contemplation, an idea dawned on him, if he had been in the dungeons… and the prisoners were in the lower dungeons, then could it be possible that they were underneath where he had been kept?

Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

A small grin made its way onto his face. Glancing back at the study, he swiftly made his way down the corridor, excitement thrumming through him. There was nothing like a mystery being solved, it always made him feel undeniably smug. It wasn't solved yet, but he had a feeling he was right this time.

Opening the heavy door he wandered into the cells, already feeling the draught. He was gazing around, now able to see perfectly, when he noticed it. He couldn't help but chuckle deviously. Harry moved towards the back where the statue was. The only problem was, the statue looked as though it was attached to the wall… but it wasn't. No, it was merely hiding an entrance. If not for the subtle breeze causing the torch to flicker, he wouldn't have realized that. Sliding around the statue, and through the entrance―which didn't have a door― he moved along the wall, having to be careful since it was mostly pitch black along the way.

His heart leapt painfully when his foot found only empty air, and Harry's hands fought to keep him steady against the wall. Regainging his equilibrium, he realized that there must be steps as he tried to move, only to have gravity shift beneath him when there was nothing to stand on.

Breathing evenly, he shifted slightly and found, yes, there were steps. He concentrated on keeping himself pressed against the wall, wondering if he should go back and fetch the torch. Perhaps that was the reason it was there to begin with? Nixing the idea immediately, he continued going down, taking his time to make sure he didn't fall and embarrass himself completely.

Then just as he stepped down on what turned out to be the dungeon floor, light flared to life, so he could actually see.

A sadistic grin twisted his features as he looked at his so-called family. They were cold, starving, and wishing to be anywhere but there… oh, it was poetic justice at its greatest. Chuckling darkly, he strolled over to them just enjoying their suffering as they had made him suffer over the years. "My, my, how normal you must feel now," he told them, watching their first stirrings.

"You?" Petunia spat, somewhat confused, "You did to this to us, boy! I should have listened to Vernon and had you drowned the second you landed on our doorstep; you FREAK!" She was glaring at him as if he was the foulest abomination on the earth.

"Get us out of here, boy. Now!" Vernon barked, glaring at him in a way that had always had the boy cringing and backing away from him. It succeeded in doing nothing this time, the brat just looked amused. Fear began to flow through him, he had always feared the day Potter realized his power; it was why he had beaten it into him that he was a freak, to make sure he didn't, so the boy would remain scared of him… too scared to even use his freakish powers. He would have shuddered if his body hadn't been so cold that it couldn't move ― quite literally.

"Oh, you have no idea just how much I did this to you," Harry chuckled; the names and looks they were giving him slid off him like water did a rock. He had stopped caring what they thought a very long time ago, but the reverse of power did make him feel exceedingly giddy. "I had a choice: stay here or go to Privet Drive… knowing you'd be brought here… and its pretty self-evident which course I took, don't you think?" His green eyes were gleaming in vindication. "I'm rather pleased I did, this place is entirely suitable for trash like you."

"We should never have taken you in, death follows you everywhere boy!" Petunia spat; her voice full of vitriol. "Should have killed you when we had the chance." She gazed at him menacingly.

Vernon and Dudley were too terrified to even speak; they just sat there huddled in their corner, unlike Petunia who had actually been around magic. She might be petrified of it but she put on a pathetically brave front and refused to give in to her fear. They had no idea where they were, or if they would even be rescued. The crackpot old fool had sworn they would be safe; Vernon knew he shouldn't have listened to the old man, but part of him had believed him. At least the boy couldn't perform magic, so they wouldn't be hurt. They were beginning to realize, though, that there were other ways to be hurt… but they were in denial.

"So, you've said," Harry replied casually, staring at his fingernails, his boredom evident in every line of his face. "A million times, I'd guess." He turned to stare; his eyes gleaming wickedly. "It's just really too bad I can't help you feel more… welcome," he sighed dramatically. "No magic outside of school, it really is a buzz kill, you know?" he added conversationally.

They three Dursleys squeaked, yes even Petunia; that word was forbidden in the Dursley household; they were terrified of the word.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, it's been fun, and I'll see you later," Harry said, moving away from them then adding, "Well maybe… but I wouldn't expect your life span to be quite long here." Chortling madly at the looks on their faces, his eyes then zoned in on Figg in a cell at the other end of the room. There were thick grey walls on either side of the cells, preventing anyone from seeing another person, or touching them; the area was inundated in some variation of a silencing charm. Maybe preventing the other prisoners hearing each other? He would need to ask.

He stepped closer to Figg’s cell, feeling the magic wash over him, confirming his thoughts about some sort of silencing magic.

"H-h-harry?" stuttered the woman, her eyes going wide with fear. "W-wh-how did you get here?" She was clearly horrified, unable to believe the saviour of the magical world was also here. Relief also spread through her, causing her to relax. Albus wouldn't leave Harry here, he would come for her, and she was saved at last. "He took you too?" She would need to tread carefully now. Harry was unaware of who she was.

"Took me?" Harry asked, his face blank, purposely being vague. He hadn't been in the room; he had been told to wait at the door. Just Voldemort had gone in; a quick stunning spell had brought her down, and the House-elf had gotten her out of the house. "What are you on about?"

"You-Know-Who," she whispered the word as if terrified of the mere mention of it. "He's different, changed somehow, but it's him, Harry, you must run! Run as fast as you can, call the Knight Bus and get to Dumbledore; stay safe." The boy was more important than her.

"How do you know who that is?" Harry said suspiciously. Was she thick; couldn't she see that he wasn't exactly a prisoner? He was on the outside of her cell! For Merlin's sake, it couldn't have been any more obvious. "And what do you mean, he's different?" This question was a genuine one.

"Crucio!" Voldemort hissed, revealing himself, his eyes flashing dangerously. His magic dimmed the room with its intensity so that even Harry felt as if he had been submerged in pure magic. The hatred he could taste in the air was quite thick; he wondered why. She was after all, only a squib.

"Run! Harry! Run! Get out of here!" Figg shouted after the spell ended, while the tremors coursed through her.

Harry scowled at the bars, wondering what the hell she was thinking; maybe knowing Legilimency would be a good thing. "Couldn't you have waited a few more minutes?"

"No," Voldemort stated, giving Harry a long considering look. "You knew I was there?" He had sensed absolutely no surprise from the boy.

"Of course I did," Harry snorted in amusement, "I always do." Albeit without the pain anymore, he realized, chuckling in amusement at the look of dawning horror on Figg's face. It looked as though she was beginning to understand what was happening here; good. Maybe he should come down with Veritaserum next time and get the answers he wanted. "What's wrong?" he said gazing at her in mock confusion.

"She thinks I have deceived you," sneered Voldemort, a twinkle of sadistic bemusement in his eyes. "That you do not know who I am, just that I took you in when you 'ran away', and I am bidding my time before I kill you." His tone was slightly teasing ― which of course Dark Lords did not do, so he would naturally deny it under any circumstances.

"Hmm, if you looked different during the war, how did she recognize you?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, a very good question, isn't it?" Voldemort pondered thoughtfully.

Harry glanced at him surprised; it was obvious that he didn't know the answer to the question. Voldemort wasn't looking at him, though, he was looking at Figg. The woman had gone pale, but was staring back at him, her eyes slightly glazed.

Harry stared at her intently, watching as her body twitched now and again. Was he using Legilimency? The urge to try the connection to Voldemort was strong; he wanted to see what it was like for himself. He didn't dare do that, though, he'd rather not end up cursed and after the first time it had happened… he looked ready to do just that. Figg passed out once Voldemort was done raiding her memories.

"Of all the coincidences," Voldemort replied slightly amazed despite himself.

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking at him, although he was honestly not expecting an answer.

"She is the younger sister of the girl I killed whilst still at Hogwarts," Voldemort replied offhandedly, certainly not feeling guilty about her murder.

"Whaaat?" Harry's face had turned comical.

"And if you did indeed find the Chamber entrance, you'll already know," he pointed out wryly, remembering the last few days at Hogwarts after the incident, how Myrtle had gone around wreaking havoc on Hornby. The year afterwards had been just as hilarious ― not that anyone was ever let on to the fact. He couldn't be seen laughing, now, could he? Not in public with the teachers watching so closely ― especially Dumbledore.

"Myrtle?" Harry grappled mentally trying to accept that. "How can she be a squib then? Wasn't Myrtle a Muggle-born? You said it yourself; you were trying to purge the school of people you thought were unworthy…" his sarcasm was obvious for both to hear.

"Actually, she was a half-blood, a descendant of the Warren line, and I hadn't intended on her being killed," Voldemort admitted ruefully. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time when the Basilisk emerged from its chamber. "Dumbledore used that to get her to work for him; she alone knows my true appearance and name."

"Well, that makes sense," Harry replied, "Did she tell him?" he growled, realizing Voldemort held the answer to his questions and not her.

"I think that it is best you see the memories for yourself," Voldemort replied thoughtfully, coming to a decision. What better way to turn him further to the Dark than by showing him? Letting him see for himself just how little regard Dumbledore had for his safety?

Although, he was enraged by the blatant discarding of a magical child - to despicable Muggles no less. He may have killed the boy's parents but he would not have wished that upon him. Death was a mercy to what Harry had endured as a child. If he was to let the boy go, then he had to take every precaution necessary to ensure the boy wouldn't fight him. "Follow me."

Voldemort had known the second the boy stepped foot in the lower dungeons that he had found it at long last. He hadn't been surprised; if he had found the entrance to the chamber of secrets in less than a year…well, he knew the boy would find it sooner or later. He'd realized he was looking for it the day after he had enquired about where the lower dungeons were. It wasn't easy to find, in fact it wasn't supposed to be found at all, least of all by those who didn't know where it was. He had Apparated directly down there, and observed the boy; the urge to kill the Dursleys greater than ever. The boy had known he was there the whole time; he wasn't sure what to think of that. This connection between them was bothersome to say the least, the boy obviously having more of the connection than he felt, since without the wards he wouldn't know where Potter was.

It was disconcerting; he would need to question him about it. Either that, or he could dig into those memories if the boy conceded to Occlumency lessons. He didn't want Dumbledore in the know after all, and doing Merlin only knows what to him. He alone knew just how desperate Dumbledore was to win the war, at any and all cost. He would keep an annoyingly close watch on Harry if he chose to return. Perhaps teaching him how to Apparate would be in his best interests as well.

-------0

Harry lay on the floor breathing heavily, calling Voldemort all the names under the sun, bloody bastard that he was, his lessons were brutal. Although he couldn’t deny the effectiveness of them, since his mental shields were like muscles - the more he practiced the stronger they got.

Voldemort was ruthless anyway, he smashed through his shields like they were bloody butter; diving into his memories all over again. Though to be fair, he seemed to just concentrate on the ones from his second year, his experiences with the diary and everything he and Dumbledore had spoken about at the end of the year. Voldemort snorted in disgust when he got wind of the ‘services to the school’ award but he had stopped despite the fact he didn’t usually, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“Why are you teaching me this?” Harry enquired as he shakily got to his feet and sat down on the chair. He didn’t want to continue right now since his head was bloody pounding something awful. 

“Would you rather I stop?” Voldemort questioned but Harry immediately shook his head, the boy was truly an enigma. 

“Huh,” Harry murmured quietly when the pain stopped suddenly. 

“You do realize Dumbledore knew where the entrance was don’t you, Potter? He sent his prized bird down to you, and it was not your loyalty to him that drove it down there.” Voldemort revealed honestly, “Phoenixes are smart yes, but they don’t do anything for anyone unless it’s the one they’re bound to. That, and I suspect he’s known the location since Myrtle died - just unable to get down.” he was somewhat embarrassed by the seventeen-year-old part of his soul and his actions, it went to show just how quickly he could become obsessed with things even back then. 

“I did wonder about it, I sort of assumed maybe my words were enough, whether I felt them or not,” Harry shrugged, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, he already knew he was being played. Why did it matter if he had been steered towards the second-year confrontation as well as the one in his first year? No, nothing much surprised him these days, with the obvious exception of being kept alive, but he knew why now. He was a Horcrux, a living Horcrux, and of course Voldemort wouldn’t want to destroy his own soul. He supposed he should be grateful for that, at least he knew he wasn’t going to be killed…at least here at any rate. 

“Stand,” Voldemort demanded, his wand held loosely in his hand, waiting for the boy to do as he was told. Which he did in the lessons surprisingly enough, all of them in fact. He was very eager to learn, but did not expect praise, the first time he had said anything to the boy he had been stunned enough to show it. Whether it was because he had said something or if he wasn’t used to being commended on his magical powers, he had no idea. Just because he had been in his mind it didn’t mean he understood everything about the boy. Which was a good thing really, he was being constantly surprised by him, and it would make the day-to-day training rather…interesting.

Harry groaned but stood as he had been instructed. Grant had been to see him three days ago, the healer, who he had to admit he sort of liked; he always got these comical looks on his face. Although he wasn’t impressed, he still had so many potions to take, especially the way Voldemort lorded over them - threatening him if he didn’t take them. 

The best thing about agreeing to the lessons was Voldemort had performed a ritual to remove the trace on his person, which meant obviously he could use magic. It had been done earlier, apparently there was a waiting time before he could use magic though, so he didn't do anything yet. 

“Legilimens!” Voldemort cast with snake like reflexes - even if he no longer looked like one. As always Harry, distractedly lost in thought, did give quite a challenge, but he’d always known he would. He had sensed his resistance the first time he had entered his mind and looked through his memories when he got impatient with the brat. Now that he knew what Occlumency was, and had obviously understood it, the resistance was becoming more insistent each time he tried and it was only their first lesson. All it took was one shove of his powers and he was in, watching memory after memory.

As abruptly as he was viewing the memories, he was back in his office and as always, the boy was on his knees utterly exhausted.

Perhaps if he actually felt what it was like to cast Legilimens he would have greater success? To feel how it was cast - how it felt to be on the other end of the wand.

He was doing exceptionally well even now, but considering his power he wasn’t surprised. Maybe it was time for Potter to see within the Squibs mind and to know just how much he had been manipulated?

Oh, he wasn’t going to give up on having the boy on his side. He was using all means at his disposal. The boy had seen the memories that Severus had provided, to his credit he hadn’t once shown anything while viewing the memories, and if it wasn’t for the band around his ankle Voldemort wouldn’t have even known his real feelings on the matter.

“Come,” Voldemort once again demanded;Moving towards the door yet waiting patiently for Harry to regain his bearings. He himself had never learned Occlumency or Legilimency this way, he had been self-taught, capable of it since he was a very young boy. He had perfected the art as a teenager, receiving books from Abraxas Malfoy while at Hogwarts. He was very good at everything he did, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that, in fact he was superior and smug about that fact - he had every right to be. 

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, as he managed to get up on shaky legs, his head was pounding, and he felt weak. Although it wasn’t as bad as it had been when he first started so that was something at least. 

“Move,” Voldemort ordered, irritated by the constant questions, he was letting the boy off with more than he let even any of his inner circle. Even cursing him hadn’t worked, although admittedly he hadn’t done it after that one time when he had mentioned him and Dumbledore being alike. He would never be compared to that manipulative old fool. He might be manipulative, but he never manipulated to the extent to force people to do his bidding for him, no he did his own dirty work thank you, he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Although he did expect everyone on his side to get their own hands just as dirty if the situation called for it. 

Harry curiously moved towards the elder wizard, using all his control to stop himself rolling his eyes. He was so used to getting his way, that if he demands something the other would just automatically do it without question - ‘jump and how high’ rattled around in his mind as he thought that.

It made his lip curl that he was doing it as well, but at least he tried to annoy Voldemort in subtle ways - he didn’t want to push him too far. He was too exhausted as it was without a Crucio being thrown on top of it. His curiosity heightened further when he realized they were heading towards the dungeons. Not just the top ones either, they were going to the lower dungeons. 

They didn't stop until they were in front of Figg.

“Cast Legilimens on her,” Voldemort commanded, putting Harry directly in front of the squibs cell. 

“No…Harry…please…don’t…he will kill you; he’ll kill you,” she whispered, moving herself to the side of the cell as if it could somehow protect her from what was coming. If he found out…god help them all, for she feared he would join Voldemort and wreak destruction on the world.

“What and Dumbledore didn’t plan on me dying anyway?” Harry scoffed at her, glaring darkly.

How he hated the woman - worse than he even hated the Dursley’s. She had babysat him and made him feel like shit the entire time. All those years she had been working for Dumbledore, doing what he asked without question - not caring about the obvious abuse he suffered.

Well, she would suffer now, why should he care about her when she had refused to aid him when he needed it? There was no way she would get out of here alive, and it gave him a sense of feral satisfaction. Almost as much satisfaction he had gotten out of creating his spells, though the thought of using them did not compare to this. No, her fate had been sealed the second Voldemort had shown him all the relevant memories he had ripped from Figg’s head. Which naturally hadn’t been all the memories he’d seen, just five along with all the memories Severus had of the Order of the Phoenix meetings.

“What? No! No! No! Harry, he’s lying, that’s what he does,” Figg rasped out between her dry lips.

Terror was written across every inch of her face, as she began to realize there was no hope for Harry - he was too far gone - he believed everything Tom Riddle was saying. He had fallen into the trap so many others had, and she prayed he realized what was going on before too long. “Albus loves you like a grandson, he cares for you.” she added, praying that it would somehow knock him out of whatever manipulations Voldemort was seeding within him. Praying she could keep him out of her memories, somehow.

Voldemort leaned against the cell, looking thoroughly bored, but his eyes, his red eyes were sparkling slightly as if he was getting a great deal of amusement out of this. It always amused him to see people panicking, scared, and the words that came out of their mouths when they felt cornered, the lies were truly hilarious. Dumbledore love anyone? Other than himself? He needn’t have worried about Potter accepting the words as truth; all he could feel through the bond was contempt and hatred, on par with his own hatred of the old fool.

He never thought he would have seen the day were precious Potter would hate Dumbledore, especially the way he had acted during his first year. The way he looked up to the old man, it was nauseating, yes, he had been thoroughly duped. 

“Legilimens!” Harry spat out, aiming his wand straight at her, using the spell for the first time. He found it extremely disconcerting immediately, as the room faded out of view and all he could see was memory after memory flying past him.

He dug for specific ones, wishing to see if he could find any of her contacting Dumbledore after babysitting him. Instead, what he found infuriated him beyond any measure he had ever felt, and she could sense it as he ripped into her mind causing her to cry out at the agony of having Harry’s angry magic invade her mind so harshly. He ripped himself from her mind when he had everything, he wanted from her. 

“Cutem nudaveris!” hissed Harry, without thinking. Using one of his darker spells, watching her, his green eyes gleaming in satisfaction as her screams turned into high pitched wails as her skin felt as though it was being shed from her skin with a blunt rusty knife and being reattached absolutely everywhere. 

Voldemort perked up slightly, vindictive sneer on his face as he turned to face the squib, watching her with fascination. Like the Cruciatus Curse, you didn’t see the damage as it was all internal. In fact, judging by the screams coming from her, it was even worse than his favourite spell, and he couldn’t have that, now could he?

Perhaps he should invest some time in a new spell; he couldn’t be outdone by a fourteen-year-old after all. Although he didn’t necessary want to cause too much harm to his followers, just let them know when they’d disappointed him. The Cruciatus damage could be healed with a single potion, so it wasn’t as if they were incapacitated for days.

This spell seemed to last longer as well, since Harry had already lowered his wand, how charming. It took three minutes (yes, he counted) for her screams to die down and her body to spasm in relief as the curse finally ceased. 

Turning to face the boy, he wondered what he had seen to raise his hackles so to speak, he hadn’t seen him so angry before. As if Harry understood his questioning gaze, despite the fact he knew he had no emotion showing on his face - he spoke or rather spat the offending words. “There was another spy!” grasping a hold of the cell door, trying to stop the anger consuming him. Last time it had he’d let out one hell of a bout of accidental magic and inflated Marge. He had figured out the spell, it was hard to master, and if done wrong could kill whoever was on the receiving end quite quickly. He had found it while ‘searching’ for spells he could use during the tournament. 

He hadn't seen any sign of another spy, but he hadn't specifically been looking for it either, just ones with interactions with Dumbledore.

Was there even a chance Potter would want to return to Hogwarts after all this? Quite possibly, it had been his home for seven years; no doubt Potter felt the same.

“Are you truly surprised, Potter? He left nothing to chance; he doesn’t do well in dealing with chance - he discards them. He couldn’t risk you being anything other than what he wanted, what he needed. Any sign of rebellion even before Hogwarts would have been nipped in the bud.” Voldemort sneered; “With abuse there is always the risk of going too far and he has plenty of experience in that area.”

“I shouldn’t have been,” Harry hissed, his wand twitching as if he had a desire to curse her again. 

“Go ahead, I know you want to,” Voldemort whispered seductively in the teens ear. “One little word, the rush is like no other.” Potters magic could no longer be light or even neutral given the spells he was casting…his inclinations were definitely in the dark arts. He hated to admit it, but the boy was absolutely a natural at Parselmagic, he found it easier than anything else - but Parselmagic was a part of him, just like the snake language was. They would never know if it was the Horcrux that gave him the ability or if he had it before the attack, it was possible seen as they were cousins. It was ironic, he was related to the Peverell’s through both parents, Ignotus and Cadmus. 

“I won’t be manipulated by you,” Harry said firmly, but it was reluctant at best, he wanted to cast it but not because he had said anything. He just wanted Voldemort to see that he wasn’t going to be turned into a bloody sycophant. He wasn’t going to be manipulated into being a Death Eater. Go on as you meant to, he believed that to be the best.

Voldemort laughed sardonically, “You weren’t by Dumbledore - you allowed it to happen Potter, and that’s the difference. Though he thinks he was successful in turning you into his little puppet, I cannot wait for the day where his hopes and dreams for you come crashing down around his ears.” he informed him gleefully. “I am only giving you a push in the right direction; do you think I cannot feel your urge to punish her further? To make her feel even an ounce of what you did growing up with the disgusting Muggles?”

Shrewd green eyes turned to face him, before he cocked his head slightly as if to concede his point without saying anything. It made Voldemort laugh again, yes having Potter around was turning into so much fun - his kind of fun. 

“To cast that spell you must feel hatred; desire to cause pain; to make them suffer,” Voldemort revealed still standing behind him, whispering to him, egging him on - he was just dying to turn Harry as dark as he could. Oh, the look on Dumbledore’s face when (not if) he learned the truth, it was euphoric just thinking about it. Nobody cast it successfully the first time; it took a few tries, same with all the Unforgivables. The only way to truly master them is willingness, to cause pain, to kill, to control and Voldemort desired all those things above all else. 

Harry shivered; he convinced himself it was just because of Voldemort’s words, nothing else, absolutely nothing else. He refused to even contemplate the feeling, instead shoving it as far at the back of his mind as he could, locking it away completely. 

Gripping his wand, he pointed it at her, he wanted it to work more than anything else, he wasn’t quite sure why but he wanted to impress Voldemort. Although he honestly didn’t think anything could, he was a genius at school apparently, beating most of Dumbledore’s scores…the ritual he had created to return to human form, well…it couldn’t really be considered human form when he first returned. He wasn’t sure if something had gone wrong at first, since a few days later Voldemort appeared human, as an older version of Tom Riddle in the diary. The only thing he seemed to have kept was his ruby red eyes. And they really suited him; crap his mind was wandering into dangerous territory.

“Crucio!” Harry snapped with every nerve in his body stiffening as he let himself fuel all the hatred he felt for the woman in front of him. A delightfully euphoric feeling rushed through him. “Bloody hell, no wonder Voldemort liked using the spell so much,” he thought as Figg began to scream and scratch at herself like one of her demented cats. 

Voldemort arched an eyebrow, surprised that the spell had worked its first time. Even his Death Eaters had struggled at first as they’d assumed it was like all spells; just say the words and the curse would magically work. - but no, that class of spells required intent behind them. He couldn’t help but wonder if the boy had cast it before, despite know he had not. Harry had said that his biggest concern was to stay under Dumbledore’s radar doing only small innocuous things that he could talk himself out of.

Voldemort was truly going to enjoy teaching him all he knew given he wouldn’t have to worry about the boy using it against him since the band would prevent it - it was truly one of his best pieces of work as of late.

He belatedly realized that Potter still had his wand aimed at her, and if he didn’t release it soon - she would be utterly insane. The question was, did he care? Should he stop him? With a much put up on sigh, he lowered the boy’s arm, stopping the curse immediately. 

“Any longer and she would have been driven insane. That isn’t a spell you want to play about with,” Voldemort said with great reluctance, “There are limits one must observe, especially with that curse.” 

Harry shrugged; he didn’t really care if he was honest, and he had to stop himself from casting it again. That feeling had been…immensely pleasurable. “Why doesn’t normal magic react like that?” ignoring the snivelling and crying of the woman in the cell. 

“Because it requires power - your power to achieve its full potential. All dark arts do to an extent, that is why it’s addictive, and that is why weak-willed wizards succumb to the allure and lose themselves. Not being taught this at Hogwarts, when people curiously delve and lose themselves, they end up in Azkaban for something beyond their control. All other magic schools teach the Dark Arts, to prevent such an occurrence.” Voldemort lectured, sounding as if he had given that speech a million times. “The Unforgivables are the worst for self-destruction, and the so-called light wizards approved for Aurors to use the spells without consequences. Again, you’d be surprised by how many of them have been quietly shipped off to Azkaban for one reason or another without the Ministry attaching itself any blame whatsoever.” Voldemort realized that he couldn’t sense any surprise from the bond, just derision, and disgust for the ministry he assumed. 

“So, it’s my magic I’m feeling?” Harry mused thoughtfully. 

“It’s similar to the feeling one feels when meditating to find your magical core.” Voldemort revealed idly. “Just not as…intoxicating.” he finally settled on a word he felt best described it. 

“I met him before, once,” Harry said, gazing at nothing in particular, his mind a million miles away. 

Voldemort moved from behind the teen, and returned to his place beside the cell, leaning against it as he gazed at the boy curiously. How it is that he could be very easy to deal with one moment and in the next, make him wish to kill? Nobody else could wind him up like Potter, but he would deal with that in time. “Indeed?” it was a question not a statement, but he wasn’t sure whether the teen would elaborate, he hadn’t seen everything in her head, he had only gotten a few of the more important details then left. 

“He bowed to me in a shop, acting all excited. I thought he was nuts and Petunia wasn’t impressed, she hissed something at him and yanked on my arm as she pulled me out of the shop; it’s actually one of the few times she’s managed to hurt me using her hands.” Harry went on to reveal that she had actually dislocated his shoulder, which of course, Dudley had pushed it right back in by jumping on his back - suffocating him with his bulk. Without meaning to actually help, he had just wanted to cause further pain, which the idiot thought he had, but in reality, he’d only cried out due to his shoulder being forcefully resorted. “I have no idea who he is.” 

“My best guess is that he is someone from the Order. I have no doubt Severus can identify him for you, should you wish to know.” Voldemort suggested. He too wanted to know who else had been ‘in the know’ about a wizarding child being abused - not just anyone either, their precious saviour. 

Harry nodded grimly. 

“Harry…please, he’ll kill you,” she croaked terror written across every line of her body still.

“I don’t care, as long as I get my revenge first, he can do whatever he likes,” Harry barked at her, grimacing in disgust. He was under no illusions that if Voldemort decided he wanted to kill him that he would just go ahead and do it. His life had never meant much, sure he had a Slytherin thirst for survival and the cunning to pull it off, but Voldemort was the ultimate Slytherin that made him look like a Hufflepuff compared to him. He could only hope to could somehow come out of the war intact, but the likelihood was very small. 

Voldemort arched an eyebrow, saying nothing as the boy was telling the truth; he didn’t care but that wasn’t news. Harry seemed to have a death wish that he still couldn’t comprehend. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was terrified of death and had been since he was a young boy during the muggle war which he should never have been part of (or so he felt). No magical child should be left behind, not with Muggles who would never understand them. The magical world should look after its own and when he finally won, he would ensure that was the case. 

Although if the boy was right, and that Muggle-borns were descendants from lines long thought gone, he would need to rectify some of his beliefs and let his followers know. They may just have families out there, and family was important to the pureblood’s who never seemed to drop out more than a child or two at a time - with the exception of the Prewitt’s and Weasley’s. During his schooling there had been three Prewitt’s and three Weasley’s only, this generation of Weasley’s was twice as large - sickening since they couldn’t afford two never mind the seven they had. Narcissa Malfoy was a prime example of that, she had wanted another child but was unable to have another. He believed she had wanted another male heir to continue the Black legacy, along with a daughter. 

Seeing the boy grimace in distaste at the still crying squib, he turned and walked away, expecting the boy would follow - he did unsurprisingly. 

“Tomorrow you will learn the beginnings of Apparation; you never know when it might come in handy.” Voldemort said in his usual demanding tone. 

“Really? I thought you needed a licence? And can’t they track it if you don’t have one?” Harry didn’t even bother to grumble about it; in fact, he was rather excited about it. “I mean the book certainly implied that anyway.” he shrugged dismissively.

He had come across a book on Apparation or at least a chapter on it at least, while searching for ways to help him during the third task. Even if he had learned, he wouldn’t have been able to do it, as he had been told a million times you couldn’t Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. 

Just wait until he learned he would be able to as an heir to the founders - his blood had created the very school wards that stood proud over the generations. 

“That is just to deter insipid people who cannot think for themselves,” Voldemort sneered, “They read it so it must be true.” 

Harry just snorted, “Not always stupid people, but people who like books tend to believe everything they read…and believe hard.” 

“Personal experience, Potter?” Voldemort muttered sardonically, as he finally entered his office. Rolling his eyes at how comfortable Potter was in his domain, just slouching over to a seat he’d claimed as his and opened the book he had put there when they began occlumency lessons. He didn’t normally remain here; he usually went to his room to sulk or rest whichever one it was that the boy did. 

Of course, as he was reading his book - he didn’t grace him with a reply. 

Meanwhile at the Order headquarters...

Albus Dumbledore was beyond pissed off now; he honestly had to refrain from having a fit like a spoiled five-year-old. He just didn’t understand how Harry was able to stay off his radar and for so long with people all over out looking for him. He had thought he could predict the boy’s every move. The only consolation was that Voldemort did not know of Harry’s disappearance (or was, Merlin forbid, behind it). He truly feared that the wizard would figure out the connection they two shared and somehow abduct him before he could get him back under his control. So, he had made it very clear to his spy that he wasn’t under any circumstances to find out. Although if that happened, he knew Severus would rescue him, the thought of having his spy ousted so soon riled him up. He had to have someone in on the inside, had to know what Voldemort was planning at all times.

Damn the boy to hell; just wait until he got his hands on him. With the Dursley’s missing and probably dead, he couldn’t return the boy to their care, which was annoying also. The boy needed to be put in his place every year as he became too wild and too independent by the end of the term. Then again, he had a few people that could take the boy in that would treat him with the same distain. Severus was one of them, but it had its risks, he just had to find the boy first. 

“I think it’s time to bring Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley in; perhaps they might have a a better idea of what is going on than we do.” Albus said calmly. None of the owls flew when they put a letter on for Harry, they didn’t even attempt to fly in any direction, and it was as if he was completely off the map like under the Fidelius Charm which wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have another wizard helping him, he didn’t know anyone other than his close friends, himself, as well as the teachers (and they would never go against him). He had kept the boy as secluded as possible, and Granger and Weasley had helped with that. 

Severus sat up just a little bit straighter when he heard Albus’ words, his face never betrayed any emotion, but he wanted to know just how bad the betrayal went when it came to those two so called friends. He did notice immediately that neither Black nor Lupin was in sight, interesting. Nobody else seemed even the slightest bit alarmed by his words or confused. Did they all know about the abuse? Was every single person in this room just using Harry for their own ends? 

“Not to join,” Molly said quietly, merely seeking reassurances of such a thing NOT happening. 

“No, Molly, they aren’t of-age yet, if they desire it when they’ve finished Hogwarts then they may,” Albus soothed her immediately, smirking inwardly when she relaxed. He doubted the war would last that long, no; he had to have the war over with while the boy was truly under his complete control. He would have to rely on someone else to control Harry once he left, a partner, in all likelihood it would be Miss Weasley, she had set her sights quite high and wished to become Lady Potter.

“Would you please retrieve them for me?” he gestured with his hands. 

“Of course,” Molly said, simpering at the Headmaster before she stood up and quickly ran off to find her son and his girlfriend. Of course, they liked to pretend they were still ‘just’ friends, for Harry’s sake with him going through so much without the added pressure of feeling like a third wheel. They knew how important it was to keep Harry within their circle, away from those who would use them for their own gain - poor boy was rather innocent in the ways of the world and how people truly were on the inside. 

If only they knew. 

“Ron? Hermione?” Molly called, knocking sharply, waiting a few moments until she was given the go ahead and allowed to enter. Both teens were reading books, Hermione one about Ancient Runes and Ron of course, was busy with his ancient copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. How he still found it interesting was a mystery to both Molly and Hermione since he had read it so many times in the past, surely it should be memorised by now. 

“What is it?” Ron asked curiously, lowering the book. They’d given up trying to hear anything that the Order was talking about, though Fred and George weren’t as quick to giving up - he was surprised his mum hadn’t spotted them and given them what for. He wasn’t about to tell on them, he’d rather not have their focus on him as he was pranked enough without actually deserving it. Plus, they had just bought him new robes, which he loved. 

“Headmaster Dumbledore would like a word with you both, so come on down, let’s not keep him waiting,” Molly demanded, trying to usher them out of the room as quickly as possible. 

Ron and Hermione turned to stare at each other in surprise before Ron closed his book with a thump and stood up. Hermione placed a bookmark in hers before she stood with less enthusiasm as Ron. Ron was dying to know what they spoke about at Order meetings and be part of it, she wasn’t that excited. Although she understood Ron’s point of view, since he was so sheltered that everything new was exciting and he was also extremely gullible, and believed everything he heard - fighting trolls anyone, was a prime example, who on earth would believe the twins? 

Both of them followed behind Mrs. Weasley at a slow pace, not rushing around like Molly always did. They were in one of the second-floor bedrooms, so it didn’t take them long to walk down one flight of stairs and into the kitchen. They were slightly intimidated by the full room of adult wizards, although Hermione less so having spent more time with adults and less time with children her own age due to bullying because she wanted to do well in school and prove herself. 

“Sit, sit,” Molly said in her usual no nonsense voice before she closed the door, and the wards snapped back into place so nobody could hear anything. She was quickly distracted by Dumbledore talking again, so much so that she failed to notice the little piece of almost translucent string attached to the bottom of the door. 

“I assume you’ve heard about Harry’s disappearance?” Albus asked, looking old and weary, catching both their eyes and gleaming surface thoughts, just to make sure they knew nothing of anything Harry had planned - like running away to Merlin only knows where. All he got was concern, worry and fear from both of them; it seems they were just as much in the dark as the rest of them, he wasn’t surprised but disgruntled all the same. 

“Yes, Sir,” Hermione said solemnly while Ron just nodded his head. 

“Did he mention any of his plans this summer? Anything at all that might help us?” Albus said, gazing at them hopefully, it was so easy to manipulate those around him. 

“No, sir,” Hermione said staring down at the tabletop feeling guilty that she couldn’t help the most powerful wizard in the magical world. She was terrified for Harry, Voldemort was back, and Harry could be anywhere, he could be hurt for all they knew...the worst she couldn’t bear thinking about. 

“Does he ever mention anyone he knows that isn’t at Hogwarts?” Albus asked, already knowing the answer, he had left nothing to chance when it came to Harry, not after he had defeated Voldemort as the prophecy dictated however temporarily he had known it to be. He had kept him watched very closely without knowing it all his life, all the while making sure the Dursley’s did their job without going overboard. A little hit here and there was fine, but he had ensured Vernon knew never to go too far with the boy. He wanted him desperate for love and affection not broken and beaten down so badly by the world that he didn’t care for anyone. He’d relaxed the reigns after his first year, content in the knowledge that the boy wouldn’t defy him. So, there was a small chance that he did know someone. 

“Harry doesn’t have friends in the Muggle world,” Ron said giving the Headmaster a strange look, “His family starve him and keep him locked up, and when you said not to send him letters, we couldn’t even put some food in so he can at least get something to eat like we argued with you, Sir…maybe that’s why he left?” Ron boldly declared.

“RON!” Hermione hissed shocked, unable to believe what he’d just said, never mind to the most powerful wizard in the world. There had to be a reason Headmaster Dumbledore did what he did, he wouldn’t do it out of maliciousness. She believed that these wards that kept Harry safe must come first. She was sure that the Headmaster made the Dursley’s see that they were wrong to treat her best friend that way. He probably got loads more food after he had spoken to them.

“That’s why you asked for the food?” Arthur said surprised grasping a hold of his wife’s hand, so she didn’t explode - something she was very close to doing. She was slowly getting redder in the face, and Arthur was beginning to feel pain as Molly started squeezing at his hand in return - reminding him vividly of the times she had given birth - not that they were forgettable by any stretch of imagination. They’d thought Ron was beginning to have problems, since he usually asked just after dinner or lunch! And it was generous helpings they always had if nothing he and his wife always made sure there was more than enough to eat in their home. Harry had always been on the thin side, but considering he’d ate so well during his stay before his second year he assumed he was just one of those boys who could eat and never gain weight. Hearing what his son said alarmed him…had he gotten it so spectacularly wrong? 

Molly wanted to shriek at Ron for speaking that way to Albus, he was the greatest wizard in the world. Yet she was proud of how loyal he was to Harry, the boy who would one day be their Son-In-Law and Ron’s Brother-In-Law. She didn’t want Arthur to know she even had an inkling, thus she held her tongue. She was seriously, very, very angry, and her entire face was hot in her rage.

Severus arched an eyebrow surprised by the youngest male Weasley’s words; perhaps his head wasn’t so far up Dumbledore’s backside that he couldn’t see the reality in front of him. Severus had always viewed him as the dimmest Weasley; especially considering all his other brothers actually put forth an effort in their school work whereas he did not. The look he gave the Headmaster spoke volumes, but unfortunately, he wasn’t surprised that Dumbledore knew since he’d long ago found that out. Regretfully the boy wouldn’t meet his eye so he couldn’t see if he was knowingly a part of the manipulation against Harry or if he was unwittingly a part of it. Not that it mattered; they would hopefully soon be on different sides, that’s if the Dark Lord listened to him and didn’t alienate Harry. It was becoming glaringly obvious that nobody could control him, he pretended to adapt like a chameleon and changed colours whenever it suited him. The only thing that was definite was the fact his magic wasn’t as pure; he was a dark wizard or well on his way to being so. 

In fact, he prayed it was the case, he loathed working for Dumbledore, and the vow had put him into a very difficult position these past few months. If he could get out of this with his vow intact then he was all for it, the dark side was his home, or had been until his lord had gone back on his word…or he thought he had.

“Yes, why do you think me and the twins told you about the bars in the shed?” Ron said he had hoped his parents would at least help him more…ask him to come again or send more food than he was able to get after asking for it. Instead, they spent the last few months of the holidays last year in the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn’t as if he could actually buy food to send to Harry. If anything, he didn’t understand why Harry didn’t buy enough sweets to last him all summer - he had the money to do it. He would have done that if he could, in fact he was still slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten any sweets during the ride home! But a smaller part piped in that he had just seen a school mate die, that wouldn’t put anyone in the mood to eat sugary sweets. Scowling at his mature thoughts that were cropping up more and more often as he aged…especially after the whole thinking Harry entered the tournament thing. 

Albus felt an argument coming on; perhaps bringing them into it hadn’t been the best idea. The fact he had dared to speak out infuriated him, perhaps he would need to ensure his loyalty along with Mr. Potters when they found him. Which he was determined to do no matter the cost or time. “No, you have nothing to fear on that front, I made sure that they wouldn’t do such a thing as soon as I learned about it.” he told them firmly. “I ensured Harry’s survival and safety first and foremost.” at least Hermione Granger had a sense that he was doing what was for the good of the magical world. 

Only he could mistake Grangers blind faith for him against the good of the magical world. 

“See,” Hermione said, her thoughts proven true, sure in her belief in her elders, especially one revered as Dumbledore. It didn’t occur to her that such people had more to lose than the normal person if anything got out. Nor did it occur to her that they’d likely trampled on (if that is all they did) dozens of people to get to where they were.

“We will be speaking about this further,” Arthur said giving Molly and Dumbledore pointed looks. He couldn’t believe that Molly knew the possibly of Harry being starved. It just didn’t compute. Molly couldn’t possibly know, but his son wouldn’t lie, not like that. Her silence and lack of anger at the accusation rang alarm bells in him.

Albus’ heart sank, that was just fantastic, now he would have to deal with an overprotective father hounding him. Everyone thought Molly was the most protective parent in the Weasley family, but they were wrong - Arthur was worse. It didn’t change anything though, Harry would be going back to his relatives, he didn’t care that the blood wards he’d harnessed himself all those years ago using Lily’s blood as anchor were down. He would just put other wards up and keep the Order members around the house should the worst happen. Honestly the boy was becoming more troublethan he was worth, it was a good thing he was the only thing standing in the way of Voldemort or he would have done something about him the second he found him. 

“I want you both to write to him to see if the owl can find him, see if you can convince him to return to the magical world, the Leaky Cauldron say. If he cannot get there, convince him to tell you both where he is. He is in danger and the longer he’s out the worse it gets. He likely doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation.” Albus said gravely. “If the Death Eaters find him, I’m afraid all we will find is a body.” he had to place the direness of the situation on the children. 

“Albus!” Molly shouted angrily; how could he say something like that to them? They were fourteen years old for Merlin’s sake. 

“I agree, that is going too far,” Arthur said grimly, glaring at Albus just daring him to say anything else. 

“They need to know the seriousness of this situation, especially if they get through to Harry, them being his friends, there’s a chance that they will,” Doge said seriously, “Albus is right.” as always sticking with his old friend who had befriended him when nobody else would go near him as a child. 

Hermione frowned, she wondered what was going on with her best friend right now, was he honestly safe? Or was Headmaster Dumbledore right and he was in grave danger?

“Why should we write to him now? What makes it so safe to write now?” Ron asked petulantly, scowling at the table, seething in anger.

“Because nothing could put him in further danger, stupid boy!” Doge barked impatiently, seeing Albus looking stricken by the questions. 

“Don’t you dare speak to my son like that!” Arthur snapped, his eyes narrowed daring the elder wizard to say anything else. Nobody got to speak to his kids that way. Definitely not for defending his best friend, never for that. His boy was finally leaving that jealous and angry stage of growing up. He would not see him disparaged for his defence of another. Even the rest of the Weasley’s were glaring in warning, especially Bill and Charlie, they were very protective of their younger brothers and especially their sister. Even if they were reeling over what their youngest brother said about their mother knowing about Harry being starved. It just went against everything they knew about her.

“I was under the impression that the wards around Potter’s home kept him safe, that no Death Eater could get near them so why would it matter if they did happen to track a letter?” Severus drawled smoothly in his usual sneering tone, planting the first seed of doubt in their minds. All the while playing his part to perfection, spitting out the name as if it disgusted him to the core. He almost smirked at the shock that played across Granger’s face. Seed planted. 

“Just an added precaution I felt necessary to keep him safe,” Albus said placating, irritated by Severus’ timing. At least Severus didn’t care about the boy, but many others did. Neither Black nor Lupin was here, thank Merlin for that, he was also sick of their whining, and that Harry wasn’t getting to stay at Grimmauld Place where it was safe. He would admit it was safer than anywhere else, but he needed the boy to die when the time was right, getting to know his godfather wasn’t the way to go about that. “I think it’s time to start our search again before it gets too dark,” quickly getting this meeting over with before Molly could hound him. “Do you all know your locations?” 

A murmur of agreements circulated the dirty rundown room they currently sat in. 

“Very well, let’s get to it, hopefully tonight we might just get lucky,” Albus said, but even he was beginning to lose hope. 

Everyone immediately stood up and began to vacate the premises, half going through the Floo one at a time the other half using the door and disappearing with a crack when they felt it was safe. Soon there were only a few people left and Severus deliberately winced as if in pain, his hand going to his left forearm as if he had just been called - which he had not but he did have an appointment to keep with the Dark Lord - or rather Harry Potter. 

“Go on,” Albus said, the twinkle leaving his eyes, always feeling this way when Severus was called these days, due to the fact Harry was out there and away from his grasp and could easily have been caught. 

Severus nodded grimly, getting perverse pleasure out of Dumbledore’s fear; one had to wonder why he was even bothering to convince the Dark Lord to let Harry choose his side. If this kept up Dumbledore would soon have a heart attack and the light sides defences would all but crumble. Oh, he knew Dumbledore was the only reason the order was really there, the rest of them weren’t exactly leader material, especially without Harry on their side. 

Severus stalked out of Grimmauld Place in his usual fashion and Apparated away once it was safe to do so. 

He reappeared before the Dark Lord’s manor, it truly was a sight to behold, nothing as extravagant as Malfoy Manor but there weren’t many places that were unless you counted Hogwarts and of course Gringotts. It certainly made his home look like a sorry miserable state, if he had been able, Severus would have chosen to live in the Dark Lord’s library, and it was much grander than his with a lot more books that he was just dying to read. 

As he walked past the wards, he felt it tingle over his skin, the Dark Mark allowing him entrance without needing specific permission to be there. Of course, someone could Apparate with another person who didn’t have the mark and be granted entrance too.

Sighing softly, he absolutely hated the Order meetings, they were more tedious than full Death Eater meetings, which only occurred when something big was about to go down. 

As he made his way, he came across Nagini weaving through the grass hissing only what the Dark Lord and Harry Potter would understand. He just smirked at the female snake, not at all intimidated - unlike a few other Death Eaters he could name - mainly Lucius - he had heard the wizard squeak, actually squeak when coming into contact with the large snake. It had afforded him a great deal of amusement, and if the Dark Lord’s blanking expression was read right the same could have been said for him too. 

Nagini, it seemed was entering the manor, perhaps she had already caught whatever it was that she wanted? There was no bulge to indicate she had though, but he followed her nonetheless, it would be much quicker than finding the Dark Lord himself. But there were only ever a few places he had to check, since the Dark Lord knew when people entered his manor, he was always available in his study, the grand hall or library if he was busy researching something. He was glad some things hadn’t changed in this chaotic world he lived in. 

Although in the later years of the war he would never have approached the manor unless he was called…that was how bad it had grown, he did wonder what the others were thinking of this version of their Lord. Were they as excited as he was? He couldn’t help but ponder wryly to himself, things had been changing for a while and he had been oblivious to begin with…now that he knew his excitement continued to grow. He would need to be careful though, the last thing he wanted was to be caught and put in Azkaban. 

Just then he heard a voice speaking just outside the hall. Both his eyebrows rose in shock, the boy truly didn’t know what was good for him - nobody said no to the Dark Lord and went unpunished. 

“No,” Harry said simply, “I’m not using the killing curse,” 

“And why not? You’ve used the other two, it might help you in sticky situations,” Voldemort stated persuasively. 

“I don’t need the killing curse to get out of sticky situations!” Harry argued right back, “I’ve not needed them this far, have I?” the taunt was evident in his voice, enough so that Severus felt his eyes widen expecting a ‘Crucio’ thrown at the teen any second now. 

“You just might,” Voldemort warned Severus didn’t need to be in the room to be aware that the glare was enough to make the lower-level Death Eaters pee their pants in fear. He moved closer watching the pair of them through the crack in the door, the power they could wield together would truly be breath-taking. 

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll do the spell if you make it a certain rat,” Harry said rather vindictive. Truth was, he didn’t really have anything against the killing curse or using it. He just didn’t want Voldemort to feel like he won the little game he was playing. He wasn’t pretending to be manipulated either. 

Voldemort smirked, the boy got too much amusement out of tormenting Wormtail, “What would you do every day instead?” he said wryly. 

“Then I guess I’m not doing the spell,” Harry said firmly, even if Voldemort actually agreed he wouldn’t have done it. Pettigrew was worth more alive than dead to him at the moment. His godfather deserved to live to see himself a free man, and a dead Pettigrew complicated matter. “I would rather use my own anyway, I’ve wanted to see them in action for years.” he admitted.

“Enter Severus,” Voldemort snapped out as if he was furious, but he wasn’t really, he had known the wizard was there the entire time - it was his manor after all. No, he had allowed it for one reason only to pacify the wizard without losing face and outright saying anything. He didn’t want him running back to Dumbledore after all, he would have killed anyone else if it had been them, but he had wronged him, did something stupid and there wasn’t a better Potions Master - he couldn’t brew all the time he had other more important things to do. 

“My Lord,” Severus said cautiously, as he entered, still reeling from the conversation he’d heard. His face showed none of his inner turmoil or any guilt at having been found out eavesdropping, he wasn’t a stupid wizard, Voldemort must have known he was there and allowed it for some reason. There was a reason for everything he did, he would figure out why he did sooner or later and could guess a few ideas. 

“I want a few potions brewed, the list is waiting for you,” Voldemort demanded. 

“Of course,” Severus murmured quietly. 

“Potter, go with him,” Voldemort added turning away from both of them and sitting down, no longer interested in either of their presences. “I wish to speak to you after you are done, Severus.” it was a demand not a request. 

Harry shrugged and pocketed his wand before leaving; Severus of course right next to him. The walk to the dungeons was quiet but it wasn’t an oppressive one. Once they were inside, he glanced at the list the Dark Lord had left, nodding briefly before moving to the store cupboard with a box and began to place all the ingredient jars, he’d need into it. Potter, he realized had followed him, and he quickly dumped the full tray in his arms before hefting out another one and filling that up - but it didn’t require every slot being used. 

“What exactly have you been doing to Pettigrew?” Severus asked as he exited the cupboard and began to remove the first set of ingredients idly noticing that Potter was doing the same but for a different potion, the one to help exposure to Dementors specifically. Considering he had been able to successfully create and brew his own, he said nothing to him. Merely moved over and plucked a book from the small bookshelf that he housed his own books in and opened it at the appropriate page and handed it over. Half expecting him to reply but he didn’t. 

Harry accepted it, reading over the edits that had been made to the potion, “Will you edit mine?” he asked curiously. 

“Perhaps,” Severus replied, “If we have time.” 

Harry nodded happy enough with the statement. “As for what I’ve done to Pettigrew…not as much as I want to,” he scowled, “He keeps stopping me from having fun.” He wasn’t pouting, he absolutely wasn’t.

Severus’ lips pursed finding himself undeniably amused with the pout gracing Harry’s face.

“Who would have thought Lockhart’s crap spell casting would come in handy?” Harry said absently, grinning almost ferally as he began to further grind the unicorn horn pieces.

Severus frowned not understanding, until Harry began to mock hold his arm out his hand flapping as if it was useless like a fish. It brought the incident to mind rather quickly. Had he removed the bones in Pettigrew’s arm? It was just a shame that the bones could be re-grown so quickly. “Perhaps I should ensure there isn’t Skele-Gro lying around.” he said, causing Harry to laugh out in vicious delight, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry truly laugh before…it was slightly alarming to acknowledge it couldn’t be good for him with all this pretence. Did his friends even know the real boy behind the masks?

Massive thank you to Luna4917 for taking her free time to edit this story and polish it up! 

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 12

Harry was jolted awake by a knocking on his door, nobody usually did that, he'd always been awake early. Had he slept in? blearily looking around, before remembering he didn't have a clock here, so a quick 'Tempus' revealed it was only six o'clock. Yawning tiredly, he slid out of the bed and opened the door cautiously, blinking in surprise when Voldemort was standing at the other side. Usually he just had the House-elves come fetch him. When he says actually, he just meant the couple of times he actually had summoned him. It happened very rarely.

"Here," Voldemort stated sharply shoving a large bundle into his arms.

Harry grunted at the bundle, curiosity getting the better of him, he ripped it open, manners be damned. Both eyebrows rose in surprise, clothes? And was that a wand holster it was a lovely colour? What the hell was going on? Voldemort hadn't seriously just bought him clothes, had he? He'd been using his school uniform at first, which admittedly was becoming increasingly tight due to the fact he'd put so much weight on and height increase, with the consumption of his new potion and the others Voldemort made him take, as well as the food he was eating here. It had gotten to the extent he was actually having to use his cousins cast offs again this past week, just shrunk slightly to fit his frame, thanks to a handy spell he'd found. Honestly, he was turning into Hermione being surrounded by so many books, and actually able to read them without a single judgement being made. In fact, Voldemort seemed to get amusement out of him reading books Dumbledore would consider 'dark'. The why eluded him, he'd created his own far darker spells but whatever, he didn't mind much. As long as it wasn't directed at him.

"Um…why did you buy me clothes?" Harry was too stunned (not to mention tired too) to even put his sarcastic retorts into action, instead he'd just asked the question on his mind. He did tighten his grip on the bundle though, not wishing for it to be taken away. Something left of a lifetime with the Dursley's.

"I don't want a wizard dressed in filthy muggle clothes in my manor," Voldemort sneered, he did not even want to examine too closely why he had gone out of his way to buy anything for him. Seeing the boy dressed in those disgusting second-hand clothes infuriated him, set him on edge, it was hard enough not to just go down there and end the Dursley's lives, but no, death was too good for the likes of them. He wanted them to suffer endlessly for harming a wizard - he wanted to make an example of them – and what an example they would be.

"Well, I'm not going to argue with that," Harry said smirking wryly, "I've wanted to buy some clothes for years," which was true enough, but he'd known better than to show his hand.

"Then why didn't you?" Voldemort asked condescendingly, the boy knew he had the money so it couldn't be that.

"To start with?" Harry said thoughtfully as he moved to put the bundle on his bed, then sat down, "I was under the impression that I only had a single vault to see me through my Hogwarts years and beyond. The trust fund they set up, it wasn't until I did some reading for the tournament that I realized what it was and that when I became of age, I would have more money to spend than I anticipated. That and I didn't want to risk my relatives finding out I had money, their distaste for all things magical probably wouldn't count my money."

Thankfully Hogwarts library had a whole slew of books just begging to be read, and unless you tried to take out of the restricted section, no alarm went off when he took the books out and snuck them up to his dorm. No, his library card had remained 'unused' except for the occasional Quidditch through the ages and books required for class. He knew he was watched too closely to dare use his library card for his real reading material.

"Reading? You mean a goblin hasn't explained all this to you?" Voldemort frowned, was nothing simple when it came to Potter? Just hearing this had alarm bells ringing, something was seriously wrong here.

"I've only been to Gringotts once, even then I was accompanied," Harry shrugged, "The rest of the time someone else has gone for me. In fact, I don't even have my key."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes; he would need to find a way to check someone wasn't milking the Potter accounts dry. At least nobody would be able to touch the main vaults, just the trust fund, no you had to be a Potter by blood or marriage to get near those and the current heir had to be seventeen like all other family vaults. The Goblins didn't bow to no-one, so there was definitely no way they would bend the rules not for a wizard or witch at any rate. They hated thievery, and their safety measures were something he admired, if he'd had a body, he knew there wouldn't have been any way he would have gotten in and out of Gringotts safely after going for the stone. If he had…he could imagine it would be the straw that broke the camel's back and Harry would well and truly be his. Yes, he would have to add it to his to do list, which was becoming increasingly longer, but things were looking up so he wasn't too vexed.

"Of course it does," Harry stated scowling darkly, his green eyes so dark they didn't look like emeralds but rather Russian diopsides.

"Let me guess, playing the part?" Voldemort stated, a sadistic grin on his face once more just imagining Dumbledore's face when he found out.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Breakfast will be ready soon, be there." Voldemort reminded him curtly before he began to stalk away, and only when he was far enough away, did he add, "Oh and Potter?"

Harry turned back around staring at the wizard in confusion, "Yes?" still a little out of sorts by the unexpectedness of this conversation and the gifts.

"Happy Birthday," he smirked at the shocked look that appeared on the boy's face, it was definitely worth saying those infernal words.

It was his birthday? And Voldemort had given him a present? It was official the world was going to hell; he was sure of it. He had forgotten, it was the first time he'd ever fallen asleep before midnight, usually he stayed up, wishing himself a happy birthday as was his tradition whenever he'd found out his birth date at school. He hadn't received any owls, he always got owls from his friends, either they weren't sending him anything due to him 'running away' or the owls couldn't find the place, it was probably a bit of both. Closing the door, he wandered back over to the pile, was it just a coincidence that they'd came today or had Voldemort actually gotten him something for his birthday? Warmth suffused him, a genuine gift, something useful he could use. Although, he would never deny being grateful for the treats he got that tided him over until Hogwarts.

Harry picked up the wand holster, he'd seen Voldemort wearing one, in fact Barty had one as well, he absently strapped it to his wrist, flexing it curiously it was lightweight, he couldn't even tell it was there overly much, didn't feel too tight or annoyingly restrictive. Grinning wryly, he slid his wand which he still had in his hand, into the holster. He laughed a little seeing that the clothes were mostly black and green, he was surprised really, he didn't think Voldemort knew of any colour other than black itself - it was all he ever wore. Removing his nightwear, he slid on the brand-new clothes, which to his delight fitted him perfectly, he actually had clothes that were brand new and meant for him and him alone.

Once dressed – and admiring himself in the mirror – with a skip in his step he left his room, after making sure the door was shut, he'd warded it so he would know if anyone entered. He didn't like the thought of anyone being in there. Voldemort hadn't said anything when he saw him looking up wards or actually casting them so it was probably safe to say he didn't care. Sliding into the dining room and claimed his usual seat, Voldemort as usual gave him a pointed look at the potions, daring him to argue - but Harry didn't, not anymore at least. He liked the results of the potions too much to care, and he was able to fight better during his lessons with Voldemort too. He was slowly building up stamina.

"Lessons start at the normal time," Voldemort stated, folding the Daily Prophet before standing and vacating his chair (not even waiting for a reply from Harry) once he was sure Harry had drank his potions, having already eaten his own breakfast he headed to the only likely location - his study. He spent nearly all his time in there, who would have guessed there was so much paperwork involved by trying to take over the world?

Harry quickly ate his breakfast, knowing Pettigrew would be around for scraps any time soon, he couldn't and being anywhere near the disgusting wizard. He'd spent too much time in his company as it was, if he wasn't learning Legilimency on Figg he was learning it on Pettigrew. It was getting to the stage whenever the wizard was near, he could hear his thoughts as if he was shouting at him. Just as he thought this, he heard it, the usual inane annoying questions. Wondering why the Death Eaters were getting away with not looking for him, why he wasn't killing 'Potter' (he was causing the rat a lot of pain, at least as much as he could without annoying Voldemort too much) why he wasn't being revered after all he had brought his lord back.

One day he swore he'd get Voldemort's permission and he'd get the damn rat in the Ministry and his godfather's innocence proven.

He stood up and quickly walked away, if he happened to stand on his tail well…it wasn't his fault he should have really stopped wandering around in his Animagus form a long time ago. He smirked ferally at the squeaking thing before leaving the room altogether not caring when the wizard turned back and glared at him with his disgusting beady eyes.

To think his parents had trusted that with their lives and his.

Harry came back to himself, panting dangerously, on his knees feeling as though he'd ran the entire length of the Quidditch pitch ten times. His wand was on Voldemort's desk, the arse had decided that 'it was time to see if his natural magic would hold against the might of anyone' well that and adding 'not that anyone was as good as he' in that smug tone of his, so if he succeeded then no more training was required. So, for the past two hours he'd been enduring "Legilimens" being continuously cast on him, as Voldemort relentlessly tried or actually invaded his mind. It didn't half take it out of him, who would have thought using magic could be so physically draining when you didn't actually move? He couldn't deny though that Voldemort was quite thorough when teaching anything.

"It seems you won't require much more tutoring," Voldemort replied in a deceptive smooth tone as he stepped back from the exhausted teenager. For a fifteen-year-old he did have a thirst for knowledge that he'd only seen in himself. Everyone he had taught was usually eighteen years of age and up, and even then, they had trouble keeping up with the rigorous pace he set. It was times like this where he was vividly reminded this boy was his equal, not something a wizard such as he liked to tolerate, he had always been better than everyone else, more powerful, more important.

Harry had an ability to learn very quickly, but this wasn't new, he was beginning to realize.

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry asked, as he continued kneeling there trying to regain his equilibrium. His new clothes were covered in sweat, perhaps he shouldn't have kept them on while training. He just didn't want to take them off, they were his first real clothes, his Hogwarts uniform didn't count.

"You just did," Voldemort stated in amusement, sitting down staring at the teenager curiously, since when did Harry Potter feel the need to ask permission to ask something?

"You used Pettigrew as a spy, why didn't you teach him how to shield his mind? Dumbledore has no problem gleaning my own mind…I'm sure he has no problem doing the same to the others in his precious order…especially if their minds are completely undefended." Harry asked, grunting as he forced himself to his feet, his knees throbbed painfully, after a few wobbly steps he regained his footing and sat down on the only other seat in Voldemort's office, where the book he was currently reading sat on the table next to it. He didn't pick it up though; he was genuinely curious why Voldemort would risk a spy being found out.

"What makes you think he cannot?" Voldemort asked in mild surprise.

"Other than the fact I can now tell whenever he's around since his mind won't stop blubbering?" Harry muttered in annoyance as he rubbed at his head where a migraine had been building slowly for the past hour or so. To begin with it had been so much fun since Pettigrew could never understand how he always 'snuck up on him' even while as an Animagus, but now? Now he was tired of his constant and incessant whining. He didn't know how the hell Voldemort put up with it, it was no wonder he was angry and frustrated all the time.

Voldemort sat up straighter at that pronouncement, an eyebrow arched; barely concealing his surprise and that said a lot since Voldemort had a lot of practice hiding his true feelings as a young boy. By the time he entered Hogwarts he'd never once shown his true feelings, exception of when he was angry of course. "You can hear him all the time?" Voldemort didn't know what the hell to think, it was astonishing really.

"Whenever he's near enough, yeah," Harry said giving Voldemort a strange look, not understanding his current look. "What is it?"

"When you familiarize yourself with someone else's mind, you tend to find you can hear them in the vicinity of you, especially if they have no mind defences whatsoever." Voldemort replied thoughtfully. Smirking inwardly at the face Harry made when he said 'familiarize' Harry did not want to be anywhere near Pettigrew never mind listening to him no doubt. "Only extremely powerful Legilimens and Occlumens are able to do such a thing, and that usually requires an extremely long build up, years of digging into someone's mind for such a connection to occur."

"I've always been weird," Harry just shrugged at the knowledge, he was past caring. Most adults had a difficult time casting a Patronus yet he was able to at the age of thirteen. "Is there a way to shut it off?" he was liable to actually kill Pettigrew if this continued, and he really didn't want to end up back in the cell again, which he knew he would be if he did go so blatantly against Voldemort's wishes - he wasn't known to be tolerant when things didn't go his way after all. Harry only pushed him so far just to see how he would react; he didn't want to outright actually piss him off.

"You're broadcasting," Voldemort stated curiously, obviously the boy didn't even realize he was doing it. "You're the one mentally seeking his mind out, you've obviously been concentrating more on Legilimency than closing your mind." yet he couldn't find any flaws in his ability in keeping his mind secure from external penetration. Dumbledore wouldn't try to penetrate Harry's mind, not unless he was prepared to lose his puppets trust, and he wasn't sure Dumbledore would risk it. Although to be on the safe side he had ensured the boy's mind was secured. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been proven wrong as of late, everything he'd assumed about the boy was wrong. For the first time he truly didn't mind being wrong, in fact it was quite exhilarating to bring out the darker side of the boy. It might already have been there but he had brought it out, helped him harness it in a way that was productive and prevented him from being drawn into it like so many others before him who had become enthralled with the Dark Arts.

"Oh," Harry murmured thoughtfully, well he guessed that made sense. What didn't make sense was why Voldemort was even teaching him in the first place. He naturally came to the conclusion that he didn't want his 'Horcrux' to have an unprotected mind, he wouldn't want Dumbledore to find out at any rate - if the wizard somehow found him and rescued him - was it called a rescue when he felt more at home here than he had anywhere else? Even Hogwarts? Hogwarts was a gilded cage after all, where he was watched closely, monitored, judged, hated, adored and expected to kill a wizard with sixty years of magical experience. It wasn't even just that either, Voldemort had travelled all over the world; he had books in dozens of languages. He'd never been anywhere; he could name the places he'd been with one hand. He was watched here, sort of, but he had more freedom here than anywhere else. He often wondered if he was suffering from Stockholm syndrome, but that required an emotional attachment to his captor, which he did not. Although he respected Voldemort, but that was solely due to his abilities, he was a bloody brilliant dueller, and he couldn't help but wonder how Dumbledore or anyone else for that matter could expect him to defeat him! The parasite he'd faced…was nothing compared to Voldemort at full power, even at the graveyard he'd been fast but nothing on him now, he'd obviously been weak still upon his resurrection.

"Occluding your mind will stop it," Voldemort assured him, without any sort of reassuring note in his voice, he was a Dark Lord he had a reputation to keep up after all. Which wasn't easy when this boy did his best to see him losing it.

"Great," Harry said a little more cheerful with that knowledge, at least he wouldn't have to put up with Pettigrew all the time, just when he wanted to have some fun.

"Indeed," Voldemort replied sardonically, turning from the teenager he began to deal with his usual correspondence he had to delay to teach the boy.

The door opening caught both their attentions, Voldemort turned around a curse ready to leave his lips, he didn't want to deal with Wormtail any more than he had to. Cursing him made the rat avoid him for a few days, the curse never left his lips, it wasn't Wormtail it was Barty.

"My Lord," Barty said bowing just slightly, not able to go as low as he usually would.

"Barty," Voldemort intoned, without saying a word asking what he was doing there.

"My Lord." Barty nodded once more before going on to explain. "Grant has said I am at full health; is there anything I can do for you, My Lord?" Barty enquired, his gaze never wavering from the Dark Lord's as he spoke. Showing nothing but a deep longing to be useful to him, to aid him in his quest, he would lay down his very life for him if need be. He would do all those things, he had sworn his eternal loyalty, and he had meant it even to this day. The Dark Lord had been there for him more than his own father, gave him more attention than his father had during his entire life. It was hardly a surprise that he felt loyal to him.

Voldemort stared at the wizard before him, he knew if he spoke to Grant, he wouldn't say that he'd given Barty the all clear, but he'd obviously been given permission to get up out of bed now. A trickle of emotion distracted him just slightly, jealousy? Now that was interesting, he had to stop himself turning to face Potter just to see if his emotions were displayed on his face. "There is nothing that requires doing at the moment," at least nothing Barty could do. Everyone who had their orders, had them for a reason, he needed no other things doing. "There will come a time when I do need you Barty, and you must be physically fit otherwise you will be left behind." he did not want any liabilities coming with him when he went to let his followers out of Azkaban after gaining the Dementors allegiance. Which shouldn't be too difficult, they had given it the last time, this time there would be nothing that could defeat him. The so-called prophecy boy was his; he literally couldn't harm him, just as he couldn't harm Harry.

Barty stiffened up straighter, determination radiating from him; he would do whatever it took so he didn't let his Lord down. He would go and speak to Grant about how best to get himself back to optimal health. "I will, My Lord." he declared seriously, bowing low again he left the room, closing the door behind him already on his way to owl Grant for the best workout for his health without compromising it.

Voldemort turned to face Harry, curious about the feelings the boy was currently going through. "Now why would the Boy-Who-Lived feel jealous?" Voldemort taunted, knowing it was the best way to get the truth from the boy by riling him up. Well sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, he never could tell with him.

"I really hate when you call me that," Harry gritted his teeth, he knew what the wizard was trying to do and he wouldn't fall for it, nor would he admit what he was really feeling. Seeing the look Barty's face had made him feel so very jealous. The reverence, the willingness to do whatever that was asked of him, the loyalty…it wasn't just to the Dark side, or the cause but it was to Voldemort himself. He had never once seen that sort of look directed at him, not really. They stared at his forehead, the symbol of light and all things good, they weren't loyal to him, they were loyal to the cause, to Dumbledore, never him not even when he so called 'proved himself' when in reality he was just surviving and playing a part at the same time. Even his so-called best friends cared more about Dumbledore than they did him.

He wanted people to admire him for him, not the damn cause, the lightning bolt or Dumbledore. It might have been a childish thing to do but Harry picked up his book, opened it at the page he'd marked it at and began reading, he was not going to deal with Voldemort right now - he had bad enough bitter taste in his mouth as it was. The revelation of his had quite frankly come out of nowhere stunning even him.

Voldemort cocked his head to the side just slightly, he didn't need Harry to say anything, and his feelings were giving him away for him. He could sense his desire to be respected, to be admired, the jealousy he realized must have stemmed from Barty's own unwavering loyalty. That was interesting; he hadn't expected that at all. He also understood the desire, since he himself had desired nothing more and had gone on to achieve just that and more.

The wards once again shifted, it seemed he had company, Severus was once again here.

"Take the book and go to your room," Voldemort demanded.

"I don't see why you bother squirreling me away; it's not as if I can stop any of your plans anyway!" Harry grumbled, but did as he was told, he didn't fancy going flying through the halls again. As fun as it had been the landing had been painful and humiliating, so he was reluctantly being a good boy without antagonising Voldemort too much.

Voldemort just stared blankly at the teens back until he was gone, shaking his head, sometimes he wondered if he should have just stayed insane, at least he wouldn't have to put up with Potter and his dramatics and backchat. He would have probably killed him and saved himself a lot of hassle.

"My Lord," Severus said as he cleared his throat loudly, it seemed he was catching the Dark Lord out of sorts more and more these days.

"Severus," Voldemort stated, staring at him expectantly.

"I did as you asked and retrieved the locket, I swapped it out for the copy not even the House-elf knows," Severus informed him, removing the large ornate locket from his secure pocket where he'd kept it. He had been able to sense the darkness in it, which was why he had immediately came here, he didn't want it in his presence for too long. How Dumbledore hadn't sensed it he had no idea, it had called to him at the meeting.

Voldemort had to stop himself snatching the locket from Severus' hands now that was out of the question; he did not want the wizard to know what it was. He could sense no spell residue on it, nobody had tried to tamper with it, or spell it open. Instead, he merely put his hand out and accepted the locket when Severus dropped it into his hands. "You have done well, Severus," Voldemort said, placing the locket in his cloak pocket.

Severus just nodded, dipping his head in acknowledgement of the praise.

"As for your…suggestions, I have decided they have merits," Voldemort said smoothly, letting him know that Potter would be back with his 'adoring' fans and 'concerned' teachers soon enough. It wouldn't be long before the boy was actually wishing to be back here, he'd bet. He loathed the public, Dumbledore, the students at Hogwarts; in fact, he wasn't sure there was anything the boy actually did like.

Surprise flickered over Severus' face, "I see," he replied, he hadn't honestly expected the Dark Lord to agree with him. He'd just put forth the idea out of desperation. Sooner or later Harry would have gotten away on his own, or he would have loathed being there with every iota of his being, this way he had a real chance of actually choosing the dark side willingly. Something Severus wanted to happen dearly; it would make life much easier for him. "What is the best way for him to return?" especially without any suspicion.

"I will let Potter come up with that, since he is apparently all too good at playing the hero," Voldemort smirked sadistically, and he was definitely getting the memory from Severus if he was there to witness it. He actually wanted to see the boy in action, he might get lucky if not there would be other times, he was sure. He had never once been able to fool Dumbledore, and Harry had been doing it for years…he honestly wondered how he did it. He was good, that's all he had to say on the matter, he had to be. Perhaps he should ensure that Severus was the one who 'found him' that would guarantee he received a play by play of the event.

Severus couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his throat, agreeing with his Lord one hundred percent. Even he had been fully duped by the child since he was eleven, damn straight he could play the hero. "Indeed," he stated, his face impassive as if he'd never actually just chuckled - he didn't chuckle, laugh or giggle full stop. "Dumbledore has become even more desperate and angry as time passes, the letters he has tried to get his friends to send to him have returned unopened, including the gifts everyone in the Order decided to send to him last night." the owls had circled outside before returning not even a few moments later unable to pinpoint Harry's location - none of them should have been surprised but they were - he'd been forced to remind himself that he was dealing with idiots. As if giving him birthday gifts could make up for the fact they didn't care, and they didn't, not about him but what Harry could do for the cause that much was obvious, especially when it came to Moody, Doge and Dumbledore, since they all seem to know the truth about Harry's home life. He had been asked to identify a wizard in a memory belonging to Arabella Figg, it seemed Harry had yet another wizard he loathed with all his being. He had been there and seen the look on the teens face. Diggle, Daedalus Diggle. A member of the old crowd, which wasn't just aimed at Order members but Dumbledore's circle.

He was honestly quite surprised by how fierce he had looked, if he was Diggle or Doge he would have run for the hills.

"Hardly surprising," Voldemort stated wryly, Dumbledore knew he couldn't win the war without his little puppet.

A/N – I think Hermione might be a lost cause in this one this time around, which means she might not end up with Barty, any suggestions for Barty? I don't suddenly want all of Harry's year (or younger years) suddenly ending up with Death Eaters…in fact, I might make someone else related to the Malfoy's hmm another female at Hogwarts instead of Hermione perhaps? Any suggestions? I also promise that it won't become the Luna and Rodolphus show this time around LOL even if it means finishing the story earlier this is just a rough edit until the chapters are properly edited :) R&R please

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 13

Harry wandered around the manor, wondering about trying to leave the compound just to see what would happen, but he nixed the idea. He didn't want to disturb the status quo. He still couldn't believe Voldemort had actually given him a gift so to speak, he'd never mentioned it but had given him an approving nod when he saw him dressed in a 'proper wizarding attire' although Harry had to admit he did look good in them. He wasn't by any means vain, he didn't care about his looks, how could he when it had been burned out of him when he was a child? Forced to wear his cousins disgusting castoffs his entire life. However, it was nice being in clothes that fitted him properly and were new not faded and had numerous holes in them.

Opening the door to the dining hall, he froze when he saw Grant and Barty sitting there, by the look of things they were discussing something heavily, parchment littered the table. He was still annoyed at Grant for spelling that potion into his stomach without his consent, although it had probably saved himself from being cursed by an impatient curse happy Dark Lord.

"Harry," Grant said, nodding his head respectfully, "You look considerably better," especially for only three weeks of proper nutrition and the potions, they shouldn't have worked so quickly. Perhaps it was something to do with him being in actual fitting clothes? But no, it wasn't possible he could see Harry actually had meat on his bones now, he wasn't just skin and bone. Perhaps having Harry in on this conversation would benefit Bartemius. "A little too better, care you taking something not in the regime I set for you?"

"For a prisoner you mean?" Harry stated with an impassive look his face, finding amusement in the stricken look on his face, it was hard to tell what emotion it was though.

Grant cleared his throat awkwardly, while Barty just chuckled in amusement, the boy knew damn well he wasn't a prisoner, the real prisoners were under this very manor he did like his attitude. The Dark Lord had obviously decided to turn Harry Potter to their side, he had seen them duelling and actually sitting having conversations of all things it was surreal really.

"How have you recovered so quickly?" Grant enquired, "Please sit, I'm going to run a diagnosis over you."

"I don't think so," Harry said narrowing his eyes, still smarting from the first time they met.

"Our Lord demands it," Grant added seriously, he obviously wanted to make sure Harry was recovering fully.

"Your Lord," Harry amended, Voldemort wasn't his Lord, he had no master and he didn't want one, it had been bad enough dealing with Dumbledore for years he wouldn't allow anyone else to manipulate him or tell him what to do. Nonetheless he wandered over and sat down, he was bored and that was the only reason he thought resolutely to himself.

"Very well, My Lord, it truly is astonishing how far you've come," Grant commented, still waiting expectantly for permission. He was amazed by the progress, truly, he was recovering with a swiftness he'd never seen before. The potion regime he had Harry on should be helping, yes, but not to this extent as he'd explained earlier.

"What happens if you don't get a diagnosis?" Harry asked shrewdly, green eyes gleaming eerily, he already knew the answer to that but got enjoyment out of making Grant pale.

"Ease up," Barty said shaking his head, Grant was one of the most decent wizards around, wouldn't hurt a fly, well except if his family was threatened but they could all say they were the same in that regard. "He doesn't deserve your attitude, nor does he really do well with sarcasm." Defending the healer, Harry was going too far.

"Fine," Harry sighed, if Barty was getting on his case, he may have gone too far. However, he knew better than to give in too easily or quietly. "Only if you help me have some fun later,"

Barty startled at that pronouncement, giving him a curious look, "Then we're in agreement,"

"You can do the spell, if you answer a couple of questions," Harry decided, turning his attention back to Grant.

"Ask away," Grant said, tensing in his chair, wondering what the teenager could possibly want him to answer to grant his wish. Crossing his right leg over, he reckoned the boy was still furious at him and this was his way of getting him back.

"Why were you so surprised I didn't know what the potion did?" Harry questioned; his gaze intense as he stared into Grant's blue eyes as if gauging his truthfulness.

"Ah," Grant murmured, relaxing, that he could answer quite happily. "Each student at Hogwarts is given that potion their first night at Hogwarts with the exception of the students whose medical files are up to date, they would have had to visit St. Mungo's at least a year before the start of Hogwarts to be exempt from it. You see the healers have to know your medical history, its important if they ever needed to treat you. Any prior or ongoing illnesses, potions you are taking, and more importantly if you are allergic to anything. The purpose of the potion wasn't for that particular reason solely, but it also identified students who are being abused. It was something put into practice sixty years ago."

"Sixty years?" Harry said surprised, "I wasn't aware the laws on abuse existed then,"

"In the magical world they do and did, something we actually started first for a change." Grant nodded briefly, before continuing in a grim tone, "It all started when the magical world got wind of students failing to return to Hogwarts, when they did investigating, they realized that they weren't just missing but they were being killed, by their own families, with the abuse either going too far…or the fear causing them to kill their child outright especially in the case of religious parents. Armando Dippet was horrified and ensured such a practice was put into effect, to safeguard the next generation. In fact, it was one of the last things he did as a Headmaster before he retired and Dumbledore took over."

Harry felt the first stirrings of actually feeling sick to his stomach, his lip unconsciously curled at the words.

"You must understand with us being such a small community each magical child is a blessing, there is nothing more important than children to pass on our legacies. It might seem stupid to some…but to have a child to pass on the name, their fortune, their work, and a child to continue the family name and keep their speciality when it comes to magic alive…to make the magical world thrive is…is all that matters." Grant said seriously, "Specialties like the ability to spell cast, ward weave even parselmouth, they are extremely rare now our world is getting even more smaller soon they'll be gone if something isn't done."

"Please," Harry scoffed, "Don't tell me abuse doesn't happen to those who live in the magical world with magical parents."

"Ah, but nine time out of ten abuse cases are with Muggle-borns, that is a cold hard fact," Grant stated, "I'm not saying all magical parents are perfect, far from it, but children usually aren't abused."

Harry frowned, not sure what to make of the conversation, "Alright, but I'd never visited St. Mungo's before so why wasn't I given the potion?"

"I think you already know that answer," Grant said sympathetically, but without pity, he had a feeling the wizard would get extremely pissed off if he did pity him.

"No, I get that Dumbledore would try and circumvent me getting checked, although I'd like to know how, but I'm quite often in the hospital wing, why wasn't it done then?" Harry said, his hands clenched into fists, "You said healers take oaths."

"Healers do, I am one, your Madam Pomfrey is merely a Medi-witch, which is someone that can cure colds and hand out some potions but she's in no way capable of the things I am. You can become a Medi-witch is six months albeit if you complete the course and pass which even a simpleton can do. The course is mind-numbingly tedious but if you want to go on the healers course you have to take the first step which is the Medi course." Grant explained grimly.

Harry just grunted a slight pensive look on his face.

"May I?" Grant asked, his wand out.

Harry just shrugged, he didn't care anymore, "Go on then," as vindictive as he felt sometimes, Grant really hadn't done anything so there was no point to getting him into trouble with Voldemort. There was only one person he'd really like to see on the wrong end of Voldemort's wand and that's Pettigrew.

Grant didn't wait for further permission, as soon as Harry gave the go ahead, he was murmuring Latin so quietly that Harry couldn't hear him. Then a large glow of white shot from Grants wand and into Harry, encompassing him.

Harry gasped, the spell was causing tingling all over from head to foot before it stopped leaving a warm feeling behind as if the magic was reassuring him, he would be alright, Pomfrey's magic didn't feel like that. Was it something that came with experience or just a healers ability?

"Just as I suspected, you are recovering really well," Grant said reading over the results, his eyesight was perfect, his bones corrected, the nutrients he needed were definitely being absorbed. "Definitely a bit too well, what have you been doing and there's a potion here I don't recognize." Silently alarmed, it wasn't illegal whatever it was, but it was unlike any combination he'd ever seen, he couldn't name it.

"I created a potion," Harry told him smugly, "It helps you bulk up healthily, nothing too drastic, but enough to make someone like me healthy, although I wouldn't know I've not taken the potion long enough to accumulate any data." He'd gotten the idea from the muggle world, only the potion can do it far quicker (theoretically) without needing to consume such mass number of calories.

Barty perked up at that, he'd half zoned out listening to the conversation happening in front of him. He liked the sound of that potion, but he knew the boy wouldn't just hand it over - call it sixth sense or whatever he just knew. He had to have it though, this would help him, and in turn he would be useful to his lord so much sooner. He hated feeling useless, he'd felt it for too damn long, he just wanted to be back to his old self again. Not constantly exhausted, sick or having to sleep to regain strength. "What would you ask for if I wanted two weeks' worth?" Barty asked speculatively. Hell, even using magic could have him exhausted, Azkaban and the decade under the Imperius curse had stripped him bare of everything even his own sense of self.

"Hmm," Harry mused thoughtfully, he couldn't think of anything right now, it wasn't as if Barty could give him anything right now anyway. "A boon I suppose, there's nothing I want right now." and he wasn't just going to hand them over, not when he might think of something later and have to kick himself for being so foolish.

"Bloody Slytherins," Barty grumbled, he swore he would like nothing more than to kill whoever started the boon nonsense in Slytherin.

"You weren't in Slytherin?" Harry asked genuinely taken aback, noticing Grant laughing in the background, clearly, he was really wrong. Judging by Grant's reaction, clearly it was going to be something wildly wrong, he wasn't a Gryffindor, was he?

"No," Barty smirked, "I was a Ravenclaw, graduated with twelve O.W. L's."

"I know," Harry claimed, "Well the O.W.L part." he amended.

"How?" Barty's smirk disappeared and a confused look plastered over his face.

"Your father, when he got to Hogwarts, he was muttering to the tree about how you'd graduated with twelve O.W. L's, he might have been delirious but he sounded proud." Harry answered, he would have done anything for someone to be proud of him - genuinely.

"It was the only time he actually spent more than a few seconds of his time talking to me," Barty admitted bitterly, an ugly look on his face, how he loathed his father. For ignoring him all his life, for ignoring his mother, especially when she was dying, that he'd never been able to forgive. "He was more concerned about his career, of becoming the Minister of magic, he abandoned both me and my mother," it was guilt that had enabled his mother to convince her husband to let him out.

"If you take the additional potions, this will need changed before I go," Grant spoke after a few moments of silence. The dosage must be amended for one thing. "Are you considering putting it on the market? It would have considerable amount of interest." He wasn't surprised about his ability to invent potions, the Potters did produce some of the best potions, there were three Potion Masters that he knew of in the Potter family and a few Potioneers if you add the Fleamont family into it.

"Alright, a boon," Barty grudgingly agreed, "I want a month's worth of potions though," if he was going to have a boon over his head, he wanted to make it worthwhile.

"Done, I'll brew them for you tonight," Harry said wryly, stretching himself out feeling very pleased. Turning to Grant, "I haven't really thought about it, it was something I made for myself, so that I could use it, if I survived what the Dursley's were doing of course." A bitterness coating his voice, his hatred of the Dursley's truly had no bounds.

"And if I commissioned you to make them?" Grant questioned; he was making a really good progress. It was the sort of progress the others (the Death Eaters) should have made and then some. If he could get these sorts of results in such a short time? Well, he would inform the Dark Lord himself, who would likely be impressed enough to purchase the lot.

Harry blinked slowly, he'd be giving this side an advantage over the other, not that they really needed it. It had been pure luck that allowed Dumbledore's side to win, at the expense of his family. Then everything he'd had to ensure from everyone around him. The tests, the tasks, the reactions of his peers, the pressure, the condemnation, and Harry grinned, showing more teeth than necessarily, "You know what? I'd be happy to."

Grant glanced briefly at Bartemius, but found him staring at Harry in amusement. Apparently, this behaviour wasn't new. "Let me just change this up for you," he could recall all the potions he'd put Harry on, and wrote it all down with ease, he did change the dosages. "It's the dosages that's changed, so keep an eye on that." He added the date and put ongoing on the prescription date length.

"Gives me something to do," Harry agreed, taking the parchment, he was used to doing everything, that even being ill he couldn't cease the need to do something, to be on the move. The Dursley's had never left him alone except after he did magic. Like the reminder made them fearful so they shoved him in the darkest corner of the house until that fear left them and the process begun all over again.

"I'll help you," Bartemius suggested, it wasn't as if the Dark Lord had any other use for him right now. Just kept telling him to recover, speak to the mind healer, take the potions and get well. He could sit down whilst brewing, it might actually stave off the utter insanity of boredom that was threatening to consume him whole. "If you don't mind the company."

Harry sat down and nodded as he made himself a coffee, "I'd like that," it would be nice to know him better than just the two of them conspiring to make Pettigrew's a life a misery. Bartemius was always here, he never left the manor as of yet, it likely would change.

"Brilliant!" Bartemius said cheerfully, licking his lip, a nervous tick he'd had since childhood that not even his loving mother had been able to stop entirely.

The window being tapped caused them all to turn as one, Harry jumped to his feet, joy thrumming through him. She was alive, she'd survived, she was alright. Quickly jogging over, he unlatched the window and held his arm out for her to hop on. A wide grin splitting his face in two, now she was the only thing he truly cared about, she'd been there for him for years, even if it was just a mostly silent presence, she was his familiar and he shouldn't be surprised she'd found him but he was. He stroked at her head and neck as she hooted a few times.

"It's good to see you too, girl," Harry said just standing there petting her. Oh, he'd missed her more than he had even realized.

"That shouldn't have been possible, only the birds that live here (keyed in) should have been able to bypass the wards," Barty said cautiously.

"It's nice to see you have full confidence in my wards," the smooth voice of Voldemort causing them all to startle once more. Truth was, Hedwig had gotten all but passed the wards, she'd been flying into them as he returned from Azkaban, determined to get to her Master. To have gotten this far he realized the owl wasn't just any ordinary owl but a familiar, they were bonded, and he didn't want to risk the owl leaving and returning but with people trailing it. He did not want his home found; it was imperative that it remained unknown.

"My Lord," both Grant and Crouch said, bowing in respect, Harry didn't do anything, he just stood there petting at his owl. Grant and Barty tensed, waiting for something to happen, anything, surely the Dark Lord wouldn't like that? Yet he did nothing, merely moved over to the table and situated himself at the head of it and food appeared almost immediately.

Harry stared at Voldemort, why let his owl in at all? Why would he risk him writing to anyone? Remaining thoughtful he took his retook his seat, not even needing to wait for Voldemort to glare this time, he simply just took the potions with a 'there I've done it' look on his face. What if he had done something to her? That made Hedwig to go to Voldemort instead of wherever he sent the letter? Shrugging it off, not that it really mattered, who would he write to? Hermione had more than made her allegiance clear and Ron…well, Ron had surprised him, out of both he'd have thought it would be the other way around.

"My Lord are you aware of the potion that Potter has created…" Harry didn't listen to the rest of the conversation, instead he gave pieces of his breakfast to his owl using his fingers and a small butter plate. He pondered on whether to let Hedwig go off to the owlery, there were only two birds there, of if he should keep her safe in his bedroom? He wasn't sure he could trust anyone around here…plus Pettigrew might try and get his own back.

He'd kill him if he touched a single feather on Hedwig, but he'd rather her be safe than risk it. That settled it then, he would keep her in his room, but the window and cage would be open. He'd never keep her in captivity, although, technically she was bred in captivity and was considered one. If it kept her alive for over thirty years instead of the nine out in the wild, well, it was a good life she'd live, wasn't it? He'd make up for the times she'd been forced into a small cage during the summers. He swore he would make it up to her, but he'd always be so, so grateful for her being there with him in that hell hole.

A mental nudge by Voldemort jarred Harry out of his thoughts, with a "Hmm…" as he tuned in to the conversation, and actually begun eating his own breakfast, Hedwig was content to sit on the arm of his chair, with her head at her back, as she stared at Voldemort before closing them for a rest.

"You should name the potion; it can be rather vexing calling it 'the Potion' and hoping they know what it is." Voldemort stated, "If you do intend to publish it or at the very least let others commission it from you, you'll need to name it at the very least."

Harry grimaced, "I wouldn't know where to start," scratching his jaw absently, "But wizards are so boring with their titles, nothing inventive at all. It's not really an advanced nutrition boost but I guess it's as good a name as any?"

"It's good, straight to the point, it's better than attempting to use Latin names, trying to figure out what people mean when they can't say it right is rather irritating." Barty confessed, rolling his eyes. Naturally Pureblood's had long perfected Latin as a language and spell casting. Muggle-borns however, were really pathetic and bad at their attempts to say Latin words well, sometimes he was amazed they'd managed to get through Hogwarts. They didn't get it badly wrong, but it was enough to annoy the people who knew the language perfectly, and didn't like it being butchered. Correcting them got asinine very quickly. "They should have kept the languages department open at Hogwarts, and made Latin mandatory like the old days."

"They taught languages?" Harry perked up, ignoring the not-so-subtle jab at people like him. "What ones? Besides the obvious I mean." Besides Latin, which he had to admit would have been a very good idea. He'd struggled himself enormously, thankfully the professors tended to say the spells first, which allowed him to get an ear for Latin over the years. "Were they available when you were at Hogwarts?" well aware just how old Voldemort was.

"They were, and still were for a few years after I left Hogwarts. I doubt you'd believe the number of classes that have been culled during Dumbledore's tenure as headmaster." Voldemort stated, "Ancient Runes was the only one that survived the purge. There was ancient Greek, ancient Egyptian, Latin, pig Latin, German, Russian, Chinese, Japanese."

Harry blinked, "That's an eclectic collection." Surprised by the sheer number that used to be on offer.

"Each of those languages corresponded to a country that had its own magical society and school." Voldemort lectured, "So that if anyone held any interest of learning abroad for their NEWTS, they could accomplish that easily. It used to be a done thing, travel abroad for a year, learn a new culture, become an apprentice, and yes, they used to come to Hogwarts."

"That makes sense, muggle schools actually do that too," Harry answered, ignoring their grimaces at the mere mention of anything muggle. He wondered if Voldemort even kept up to date on what muggles were capable of. The carnage they could wage, and devastation they could leave in their wake? Devastation that could make wizards look like amateurs.

Wizards really didn't like being compared to muggles, did they?

"Alchemy, spell weaving, Magical history and theory, magical law, dark arts those are just a few of the thirty-five classes cut from Hogwarts." Voldemort added.

"No way, there's no way anyone would be able to handle the added thirty-five classes," Harry gaped in disbelief.

"Roughly half of them is optional, classes you'd want to take if you know what career you had in mind." Voldemort told him, frowning, "Things would have been far easier for your friends family if those classes were still available. William Weasley, I believe is a curse breaker, if he'd taken that, he wouldn't have had to scrounge and save and likely starve to complete the course at Gringotts. He could have went straight out into a group dig and begun making money right away. Not to mention Charlie Weasley, the Dragon handler, would have gotten an apprenticeship with ease, but nobody wants to take Hogwarts students on due to the danger it would bring."

"What danger?" Harry asked offended.

"Hogwarts has slid down the list for best international school slowly but enormously. We are ranked so lowly that only three schools are below it." Voldemort said gravely, it was shameful, "Hogwarts alternated between second and third while I was at Hogwarts switching incessantly with Durmstrang."

Harry sort of inclined his head in silent agreement, agreeing it wasn't exactly the best school around. Hell, he had almost died every bloody year, since he entered Hogwarts. None of the professors seemed to give two bloody hoots, not to mention those that shouldn't be teaching as it was. He did like the sound of some of those classes, but honestly? He'd have not taken them anyway, just went with Ron for easy classes, stupid he knew, to risk his future, but he hadn't seen a future in the magical world so it hadn't mattered. He'd planned on running.

"A full education would have made things far easier for people like myself or the Weasley's as it stands," Voldemort declared, loathing that he was putting himself in the same boat as the Weasley's. He never hid his lack of fortune, it was obvious, surrounded by the other pureblood's that he didn't have the fortune they did. He'd never been ashamed of it, he'd just worked hard, gained his own fortune.

"Too bad that the magical world is rampant with corruption with everyone doing what they wanted opposed to the betterment of the magical world." Harry said, "It's not just embarrassing, I don't understand why anyone wants to remain in the magical world given how wretched it is." They left an old man, a headmaster, decide where a child was going to live, didn't bother checking up on him, just accepted it when Dumbledore said it was a secret.

With that Harry stood up, and left, taking his owl with him.

Barty opened his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say, it was halted by his Lord.

"He is not wrong," Voldemort stated, staring at the door Harry had exited out of, the Ministers had just been getting worse as the years wore on. Cornelius Fudge had to be the worst one yet, he still couldn't figure how the public voted for him, and why they kept him in office. "He's entitled to his own thoughts and feelings as you are whether they're right or wrong." He reminded him, although if he could guide those thoughts and feelings? Well, nobody said that the Dark Lord Voldemort was a good person.

so will we see Ron grow up in this one and stick by Harry's side, from a distance like Sirius and Remus or will they be closer and actually in Harry's life? R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

A/N - This is just a rough edit to get it back up while it's given a proper do over, a real edit (which once it's done will be posted)

Chapter 14

Voldemort hated to say it but he was continuously impressed with the fourteen-year-old teen. Harry was honestly surpassing anything he could have expected. They had truly began training (he didn't consider learning to close ones mind or read one training) four weeks ago at the beginning of August, it was now the end of August and he had exceeded his expectations. He had never complained about the length of time they duelled, or being hurt, with the obvious exception of needing his arm reattached when the shield Harry used failed and his spell met its target it had been reattached easily enough. Considering if he did that to Pettigrew or his followers, they would have been brawling their eyes out he was grudgingly awed at his pain tolerance. He flicked his wand in a long-complicated motion and fired a spell at the teen, watching his reactions keenly.

Harry's eyes widened, he didn't know what the hell the spell was, and the motions weren't familiar to him, knowing Voldemort though it would be an advanced and painful curse or charm. So, without more ado, he quickly erected the strongest shield charm he knew that could hold pretty much under any spell. It was up in time, but the blast of magic both his and Voldemort's was explosive to say the least and Harry was blasted back five feet and painfully against the wall then the floor as his body lost its fight with gravity and plummeted down. For a good few moment Harry lay there unable to think of anything dazed and winded and most of all in pain. "Fuck," Harry wheezed, trying to breathe but finding it impossible, groaning in pain, he lay where he was unable to move, as he tried to right his breathing.

"Are you alright?" Voldemort asked smoothly, showing no concern even if he was. "Is anything broken."

"Um, no, I don't think so," Harry said, wincing in agony as he sat up, his breathing was getting easier each passing minute, which was good, his body had still taken a hell of a beating. They'd been duelling for over three hours, which was more than usual actually; he knew he couldn't continue anymore.

"Amita!" Voldemort commanded sternly.

"What can Amita do for Master?" the House-elf appeared and bowed immediately, its green eyes gleaming up earnestly, an obvious desire to do whatever her Master asked of her.

"Bring me up a pain reliever," Voldemort ordered, Harry was obviously in worse shape than he was letting on, otherwise he would have been forcing himself off the ground, refusing to show weakness. No matter how bad it was, Harry did refuse to show how much pain he was in. Amita left as soon as he stopped speaking, the House-elf knew her way around potions.

Harry heard footsteps and glanced towards the door, watching Barty levitate an unconscious person by. Arching an eyebrow, genuinely curious, was that what Barty had been up to recently. He would constantly be gone doing stuff, then coming back, he would never say what it was either. He'd actually had a lot of fun with Barty, at Pettigrew's expense but really, he didn't care about the disgusting rats feelings. He had learned quite a few…lovely spells along the way. Although lately they hadn't been doing much of anything with his training and Barty being gone all the time.

"What is he up to?" Harry asked shrewdly, his eyes going from the now empty corridor to Voldemort. "He's been leaving for irregular intervals for two nearly three weeks now," he'd hardly seen him.

Voldemort just smirked at him, he was happy to answer quite a few of his questions, but this wasn't one of them. Revealing the fact Barty had been collecting the worst sort of muggles after watching them. Ensuring it wouldn't be anyone that would be missed, or reported missing. Not that he cared much about the muggle authorities, he knew thanks to Harry that Dumbledore kept an eye on the muggle news religiously. Having seen muggle newspapers from all around the UK in his office, even the occasional one being delivered to him at breakfast. Not even Severus had thought to inform him off. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to figure out his plans, he was rather canny like that loathe as he was to admit it. Especially if the recent 'missing persons' matched up to those who die within the confines of the prison simultaneously.

Amita popped in with the potion, and handed it to her Master before leaving without another word.

"Drink it," Voldemort stated, handing the potion over, his red eyes gleaming, he wouldn't accept any challenges on that, although it had been a while since Harry protested against any potion he took. Obviously, Harry had come to trust him to a certain extent that he no longer felt suspicious about any potion he consumed.

Harry sighed, his tense pain filled body finally relaxing, the pain relief draught finally doing its job.

"You actually listened to me?" he gaped at the wizard, the feeling of attraction trickled down the back of his mind.

Harry had seen Voldemort in many guises, a parasite on the back of someone's head, a sixteen maybe seventeen year old preserved in a diary, the Horcrux he should say, then the snake visage he supported once he returned, which admittedly was only for a brief time before he changed his looks once again and Harry would say he looked barely older than twenty-one, exactly like the Horcrux in the diary only a little older obviously. He preferred this one, and not just because of his appearance which was very easy on the eyes but because he seemed a lot calmer and in control, but he was judging that solely on the half hour he spent in his presence in the graveyard. To know he had taken his advice left him stunned, he hadn't expected that in a million years, pride wormed inside though, pride and satisfaction, Voldemort had actually taken his ideas seriously and obviously given it a lot of thought. He was picking up Muggles to replace the Death Eaters he planned on getting out of Azkaban.

"Where is he getting them from? And how the hell does he know how to blend in? He's a pureblood; they tend to stand out from the crowd." he belated asked, he was a pureblood, right? Most of Voldemort's followers were pureblood's but not them all, he knew now that Severus Snape was a half blood like Voldemort. He was considered a half blood as well, but not like them, he didn't have a muggle parent.

"Rest assured you'd approve of the ones Barty picks," Voldemort declared, and it was true, somehow Barty had managed to get the foulest loathsome muggles he'd ever encountered. Considering he'd lived in an orphanage and gone back every summer; he had met his share of depravity. "I ensured as such after he returned with his cargo."

"You really took my advice on how to get them out of Azkaban, didn't you?" Harry said, overawed, he'd never had anyone listen to him, not really. His chest puffed out in pride, truly pleased to hear that he had. Nobody had ever listened to him before in his life, and it was a very delightful feeling suffusing him at the knowledge that the most intelligent and powerful wizard in the magical world had listened to him.

Later that evening Harry moved to join Voldemort out of boredom, finally coming off the high that he'd been on (he'd listened!) all afternoon.

"You may stay if you keep quiet," Voldemort stated, as he sat at his desk dealing with the paperwork. The vampires had finally joined his side, and it had taken a month of hard negotiating on both sides the deciding factor was the vampires realizing Harry was at his manor, what could he say? He was a Slytherin and wasn't above using any means at his disposal to get what he wanted. He still hadn't had any luck locating Fenrir and his pack, they had probably moved several dozen times since his temporary defeat. Fenrir was suspicious, and trusted nobody, he frequently moved to ensure the hit wizards didn't manage to come across them. They must be doing something right since nobody had actually found them yet. Such a find would have had Fenrir in the newspapers, and he'd read every single one he could get his hands on since his defeat.

Harry summoned his book or 'Grimoire' as Voldemort and the others called it. Severus had edited his potions, to maximise their strength. Severus had been there quite often this past month, brewing his potion, the stronger nutrition potion; he kept urging him to name it too. He had also been brewing a variety of others, ones he couldn't identify, there was no book and Severus just had him copying his moves, telling him what to add and how to add it. He had asked but Severus obviously hadn't been in the mood to share, same as Barty, now that was annoying but he also sort of understood it, not that it mattered he already had his suspicions about everything - he wasn't stupid.

The next few hours were silent, as Harry took time to create a few more spells, it was something he did during the summer to stave off boredom and keep his sanity. He wasn't exactly bored these days, but it was nice to have at least one habit and something he enjoyed doing that could continue. He hadn't been flying despite the fact the property was huge and he could fly for miles in each direction he'd bet. He had been curious how far he could go, and did go further each and every time, but it didn't seem to activate whatever was strapped to his leg. Either Voldemort was giving him more leeway or he had lied but Harry knew Voldemort didn't lie, he told you how it was whether you liked it or not.

"My Lord?" Lucius said his dulcet tone wavering as he caught sight of Harry Potter of all people sitting in his Lord's office as if he belonged there. He couldn't have been more stunned, what on earth was Harry Potter doing there? And more importantly why was he just sitting there? Why hadn't he been killed?

Harry looked up in surprise, he was usually told to leave whenever anyone came into the manor, well with the obvious exception of Severus who knew he was here. A sneer planted itself over his face; the urge to curse the wizard was strong. In fact, he was unconsciously gripping his wand, green eyes glimmering coldly.

"Potter," Lucius spat, gripping his cane tightly, ready to defend himself.

"Malfoy," Harry stated coolly, his lip still curled at the blonde disgusted by the mere sight of him.

"Harry," Voldemort warned, seeing the teen holding his wand, not that he blamed him, Lucius had almost cast the killing curse on the teen when he was twelve years old. He had as well, but that was totally beside the point, it would take a while for Harry to even want to be in the same room as some of his death eaters, never mind trust them, if such a thing was possible. Such anger did intrigue him, even Pettigrew didn't illicit that kind of reaction from Harry. "Leave us." not even Barty and he had tried to kill him as well, albeit, indirectly.

"I want to go flying," Harry stated after dismissing Malfoy, his lips twitching vindictively at the indignant look on his face. Hopefully Malfoy would appear more often, he did need someone new to wind up. Just thinking about flying earlier made him long for the open skies, at least for a while before the pain reliever wore off, since he knew he would be in agony after.

"Go," Voldemort stated he wanted to know everything Lucius did and not sit and argue with Harry. And it would be an argument; no matter what he threatened the teen with he didn't seem to listen. While it was infuriating it was also a refreshing change, nobody denied him, with good reason he would end their lives where they stood. An exception was being made when it came to Harry Potter, not only solely because he was a Horcrux either. Although, if he ever wanted to, that fact along would stay his hand.

Harry stood up, still smirking, keeping a hold of his book, before walking to the door sniffing in distain, he walked past Lucius sniggering quietly at the look of rage on his face. Oh, he was so going to enjoy winding him up, definitely have to get Barty to help if he was willing. Although Lucius didn't really spend any time in the manor, it would have to be something that would really piss him off but short in taking affect.

"My Lord?" Lucius questioned, still furious with the audacity of the boy.

"Do you have any news?" Voldemort questioned, completely ignoring Lucius' version of a subtle request for answers.

"I have everything I was able to collect, My Lord," Lucius said bringing out a large folder from his cloak and passing it over, bowing as he did so. Grateful that Harry Potter wasn't here to see him doing such a thing, he would never live it down, especially considering the boy showed no respect to his Lord nor did he defer to him much to his annoyance. The fact his Lord said or did nothing in reprimand was even more insulting.

"And memories?" Voldemort demanded.

Lucius nodded firmly, removing an intricately box and returning it to its correct size and handing it over. Watching as the Dark Lord opened it and revealed the dozens of crystal vials holding the memories contained within. Despite how much money the items were worth he didn't even blink an eye at handing them over.

"Good, I have a new mission for you," Voldemort stated, and he knew the blonde wouldn't like it - an added bonus for giving it to him.

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius said giving him a bow of deference once more.

"Find Fenrir Greyback and his pack, do not come back without their location and informing Fenrir that I require his presence." Voldemort informed him, it went without saying that he would be furious if the wizard did come back without them, and torture would be one of the things he'd dole out too.

It took everything for Lucius to keep his face impassive; all the while he just wanted to sneer at the thought of going anywhere near Greyback. He loathed werewolves, and hated that the Dark Lord wanted them in the war, they were filthy animals that should be put down to save anyone else from turning into the horrendous beasts each month. "May I enlist a few others to aid in the mission?" praying that he would allow that, he did not want to scour the countryside looking for the beasts, at least not any longer than he had to. He knew if he tried to get out of it and send the others the Dark Lord would find out and he wouldn't be happy and he rather valued his life.

"You may," Voldemort conceded only because it would ensure they were found much quicker.

"Thank you, My Lord," Lucius said, waiting impatiently for his dismissal so he could find the beasts and be done with it.

"And Lucius? If anyone finds out about Harry Potter's presence here…it will not be you paying the price, have I made myself clear? Nobody not even your family will be informed." Voldemort threatened him, knowing it would work, Lucius loved his family and it was the best way to get him to pay attention and refrain from screwing up. "Now leave."

Lucius paled drastically at the threat, visibly swallowing thickly, bowing low before straightening up and preparing to leave. He couldn't help but cringe a little when the Dark Lord stood up abruptly, expecting a curse to come his way, but it didn't, all he could do was gape a little when the Dark Lord exited his office without sparing him a glance. Breathing out shakily, he swiftly made his way out of the Dark Lord's office, he had been told to leave, he wasn't about to stand around and wait to be cursed.

Harry zoomed around on his broomstick and breakneck speed, lying flat out on his broom the air whipping around him violently, the sun beaming down, but largely unfelt due to the wind and coolness. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to be on a broom, he'd used to think it was Quidditch, or just being normal perhaps it wasn't just those reason after all. Twisting around holding tightly as his broom did a turn Harry slowing it down, exhilaration filling him, his broom stopped and Harry just gazed out at the scenery, he'd chosen a brilliant spot, there was nothing around for miles, well nothing but grass and trees and even a few rivers he could see.

He hadn't seen his life taking this sort of turn, hell he'd just been biding his time, until when he didn't know if he was honest. He was just going through the motions, playing Dumbledore's game while he tried to keep himself alive. Voldemort hadn't been the only threat to his life either, the Dursley's were, or more accurately Vernon. Vernon was a big man, and he wasn't able to defend himself, one wrong hit and there would have been nothing he or anyone in the magical world could have done - although they would have probably found his rotten corpse on September when he didn't show up at Hogwarts more likely.

When the House-elf had grabbed him and he'd found himself in Voldemort's place in a cell he'd thought it was game over then. He hadn't expected the events that followed, he had been angry at first, who wouldn't be? Stuck in Voldemort's lair but hey, go figure he would find a safe haven with someone who had tried to kill him numerous times. He really liked it here, being able to use magic, learning magic, and contrary to what everyone would say at Hogwarts Harry loved learning. He just left the showy stuff to Hermione; he could only imagine how she'd react if he suddenly just started to outperform when it came to classes. To begin with Hermione had been better, no doubt, but he wasn't eleven-year-old and new to magic anymore. The only reason he'd been behind was because his stuff had been shoved in the cupboard and he hadn't been able to read any of it.

Shaking off his thoughts, this was why he liked to fly, he didn't have to think, he just moved, and was at peace. Lying flat along the broom again, Harry began to build up speed passing over the manor before jerking his broom handle downwards and into a Wronski faint, his heartbeat shooting through the roof, concentrating, and yanking it back up at the very last second whooping in delight.

His whooping tapered off, shivering at the sudden coldness, frowning, it shouldn't be getting cool yet, it wasn't even dinner time. He felt an incredible sense of dejuvu, this wasn't a sudden plummet in temperature. No, this was something far worse, he knew what this was, he'd experienced it before.

The chill was getting worse; just as he observed his broomstick handle beginning to ice over, very reminiscent of the time it happened in his third year. His breathing hitched, not wishing to be caught like he was the last time and fall fifty feet from his broom, he began to descend as quickly as he could all the while trying to find out where they were. It was definitely Dementors but the question was why? Why the hell were they here? The last time the Dementors had been out of Azkaban they'd been looking for Sirius and Sirius wasn't here. Could they be after Barty? Voldemort himself? It surely couldn't be him.

He soon had his answer when he touched down just outside the manor; his broomstick lay forgotten as two Dementors began circling around him. His knees buckled as Harry tried to think of his very best memories, clutching his wand closely, "Exp-ex-exp-" Harry felt panic and fear creeping up on him. No damn it, he wasn't going to let them nearly get his soul again, he refused. He could get rid of two measly Dementors; he'd gotten rid of over a hundred in the past.

Harry closed his eyes determinedly, thinking of the few good memories he had, which weren't much but it was always enough. He no longer had to make up fantasies to make this spell in particular work. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry shouted his wand out, raised slightly upwards straight at the Dementors.

It was NOT a stag that leapt from his wand as he expected needless to say Harry's jaw dropped in shock. His green eyes widened and glazed over as he stared. What. The. Fuck?

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 15

Voldemort had made his way out of the manor as quickly as he could. He didn't need confirmation through the wards that something was seriously wrong, he could feel it, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what caused the dip in emotions and Harry's wellbeing to plummet. Dementors, were here at his manor, against his explicit demands, to say he was furious was putting it mildly. His magic slammed the front door open as he stalked out into the grounds, in time to see Harry trying to cast the Patronus charm. Removing his wand, he pointed it at them, not truly concerned, he had been informed by Severus that Harry had conjured a fully-fledged Patronus while surrounded by a large number of Dementors. It would after all take someone with immense power to do that, and at just thirteen he had succeeded. Then he observed Harry's shoulders squaring and he uttered the spell correctly.

The shape of Harry's Patronus surprised him immensely, it was a thunderbird and it was ironic beyond words. The thunderbird like the eagle stood for creation and destruction symbolic of profound power, glory, transformation and divine dominion. He had been under the impression that Harry's Patronus was a stag, what could he say? Know thy enemy and it was something he'd lived by, or so he thought but it turned out he hadn't known a single real thing about the boy.

Lucius moved but kept well out of the Dark Lord's sight, his magic was fluxing wildly, then he inhaled sharply, his face slacking in disbelief as Harry cast a fully-fledged Patronus of all things. He couldn't cast a fully-fledged Patronus, he could shield himself well enough that he hadn't truly bothered about it, until now. Jealousy, envy and anger thrummed through him that a half-blood like Potter, with a Mudblood mother was able to cast such a charm and he, a powerful pureblood could not.

"Impressive Patronus," Voldemort said idly, his red eyes gleaming darkly as he watched the dark spots disappear on the horizon. It seemed another conversation with the Dementor Lord was in need. He would find out who had sent those Dementors after Harry, and swift retribution would be on the cards. Nobody harmed what was his and got away with it, especially not those who were supposedly under his control. He was also rather envious, he himself couldn't cast the charm, but he had no need for it. Turning back to face Harry, he noticed he was staring utterly stunned and a little confused.

"But my Patronus has always been a stag," Harry stared at the flying bird which he had yet to cancel.

"And what exactly did you learn while casting it?" Voldemort in lecture mode.

"Nothing, just how to do the spell, six lessons were all it took," Harry said facing Tom smugly before turning back in wonderment, he knew he was powerful and didn't need anyone to tell him so.

"Insipid professors," Voldemort sneered in irritation.

"Whose fault is that?" Harry said pointedly, "Thanks to your albeit brilliant curse I've had nothing but crap teachers, ironically enough all of them have tried to kill me in some manner." he would love to know about the curse he'd put on the position, and why Dumbledore didn't just circumvent it, it would be easy enough. Yes, he knew the curse was real, especially seeing the spells Voldemort had created. "Dumbledore's stupid if he didn't just change the name, I'll be the curse is focused on the title of Defence Against the Dark Art's, right?"

"You're learning fast," Voldemort replied, giving him an answer to his statement without even answering it really. "Your professor really should have ensured you read upon the spell before he even considered showing you how to cast it."

"It was a werewolf not a teacher," Lucius replied, his tone cool showing none of his disgust.

"Maybe if we'd had decent teachers along the way your son wouldn't have been idiotic enough to mess with a Hippogriff," Harry sneered, "And Then whine about it like a big baby for months as if he'd had his arm ripped off." Hagrid was alright, he wasn't overly fond of him, his belief in Dumbledore was disgusting but Hagrid himself was a good man and believed the best in someone who didn't deserve it. What couldn't be denied was he shouldn't be a teacher, teachers went to school and university to step foot in a class, all the teachers at Hogwarts had and Hagrid shouldn't and couldn't use magic in front of them and dealing with dangerous beasts with students…someone should be teaching them who could use magic to defend them if something went wrong.

Lucius gritted his teeth, stopping himself from saying anything, he was unsure of this new relationship between Potter and his Lord; he would rather not be writhing under the Cruciatus curse if he could help it. Hopefully he would figure it out sooner or later, and if he happened to see Potter being cursed well happy days.

Harry bent down and picked up his broomstick, it was time to speak to Barty, he would know Malfoy best, and would know what would really wind him up. No, he had something he wanted to do first before he spoke to Barty. Then he walked around Malfoy saying in a squeaky voice, very reminiscent of Dobby, "Master has given Dobby a sock…Dobby is free," bursting out laughing when he saw Lucius going red in restrained anger, his fingers tightly gripping his cane, Harry literally begged to the man to make a move, Voldemort couldn't say anything if he merely defended himself. "Still think I'm going to meet the same sticky end as my parents now?" green eyes gleaming vindictively, but nothing, Lucius just stood there, huffing in annoyance he walked back into the manor, keeping an eye on his back at all times.

Yet still unaware of the red eyes gleaming in amusement, Voldemort had to admit it was hilariously amusing to see how much Harry was able to wind his Death Eaters up so expertly. He of course knew what Harry was referring to; he had been in his memories after all. He had absolutely no doubt where Harry was going, even without the strap around his ankle. He was going to look up on Patronus' and find out why his had changed. It was ironic that his Patronus now represented freedom and power, which Harry had more of here than he ever had at Hogwarts on Dumbledore's side, Harry himself had said it was like living in a gilded cage.

"My Lord why is he here?" Lucius asked, unable or perhaps unwilling to curb his own curiosity. He was admittedly still bewildered, just two months ago his Lord had wished Harry Potter dead, had tried to kill him as he and many others stood and watched. Now this? He was suddenly sitting with the Dark Lord…arguing with him without consequence, nobody got to do that, not even his father who had been the Dark Lord's second in command for decades.

"Would you like me to retrieve another, My Lord?" Barty asked as he stalked out, blatantly ignoring Lucius and his question. He still believed they should have all been heavily punished for abandoning the Dark Lord to be a disembodied spirit for thirteen years. Another reason he also made sure to give as little away as possible. Lucius was the nosiest of all Death Eaters and liked to know everyone's business. He was rather hopeful that Lucius would get cursed for asking. Apparently, that was asking for too much, and Barty scowled, he would wait Lucius would screw up eventually. Then he'd see him punished as he should have been.

"No, that is enough for now," Voldemort stated, he didn't want to draw attention even in the Muggle world; he wasn't going to risk Dumbledore figuring out what he was up to. Although he doubted, he would, but he was going to do this as cautiously as possible. "Why are you still here?" he asked Lucius irritation slipping through, and just like that Lucius got the message and swiftly left Apparating from the property.

Harry entered the library, his eyes narrowing in all the books, it would take a while to search through them all and he wasn't in the mood. Summoning all books with the mention of the charm would have him pelted with books no doubt. The worst of it was it could be in either the Defence section or the charms one, since it could be considered both despite the fact charm was in its name. Stalking along to the charms section, grabbing one of the series of books - the standard Auror book of spells number two. He looked the index he found Patronus Charm easily enough, giving a nod he moved over to the seat and opened his book to the right page and began to read the passages.

Eager to know why and how his Patronus had changed. 'This ancient and mysterious charm conjures a magical guardian, a projection of all your most positive feelings. The Patronus Charm is difficult, and many witches and wizards are unable to produce a full, corporeal Patronus, a guardian which generally takes the shape of the animal with whom they share the deepest affinity. You may suspect, but you will never truly know what form your Patronus will take until you succeed in conjuring it.'

'The Patronus Charm (Expecto Patronum) is the most famous and one of the most powerful defensive charms known to Wizard kind. It is an immensely complicated and extremely difficult spell that evokes a partially-tangible positive energy force known as a Patronus (pl. Patronuses) or spirit guardian. It is the primary protection against Dementors and Lethifolds, against which there is no other defence.'

Harry rolled his eyes; this wasn't what he wanted to know, so his gaze flittered over the words in search for what he desperately desired to know. He sincerely hoped that he wasn't the first person to have a changing Patronus.

'To successfully cast the spell, one must muster the happiest memory they can think of (the happier the memory, the better the charm will work) and begin drawing circles with their wand so as to increase the power of their spell. They must then say the incantation, Expecto Patronum; the Patronus will come from the tip of the wand and can be directed towards a target by pointing one's wand at said target. It is possible to disguise the form one's Patronus takes.'

Harry sighed in relief, so it was possible to disguise his Patronus that was good, at least he wouldn't have to worry he would just need to concentrate on actually doing it himself.

Patronus forms, however, are subject to change if the caster goes through an emotional upheaval of some sort, including falling in eternal, unchanging love. For example, Merlin's Patronus changed from its previous form (a horse) to that of a dragon after his affinity for dragons was realised.

Based on the fact that Patronuses are conjured by recalling happy memories, it stands to reason that a Patronus might change its form after one fall's in love and the memories used to conjure the Patronus largely revolve around the person the caster is in love with. In addition, it seems that some couples have "complementary" Patronuses (male and female forms of the same animal). It is, however, unknown if this is a coincidence or not. If a wizard is an Animagus and can summon a corporeal Patronus, the two may take the same form.

Most Patronuses take the form of an ordinary animal. Magical creatures, such as Merlin's dragon Patronus, are uncommon. It is extremely rare for Patronuses to take the form of extinct animals. Hedley Fleetwood's woolly mammoth Patronus is a notable exception. Andros the Invincible was the only wizard capable of casting a Patronus the size of a giant.

"What has you so enchanted that you didn't even look up when I entered?" Severus asked his voice louder than normal, gazing at Harry shrewdly. Harry was always vigilantly aware of everything around him, a trait the Dark Lord no doubt aided and encouraged in him.

"Can you cast a Patronus?" Harry enquired, staring at from his book. He didn't believe his had changed because he was in 'love' so it stood to reason he had undergone an 'emotional upheaval' which was true really.

Severus moved forward and stared at Harry for a few moments mulling over how best to answer that question. He had a book open at the page for the Patronus charm. "Most Dark wizards cannot cast the Patronus charm, to do so one would end up with rather severe consequences."

"Like what?" Harry asked perturbed.

"Believe me you don't want to know," Severus replied grimly.

"You didn't answer my question though," Harry observed smirking a little, wondering if Severus was stalling or if he was just wondering how to explain but he wasn't sure what would require explaining.

"I can," Severus informed him, taking a seat opposite him, "It is the same as your mums," he admitted.

"Which is?" Harry asked, as always eager for more information on his parents, it didn't elude him that he had learnt more from Severus this past few months than he had from Remus and Sirius in the years he'd known them.

"A doe," Severus answered. "Why?" he queried wishing answers of his own. Harry already had the ability to cast the charm so he wasn't sure why the sudden interest in it.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry uttered, his wand going in a circular motion, the library was encased in bright white light before a thunderbird, not a stag like Severus was expect was flying around the room. "That is why. I need to learn how to hide it and make my old one appear."

"That isn't too difficult; I myself have hidden my true Patronus in the past." Severus explained, or should he say it wouldn't be too difficult for Harry since he was quite the prodigy at charms. Filius when he had learned had fallen from his seat, stunned to the core. He had wished to give Harry extra lessons and hopefully help him gain a Mastery in the subject (Lily had wanted to do that before she had Harry and the war was too great to take years off to study for a Mastery so sure she would get a chance to do so in future until the very end when she realized she'd have no future) but Dumbledore had shot him down and forbidden him from doing so.

"How did you do it? Is there a book on how to do it?" Harry asked curiously. Dispelling his Patronus causing it to fade away.

"No, there's never been a need for one to hide their Patronus, why would they? To cast it is considered the greatest success one could hope to accomplish in regards to magical prowess to the general population. You'll find the higher up in the Ministry can conjure a fully-fledged Patronus and it isn't a coincidence." Severus explained, "They're held in higher regard, you have the spot of the youngest castor of a fully-fledged Patronus in fact. Follow me and we'll see if we can do something about it."

Harry stood up knowing where they were going, Voldemort had a duelling room created, for the Death Eaters who would be rescued from Azkaban presumably, and they would need to regain their strength and control over their magic. Despite the fact it was finished and ready for anyone to use, Voldemort still insisted on using his study, he wasn't sure why nor did he particularly care about getting an answer.

The entire room was covered in mats that softened the blow when you were blasted back off your feet. There were a dozen training dummies spread out in the bottom right-hand corner. They lit up in different areas, hands, feet, stomach, throat, eye, head, even the legs. You were supposed to hit them with spells it made for very good target practice made you more precise with your aim.

"Would you be willing to tell me what your memory was that had your Patronus changing?" Severus enquired, he wouldn't be surprised if Harry said no, it was extremely personal and despite the fact they were no longer antagonist towards one another it didn't make them friends. Although he liked to think there was at least some trust between them.

"Not really," Harry admitted embarrassed, it was the memory of just a few hours ago, learning that Voldemort had took on board his suggestions about the prison and Death Eaters. He was used to his ideas being shot down and ridiculed, even by Hermione. He knew he was probably putting too much into but the feeling of being respected (by Voldemort himself actually using the idea) and needed was something he liked but hadn't ever experienced. Dumbledore didn't need him he was using him that there was the difference.

"Is it different from the memory you usually use to perform your Patronus?" Severus then questioned, getting to the root of it.

"Definitely." Harry replied immediately.

"Very well, go back to that memory, think of the stag clearly in your mind," Severus told him, standing with his arms crossed his expression pensive. "You must want it, desire it above all else to change."

Harry closed his eyes, thinking of the memory of him leaving the Dursley's to attend Hogwarts, finally free of their abusive ways remembering how he felt before it felt tainted by Dumbledore. Thinking of his stag and his father, desperately wishing for it to work. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" his eyes leapt open and was disheartened (only because he had failed) to see the thunderbolt still there. Cursing in annoyance, he really didn't like when things didn't go his way. He had in the past just thought of his parents, imagining them there beside him, a fantasy nothing more and it hadn't been strong enough for him to cast the Patronus charm.

"It won't work right away, it takes a lot of self-control and discipline to change its form, magic isn't easily fooled, Harry," Severus explained, seeing the disgruntled aggravation on his face. "It took me a few tries to get it as well, it helps if one can clear their mind and focus more solely on what they need." By few tries he meant months until he got his Patronus disguised.

Harry nodded in understanding, doing exactly as Severus instructed, closing his mind, focusing with single minded determination on that one memory, recalling once again the feelings he'd experienced knowing he was a wizard and going to Hogwarts free of the Dursley's. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry had to stop himself growling in annoyance. It failed yet again.

"Perhaps finding a way that will work for you might go along more smoothly? You've yet to adhere to the normal rules applied to magic." Severus said wryly, no thirteen-year-old with only two years of magical training should logically be able to perform such an advanced piece of magic yet Harry had. "Everyone's Patronus changes at some point in their lives, you've gone through more than most, and it wouldn't surprise anyone that it would change." he felt the need to point out. Harry didn't seem disheartened by it, just the fact he couldn't disguise it.

"To a thunderbird? I don't know much about spirit animals but I'm pretty sure that it would reveal more than I want anyone to know." Harry stated.

"They aren't always coinciding with what the spirit animal is," Severus argued.

"Really? When you have the deer as spirit animal, you are highly sensitive and have a strong intuition. By affinity with this animal, you have the power to deal with challenges with grace. You master the art of being both determined and gentle in your approach, wisdom imparts those with a special connection with this animal with the ability to be vigilant, move quickly, and trust their instincts to get out the trickiest situations. Gentle maybe not so much but the rest is you."

"Hardly, I've looked up the meaning myself, do I look like someone who is in touch with their inner child? Gentle? Sensitive and intuitive?" Severus asked sardonically.

"The saying still holds truth, just not all of it," Harry replied, sighing softly. "Look I don't want Dumbledore to find out, that's if you aren't telling him everything. You know as well as I do what the thunderbird represents."

Severus was far from insulted by this; his lips just twitched in approval; it was never wise to trust a spy with all your secrets. Especially just because he informed Harry that he had taken a vow to protect him, after all he could have been lying. He would never betray Harry's trust nonetheless, but he also approved of Harry's suspicious nature it would see him survive this war. Especially surrounded by Slytherin's but given Harry's true nature he knew that it would never be a problem. Nodding grimly to concede his point.

The thunderbird was a symbol of many things, power, provision, expansiveness, transformation, divine dominion, indomitable spirit, unquestioned authority and otherworldly. There was even some suggestion and belief that the thunderbird represented war, one that who saw it foresaw victory. Creation and destruction, and controller of nature the ultimate power. Something Harry most definitely had, he had the power to influence an entire generation of wizards and witches, all because of something that happened when he was a baby. If he harnessed that power, he could be unstoppable.

Stiffening his shoulders, Harry just focused solely on his father, his Patronus and the desire for his to be one again. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" and Harry whooped in delight when he saw his stag gallop around the room. Supreme satisfaction mingling with pride at his accomplishment and it had only taken a few tries.

"Exceedingly well done," Severus stated amused by Harry's jubilance over a mere change in Patronus. Then again, he knew that nobody else except perhaps the Dark Lord could have achieved that so swiftly. He'd taken months to hide his Patronus – just in case the need arose – not that it had ever come to pass. The only one that had seen his Patronus was Harry, the Dark Lord and Dumbledore.

Cocking his head slightly, tongue out slightly, "Expecto Patronum!" and out flew the thunderbird, he couldn't help but grin it was very cool considering most people couldn't even cast a Patronus never mind having them changing back and forth so easily. He did it.

Severus watched over him, his face impassive once more, wondering if Harry already suspected what the Dark Lord was going to do. Why else would he be so eager for his Patronus to change back? Nobody here would bat an eyelash, other than to reel in shock at the fact a child could cast the charm that is and envy would probably be mingled in there somewhere. No, he wanted his Patronus to change back because he didn't want Dumbledore to know, how was it that Harry could possibly know? From his understanding his Lord hadn't yet revealed his plan to the teen. "And do reveal why you think you'll ever see a need to hide your current Patronus?"

Harry just smirked and elected not to answer, he was far from stupid, he'd already pieced a lot of information together, and Voldemort wasn't exactly subtle about what he was teaching him - no it hadn't been hard to work out. Although there was a chance he could change his mind, not that he felt the need to get his hopes up, he actually really liked it here, it would be odd going back to Hogwarts and he would have one hell of a hard time doing anything if he did go back. Dumbledore wouldn't let him out of his sight for Merlin's sake.

"Malfoy? What do you want?" Amycus asked, scowling at the Malfoy Lord from his doorstep, the Carrow estate was much less extravagant to the Malfoy's, the Carrow's didn't feel the need to showcase how much they had that and they truly did have less, mostly due to the fact there were more Carrows than Malfoy's.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Lucius said smoothly, glancing around suspiciously.

"Get in," Amycus grunted, rolling his eyes before he slammed the doors shut with a wave of his wand getting sadistic amusement out of the fact Malfoy jumped.

"Is your sister here?" Lucius then asked.

"Yes," Amycus replied curtly, stalking through his home until he got to the sitting room they used for guests. "Now what is it you want?" they hadn't associated with Malfoy since the Dark Lord's downfall; the silence hadn't been their part but Malfoy's.

"Our Lord needs us," Lucius stated, remaining standing despite the fact it was extremely rude to do so, he didn't want to be here any longer than he had to.

"For?" Alecto asked from where she sat, lounging on the chair, a goblet of wine in her hand as she casually drank from it.

"He requests that we find Fenrir Greyback and as quickly as possible," Lucius explained, "We are not to approach him until the task is complete."

"He wishes for us to do so or you do?" Amycus asked suspiciously. It wouldn't be the first time Lucius had been misleading, and he probably had gotten more devious as he got older.

"I asked permission for help," Lucius informed them, refraining from gritting his teeth, he deserved respect not derision, it wasn't as if they weren't as guilty as him at just slinking into the shadows and feigning that they hadn't been the Dark Lord's followers. "Our Lord agreed. If you do not wish to help, I will just inform him of that fact." his lip curling a little knowing they wouldn't say no now.

"Oh, it's on, we will be the ones to find Greyback," Alecto answered challengingly.

"Just remember to tell Greyback that he's wanted. I will owl with locations that need to be divided up." Lucius sneered, not informing them of what else the Dark Lord demanded. With his piece said, he twirled around and swiftly left Carrow estate, his sneer never once let up.

Amycus watched him go not even bothering to show the wizard out.

"What do you think he decided against telling us?" Alecto wondered, swirling her priceless wine around in her goblet before taking another sip.

Amycus smirked, "I would summarise the Dark Lord wishes to be informed of Greyback's location." he could be wrong, but he'd definitely be alerting the Dark Lord as soon as he did just to be on the safe side. "Time to get in touch with your contacts dear sister, I would hate to have to face the smug look on him if he wins. I on the other hand have a few people to visit." hopefully they'd get incredibly lucky. With that Amycus stood up and swiftly departed through the Floo network, his destination? The Ministry of magic. He would prove he was better than Malfoy this time around. It was too bad Greyback and his pack was constantly behind anti-locating charms, Greyback was a wanted wizard/werewolf after all and it would be pretty stupid not to be.

"So, who exactly is Greyback?" Harry asked after an hour of reading through this particularly interesting Ancient Runes book, and yes, another area of magic he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Voldemort didn't just stop at the subjects he took at Hogwarts, with a disapproving look on his face at when that subject of classes had been brought up. He had been easily frustrated to begin with; it required precision right down to the wand movements and signs. Yet as he got through the second year book he began to realize just how handy runes would be in everyday life to protect himself he had then quickly became self-sufficient in that subject quickly (much to Voldemort's approval) he still found it difficult though, but according to Voldemort apparently only a third of all Hogwarts students took it and kept at it, it was an 'incredibly difficult subject to master' and only those 'with a keen mind and determination would keep at it'.

Voldemort turned to face Harry, quite frankly stunned, "You have not heard of Greyback?" it was like saying they hadn't heard of him, but at least his reputation was warranted whereas Fenrir's wasn't at least not to the extent it was. Not that he was particularly upset; it just meant more followers for him.

"You say that like it's a bad thing?" Harry questioned, paying more attention now.

"Your werewolf didn't tell you about him?" Voldemort questioned seriously.

"Um, no, I've never heard of the name Greyback before, but now I'm really curious what's he done? I guess he's not in Azkaban otherwise you'd know where to 'find' him." Harry pointed out thoughtfully.

Voldemort barely refrained from rolling his eyes, he didn't know why he bothered trying to keep anything a secret, and the boy seemed to be able to find everything out on his own. He was much too curious for his own good; it was going to get him in trouble one of these days. Although perhaps it's why he was able to see under Dumbledore's grandfatherly façade by digging too deep, so maybe it was a good thing? Just remembering Harry's confession that he'd deliberately went into Dumbledore's pensive and got much further than the old fool knew made him realize information gathering for this teen was extremely easy, and he did it in such a sneak fashion that any Slytherin would be proud - unless it was being done against them!

"Fenrir Greyback is considered by the general population as the most savage werewolf alive today. They assume it is his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; that he wants to create enough were wolves to overcome Wizard kind. They say that I promised him prey in return for his services. They also believe that Greyback specialises in children... Bite them young, and raises them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards." Voldemort informed him. "In fact, it was Greyback that bit and infected Remus Lupin hence my surprise that the werewolf didn't say anything."

"He doesn't tell me much of anything. The general population I'm going to guess the Ministry is involved with that?" Harry stated and questioned blandly, putting the runes book on the table, crossing his legs after scooting the chair forward further towards Voldemort and incidentally the fireplace in a bid to hear better and warm up. "What is the real story?" he didn't believe everything he heard, how could he? When he had heard so many things about him which weren't true…and everyone believed.

"And what if it is the real story?" Voldemort then questioned in turn.

"Nothing is ever bad as the Ministry and the public makes it seem," Harry replied, "So?"

"Fenrir was bitten when he was just shy of nine years old," Voldemort started only to be interrupted.

"What the hell was an eight-year-old kid doing out after dark?" Harry protested quite shocked.

"Will you let me finish or are you not interested in hearing it?" Voldemort demanded in annoyance. He loathed being interrupted; it was at the height of utter disrespect.

"Alright," Harry sighed, he did want to hear it so he held his tongue - for the moment.

"He was found by Muggles at the side of the road, they deemed it a wild animal attack, they were able to locate his parents, but when they found out exactly what happened, and they quickly denounced him and left him to fend for himself. He spent his life in the wild, coming to loathe wizards and witches alike for letting it happen to him especially his parents. Yet he also missed company, he went about creating his own pack, and no, that did not entail biting anyone, there are too many people abandoned for the simple reason of being bitten by a werewolf. Contrary to popular belief I believe Fenrir has only bitten three people, that number might have changed in recent years but I doubt it." Voldemort explained. "The first two were accidents, people straying too far into his path during the full moon, but he took them under his wing regardless, more out of a desire for a pack than guilt, he had hardened himself a long time ago and rarely gave into any emotion other than disgust and anger."

Harry nodded, he could only imagine what it was like outside, but being alone and secluded Harry completely understood those terms.

"The Aurors don't care for bringing in the werewolves alive, prejudice and fear is rampant in that department, more often than not if you looked every single werewolf they were told to apprehend ended up 'fighting back' and the Auror's simply had to defend themselves, their stories matching completely, which by the way doesn't happen in the heat of battle especially for one's life." Voldemort continued his explanation. "They called themselves the exterminators, and everyone in important circles knew but did nothing, presumably relieved that someone was taking the 'trash' off the streets. They were given all the call outs, Fenrir lost four pack members and an unborn child to them. It was around about that time he was caught and brought in by an Auror that didn't participate or belief in what the others did. Admittedly they weren't sure whether Fenrir was a werewolf or just an ignorant homeless Muggle, they were arguing about it when Lyall Lupin entered and declared that Fenrir was in fact a werewolf, and when they shrugged him off, he proceeded to call all werewolves soulless creatures that deserved to be put down. It's not known whether he was the head of exterminators or not, but Fenrir believed he was, since his scent was all over his hideout where members of his pack had been killed despite the fact, he had no reason to be there."

Harry's eyes were astonishingly wide, wondering just what relation Lyall Lupin was to Remus Lupin, not father and son surely? Remus was the name of a bloody werewolf in Muggle mythology…unless he had absolutely no idea? Most Pureblood's didn't, but was Lyall Lupin a Pureblood?

"It took all of Fenrir's willpower not to strike out, and in the end the Ministry decided he was a harmless homeless Muggle, and sent him on his way to Obliviate him. Fenrir of course overpowered the wizard and Obliviated him, electing not to draw attention to himself, desiring a much greater target for his revenge." Voldemort spoke, "Then he saw Lyall Lupin with his son, a little boy named Remus and the irony wasn't lost on him, so he put himself into position and when the moon went up the boy was bitten but saved by his father who cursed Fenrir until he fled."

"So, it was Lupin's father…so was he the leader?" Harry asked curiously, speaking quickly.

"Let's put it this way, the day after Remus Lupin was bitten… the attacks just stopped, Lupin resigned his position and was never heard from again, moving from home to home to avoid his secret from being brought out into the open, protecting his son from all harm wizards and witches would foist upon the boy." Voldemort continued, "A few months later a few werewolf attacks happened, children, and they were quick to point the finger and blame a known werewolf, Fenrir, who had become an unstoppable force of nature and had defended himself against many Aurors who did not come back out unscathed or alive. Over the years Fenrir became what the public accused him of being, almost feral and savage, I was able to give him a purpose, and a way to get a new pack, and no before you ask that did not mean biting others. You would be surprised by the number of werewolves there currently are in the British Isles. Dumbledore when he found out about Fenrir's place at my side exponentially blew up his reputation further by saying he enjoyed biting and savaging children…his implication was paedophilia but that did not catch on by the public."

Harry grimaced, a sick look crossing his features.

"Do not get me wrong he's not a good man, nor is he easy to get along with, he's an ultimate alpha, but he's grown to like teasing people with his reputation, scared the Death Eaters witless, and in turn they took to cursing him, but he got them back sooner or later." Voldemort did roll his eyes this time; Fenrir did get too much a kick out of scaring people.

"How come he's hard to find? Isn't there a stronger version of a point me spell?" Harry asked. A wicked grin on his face, he liked the sound of this guy, winding up Death Eaters? He wanted front row seats!

"He's a wanted Werewolf, his disgust at wizards doesn't include their magic, he has made himself and any pack he has Unplottable." Voldemort said sardonically.

"And you can't find a way around that?" Harry asked, marginally surprised.

"And how would I go about doing that?" Voldemort asked sarcastically.

"Wellll…that Geas spell you have might work, it gets around all wards," Harry shrugged, "It depends on how often Greyback is brought into every day conversations…and how the spell actually works…if it goes off say in the middle of nowhere chances are you'll find him."

"It would work if his pack called him Greyback," Voldemort replied, he'd already thought of that. "He is an alpha and they call him that out of respect."

"How many Alphas' are there in the UK? It can't be that many?" Harry said thoughtfully.

"Too many, and if I sent my Death Eaters into a werewolf pack they'd be killed before they can try to defend themselves, and wasn't it you who said I took unnecessary risks?" Voldemort pointed out wryly.

"Fair enough," Harry conceded, yawning to himself, glancing at the time he found it was just past one o'clock in the morning.

"Get some sleep," Voldemort demanded turning back around to finish his paperwork, and then he would take his own advice.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 16

"Hey Barty," Harry said entering the great hall, honestly, pureblood's or wannabe pureblood's, nobody needed manors or mansions this big, it was just stupid to compete for the biggest and grandest homes. The money would be better spent elsewhere; especially considering most pureblood families consisted of three to four people if they're lucky. The parents and of course the heir and 'spare' as they were called much to his internal disgust. So, what the hell was the point of having a property that had like nine bedrooms? Ten bathrooms (a lot of them probably ensuite) and probably a dozen more rooms overall? Games rooms, various sitting rooms, offices, kitchens, a dining room, a great hall and not to forget the dungeons the whole shebang.

Naturally, he had no idea how wrong he was, but he'd later be educated that most families in the wizarding world did fill the main estate, whether they lived together or not. There were some families that were regretfully small, consisting of only a mother, father and child, son usually. He'd learn when he realized the grand scope of the support that the Dark Lord Voldemort had from the darker families.

Speaking of dungeons had finally gotten around to investigating every room in this place, including a lengthily time in the dungeons tormenting his cousin primarily. They had watched their son torment him knowing what he was capable of… he wasn't sure how the Dursley's could have seen their lives going any other way after tormenting him for a decade. Now the tables had been turned, they had been forced to watch their son tortured and unable to do a damn thing. It had given him a great deal of satisfaction, and Barty had helped make it even more interesting.

"Hey," Barty said, giving Harry that maddening grin he liked so much. Since taking Harry's potion he had changed a great deal, the weight he had put on had surprised the healer so much that he'd began documenting it stating that the process was 'unprecedented' along the way making sure that the potion wasn't doing anything harmful, which admittedly had annoyed Harry, like he would ever take anything that would harm him. Grant upon seeing his face had apologised profoundly, saying he hadn't meant anything by it, but the process of the rapid healing done by repairing the malnutrition just shouldn't be possible. Barty had been giving him that look, and Harry had just rolled his eyes and accepted the apology and even let him do a diagnosis charm on him. His hair looked healthier too, it had grown in some more, and Barty now held it up in a black piece of leather. With his clothes and aristocratic look, he was gorgeous, not Tom Riddle gorgeous but very nice looking nonetheless.

"How's your training going?" Barty asked, familiar with the process due to the fact he had once upon a time had the greatest honour of being chosen by his Dark Lord to receive extra training to help him. He had climbed even more swiftly up the ranks after that, all his own hard work of course, the Dark Lord might have favourites but he didn't give favours, no you had to do it alone and it was difficult especially seen as the inner circle were in fact older and more experienced than you.

"Alright," Harry winced as he sat down, he was sure that Voldemort got perverse pleasure in causing him pain…or would have if Voldemort didn't ensure he got the potions he needed to heal any injury, or actually heal him himself, like the time he'd had to reattach his arm. He was getting faster his reflexes and defence shields and moves both actually. He still had a while to go before he was anywhere near Voldemort's level, he was just extremely fast, something he'd already known, but bloody hell, during a duel you really had to exhaust yourself to keep up with him. It didn't help that at regular intervals he used Wandless magic at the same time as casting magic through his wand. He had wanted to whine at the unfairness the first, second, third and fourth times he'd done it, but he hadn't. If anything, it made Harry want to do it and he tried, Merlin did he try, but so far, he had no luck, he couldn't simultaneously think of two spells, one for his wand and one from his hand it was so far an impossibility for him but he refused to give up. He hated himself for it but he did desire Voldemort's approval, he wasn't used to being given positive reinforcement but Voldemort did that, not very often admittedly but it was there and it was well earned. It made him strive to earn more of it, but he could live without it, or so he continued to tell himself…his heart though wasn't in it.

It shouldn't have come as any surprise, after all the way Harry had been raised.

"What hurts today then?" Barty asked, grinning more ferally, surprisingly not at the fact Harry was hurting, but rather his own memories and the fact it was someone else not him going through what the Dark Lord called an apprenticeship, he'd never use anything so plebeian as training lessons.

"My back," Harry admitted with a groan, he had been blasted off his feet like five times today. Surprisingly they had been in the actual training room today, instead of the office, it was as if Voldemort had decided against using his office because of what happened the last time, when he'd blasted into the wall - which wasn't in any way spelled to soften the blow while the training room was specifically created for that reason and did have spells imbued to prevent serious injury.

Barty winced in remembering his own agony, "Yeah, I was lucky if I could move after those lessons, the morning afterwards was always the worst, I'd literally be unable to get up out of bed." although he would have preferred a million of those lessons than the time he'd spent in Azkaban or worse trapped in his own mind while his father controlled his body. All those years, only getting a reprieve when the spell wore in efficiency letting him fight it. When Pettigrew came…he had known he'd known his Lord had sent for him. Then the spell had been removed and Pettigrew had Apparated him to their Lord, regardless of how he looked it had been…utterly glorious. The fact the favour had been returned on his dear father had been poetic. He just wished he had been the one to end his miserable existence, in fact he wished he'd done it a lot sooner at least his mother wouldn't have died pining for the disgusting coward who called himself a wizard.

Harry just stared at him his head cocked just slightly.

"What is that look for?" Barty frowned, peering at Harry curiously.

"Just wondering at your pain tolerance," Harry shrugged, not getting out of bed meant that Harry had a huge fever, which meant unable to keep his balance, it was the only times he'd actually been given anything either. Not antibiotics, heaven forbid they take him to a doctor, no it was just something to bring his fever down a little, he presumed his magic had done the rest. He wasn't stupid enough to think for a second that he would have survived without his magic; had he been a normal muggle…he would have died in their tender loving care.

"Everyone has a high pain tolerance," Barty pointed out, "And if they don't, they get one really quick."

"Does he use it as often as I think?" Harry queried, Wandlessly summoning an apple from the fruit platter that the House-elves had put down he sank his teeth into it.

"Huh?" Barty blinked, wondering if he had missed part of the conversation.

"The Cruciatus curse, does he use it as often as I think?" Harry enunciated his sentence.

"Oh, um, at first yeah, but rarely after," Barty nodded. "He let them all off too easy for abandoning him." he gritted his teeth painfully, he still felt out for blood against those who had abandoned the cause. To begin with they got cursed a few times here and there for screwing up, but mostly it was a deterrent for the future, and only for a few seconds as a warning, you really needed to piss the Dark Lord off to get the full extent of his wrath, although towards the end before…it had become a regular thing.

Harry nodded, he had noticed that for someone's 'favourite curse' and the fact he was angry at them he had only put one Death Eater under the curse and that was for pleading with Voldemort. He had been put under it twice so far, the first time considerably longer when they'd been 'enemies' so to speak. The second time had definitely just been a warning hit that he was pushing his luck and he had made him angry by comparing him to Dumbledore. He probably should have known better, Voldemort or even Tom Riddle - bring up Dumbledore and they just lose it. "So, you keep telling me," he said dryly, although he was more articulate about it now than when he'd been at Hogwarts. His madness had been very prominent; the potion whatever it was to help those exposed to Dementors was truly a miracle worker. He had brewed six vials worth for Sirius and would give it to him when they next met. He wouldn't send them to him, even though he had Hedwig; he knew Sirius wouldn't take them even if he revealed who they were from. He wouldn't believe it was him and probably discard them.

"I'll get satisfaction one way or another," Barty said imperiously.

Harry laughed, "Been practicing that look, have you?" his grin showed a lot of teeth.

Barty flushed a little in embarrassment at being laughed at.

Harry just chuckled some more at the look, there was no denying that Barty looked up to Voldemort. The look of reverence on his face every time he saw Voldemort was obvious, hell a blind man could. Barty would do anything for Voldemort, he would even go to Azkaban if he was told that's what he was to do Harry suspected. He was envious of it, he had to admit, deeply so. He'd never had anyone look at him like that, and as odd as it sounded, he wanted it. People would insist he did, but the truth was, they didn't revere him they revered a mask, a character, and even then the adoration came and went, not like Voldemort's Death Eaters, they didn't just decide one day not to, it was constant, they'd die for him and all he had was…two friends with questionable loyalties, he didn't know whether they were truly his friend or not, and even if they were…he was dark, they were not, they were sickeningly light and believed the light side propaganda without looking any deeper.

"We need to talk," the Dark Lord said smoothly as he entered the great hall.

Harry twisted his head so he could see Voldemort, an eyebrow rose in curiosity, Severus was behind him. "Which one of us?" he asked, his brow then furrowing, his head moving as they did, until they were sitting down, Voldemort took his usual seat at the head of the table, Severus sat down next to Barty. His apple was promptly abandoned as curiosity got the better of him.

Barty was curious as well, glancing between Severus and his Lord intermitted. He wasn't going to leave unless he was specifically asked to, and it didn't look as if he'd be dismissed, since he knew his Lord would have already demanded he leave.

"Do you wish to return to Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked, as always sitting there like a king on his throne speaking to his subjects. His fingers idly drummed against the arm rest as he stared at Harry with his penetrating red eyes. Not reading his mind, since he had more than adequate defences, that wouldn't stop him if he felt the need to read his mind, he wasn't a wizard who cared for the law after all. He narrowed his eyes when he noticed that Harry wasn't even the slightest bit surprised by his question. He knew. He had known before this; the question was how? It was very irritating; he seemed able to get information in spades even when he wasn't supposed to be aware. He knew his slippery spy wouldn't have told the boy; he knew that much he had forbidden it after all.

"I would," Harry replied calmly, his face blank showing nothing, he had expected this after all, or rather only half expected it. He had known there was a possibility that Voldemort might change his mind. "Hogwarts was my first home." his lips twitched knowing Voldemort was bound to be wondering how he'd figured it out.

Voldemort noticed the tense, was, that was an interesting statement, he knew Privet Drive had never been a home to the boy, did he actually consider this place a home? Well obviously, to some extent he did, otherwise the blood wards would never have been erected around the manor in the first place. He knew the feeling, Hogwarts had been his first home too, and in a way, it always would be if he ever had the chance he would have stayed there. "And why, Mr. Potter are you not surprised by my question?" he asked him shrewdly a note of dangerous purring in his voice.

Barty turned to Harry, realizing his Lord made a good point, how had he known? He glanced very briefly at Severus to see that he wasn't surprised by the question or the fact Harry knew. If anything, he had a resigned and amused look about him.

Harry blinked, his voice taking on a strange note…was his voice seductive or had it been his imagination? Harry blinked again before a small smirk made his way onto his face, he replied immediately knowing better than to push Voldemort's buttons he was in an odd mood as it was actually. Ironic really, when he first ended up here, he had been determined to drive Voldemort up the wall and regret taking him. "You suddenly made me read through fifth, sixth-, and seventh-year curriculum books on most of the subjects I took at Hogwarts and then some I hadn't. all the while simultaneously ensuring I had good enough mental shields. You also taught me everything before you let me learn stuff that wasn't on Hogwarts curriculum. It isn't that much of a leap to make, although I didn't get my hopes built up, minds can be changed, even yours."

Voldemort sat back, refraining from rolling his eyes or shaking his head, the boy was stating it like fact not even the slightest bit of smugness in his voice despite the fact he had smirked before explaining. "And do you have plans set out as well?" he asked dryly.

Harry scoffed, "There is no way I can explain away being 'captured' but considering you took all my belongings I'm better off saying I ran away on my own accord." he admitted, "I've never rebelled against him, it might be fascinating to see how he reacts to my first bout of 'rebellion', he's bound to have expected it to happen sooner or later I'm supposedly an impulsive Gryffindor, and seeing someone die in front of me and my mortal enemy being resurrected, it stands to reason I would also feel grown up enough to handle my own problems. That and with being ignored, I wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine."

Voldemort smirked, Barty stared in surprise and Severus just closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"As for how, Severus showing up and conveniently finding me is definitely out of the question," Harry hummed quietly, scratching his cheek absently, "Showing up at Hogwarts on the train would be absolutely hilarious, the look on his face is bound to be priceless. Although word will probably get back to him before I reach Hogwarts unless I close down a compartment for myself."

"You do not want to push the old fool too far," Severus cautioned him seriously, "You are underestimating just how furious he is with you, and you have no idea how far he will to go keep you within his control." Even he had no idea just how far Albus Dumbledore was willing to go, but one day he would and it would be beyond his imagining.

"I'm going to Gringotts to get the Lordship ring, between that and this," Harry showed off his pendant, there was a small list of runes imbedded within it that was too small even for Severus' sharp eyes to see. "Any spell or potion he tries will prove quite ineffective, I am not stupid, Severus, I know how far he's prepared to go to get me onside. He left a defenceless baby with magic hating Muggles, going on the off change that I would be beaten down and submissive, bend to his will, when it could have backfired, which it did, but he isn't aware of that. His actions are going to cost him the war, and it was always my plan to run, I was never going to roll over and do what he expected of me." his tone was dark as he spoke of Dumbledore in a way that was familiar - very familiar. Nobody had ever actually asked him what he wanted, what side he supported, not once they just heaped expectations on him and then expected more from him.

Severus nodded in grim understanding, respect flowing through him; he couldn't help but be glad of this turn of the tide. If Harry had ran…well he wasn't sure what he would have done. Instead, Harry was here, and so was he, he had returned to his true side without fear that he would lose his magic. He was a dark wizard and he belonged here, Dumbledore had been a fool to think for one second Lily could have kept him 'light' and that he was on his side without reservation.

"When did you plan on running?" Barty asked curiously, it wasn't often Harry spoke of his past, Dumbledore or anything similar.

"As soon as I could, I contemplated leaving as soon as I got my O.W.L results, I would be able to continue using magic, or I thought I would, until I realized the trace remained on the wand until I was seventeen. So, I thought about leaving as soon as midnight struck on my seventeenth birthday. That way I would also have access to my vaults and be able to leave with money and properties I knew I would be fine." Harry shrugged dismissively, neither one mattered anymore.

"You are off age now, your participation in the Triwizard tournament saw to that," Severus pointed out a flaw in his thinking.

"Yes, I'm aware of that now, something else that was no doubt deliberately kept from me by the old fool, hence why I plan on going to Gringotts to retrieve my Lordship ring." Harry nodded firmly, and thankfully it remained invisible except to those who already knew about it. Which would be these three wizards now. His lordship ring was guaranteed to work much better than a rune pendant, it was old magic, both goblin and wizarding magic imbued in those rings. He wasn't going to outright antagonise Dumbledore, that wouldn't be a smart move to make, since he was going to be watched closely as it is. He felt stupid having not thought of that to be honest before he'd been forced to return to the Dursleys.

Voldemort watched the conversation between Severus and Harry closely, respect shot to new levels. While he enjoyed goading Dumbledore, he would never have outright done such a thing especially not at the age of fifteen. He had feared and loathed Dumbledore in equal measures, Dumbledore had been the only one not blind to whom he was, powerful enough to actually match him magical powers. He would never be confident that he would be able to beat Dumbledore in a duel and it really infuriated him. Especially considering he thought of himself as the most powerful wizard alive.

Knowing that Harry had taken preventative measures against anything Dumbledore could possibly try eased some of the reluctance he felt in letting the boy return to Hogwarts. The Lordship ring would definitely prevent anything sneaky Dumbledore could try in his bid to control Harry. Considering he had taught the boy a great deal of what he knew, and the things he'd seen Harry create, he would hate to kill him. Harry hadn't specifically said he wanted to join his side, but if Harry being neutral was the best he could get then he would accept it, considering the advice he'd given he wasn't so sure Harry would remain neutral. His words also led him to that conclusion, 'his actions had cost him the war,' only time would tell really. Perhaps Severus had been correct, letting the boy come to him on his own was for the best. He was sure Dumbledore would help in that matter when Harry returned to Hogwarts. Satisfaction thrummed through him, yes, things were going much better than anticipated.

"Severus will take you to Gringotts, under glamours," Voldemort informed him imperiously.

Harry nodded his understanding; he had no problem with Severus taking him to get his Lordship sorted. There was no way Dumbledore would be looking there for him. Number one, he had his key, two he had never gone into his vault other than during the summer to gather his school things, and third and most importantly Dumbledore probably thought he didn't know about his vaults. "It's too bad I can't figure out the potion, now that would have ensured I could go where I wanted without being recognized." Harry muttered to himself, being heard by the others without realizing it.

Severus had just nodded his understanding in his new orders to let the Dark Lord know he wouldn't let him down when he heard Harry. "What Potion would that be?" Severus asked his eyes narrowed in on the teen. Very curious and suspicious, he hadn't heard anything about another potion. They did spend a great deal of time brewing, Harry often talking about potions he desired to make, but he'd not heard anything new and surely, he couldn't have thought of one within the past few days?

Harry shook his head, "It's one of the first ones I tried." Harry told him, "Before I started using the book, it's just a rolled-up parchment in my trunk."

"Grimoire," Voldemort corrected, a book, it wasn't just a mere book.

"The potion?" Severus queried truly curious.

"I wanted to unlock any potential Metamorphmagus abilities," Harry shrugged, not something he had high hopes for anymore.

"But you can't just unlock it, you either have it or you don't," Barty pointed out. "That's like saying you could just randomly unlock the ability to talk to snakes!"

"I don't believe that's the case," Harry replied honestly, "I may be wrong, but I was never able to finish it so I forgot about it mostly."

"Why?" Barty asked, leaning over really curious, the Ravenclaw in him coming out. Why would Harry think it was possible? Something must have happened to give him credence or at least a theory on unlocking magical gifts handed down from the families. If such a potion could be created…well the gifts one would receive would be potentially immense. It would bring back lost abilities that had diminished over the centuries.

Harry's face closed off; his magic turned dark as he thought on his life before he knew he was a wizard. His hands curled into fists as his lip curled, "My so-called aunt used to cut my hair, she hated the way it looked like my fathers, she hated my scar more and always kept it covered up, in other words she made a right mess of it, not that she cared, the next morning I would wake up and my hair would be exactly the same. It always did, no matter who did what until I used magic and spells to straighten and lengthen it."

"That's why you shaved her bloody head!" Barty exclaimed feeling like a fool; it had seemed so random of Harry to do such a thing. His humiliation of the Dursley's always involved pain, severe pain, never something as stupid as removing all the hair on Petunia's head. He would need to remember even the most random of things ran deep, he truly was vindictive to the core, he belonged here, and he couldn't wait to see the others reactions to it. Dudley with a shaved head had been a hilarious sight, he looked like a potato.

Voldemort's lips twitched, what he knew Harry had done to the Dursley's so amused him.

Severus' own hands clenched under the table, as his fury built up just thinking of what he had seen in Petunia's mind, the flashes of malice and what she had done to Harry over the years. Seeing memories in someone's mind was just flashes, it was like a ten second video as opposed to an actual hour-long scene for every memory. Some of the feelings the person had in association with certain memories filtered through as well. He still hadn't come to terms with what he saw in her memories and his own failings but he was trying to make up for his blind idiocy.

"My point is once could be considered accidental magic, but so many times? No, I think my magic dug into the Black blood in me and let me use a gift not mine," Harry stated.

"You started using that book very early, as early as your first year I would guess," Severus summarised, "When exactly did you write the potion down? And may I look at it? I would very much like you give you some advice and perhaps help you finish it even theoretically."

"I stole it from amongst the pile of broken toys and books Dudley didn't want after my first year, they were dumped into his second bedroom," Harry replied, his tone still not softening the slightest. "When I received it, I began to write spells and potions down, mostly spells to begin with, the potion was my first and I wrote it during the school year, and yes, I'll show you."

"How much had you really read by the time you left Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked curiously, the boy was still an enigma so any information as welcomed.

"I've never slept much, not really, not even at Hogwarts, when everyone assumed I was asleep I was reading all I could, I copied all Grangers books, then snuck into the room of the other second and third year students to copy theirs. It took a lot out of me, since I had to override the spells on the book to protect them from being copied." Harry admitted, without a single hint of embarrassment. "When I figured the overriding spell for the restricted section, I began to read in there for hours before returning to my dorm but that wasn't until half way through second year. I allowed myself to be caught out of bounds at night a few times, wandering the halls and such, so nobody would ever really suspect what I was up to. They would just assume I was out looking for adventure, although once or twice the real reason was known and nothing to do with reading." answering just for the sake of a full answer. It was annoying, having to hide away to read but what else could he do? He didn't want Dumbledore to know what he was capable of.

"You really should have gotten better grades; they truly are abysmal especially considering we know what you are capable of." Severus pointed out, it was the teacher in him, especially with his upcoming O.W.L's. Trying to hide his abilities it was nonsense.

"I did good enough," Harry shrugged.

"It will not continue," Voldemort stated sharply, it worked him up the wrong way that he would deliberate sabotage his own exams and under perform.

"I can just imagine Grangers face," Severus chuckled dryly, and also enticing Harry to do better just to spite her, and he knew it would work, Harry liked getting under peoples skin as he'd observed as of late. He would freely admit it would make his year to see the girl flustered and annoyed that anyone was performing better than her, she'd had it too easy these past four years. He knew Harry could do better than her in all classes especially if he just applied himself.

Harry slowly smirked, just thinking about it himself, that would be a good way to ascertain whether she was a true friend or not. If she cared more about being the best than her best friend then she definitely wasn't worth it. He could already guess his answer, but he would like to know for sure. They wouldn't like the real him anyway, he was so far from the persona he had created it was truly laudable.

Severus glanced at his time before turning his attention to the Dark Lord and spoke, "Dumbledore will be currently at lunch, the Order working, this might be the best time to go undetected."

Voldemort nodded curtly, giving Severus permission to take him, he had been thinking along the lines of tonight, when it was less busy but Severus did raise an excellent point, perhaps now was for the best. Either way it had to happen within the next twenty-four hours, since tomorrow at exactly 11 am the Hogwarts express would depart from the concealed platform that was nine and three quarters. Speaking of which, he would need to create a Portkey to get the boy there since he couldn't risk Severus being seen with him as Harry had stated, he wasn't going to risk the parents recognizing his followers. He waved his hand at Harry, unbeknown to all the strap around his leg glowed briefly but Harry definitely felt the buzzing.

Harry just rolled his eyes, of course Voldemort would do it non-verbally, and it's not as if he wanted him to know how to remove it. Or rather how to deactivate it or whatever Voldemort had done to it.

"Let's go," Severus stated, standing up, he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Alright," Harry agreed, moving towards his professor, not even twitching when Severus flicked out his wand and used a few spells, one to colour his hair, his eyes and a few other identifying features that would give him away. He didn't even want to know what he looked like; he was pretty sure he wouldn't like it either way. He then watched Severus' appearance change, and was surprised to find that he wouldn't have been able to identify Severus with the look he supported at the moment - which was the point.

"I'm going to Apparate us straight to the doors of Gringotts," Severus explained, his hand gripping Harry's shoulder tightly, with a nod to his Lord and Barty, he Apparated them both out of the premises.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 17

Harry swiftly made his way to the second compartment within the Hogwarts express and closed the doors, magically locking them in Parseltongue so nobody could get in. Not many people were there yet; people were literally just starting to either come though the platform or Apparate with their families onto the magical platform without enduring the bustle of Kings cross - and more than likely the Muggles. He leant his trunk against the wall beside the window, and put the blind down a little, but not too much as he observed everyone. He just didn't want anyone to be able to see him, the anticipation was rising, and he was looking forward to this more than he probably should. He soon got bored of the sight of families dropping of their kids and so sat himself down comfortably and brought out his Ancient Runes book (which he had bought actually via owl order after his visit to Gringotts, it had gone to Severus' home since nothing came to the manor, Voldemort had summoned all the books back to him even the ones he'd tried to take to Hogwarts with him much to his irritation and Voldemort's amusement) flipping the book to chapter three, his Lordship ring gleaming brightly, reminding him that he was safe from any outside tampering anyone might try. His trip to Gringotts had been…revealing to say the least.

-0 Flashback 0-

Harry groaned inaudibly as he was Apparated by Severus to the very steps of Gringotts, their intended destination. He absolutely loathed nearly all means of travel by magical means. His only exception was flying and travelling by House-elf, Portkey, Floo and Apparation were just down right awful. Although it was more side-long Apparation that bothered him, Apparating on his own was less jarring but still unpleasant. "I have a feeling I won't like what happens in here," Harry stated, staring at the building, a sense of foreboding washing over him, he no longer ignored his gut instincts they never steered him wrong in the past.

Severus just arched an eyebrow briefly in his direction, which looked very odd in the look he currently supported before he began wandering up the steps and into Gringotts, his usual stalk nowhere to be seen. Harry could honestly say there was nothing that could pinpoint this man as Severus Snape; he was obviously very good at what he did.

Harry followed him, since he wasn't walking fast; he had no trouble catching up to his Potions professor whatsoever. He had been quickly briefed on how to speak and interact with the goblins by Barty and Voldemort as well as Severus. It was advice he was definitely going to take, so without more ado he approached the goblin at an empty teller and waited until he had his attention. Before the goblin could speak Harry spoke firmly and quietly, he didn't want anyone to know he was here after all. "Griphook, I wish to have a meeting with the goblin in charge of the Potter accounts immediately, it's of the utmost importance." the surprised look on the goblins face disappeared in the blink of an eye before he nodded curtly. Then he disappeared from view, jumping from his seat or stool, whichever was behind there.

"Follow me," Griphook called to them, without revealing who it was that he was speaking to, judging by the boy's quiet demeanour and the quite strong glamour he had on, he wanted his business dealt with as secretly as possible. The wizard would one day be Lord Potter, so he would give him the appropriate respect due to him. The two had a quiet conversation before both moved towards him, the elder looked quite stunned, for reasons unknown to him, he did not know of human affairs, he had no desire to unless it dealt with the bank itself.

Griphook led them through three corridors turning left and right before he got to the appropriate office, he gave a firm knock before entering, speaking to his fellow goblin in his own tongue, regarding his current appointment.

"Lead them in," Coop said, giving Griphook a nod of thanks, quite stunned that the heir had finally shown his face, he certainly hadn't expected him to since he'd never shown an interest before, the only time he'd expected him was years from now, when he was seventeen and took over the vaults from his current guardian whom he seemed very happy with otherwise he wouldn't still be the executor of the estate.

"You may enter," Griphook informed them both waiting until they had indeed entered the office before, he closed it behind him and began to walk towards the main entrance; he had a job to do after all. He had worked hard to get off the gruelling long hours of boredom that came with leading weak stomached wizards to their vault. The number of times he'd had to wipe away sick was more times than he cared to remember.

"Mister Potter, Master Snape," Coop said, giving Severus a nod of respect, and surprisingly it was genuine, Goblins needed potions too, and while they brewed their own, they were based on wizards recipes, and many goblins respected their initiative and intuition when it came to potions. Potions Master Severus Snape had created more than his fair share, in fact he had been approached by the head of the goblin nation twice to invent potions for them, paid handsomely for his time, but potions never saw outside of the goblin nation. "How can Gringotts help you today, Mr. Potter?" Coop said getting back to the matter at hand; he had been informed it was important after all.

"To claim my rights as Lord Potter," Harry informed him curtly, he knew Goblins considered their time valuable and couldn't stand idle chit chat or someone wasting their time.

"You can claim the heir title but not Lord, not until you turn seventeen-years-old or get permission to be emancipated," Coop explained, slightly annoyed, the boy should already know these things.

"I am emancipated," Harry informed him coolly, glancing briefly at Severus, who nodded once subtly, letting him know he was doing well.

"Impossible, we would have been informed," Coop said sitting up straighter, clicking his fingers he brought forth an extremely large folder that pertained all information regarding the Potter accounts including Harry's status, self-updating so they didn't have to rely on the likes of the ministry of magic. "The Ministry of magic is obligated to inform us," despite the fact they would already know.

Then he saw it, his status was emancipated, he was legally an adult in the eyes of the magical world he had been for nearly a year. A deeper annoyance slashed over him; the Ministry of magic was becoming even more incompetent it seemed.

"Mr. Potter did not receive his emancipation from the Ministry of magic, it was done via extremely old magic," Severus said smoothly, cluing the goblin in on what was happening.

"You did a ritual?" Coop asked, speaking directly to Harry, such a thing hadn't been done for centuries.

"No, I was an unwilling participant in the Triwizard tournament, my name was put in against my will but I was nonetheless forced to compete due to the magically binding contract that made me an adult and legally emancipated." Harry explained, and despite everything he was glad for it.

"I see, and how did you fair against more experienced wizards?" Coop asked, actually really curious.

Harry blinked, obviously the goblins didn't bother reading the Daily Prophet then, "Myself and Cedric Diggory took the cup together for a Hogwarts victory after I saved him from being wrapped in vines." he said curtly, and they no doubt knew about Diggory's death so they could make of it what they will. He wasn't about to show his true self to the goblins, not even if they never took sides during war. He certainly wasn't going to play a clueless bumbling idiot so this was what he had chosen on. A combination of impassive and curt.

Coop nodded and didn't show it but he was somewhat surprised that the boy had at the age of fourteen managed to beat out seventeen-year-olds in an old tournament like the Triwizard tournament of all things. Goblins didn't take much interest in wizards but Harry Potter had gained their interest the night he'd been proclaimed the Boy-Who-Lived humans and their silly monikers.

"My Lordship?" Harry questioned impatiently, he didn't want to be out too long and he wanted to get a bit of shopping done while he was here.

"Of course," Coop said, with that he filled in one of the forms in the Potter estate folder and handed it over, it would allow the boy to official claim his Lordship status; it was a very simple process. Another click, of his fingers, he had a box and a roll of wax, he opened the box and held out the Potter Lordship ring, which the boy took immediately. It was rather odd to be giving a wizard their Lordship without them having been official an heir (ring and all).

Harry gave the contract a once over, it was very blunt and to the point, so without more ado he quickly signed it, grabbing the wax he used Wandless magic to melt it onto the parchment and pressed his seal into it, officiating it in a way even his signature could not. Wiping away the residue he placed the ring on his finger, it magically resized to fit him perfectly, the magic tingled and Harry would bet it was the spell that prevented the ring from being removed forcefully or otherwise by anyone other than himself.

"Congratulations, Lord Potter," Coop said as he slid the parchment back into place. "What will be your first order of business?"

Severus leaned over and whispered into Harry's ear, "Enquire about your parents will," he had a suspicion on that.

"Why?" Harry asked glancing at Severus in confusion. It was probably already read at this point, probably a week after his parent's death, the norm for will readings, usually after the burial.

Severus merely gave Harry a stern nod, to do as he asked without question, and he would explain much later and away from prying eyes.

"I wish to see a copy of my parents will," Harry demanded turning back to the goblin.

Coop nodded and began to flip through the contents, his brow furrowing further and further the more he went back. Then he got to it, the goblin cleared his throat nervously, "It seems your parents wills were not read, as per you magical guardian's instructions that the will be read upon your claiming of your Lordship when you turned seventeen."

"Excuse me? Magical guardian?" Harry asked frostily, "And just who is my so-called Magical guardian?" his green eyes were glittering dangerous as he eyed the goblin in immolation. Sirius couldn't have possibly informed the goblins that he didn't want the will's read.

Severus cringed just slightly, Harry's magic was creeping out, and quite frankly it felt very similar to the Dark Lord's when he was close to cursing anything and everything in sight. He had an inkling of who it was before the goblin opened his mouth to speak.

"Albus Dumbledore," Coop said, his beady eyes watching the wizard with just a hint of nervousness showing through.

"And how can anyone withhold a will? Isn't that against the law?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"He has power of attorney, which means what he has done is perfectly within legal within the eyes of the law," Coop explained.

"Power of attorney has now fallen to me is that not, correct?" Harry asked, his tone calm, but his eyes and powers held another story.

"As Lord of the Potter estate now, yes," Coop answered him promptly as possible.

"Then I would like to see my parents will, now." Harry stated, hand held out in expectation, Dumbledore didn't do things for the sake of it, there was always a reason behind his actions and he wanted to know what those were. Although he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it could be, if there was proof of his godfathers innocence in there though…Dumbledore wouldn't know what hit him. He largely suspected that was what it was.

The goblin swiftly brought out the still sealed wills, and handed them over.

Harry quickly unsealed the wax seal and unveiled the will, his green eyes roaming down the missive, becoming increasingly darker the further he read into it. Without pause he opened the second one, which was his mothers, and the one that was legally binding, due to the fact that his mother had been the one to die later. Even if it was mere moments later, she had indeed outlived her husband.

Severus didn't even try to read the missives, he was being trusted enough to be here as it was, although he couldn't deny he was curious, he too had come to the conclusion there must have been something contained within to make Dumbledore leery enough against having the will closed. To have it closed meant he also knew the details of the will in the first place, something that would go against him. Obviously not too concerning otherwise he would have found a way to have the wills destroyed completely. He was under no illusion that Dumbledore was capable of it, although perhaps he was waiting, Dumbledore probably thought he had an additional three years to deal with it.

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead, instead of feeling angry he just felt numb now, he understood why the wills had been closed, and Dumbledore's signature along with Alice and Frank Longbottom stood mocking him. He wanted to scream and rage, but right now he just felt detached, as if he was merely an observer of what was happening.

"Harry?" Severus called to Harry, his tone quiet and soothing, quite frankly he did not want any of Harry's anger to latch onto him.

"Where are the contents that are supposed to be handed out during the will?" Harry asked his tone blank.

"They are secured in a vault to be dispersed during the reading of the will," Coop explained, even more on edge.

"I want you to retrieve them now," Harry stated his voice still emotionless.

Coop quickly vacated the room, realizing that the young lord wished to speak to his companion alone. Normally he would have protested at being asked to leave his office, it was his after all, but he didn't, he was rather glad to be getting out of that stifling room. Part of him wondered if the other goblins could sense the magic emanating from the teen too.

"Harry?" Severus questioned, not sure whether Harry was even in the mood to talk. Harry trusted him, yes, a little, but not one hundred percent, not quite yet. "Do you wish to talk about it?" giving him the opportunity but not pressing him. Pressing him would result in Harry getting even tighter lipped.

"You say you and my mother fell out when you were fifteen and didn't become friends right?" Harry asked, calmly.

"That is correct," Severus replied, frowning, trying to get to the underlying reason for the question but failing spectacularly.

"Apparently she trusted you enough with my life," Harry replied blandly.

Severus inhaled sharply, going marginally paler than normal, finally understanding Harry's pervious question and wishing he didn't.

"She knew how much danger the Longbottom's, Sirius and Remus were in and feared they wouldn't survive, she listed you to be my sole magical guardian if the Longbottom's or Sirius were gone. Naming you honorary godfather, apparently, she would have picked you if it had been solely up to her." not the actions of someone who didn't care. The Longbottom's were in as much danger as his mother and father due to the fact Neville was the other 'prophecy child' and Sirius was out there playing decoy for naught, since his parents had trusted a rat, literally. He hadn't had a clue that the Longbottom's were his godparents, another thing kept from him; honestly, he wasn't sure if he could be surprised by anything anymore.

Severus clenched his fists, his teeth gritting painfully furious beyond belief himself now.

"I have the requested items here, do you wish to go ahead and have the reading of the will, Lord Potter?" Coop asked, as he walked back around his desk and gratefully sat down; he'd run there and back as quickly as his legs could carry him. Thankfully it was in the one vault they were allowed into since it was information pertaining to the will.

"I'm not sure there's any point," Harry sighed, "Most people listed on the will are…permanently incapacitated or dead," there was only Remus, Sirius, Severus and himself left the Longbottom's were suffering a fate worse than death. People had always said his parents were popular…well according to their will it didn't seem that way at all. Dumbledore wasn't mentioned in his mother's will, wasn't given anything in his dad's will, which Harry did find fascinating. Perhaps they weren't as close to Dumbledore and the old man tried to lead him on to believe. Sirius wouldn't come out for the will reading without telling Dumbledore, so it wasn't the best of ideas. "I'll write to you when I want the will reading done but I would like for myself and Severus to be given the letters from my mother."

"Very well," Coop replied, opening the lily carved box, with a stag, wolf, grim and rat intricately woven with lilies. He flipped through the letters for the individuals until he got to the ones he wanted and swiftly removed them from the box and handed them over.

"Thank you," Harry stated, taking only his own allowing Severus to collect his, which he did with an almost discernible shake in his hands that Harry wouldn't have seen if he wasn't looking intently. "I would like to see all comings and goings from my accounts since Dumbledore took control of the Potter estate." A deep-rooted suspicion beginning to suffuse him. It could have been just shut down to stop him going to the Longbottom's and stop Sirius from being found out…but Harry believed this ran even deeper than he could fathom.

When several pages were handed over to him, Harry began to look over them, there was absolutely nothing coming in (except interest) the Potter estate was in a state of disrepair. His eyes widened when he saw there was money coming out and put into a Muggle bank account for not only the Dursley's but Arabella Figg. Those lying lousy bastards, taken him out of the goodness of their hearts, had they? It was little wonder they'd bloody kept him all this time. Money had always been a big motivator for the bloody social climbers. He'd been paying for the Dursley's extravagant lifestyle! Every damn bloody present Dudley had got had come from money that Dumbledore sent them. The cars, the holidays, the fact they'd paid for their damn house, all of it was from his damn account. "I want the money going to the Dursley's, Elphias Doge and Arabella Figg stopped effective immediately." he took solace in the fact they were suffering the tortures of the damned, they would regret everything they'd done to him, Doge would be next on his list. He was surprised Dumbledore hadn't just stole from him as well and been done with it, but he probably didn't need it with all the jobs he had.

Of course, he realized he'd spoken too soon, the next page listed over forty items had been removed from the Potter accounts over the past fourteen years. He'd actually taken the invisibility cloak, so much for his father entrusting it to him before he died. "The items…where are they?" he asked coldly, he had taken the Potter Grimoire out of his vault.

"That I am afraid you'll have to ask Albus Dumbledore," Coop replied, quivering under the desk, Merlin, why had he returned after getting out of his office earlier?

"And let me guess…there's not a damn thing I can do? He removed a priceless Potter Grimoire from one of the vaults!" Harry spat out furiously, luckily, he knew exactly what it was now thanks to everyone referring to his own inventions written in his book as a grimoire.

"Actually…there is a clause he signed when he became executor that could enable us to get the items back for a price of course," Coop informed him with a vicious smirk on his face, every goblin at Gringotts loathed the ground Dumbledore walked on.

"Then that would require him finding out about me," Harry cursed violently, fuming. He was actually trying to prevent that, but he would be damned if he let anything of his be touched by Dumbledore's slimy hands than it already had. Maybe he should just let the will be read, Dumbledore was already going to make his life hell anyway…so might as well just get this over with.

Severus was only half listening at this point, half his attention was on the letter in his hands; Lily's curvy handwriting was calling to him. He was desperately wanted to know what she had written, and more importantly why she had done it in a will instead of seeking him out. "I'm afraid you'll have to decide on what you want," Severus replied honestly, "Fortunately for all concerned…Dumbledore will have more concerns than you this year, so perhaps you are better off doing it."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, his green eyes gleaming in curiosity.

"The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts," Severus replied smoothly, "So yes, the best bet would be doing this now."

"How much do you want to retrieve my items?" Harry asked resignedly, trusting Severus, he knew Dumbledore better anyway.

"Ten galleons, for all items," Coop replied after looking at his own copy of the items list.

"Fine, but if you don't get them all you don't get the full amount," Harry warned, and fair was fair.

Coop nodded, a gnarly smirk spreading across its features. "Consider it done." he relished in the challenge actually, and looked forward to it.

"Have the will reading the first weekend after the school begins, I probably will be prevented from coming, but I already know what's in the will so it won't be a problem." Harry informed him, making his decision and hoping it wouldn't turn around and bite him in the ass. "Is there anything besides the letter that I would get at the will reading?"

"Yes," Coop replied, immediately withdrawing various keys from the box as well as another letter before handing them to the new Lord. Harry accepted them, still wondering why Dumbledore had felt the need to take his things, money he would have understood, people were greedy, it's the way it was.

"Thanks," Harry said standing up, he just wanted to get out of there, go back to the manor and blast some bloody dummies. He would just get what he wanted later. He wasn't in the mood for shopping now, the numbness was wearing off and the anger was mounting once more.

-0 End Flashback 0-

"A Reminder to put your school uniform on, we are approaching Hogsmeade station in five minutes," the magically amplified voice called out once again, making sure that all the students listened and got dressed in their uniform. Harry already had his uniform on, he didn't see the reason for keeping Muggle clothes on for a few hours then changing in a cramped compartment, not that it was cramped this year of course, since he had it all to himself. He strengthened his mental shields, refusing to think further on his trip to Gringotts, and the anticipation was back, the look on everyone's faces was going to be spectacular. He thrust his hand into his largened pocket and pulled out his invisibility cloak as the train began to slow down for its stop at Hogsmeade.

He watched as the first years were called by someone that most definitely wasn't Hagrid, very unusual. Shrugging his shoulders, not truly caring one way or another, another reason to be grateful that Hermione and Ron weren't there, he would have to pretend to care, not that he hated Hagrid just to whom his loyalty lay. They were quickly herded into the boat and all that could be seen was the lanterns carrying them across the water, people passed the window, getting into carriages for their quick ride to Hogwarts. He waited until they had all gone, Hermione and Ron were the last to leave, and with it their hopeful gazes had become worried again.

He'd just jumped off when the train began to move once more, where it was going Harry had no clue actually. He jumped on the last coach and as soon as he sat down the Thestral began to canter, easily catching up with the others. He stayed behind the others, his green eyes gleaming mischievously. Once he was alone, he removed his cloak and replaced it, the first years he could be heard being brought up by McGonagall.

So, without further delay, Harry walked into the Great Hall, the entire hall went utterly silent; you could have heard a pin drop.

Up at the top of the teachers table, Delores Umbridge went pale then red, as she stared at Harry Potter in utter shock. He was supposed to be dead! She'd sent the Dementors after him, he should be gone! She could scarcely believe her eyes, the anger brewed within her, and she had to stop herself from giving anything away.

Another teacher was having the exact same problem, just as angry when he saw the teenager, Dumbledore was utterly furious, the boy looked fine, healthy and Merlin help him he had to stop himself from strangling the boy for ruining his plans and for making him worry about the magical world should he not be able to find him.

Severus Snape watched it all, his amusement carefully hidden as he made sure to get everyone's reactions, he was sure it would amuse the Dark Lord to no end. Then it was as if someone had turned the volume back on as everyone began to chat loudly, Granger and Weasley calling out Harry's name in relief as they ran to their best friend profound happiness and relief written clear to see upon their faces.

Harry himself was having to stop himself from laughing out loud in sadistic delight at the mixed reactions he had to being there.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 18

"Mr. Potter you will come to my office the very second the feast is over, is that understood?" Dumbledore boomed over the now hushing Great Hall, all of them reacting to Dumbledore's anger, they all knew he wasn't easy to rile up, he always had a smile on his face, but it was times like those that they remembered vividly that he had defeated one of the darkest wizards the magical world had ever known. They swung around to see Harry's reaction, just out of curiosity and they blinked when they saw that Harry didn't even shed a single reaction, he was just standing there looking bored of all things.

"Understood," Harry replied his tone firm, idly wondering where to sit, before he bashed past Ron and Hermione and went to his section of the Gryffindor table just as McGonagall placed the hat on the stool and exited the Great Hall, bringing in the new first years who were predictably all gazing at everything with wide eyed wonder. He didn't give Weasley or Granger a single moment of his attention, they'd ignored him, well, they could now learn how it felt in return.

While everyone concentrated on Harry, Albus made his way to the antechamber and conjured his Patronus, sending it off and repeating the process with the second one. He knew exactly how to bend Harry to his will, Harry might try rebelling against him a little, but all of them? There was no way, he needed approval and reassurance too much to outright antagonise every single one of them. It was one of the many reasons he had sent Harry to the Dursley's, he needed his weapon malleable. Until now it had worked a treat, he contemplated against punishing him but instead bringing him into his confidence on a few things, with the illusion that he trusted him. He would see how the meeting went, and what Harry had to say for himself before he decided that. He slid back out and reclaimed his seat, his genial mask back in place as if he hadn't just raised his voice at one of his students.

Ron and Hermione shared a bewildered yet resigned look on their faces, before they moved back to their seats. Both of them lost in thought, wondering if Harry was going to completely ignore them or if he was just preoccupied from what Dumbledore said. They were so desperate to know where he'd been, what he'd been doing and if he had truly been safe. They could clearly see he had been eating well, he looked filled out, not gaunt like he usually was by the time Hogwarts rolled around. His hair had grown in and in his new robes it wasn't a surprise half the school were drooling over his new…image. For the first time many began to realize that Harry wasn't a child anymore, he was growing up.

"Is it just me or is something different about Potter?" Blaise questioned, eyeing the teenager with trepidation and quite frankly like a bug under an enlargement charm. Giving polite applause to the Hat whenever it shouted out Slytherin to welcome the new firsties.

Draco nodded slowly, "There is," he murmured, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, and he absently wondered if it had anything to do with his father's warning before his parents Apparated him to the magical platform so he could board the train for Hogwarts. His father had explicitly cautioned him from running his mouth first against any Gryffindors. That things were changing from what he knew, but he honestly hadn't truly understood exactly what his father was trying to get at. The fact he wasn't saying anything meant he couldn't and there was only one person who could tie his father's hands, the Dark Lord, he thought reverently and not so small amount of fear. He doubted very much, it had anything to do with Potter. The Dark Lord wanted Potter dead after all.

The other Slytherin's agreed, still eyeing Potter before they seemed to realize what they were doing and stopped. Glancing for the first time at the new first year Slytherin's they had, before quietly conversing with each other, but every now and again they would glance over just to see if they could figure out what was different with Potter.

"Harry?" Hermione said quietly, watching him from across the table, he was sitting there with one fist under his chin, the other rhythmically tapping his four fingers on the table looking torn between deep in thought and boredom. She'd never seen Harry like that before and she honestly didn't what to think.

"Suddenly remembered I existed, do you?" Harry asked, staring at her in mock surprise, his green eyes glimmering in annoyance. His tone loud enough that everyone in the vicinity heard what Harry said.

Hermione opened her mouth to explain they couldn't write, that Professor Dumbledore told them it was unsafe. Of course, she remembered exactly where she was, Harry wasn't going to react well, and she definitely didn't want him getting angry at her in the Great Hall where everybody could hear. No, they would talk when they got to Gryffindor common room. After her prefect rounds, she had a responsibility to the first years after all.

"What the hell's your problem?" Ron snapped, feeling very defensive all of a sudden, especially at the way he was staring at Hermione. He cringed under the glare Harry sent him, oh Merlin's balls, he wasn't just angry he was furious, he probably shouldn't have opened his bloody mouth. He was aware that sometimes he had no brain to mouth filter, but he just felt so defensive with the way Harry glared at Hermione. How she hadn't wilted under that glare he didn't know.

"Ron, calm down, and be quiet," Hermione urged, grasping a hold of his arm, listening to the speech Umbridge gave, after so shockingly interrupting Dumbledore as he was about to speak.

Ron didn't need to be told by Hermione, he was already looking away from Harry, only to realize that everyone nearby was watching them with curious speculation, going from them to the pink toad who was talking in such a disgusting voice. It wasn't the first time the 'golden trio' had fallen out, but this one was the most obvious of them all, even worse than what happened last year. He was starving, he hoped the food would come soon, he hadn't had anything on the train, with Harry not there to share his sweets, and his mum continued to forget he didn't like corned beef so it had been promptly stuffed into his bag and forgotten.

"I can't believe it," Hermione said indignantly, whispering due to the hush that had overcome everyone as they stared at the woman who would be their defence teacher - Professor Umbridge. "Did you just hear what she said?" turning to Harry only to realize he was still pretty much in the same bored position as before. Instead, she turned to Ron, only to see him sitting bored too! They hadn't been listening, why did they never listen?

The food came and then there was a mad rush to fill their plates, all of them eager to eat after the long wait. Ron as always, was overfilling his plate, salivating at the thought of eating.

"Wha…?" Ron muttered, rubbing his arm where Hermione had lightly punched him for ignoring her.

"Didn't you hear what she said? She's interfering with Hogwarts!" Hermione whispered in a hushed tone, eager to tell everyone as if they didn't already know.

"Yes, she made that pretty clear, we aren't stupid," Harry drawled, rolling his eyes, before he continued to eat. Why was he finding her irritable? She'd always been this way, thinking that everyone was unable to think intellectually. He did have to admit the underlying message was quite hard to understand if someone wasn't listening properly and it was true in the past, he'd constantly tuned out Dumbledore's speech. He had listened to this one; it wasn't every day that Dumbledore was interrupted, and the look on his face, twice in a single night, Merlin he was glad he had come back.

The pureblood's all glanced Harry's way, while he had never been a filthy eater the way Ronald Weasley was, he had never shown the proper decorum for the last heir of the Potter line. Yet here he was, eating properly, showing the proper etiquette. The Gryffindor purebloods were mildly surprised; perhaps a lot had changed after all. Had he claimed his heir status? Had someone been helping him understand the rules of pureblood society? Harry sensing the looks looked over his face impassive causing them to take a sudden very intense interest in their own dinners. Of course, if they knew whom Harry had learned from, they wouldn't be quite so curious but more terrified than anything else.

Harry absently wiped his mouth, placing the used cloth napkin on the table, it was distinctively odd, normally he wouldn't have been able to eat even a quarter of the food on his plate the intense regimen he'd been on had helped beyond what he'd assumed his potion would be capable off. He was proud of it, extremely so, he'd never really thought he'd get the chance to brew it when he was younger, let alone use it…not until he was sixteen at least and that was if he was able to find a place with a lab. The platters of remaining food, plates and utensils disappeared leaving the table completely bare, except where others had dropped food on the table, like a splatter of mashed potatoes that Ron was sticking his elbow in. It made his lips twitch despite his anger at them, same old Ron, some things didn't change and he was actually a little glad for that.

Then just as quickly the table filled with an array of assortment of desserts, Harry went for the glass bowl of fresh fruit, scooping up a large helping and placed it on his plate, while everyone else went for the sugary treats, cakes and ice cream. What could he say? He'd gotten too used to eating healthy, whenever he ate an excessive number of sweet treats, Voldemort had looked at him with an air of…well Harry still didn't know what it was actually, let's just say he'd been unimpressed and ensured less was available for consumption but not completely cut off.

Harry frowned while he ate the assortment of fruits he'd heaped on his plate, what had that feeling been just now? Was he actually missing Voldemort? Oh, bloody hell, he was too, it could be just the simple quietness? He knew even as he thought it that he wasn't exactly being entirely truthful. Shaking his thoughts off, taking his time in eating his dessert, trying to put off this upcoming interrogation. As fun as the thought was, enduring it wasn't anywhere near remotely pushing fun.

"Come on Ron, we have to take the students up to the common room," Hermione said, but before she stood up, she glanced at Harry, "We'll see you in the common room?" it wasn't a statement, it was a question, showing how insecure Hermione was feeling in her friendship right now.

"I'll send you an owl with a reply, shall I?" Harry asked sarcastically, standing up himself, he might as well get this over with, "Oh wait…I don't think I'll bother." he ignored Hermione's eyes misting up, they had to understand! They couldn't just do that to him, he was their friend! They were his only friends! Or had been, he liked Barty a lot, but they'd ignored him just because Dumbledore told them too. Now Hermione had done it, sure, but Ron? Ron who doesn't care about the rules overly much going along with the ride too? No, no he wasn't going to have friends who cared more about Dumbledore than they did him. He was going to put himself first from now on, even though he couldn't truly be his true self, he would let part of it come out. He finally understood what it was like to have friends that would stick with you through thick and thin.

Leaving behind devastated friends, Harry stalked out of the Great Hall; if he had looked back, he would have noticed that a few teachers were already gone. Now that he was walking, or rather stalking towards the Headmaster's office, he suddenly wanted this over with; no more stalling it would only delay the inevitable. A tiny smidgen of concern worked its way through him, but he was pretty confident that it would go alright. He had his broomstick shrunk and, in his pocket, if he needed a quick getaway.

It was only once he was in the corridor, the gargoyle at the other end did he realize he had no idea what the password was. Shrugging his shoulders, he pressed on; there was nothing he could do about that. Just as he got six-foot from the gargoyle it began to move, apparently Dumbledore had realized he wouldn't know the password either. Or so he thought.

"Wotcher Harry!" Tonks said, her cheerful personality on full display, grinning at him like they were best of friends when in actual fact, they had never met.

Harry blinked but nodded curtly at her, he had a bad feeling about this she was an Auror. He knew this from the information he'd been given on the Order through Voldemort and Severus. He stepped past her and made his way to the Headmaster's office, Tonks not far behind him, scrambling to catch up, and ending up tripping up. Harry made no move to help her, instead he just opened the door without knocking - what was the point when he was already expected.

He wasn't prepared for his…arrival party. Dumbledore had summoned the order to be part of this? He had to stamp down on his amusement, okay, this was definitely going to be fun. Dumbledore he though, to himself, you've just made your biggest mistake yet. He wasn't going to bow to their pressure.

"Oh Harry!" Molly cried out, coming forward and embracing him, paying no heed to the fact that Harry did not return the embrace. He just stood there stiff as a statue until she withdrew a look of awe on her face, he was all grown up! For the first time he wasn't a skinny little thing, he was filled out, soon to be a man, oh she was proud of him, and he was like another son to her. She opened her mouth to say more before deciding against it, and reclaiming her seat.

His eyes roamed around everyone his lip curling just a tad seeing the looks on their faces, but a warning glare from Severus, urging him not to take unnecessary risks. Instead, his face smoothed out, a hint of curiosity in his eyes; Dumbledore sat in the middle on his chair, lording over it as though he was a king. Huh, he'd thought Voldemort was the only one for dramatics like that, seemed he stood corrected. If he was waiting on him speaking, Dumbledore would be in for a long wait.

"Harry!" Sirius said, his grey eyes glimmering with relief as he embraced his godson.

"Do you know the trouble you've caused, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked his twinkle missing as he regarded Harry with severe disappointment.

"Trouble?" Harry queried cocking his head to the side, his green eyes glimmering innocently at Dumbledore, his brow furrowing as a show of confusion as Sirius who had stiffened at Dumbledore's words and gave Harry's should a squeeze before he sat back down. He didn't like being so far away from his godson or the fact everyone was judging him they didn't know what had happened yet.

"You know how important it is that you return to Privet Drive Mr. Potter," Dumbledore warned him, shaking his head sadly. "I have spoken to you about it many times in the past.

"Well, if I had listened to you, I would be dead," Harry stated his face still in his 'innocent I don't know what's going on' phase, even if there was a hard edge to voice now. Sound exploded from everyone, as they all called out wanting to know what the hell happened.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter and explain," Minerva stated waspishly, conjuring a red gaudy chair, which Harry actually did sit in. The glare she gave everyone caused them to stop the noise they were making.

"Why? Will you listen this time?" Harry questioned her, surprised to see her cheeks go red, but her face become indignant.

"One more wise crack from you, Mr. Potter and you'll have detention before school has officially started back up," Minerva warned him, she did not like her failures being flung in her face so callously by a child she actually cared for.

"But it isn't a wise crack, Professor, it's a genuine question, you dismiss everything I've ever said to you as untruthful," Harry pointed out, his green eyes still meeting his professors, a tired defeated look in them especially for her.

Minerva opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Albus began to talk.

"What happened? Was there Death Eaters in the vicinity?" Dumbledore questioned Harry, completely ignoring the staring match between the Gryffindor and his head of house.

The Order sat forward, worried and curious, many thinking and wondering how Harry had managed to get away if that was the case.

"If Voldemort started taking on Muggles, yes, my uncle decided to start the summer off in good fun by beating the hell out of me," Harry stated bluntly, having to bite his lip at their reaction, had they all just collectively flinched at a name? No wonder Voldemort wasn't worried about them, they were utterly incompetent. "I'm sure he would have killed me if I hadn't managed to stop him." he sat back enjoying the accusations and shouting going on at his pronouncement.

"I hope he's dead," Sirius snarled viciously, his voice heard above the pandemonium in the room, panting furiously at his godsons declaration, the only thing keeping him seated was Remus. How dare that filthy muggle put his hands on his godson? He had met him once and it left a disgusting taste in his mouth, but he'd gotten back at the fat prejudice prick.

"Dead? What are you talking about?" Harry asked, giving his godfather a strange look, forcing bewilderment on his face for all to see.

"Harry…the Dursley's…they're missing," Tonks said delicately as if she thought he'd despair, despite what she had just heard.

Harry laughed, "Missing? They've probably fled England with their tails between their legs! Is there any sign that they've been taken?" already knowing there wasn't. He had been there after all, no there was absolutely no proof.

"No," Dumbledore replied, trying to take back control of everyone.

"That's because they aren't, they probably got scared after I left and ran." Harry said shrugging his shoulders dismissively.

"Scared of what?" Dumbledore asked tersely, knowing the Dursley's wouldn't have gotten scared of a little accidental magic since he had constantly used it as a child.

Harry disrespectfully popped his feet up on Dumbledore's desk, gazing at his fingernails, "I may have inferred that my murderous criminal godfather was coming for them," ignoring the anger blazing from those blue eyes at his statement, Dumbledore definitely wasn't happy with him now.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, "I'll make a Marauder out of you yet, Harry," Sirius said proudly.

Harry grinned at his godfather; they had no idea it was amusing really. He supposed he did like Sirius a little, he didn't know him enough to really say he liked him a lot, or love him. He did wonder speculatively if he could get Sirius to go neutral during the war, like he was, although Harry had a feeling in his bones, he wasn't going to remain that way…he'd had too much fun during the summer, plus he was naturally a dark wizard and some of Voldemort's goals he agreed emphatically with.

"Do you know where they've gone?" Dumbledore demanded, sitting upright, he would need them back at Privet Drive the boy would be returning everything would get back to normal, he would have been relieved if his weapon hadn't gone against his wishes.

"No," Harry replied nonchalantly, "I don't care either," they would never see the light of day again; Dumbledore would never find them he didn't need to be a genuine to figure out what Dumbledore wanted.

"Where have you been?" Dumbledore then asked, his voice commanding Harry to tell him a blast of Wandless magic hit him, but it didn't absorb, his ring was doing its job all too well for that.

"Here and there," Harry said, "I didn't stay in one place too long, mostly from one hotel to the next every few days I didn't want to be found, I had no idea you were looking for me, why would I? I mean you're my Headmaster…Headmasters don't have a say in what their students do during the summer. You didn't know in my third year and you didn't bring me up here because of it. I mean there are hundreds of students down there right now who didn't spend their entire summer at home…" Harry pointed out, and Dumbledore wouldn't disbelieve him due to the spell he'd tried just moments ago, he would assume it had absorbed. Now he doubted Dumbledore would bring up the tracking charms, he wouldn't want to risk that getting out.

"Harry…has your uncle ever lifted his hand to you before the summer?" Sirius asked his grey eyes wide with worry.

Dumbledore's eyes widened comically, quickly clearing his throat, "Go on Mr. Potter, return to your dorm, I'm sure your friends are waiting on you." he wasn't going to risk Sirius Black finding everything out and complicating matters, he still couldn't get his mind around the fact that Harry had actually spouted out such words in front of the Order. He had made sure that Harry would never tell anyone; make sure that nobody would believe him. He was going to have to get very compelling; they weren't going to let him send Harry back quietly. He couldn't Obliviate them all, so that was unfortunately out of the question. He would have to make sure they realized Harry was exaggerating, he would just have to. "The consequences for your utter disregard for the rules, means that you will not be allowed to play Quidditch this year, you are banned from flying, and banned from Hogsmeade." he warned the teenager, he would get through to the boy that he could do nothing without his approval, he was Albus Dumbledore.

"I have students to welcome," Severus stated, taking his leave, "Move, Potter, I'll take you to your common room so you don't break anymore school rules tonight."

"Yes, Sir," Harry stated speaking to Dumbledore, glaring at his Potions Professor, he stood up and left the room, biting his lip savagely, that was three times he'd seen Dumbledore's mask crumble in a single night. He literally had to keep himself from laughing, he hadn't done or said half the things he wanted to, but it was enough that Dumbledore would be trying to smooth over the cracks that were appearing in the precious order. Sowing discord was easily done, keeping it up was harder but if it was successfully executed eventually, it would cause the suspicion to root deeply. Unfortunately for him…he knew some members of the Order actually knew about his abuse and didn't care. He couldn't accept so many people knowing about it and just going along, but if he was proven wrong then fair enough.

Severus nor Harry spoke as they walked along the corridors, it was only once they were in a hallway that did not have portraits that Severus turned to face the teenager casting his 'Muffliato' just to be on the safe side. "Be careful," he stated once more, he had seen the spells Albus had admittedly very subtly flung at Harry, he doubted anyone else noticed, but he was a Slytherin and a spy, he noticed everything. The knowledge that Harry was safe from them because of his ring had been the only thing stopping him from worrying overly much. He would deny that until his dying breath though. Harry was being cautious though, for that he was grateful, he had left as soon as he had been commanded to by Dumbledore, he would think his spells had attached for the moment. Who knows how long it would last, and when Dumbledore tried again. He knew Dumbledore had a penchant for this sort of thing, but he hadn't realized he was putting them on Harry, but given how powerful he was, they wouldn't have lasted too long, how had he avoided them in the past?

"So that's the order?" Harry asked dryly, scoffing a little.

"Indeed," Severus replied, finding it distinctively odd to hear Harry's voice through Potter's mask. "Do not underestimate them, they might seem useless, however some of them have deep political ties and are magically powerful, they wouldn't be there if they didn't serve a purpose." he added before walking, the bubble surrounding them continued with them. "Tell me, has he put spells on you in the past?" he didn't have to worry about anyone understanding what they were saying. Anyone eavesdropping would hear constant buzzing and their mouths were blurred preventing any lip reading, he wasn't a fool.

"Of course he has," Harry replied shrugging his shoulders, "I've always been sensitive to magic so I knew what he was doing, I made to sure remove them when I figured out what was going on but it's only been two or three times to get me to investigate the mystery surrounding the stone, another to find out who the heir of Slytherin was…but I think my own curiosity overrode that, being curious and acting though are two different things and I wouldn't have done anything but it would have looked suspicious." Doge hadn't been there…had Voldemort already captured him or was it something they'd do together? The thought of it actually excited him immensely; he had all those lovely spells and potions he so desperately wanted to try. Now he wanted the Dursley's to suffer completely, but Doge he didn't care if the old man died after one round…just as long as it was painful. The Dursley's though he was determined would suffer for years before he let them out of their misery; after all they'd done to him it was the least, they deserved.

Harry groaned suddenly as they stood outside the common room, he didn't know the password for the common room either! Grumbling inwardly, he pounded on the portrait door, getting the attention of the Gryffindors so he wasn't standing out here waiting on someone coming out or less likely coming in.

"Remember what I said, I better hear of your improvements in class." Severus warned him quickly removing the spell, and added "Oh and Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek." instead of getting furious, Harry's lips just twitched, his eyes rolled as if he honestly didn't care about Gryffindor…Severus not waiting around for any students to see him, instead he turned on his heel and began to march away, he did have his newest set of Slytherin's to welcome it was true.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 19

Harry entered the common room, giving a nod of thanks to Neville who had been the one to actually get up and answer his knocking. The nervous boy scurried back off to the corner, where he picked up his book on herbology again. The loudness grated on Harry's frayed nerves, the Gryffindors had always been a rowdy bunch, it had never bothered him overly much, not until now. It was distinctively odd; he always looked forward to this after spending a summer ignored, surely a few months somewhere else couldn't have changed that? It was becoming all too apparent that it had. The first years were up in their dorm rooms getting settled in, since they weren't here, neither were Ron and Hermione actually he noticed feeling relieved.

"How was your summer, Nev?" Harry asked approaching the teen, he had no desire to go up to the dorm room quite so early.

Neville shifted, paling a little, "Er, it was alright, the usual, you know," Neville mumbled nervously.

Harry blinked, staring even more intently at the teenager, why was he so nervous? Could it have something to do with his parents? He already knew what happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom; he had seen it in Dumbledore's pensive. Neville didn't know that though, and he had no intention of telling him, Neville obviously kept it from everyone for a reason, to know Dumbledore had deliberately let it drop would probably hurt the teenager. Neville might be his age, but half the time he didn't act like it, he acted more like a startled doe eyed first year student. Harry just grinned at Neville, not sure how else to react, it wasn't as if Neville was continuing the conversation he had started now was it?

"W-w-what about you?" Neville stuttered, his eyes a little larger than normal.

"It was brilliant for once!" Harry said, his grin becoming more genuine, and the answer was completely honest. Was Neville nervous because of him? He didn't seem so nervous around Seamus and Dean…at least not quite like this at any rate. Oh, Neville had no idea how lucky he had it, to think if the situation had been different that Neville would have been crowned The-Boy-Who-Lived? The bigger question was would he have? Would Neville still have been the same? Still a stuttering nervous mess? Either way if things hadn't gone the way they had would he and Neville have grown up to be best friends?

"Good," Neville murmured, half smiling at Harry, before turning to stare into the fire lost in his own little world. He wasn't used to anyone paying a lot of attention to him, especially not Harry Potter of all people! Harry barely glanced away from Ron and Hermione long enough to greet anyone, even the rest of the Quidditch team.

"I'm going to head up to the dorm, I'll see you later," Harry informed Neville, shaking his head, with that he moved away and began to wander up the spiralling tower staircase. There was no point to sitting there waiting on Neville continuing the conversation. Maybe it was him that made Neville worse, or perhaps he just didn't want to be friends with him, it happened.

Harry had literally just closed the door when a House-elf became visible, it was absolutely filthy and the words spewing out of its mouth was hilarious. It had obviously been waiting there; it certainly hadn't popped since he hadn't heard a sound. It had on a pillowcase it was grey and quite filthy, he was no better than Dobby when they met. Although, truth was, Dobby still had that pillowcase on he just wore other things, including knitted stuff.

"Who are you and who do you belong to?" Harry barked out, knowing better than to be too kind, otherwise it would start blubbering, Dobby had well and truly pounded that into him.

"The filthy half-blood is talking to Kreacher," it wheezed heavily before glancing up at him, "I is be Kreacher, filthy blood traitor Master Black wanted me to give you this," he handed over the box before muttering a few other expletive words.

"Leave!" Harry barked in annoyance, it was obviously completely insane; he wasn't sure whether Kreacher was insulting them without realizing he could be overheard or was blatantly doing it and trying to pretend he didn't know they could hear him. Shrugging his shoulders in annoyance, he sat down on his bed, staring at the small square package, casting detection spells at it, but found nothing harmful. Unwrapping it carefully, he cast yet another series of spells at it, and found nothing on the inner box, removing the lid; he found a mirror and a letter inside. Cautiously he did the same thing two more times, but there was nothing harmful in the letter or mirror. Although there were plenty of spells on the mirror, one similar to the protean charm.

Opening the letter, he realized was from Sirius, he found it short and to the point, signed 'Padfoot'. Apparently, the mirror was a two-way mirror that he and his father had used as teenagers. To speak to Sirius all he had to do was say his name and it would glow blue, as soon as he could he promised to answer it. He had meant to give it to him at the meeting but hadn't had the time and he also apologised for anything 'the elf' had said, not using his name. Harry frowned, displeased by that, mostly due to the fact he knew how it felt to be treated that badly. He'd been practically a House-elf for ten years at the Dursley's before he found out about magic. Nobody and nothing deserved that.

"Muffliato!" Harry cast around his bed, now nobody would overhear him, especially Ron, who he wasn't sure he could trust, heck, he couldn't trust anyone, especially if Dumbledore could read their minds as easy as breathing. He shifted around until he got comfortable, levitating the mirror in the air so he didn't have to hold onto it the entire conversation he'd have with his godfather. He had a feeling it was going to be a long one. Well, depending on which side he took.

"Sirius Black?" Harry said, feeling stupid talking to a mirror, talking to himself. He wasn't for long, as soon as the mirror glowed blue, he was staring at Sirius' face.

"HARRY!" Sirius called out, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Merlin it was so good to see his godson, he had been so worried about him this summer. Now this new knowledge had been forced upon him, he was terrified of the answered he'd get but he had to get them, it was why he had sent Kreacher to Harry instead of sending an owl, it would take far too long and he was losing his mind as it was. He didn't even want to think on the fact it could be true, because it would mean he'd failed him more than once, and he couldn't bear that.

"Hello, Sirius," Harry replied, "Sirius…did you ever take a potion to help with the effects of the Dementors after you got out of Azkaban?" he knew it would help Sirius a whole lot, hell it had helped Barty immensely.

"Um, no," Sirius replied honestly, blinking at his godson in shocked surprise.

"Why?" Harry asked grimly, still staring unblinkingly at the image in the mirror.

"It's not like I can go into a shop and buy it Harry, only the Ministry makes it," Sirius pointed out, not that he'd ever considered taking it.

"I have brewed some for you, would you take it? For me?" Harry pleaded with him, knowing Sirius wouldn't be able to deny him…or at least hoping so at any rate.

"You did?" Sirius rasped out incredulously, how on earth could Harry brew that potion? Only the best of the best could brew it, it was extremely tricky and he doubted even he could brew it. Truthfully though he hadn't brewed a potion since he was at Hogwarts, when he was seventeen years old. He'd done what he had to so he could try to become an Auror but that was it. Slughorn hadn't liked him or James overly much but he fawned over Lily and Snape. "How did you manage that…the potion is impossible to brew!"

"I'm really good at potions actually, especially without the Slytherin's throwing things in my cauldron or Snape breathing down my neck." Harry revealed, "I'm surprised you haven't tried to brew it, you did get an Outstanding or Exceeded Expectations in your N.E.W.T's right? You had to if you'd wanted to become an Auror, right?" not that Sirius or his father had become Aurors, merely emmeshed themselves in the Order and defeating Voldemort listening to everything Dumbledore said as if it was gospel.

"I haven't touched a cauldron since my N.E.W.T's exam when I was a teenager; it's not my favourite subject." Sirius admitted sheepishly. Surprised they were sitting there talking about potions and being students, he had questions he wanted answered to damn it. Yet just speaking to Harry was cathartic after all the worry he'd been put through this summer. He was also at a loss as to why Harry hadn't once gotten in touch with him.

"I'm going to guess anything sitting down and requiring you to look at a book isn't your favourite subject," Harry said sardonically, biting his tongue to stop himself laughing at the insulted look on Sirius' face. "Send Kreacher over again quickly and I'll give you the potions," with that Harry scrambled off his bed and opened his trunk, digging into the trunk until he found the box containing all the potions, he didn't have to worry about Kreacher doing anything to damage them since they were spelled unbreakable. Just as he was closing the trunk Kreacher reappeared, Harry passed over the box which the elf took with great reluctance as if something nasty was being shoved under his nose.

"Take one when you go to bed, another when you wake up until the vials are done," Harry informed him, seeing Kreacher handing the box over through the mirror.

"I want you to answer my question," Sirius blurted out, unable to keep silent.

"You didn't ask me one," Harry said feigning ignorance, he knew what Sirius wanted to know and he would make him work for it.

"The Dursley's HARRY!" Sirius shouted grey eyes filled with fear and horror.

"Oh, you want to hear what they've done to me? The question is do you, Sirius? Do you really?" Harry asked, "Or is it something you're going to discuss with Dumbledore behind my back once I tell you?"

"What?" Sirius muttered gaping at Harry confused as hell.

"Oh, come on, Sirius, you didn't make a secret of it last year, all your letters contained 'Dumbledore thinks' at least once or twice, everything I told you, you just ran along and told Dumbledore." Harry pointed out, putting on a mask of hurt and betrayal on his face.

"But Harry…this connection…I didn't know what to think…I was afraid for you…" Sirius replied wounded, what on earth did his godson think of him?

"Where you afraid for me when you left me alone after seeing Voldemort resurrected and decided to go and round up the old order members instead of visiting me? Five minutes, I mean just five minutes and to know you cared…it would have meant the world to me." Harry said, suddenly feeling very tired. He was so sick and tired of everyone just listening to Dumbledore and not giving a shit about him or his feelings.

Sirius swallowed thickly, this wasn't how he had planned this conversation, not at all. "I couldn't be seen at Hogwarts…I'm a wanted wizard, you know that." even he knew his protest was weak.

"And not writing to me at all this summer?" Harry asked, his tiredness showing through.

"I did!" Sirius protested, "They came back."

"You mean after Dumbledore noticed I was missing? Only then did you think of writing to me? You used to break all the school rules at Hogwarts, but now you'll listen to Dumbledore and do everything he asks you…even if it means ignoring me? I had just seen Voldemort brought back for Merlin's sake, I'm your godson! And you didn't think for a second, I should hear from you? It makes me wonder why my parents chose you as godfather…it seems there's always been something more important than me to you my entire life. Going after Pettigrew after I'd just been hit with the killing curse, handing me over to Hagrid, going after Pettigrew again in my third year, going after the order…I'm so tired of it Sirius…please don't pretend you care it hurts too much." Harry said weakly, it was wrong to manipulate his godfather he knew, but he wanted Sirius on his side so he would do whatever he needed to accomplish it. Whether it was weigh him down in guilt or vengeance. This was just the start; he was going to slowly lay it out for Sirius, so that he would slowly be consumed by anger and betrayal. Oh, he doubted Sirius would join Voldemort, but being neutral was the best thing he could get Sirius to be…hopefully. He just wasn't sure if it would work…so far it genuinely did seem like Sirius didn't care…part of him wished he did despite himself.

Sirius swallowed thickly again, opening and closing his mouth, staring at his godson as if he had never seen him before. Perhaps he hadn't this was the first time they had truly spoken to each other, since the night he flew away on Buckbeak.

"I mean you're meant to be my godfather but I'm the one who's done nothing but look after you. I saved you from the Dementors kiss, me your thirteen-year-old godson fought off a hundred Dementors to keep you safe while I was just as affected as you. I used a time-tuner and got you to safety before you could be kissed yet again when you were captured. I brought you food to make sure you were eating…I haven't done anything to deserve you ignoring me Sirius…is it because I'm not like my dad…like you said that day because I didn't want you coming to Hogsmeade in case you were captured?" Harry asked plaintively. "I didn't grow up with dad; I don't know anything about him…how can I? There's nobody who ever talks about him, you nor Remus have ever given me more than just a few scraps of information! I know I look like my dad its' been told often enough but that seems to be the only thing anyone sees!" hell Severus had told him so much about his mum while they brewed potions together, he knew more about her than he knew about his dad, not that he minded truly, he loved the fact he knew about his mum…but Sirius and Remus had been in his life longer than he got on with Severus and still didn't know a smidgen of information on his dad.

Sirius just sat there gaping; he looked for all the world completely stunned.

"As for what happened at the Dursley's I'll tell you, but only after you've finished the potions, I have to go," Harry said, before Sirius could say anything Harry muttered "Deactivate!"

"HARRY!" Sirius called into the mirror, staring at it in devastation, for the first time he was beginning to realize just how much he had messed up. He'd felt so guilty about going after Pettigrew, still did, but the whole slew of things he hadn't realized he was doing to his godson weighed heavily on Sirius' burdened damaged soul. His stomach felt queasy, he almost, almost wanted to be sick, staring at the box feeling very unworthy, but never daring to dump them, his godson had made them especially for him, and they weren't easy to brew. He'd obviously lied to Dumbledore about where he had been there was no way he could have brewed these potions in a hotel.

Suddenly not wanting to listen to Kreacher's muttering, he delicately grabbed the box, holding them to his chest as if he was afraid they'd disappear and he left the kitchen without another word. Hastily making his way up the stairs, squirreling himself away in his bedroom the only place he got peace and quiet. He slunk into his bed, utterly gutted and feeling like a complete failure. Not that it was a new experience, Sirius had felt like this the majority of his life.

The next morning Harry woke up greatly refreshed, wondering what the day would bring. Oddly enough as soon as he parted his curtains and Seamus noticed him, he began to dress ten times faster than normal before vacating the room as if the grim was on his heels. Arching an amused eyebrow, he shook his head; sometimes people just didn't make sense to him. Dean looked tense and Neville just smiled consolingly at him, evidently, he was missing something. He grumbled under his breathe, it didn't matter, he didn't want to put up with whatever bullshit that was circulating Hogwarts right now.

Shrugging his shoulders, he got dressed himself, nobody said anything about the band around his ankle, Voldemort hadn't removed it merely deactivated it. He messed with his tie on the way down to the common room, getting it to sit straight, which he successfully did just before he got into the common room listening to Hermione and Ron going on about Lavender and Seamus not believing that Voldemort was back.

Perhaps he had been a bit too hasty in his bid to come back to Hogwarts, he thought as he walked through the common room, aware of all the eyes on him. They were treating him like they had in his second year; as if he was about to suddenly start attacking everyone just because he could talk to snakes. He was so bloody tired of their hypocritical bullshit, of the way they treat him, and surely they can't think they could do this to him then expect him to be all forgiving the next day? Oh, that's exactly what they wanted he knew that. He glared at the Ravenclaw's who all huddled together as they passed him. He snorted derisively at their actions, like he could care less about them! All this was doing was showing just how pathetic the light side was, at least with Voldemort there was a sense of camaraderie…just a bit. Unfortunately he had to take his O.W.L's, at least, just so he could continue to use magic. Perhaps he should just head to the Ministry and take his exams independently.

Harry sat down in his usual seat, pointedly ignoring everyone that was until Katie stalked up to him. "Good summer?" she asked, but without waiting for an answer she continued on, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Okay, quick question, why are you telling me?" Harry asked, staring at her blankly, hadn't McGonagall told her the news yet?

"With Oliver gone, I'm holding tryouts for a Keeper on Friday at five o'clock I want the whole team there." Katie explained.

Harry snorted, "No, you're not just holding tryouts for a Keeper, you're doing tryouts for both a keeper and a seeker." he informed her.

"What are you going on about?" Katie asked perplexed, her eyes widened, "You're not quitting on me!"

"No, no I'm not, I've been suspended from Quidditch, flying and Hogsmeade weekends," Harry informed her bluntly, a little bit of bitterness coating his voice.

"We've not even been back a day! What did you do?" Katie choked out, unable to believe she wasn't going to have Harry as a seeker this year; she would need to talk to McGonagall and try to make her see reason.

"Your guess is good at mine, apparently because of my utter disregard for the rules by running away, I'm being punished." Harry replied sardonically.

"BUT WHAT YOU DO DURING THE SUMMER HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOGWARTS!" Katie screeched, extremely upset by the unfair punishment forced upon all Gryffindors. "I'll talk to Professor McGonagall," she said determinedly.

"Don't bother," Harry said shaking his head, "I won't play even if they decide to overturn the suspension."

"Come on Harry, that's just cutting your nose of to spite your face!" Katie complained.

"Can you blame me?" Harry asked her honestly, "I'm pretty sure anyone in my shoes would do the same thing." he pointed out.

Katie just stood there, gaping, before grudgingly sighing and agreeing with him. If she had been punished in such a way for something she didn't to at Hogwarts she probably would react the same way. Harry accepted the timetable McGonagall handed him without looking at her, but judging by the way Katie was looking at their head of house she was never going to hear the end of it.

"Look at today!" Harry heard Ron complain as he always did when he got his new timetable, "History of magic, double potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts…Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge all in one day!…" Harry ignored the rest of his complaint by immersing himself in his new timetable as he served himself some breakfast and absently ate it; sliding his timetable into his history book he shoved it properly into his bag.

Well he had an entire hour of listening to Binn's today, then something a little more lively, potions, this year he wasn't holding any prisoners…not that he was allowed to. Both Severus and Voldemort had threatened him against getting his usual grades. Starting with History of magic, which he was barely passing, well not so much anymore, Voldemort had made him read and memories even N.E.W.T's questions he knew if he were to take the exam it he'd probably pass. Voldemort was a harsh taskmaster, there was no denying that, but he knew that already the duelling they'd done…or rather he'd felt like a dummy to begin with.

Harry entered the dungeons when Seve-Snape he had to remind himself, he couldn't slip up here of all places, and instead of taking his seat beside Ron and Hermione in the back, he sat himself in one of the benches that was normally empty. He had to bite his tongue when he heard Snape call on them to 'Settle down' which was pointless since everyone remained quiet in Snape's class, he'd made it more than clear he would give detention to anyone found talking in his class…right from first year.

"Before we begin today's lesson," Severus said, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are I expect you to scrape an acceptable in your OWL, or suffer my displeasure."

He strode to the front before continuing, "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me, I take only the very best into my NEWT potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." now Severus had definitely glanced at him, Harry's lips twitched and he arched an eyebrow, oh he had no doubt that Severus would be glad to see the back of many students, and he would have been one of them…if this summer had not happened.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Severus replied softly, "So whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT potions, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students."

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned, if you are too heavy handed with some of the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to play close attention to what you are doing." Severus explained his lip curling as he noticed as always Granger was sitting up right, determinedly.

With a few flicks of his wand, the board was writing out the instructions or as the professor always said 'method' everyone immediately began rushing to gather the ingredients to start the potion. Harry decided to wait, he was only slightly surprised that there had been no questions, he usually did that without fail, and maybe there wasn't enough time? The potion did take the entire duration of their double period he summarised.

"Harry what are you doing?" Hermione whispered urgently, seeing him still sitting there, the professor was going to be so furious if he didn't brew the potion. She looked a cross between wanting to stay there and continue reprimanding him or getting her own potion quickly started to. When Harry continued to ignore her, her decision was made and she quickly scurried to her own desk, and began preparing her ingredients. Occasionally looking up at Harry worriedly, wondering what was going through his mind.

Only once the majority of the students had returned did Harry stand up and retrieve his own set of ingredients, setting up his cauldron, casting a shield charm over it so that nothing not by his own hand could be thrown into his cauldron. The potion would have been quite a difficult potion to brew if Harry hadn't created and brewed more difficult ones himself this summer. The directions were very precise, and like Severus had warned, if they were too heavy handed, it would go wrong.

Harry flicked his wand at the bottom of his cauldron, simmering the flame lightly to the level required for the potion to simmer, which he allowed for precisely six minutes before he added the last ingredient. Smirking in satisfaction, at both the pieces of potion ingredient that had been flicked onto his table, after bouncing harmlessly of his shield and the fact his potion was the right colour and consistency for once…well at Hogwarts at any rate. Harry wiped his forehead, sweating profusely, the constant heat made one glad they brewed in a dungeon sometimes.

"A light silver vapour should be now rising from your potion," Severus called to his students, noticing the ones that definitely didn't have it rising from their potions.

"Well, well, Potter, it seems if you keep this up you might just pass your OWL after all," Severus said, staring down at the potion, a grimace on his face. "Five points to Gryffindor," Harry's eyebrows rose up in surprise as his jaw dropped, he couldn't believe it! Snape had just awarded Gryffindor points! To him! He wasn't the only one surprised both the Gryffindors and Slytherins were gasping and whispering to their neighbours unable to believe their ears. "Those who have brewed the potion, put it into a vial, label it clearly and put it on my desk. Homework will be twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in Thursday." Amused by the looks he was getting from both his Slytherins and the astonished Gryffindors.

Severus had to stop himself smirking in satisfaction at Harry's genuine emotion and the fact that Granger was staring at Harry's cauldron as if she'd never seen one before. Merlin he slightly wished he could find a reason to be in each of Harry's classes just to see the looks on Grangers face. She'd never had competition before, except in defence, but now that wasn't going to be the case anymore. He moved on to the other cauldrons already looking for a reason to deduct the potions he'd awarded.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Longbottom, for this disgrace of a potion, zero points," Severus stated sharply, banishing the contents of the potion, before he went over to Ron's cauldron and did the same thing, minus the loss of points.

Harry just rolled his eyes, well there we go, he managed to remove them as quickly as he gave them, he thought wryly. Not that Harry really cared about house points anymore, it was just stupid. He had stopped caring about a lot of things these days, it just seemed so childish. Just then he saw Goyle's vial shatter and his robes caught on fire. He stood there and enjoyed the show before putting his unbreakable vial on the desk, clearly labelled with his name. It was lunch time and he was glad for it, he was utterly starving, his own fault really for not having much breakfast. Harry quickly cleaned up his workstation and scooped up his bag the second Severus dismissed the class he was gone.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 20

Harry was inwardly cursing Voldemort five ways to Sunday; it was his fault they were forced to endure the worst kind of wizard or witch in the magical world when it came to their Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Despite the Ministry sending her, it wouldn't have been possible if Voldemort hadn't cursed the damn position anyway, and stopped any half sane person from wanting the title as DADA professor. The room was just horrendous, pink and gaudy, he would have rather had Quirrell's setting than this, and the smell of garlic had been overwhelming so that was saying something. The damn book Umbridge had picked for them to read was tedious, it was actually the first-time magic hadn't been exciting to him, he wondered idly if he would get away with transfiguring her into a toad, nobody needed to know after all.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge asked, causing Harry to look up, he saw the class all staring at Hermione rather than read the book, which he couldn't fault, it wasn't like Hermione to disobey a teacher he thought darkly. Or worse not to read a book that was planted in front of her. He silently shook his head, they were playing right into her hands, he was expected to as well, but he wasn't going to, he was through playing the 'golden boy'.

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione said, finally lowering her hand which had been waving in the air - goodness knows how long.

"Well, we're reading just now," Umbridge said, "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione informed her.

"And your name is?" Umbridge then asked, her face a mask of feigned politeness.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Umbridge said. Harry was impressed how her voice didn't reveal the sarcasm behind her words, instead it was just sugary and sweet, and quite disgusting really.

"Well, I don't," Hermione said bluntly, "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells,"

So, if it's about her school work, she would stand up to a professor and let them know she wasn't happy. When it came to him? Apparently, she and Dumbledore knew better. Harry wanted to feel anger, but really all he felt was sadness, four years of friendship, and school was still the most important thing to her, never him. Fuck her, he thought bitterly, if he'd had any notion of being friends with them again, this had just well and truly wiped the slate clean. If she wanted to go ahead and question a Ministry official and a teacher about her work, but not question Dumbledore on him then she deserved whatever came her way, screw it.

Ron's cry of not using magic brought him out of his dark angry thoughts.

"Mr?" Umbridge asked, her face never changing as she dealt with the angry class.

"Weasley," Ron stated sharply.

Harry noticed Umbridge watching him with her beady eyes for a second before calling on Hermione again.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you wanted to ask something else?" Umbridge was clearly getting a little exasperated.

"Yes, surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Art is to practise defensive spells?" Hermione said in that usual haughty I know better than you tone.

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked, the only sign of her annoyance was her eyes narrowing further, her annoyingly sugary voice still present.

"No but-" Hermione continued to argue.

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive sells in a secure, risk-free way." Umbridge replied.

"But we need to learn for our OWLS!" Hermione protested. "We can't do that if the first time we use the spells are during our practical exams!" the others all cried out their agreements, they couldn't believe they weren't going to be learning any spells all year.

"I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds." Umbridge informed them. "And it is to my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you he actually performed them on you. It's quite obvious you've been scared into thinking you need to know how to defend yourself." she chided them.

"Professor Lupin was the best we ever had!" Dean cried out in defence of his favourite professor.

"Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas!" Umbridge sang nastily. "As I was saying it's quite obvious you've been introduced to spells beyond your age group and potentially lethal. In my class you will now learn in a safe risk-free environment."

Harry had to actually admit Umbridge did have a point, each teacher had gotten steadily worse than the last. It was just a damn shame they'd only interfered when they wanted something, he presumed they wanted something…unless it was to keep an eye on him. He wouldn't put anything past anyone these days. He was aware of everyone glancing at him every so often, as if they were expecting him to defend them all. Ron's was more indignant and Hermione's was just confused.

"And your name is?" Umbridge asked, when she noticed yet another hand up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?" Parvati asked.

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Umbridge waved away the girls concern as if it was nothing.

"Without ever practising them beforehand?" Parvati said incredulously, "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat as long as you've studied the theory hard enough there is no reason why you shouldn't be able to perform the spells." Umbridge stated.

"Harry why aren't you saying anything!" Ron whispered to Harry, annoyance and irritation showing on his face, having noticed that Harry was the only one remaining silent out of them all, it wasn't hard to notice since Harry had sat next to him, not out of choice, but due to necessity since there had been no other seat available.

"You have something you wish to say, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge asked, daring him to say anything.

"No, professor, I don't." Harry stated calmly, much like Umbridge wearing a mask, but his was completely blank.

"Harry!" Ron hissed, his face going bright red.

"I assume you are responsible for this display, Mr. Potter? Detention tonight, with me for encouraging this nasty behaviour." Umbridge said smiling nastily.

Harry merely blinked at her, as soon as Umbridge had turned away strutting like a peacock, Harry glared coldly at Ron, then gritting his teeth in fury. The teen next to him cringed and looked away abruptly, his red face paling as anger drained from him replaced with worry, Harry had never looked at him like that before and quite frankly Ron was intimidated by it. He knew his best mate – was he his friend anymore? They hadn't spoken at all since school started back up – was extremely powerful.

"Now read the rest of the chapter or you will all join Mr. Potter in detention tonight," Umbridge said as she sat back down in her seat, obviously through playing any games with the others.

Harry spent the rest of the class seething inwardly, why had he decided to come back to Hogwarts again? Hogwarts had been his home, the one place where he could use magic, not be abused and he'd loved it even when his life was endangered, truthfully though, being with his relatives had been a danger onto itself, if he hadn't had as much magic as he did, he would have probably killed him before he was eleven. Who would have thought he'd miss Voldemort's manor?

The class seemed to last forever, it was quite honestly the most tedious class he'd ever endured, he'd have preferred another two hours of Binn's than have another DADA class again. So, when the bell rang, Harry quickly put his book in his bag, ready to leave as quickly as humanly possible.

"I will see you at five o'clock for your detention, Mr. Potter," Umbridge sang as soon as the bell stopped, Harry nodded curtly, before turning around and forcing himself to walk slowly out of the door, he would not let the bitch know she was getting to him. Knowing if he sat anywhere near Ron, he'd be liable to lose his temper, he decided to make his way up to the common room while everyone went down to dinner. He would get his homework for Potions done, then go for his bloody detention with Umbridge he thought, muttering the password to get into the common room and slumping down in one of the seats, and taking out a roll of parchment and beginning to do 'the properties of moonstone and its uses' and he began to scribble away, having no trouble doing the amount that Professor Snape required of him.

"Well? Sit down," Umbridge told him, gesturing with her short stubby fingers in the direction of a seat.

"You are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, watching him dig into his bag she added, "Not with your own, but a special one of mine."

Harry stiffened at the tone in her voice, it was like the ones Petunia used when she wanted something from someone she absolutely hated, or rather when she actually got the thing she wanted most. She was up to something, he stared up enquiringly, his head cocked to the side just so.

"I want you to write the lines, I must not cause chaos," she informed him.

"I had nothing to do with what happened," Harry replied, his tone calm revealing none of the irritation showing.

"Perhaps I must not tell lies would be more appropriate," Umbridge said, eyes gleaming.

"How many times?" Harry queried, mentally chanting 'don't let her get to you' a hundred times in his mind.

"As many times as, it takes for the message to sink in," Umbridge stated.

"You haven't given me any ink," Harry informed her blankly. Already knowing this was going to be the worst detention he'd suffered through.

"Oh, you won't need any ink," Umbridge tittered.

Harry dismissed her and began to write, stifling any signs of surprise with ease, as a sharp pain throbbed in his hand. What on earth was that? It was writing it out with his blood! He had never heard of such a thing, wait…he had, but those were only for like the most severe of contracts, but that had been way back in the day. Was it even the same thing? What had they been called again? He continued to write, enduring the pain, as he thought on it. He couldn't remember what they were called, but even he couldn't keep his attention from wandering to his throbbing hand, it was getting more painful as he continued to write the lines, so much so he was actually having a great deal of difficulty masking it. He sneered at himself, he had damn well endured a lot worse than this in his time, he was not going to let her get the better of him.

A sudden sharp rap at the door actually had Umbridge looking nervous, as she stood up and walked towards the door, opening it and refusing to allow whoever it was entrance into her class.

"How can I help you?" Umbridge asked in her sugary tone.

"I believe you have Mr. Potter in detention?" Severus stated sharply, his tone filled with aggravation and annoyance, nothing showed that he had actually left Hogwarts through the Floo network and returned, hastily making his way here.

"I do," Umbridge replied.

"Did Potter not tell you he has detention with me for a week? Every single day." Severus informed her smoothly. "Since I gave him detention first, the boy serves them with me. Potter, get out here this instant." his voice angry and booking no disobedience.

Harry didn't hesitate, he grabbed his bag and hastily made his way over, looking down at the floor, making a show of reluctance, making sure to take the bloodied lines with him. "Excuse me professor," he said, before sliding out of the room when she had no choice but to move aside. It was obvious she was stunned by what was happening and had absolutely nothing she could say in retaliation to ensure Harry wasn't subjected to her detention.

"Follow me, Potter," Severus snapped, before striding away, Harry followed him, slightly confused, he knew Severus hadn't given him detention so why was he even here? Why had he given him a week's detention? He was obvious missing something…it should have been staring him in the face but for some reason…he couldn't grasp it.

With Severus walking so swiftly it didn't take much time at all to get from the Defence classroom and down the potions labs. Harry held his tongue until the classroom door slammed shut, and he felt wards being put up, strong Wandless non-verbal wards, but that didn't surprise him, Severus was more powerful than he let on, or rather more powerful than people tended to realize despite the obvious staring them in face.

"Are you injured?" Severus asked, his tone changing like the weather.

"How did you know?" Harry asked suspiciously, annoyance and exasperation seeping into his voice.

"The Dark Lord," Severus informed him without pause, "I do not like repeating myself,"

Harry grumbled inwardly, of course, as if Voldemort would let anything happen to his precious Horcrux he thought disingenuously. He knew the wizard cared a little about how he felt, otherwise he wouldn't have trained him, wouldn't have let him out of that damn cell, it would have been as easy to keep him safe by imprisoning him which he had not done. He shoved his hand out, palm down, showing the red irritated blood seeping sores.

Harry hissed, "Easy," it was extremely sensitive to pain right now.

Severus gritted his teeth as he handled Harry's hand delicately, "How did this happen?" already suspecting, but suspecting wasn't knowing.

"A quill," Harry replied, blinking when Severus dropped his hand and he headed for his potions cupboard, coming out with a few things, before pouring a yellow liquid he knew to be Murtlap Essence into a bowl. "Some sort of blood quill."

"Sit down," Severus stated, placing the bowl in front of him, "Make sure the wound is completely submerged, it will help heal and soothe the wound." Harry did as he was told without a complaint, slightly bemused that Voldemort would get all worried over him, especially considering he was bound to have felt it was a wound on his hand of all things. His stomach growled hungrily, making Harry realize just how bad an idea it was to miss a meal these days, his body definitely didn't like it.

"Did you eat anything at dinner?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"No, I didn't attend," Harry confessed, he'd been too pissed off at Ronald Weasley for getting him that detention stupid idiot that he was.

"Stupid fool," Severus stated sharply, shaking his head, before he once again left the room for a few minutes, he returned with a tray of food, giving him a light glare, telling him without words that he had better eat it all.

Harry scoffed the food down, the sandwiches and the crisps, only then did his stomach stop growling in demand for food. He wasn't going to endure this all year, or until whenever Dumbledore decided to get rid of her, or the Ministry stopped their games. "Is there a way to take your OWLS early?" scrunching up the parchment as he tossed it in the lit fire. The dungeons were always cold, so the fires were constantly lit.

Severus let out a small smirk, having an idea what was going on in that mind of Harry's without needing to be in it. He had known it would go down this way, although a small part of him was relieved, Harry would go back to the Dark Lord before the year was out, he was absolutely positive on that front. He had known the risk by suggesting it, if Harry did not, there was a chance his life may be forfeit when his spying days were over. "Yes, it's a simple matter of an instructor at the Ministry overseeing you take your exams." Severus stated, as he finally took a seat behind his desk.

"Is there any way I can take them? I mean now," Harry questioned, hiding his hope. "Without anyone knowing until I tell them."

"I shall inform the Dark Lord," Severus replied, knowing that his Lord would be able to help Harry pull it off, and would probably encourage it. He would need to leave Hogwarts tonight to return to the Headquarters to report, it had been demanded of him, so he would bring it up then. Given how possessive of late the Dark Lord was of Harry, he summarised Umbridge might not even last the year, although considering who she was, perhaps she was safe for the time being, the Dark Lord didn't want to draw any attention to himself after all.

Harry nodded knowing it was the best he would get tonight.

"I'm assuming being back at Hogwarts isn't all you hoped it would be?" Severus said, once again standing up, picking up the roll of bandage and the cotton square gauze. Gestured for Harry to remove his hand, which he did, only then did Severus dip the cotton into the liquid giving it a squeeze to let some of it drip out. Nodding in satisfaction, he pressed the gauze on top of the wound, before wrapping the bandage around his hand tightly, but not too tightly, he didn't want to stop the blood pumping around his hand after all. "You'll need to remove it tomorrow morning, the smell will start to ripen."

"Alright," Harry nodded in agreement, "Thanks," he murmured as he claimed his hand back, he no longer felt the pain at all. He still wasn't used to people taking care of him.

"During this week's detention you and I will be duelling, brewing potions, and I'm sure you can come up for a reason why you would get more detentions." he said pointedly, it was the only thing that would stop Umbridge…for now, she wouldn't be deterred for long, perhaps it would be long enough for him to take his OWLS.

"Really? Awesome!" Harry grinned, his green eyes glimmering darkly, showing the real Harry for a brief moment.

"Return straight to your dorm, get some rest," Severus stated, flicking a single finger and the wards came crashing down, another flick, the door opened for him.

"Yes, Sir," Harry murmured subdued, grabbing his bag with his uninjured hand, he swung it over his back and threw Severus a grin before sliding out, his face already morphing into annoyance, after all everyone would expect him to be annoyed at having detention with Severus.

Severus stood at the door for a few moments, before he sighed, his spying duties had become indefinitely more complicated, what was his life?

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 21

It was passed midnight before Severus was able to leave Hogwarts to return to his Lord's side without anyone the wiser. Umbridge was a big concern when I came to his spying duties. Not only because she might find out his true loyalties but because Dumbledore had also warned him to be careful, the Ministry were aware that he was a Death Eater, or rather believed he had spied for Dumbledore during the last war. Considering they were trying to bury their heads in the sand about his Lord's return he might find himself under unsuspected scrutiny. The Floo network was always monitored by Dumbledore, not monitored per se, but he was aware when someone used the Floo network, which was why he never used it - not that he could the Dark Lord did not have an active Floo network, it defied the purpose of a secret base if someone happened to stumble upon them - not that they would be left alive to talk about what they saw. He had a closed connection that he only opened up in the event of an emergency. Usually. A lot was changing for the dark side, and he wasn't the only one noticing.

He ensured he left Hogwarts far enough into the night before using the mark as a guide towards the Dark Lord's hideout, not that he needed to since he could Apparate but the mark ensured you couldn't be tracked, he had truly thought of everything when he had invented the beauty that was the Dark Mark. Pressing the mark wasn't like Apparating or travelling via Portkey. It was much smoother transition between the two places. Due to the fact he hadn't been summoned, he wasn't transported directly to the Dark Lord but to the wards surrounding the manor.

Swiftly moving up the path, he felt the wards tingling over him, granting him entrance, the Dark Lord was now aware that he was on his property. Sighing tiredly, it was going to be an extremely long night, but hopefully with the news he was about to deliver he could get back to Hogwarts and get some sleep before he was forced to teach students again in six hours' time.

Once he was at the doors, he opened them and stepped inside, the warmth welcome. The weather was getting chillier, soon winter would settle in, the months would fly by, he knew that. Stalking through the halls, he could feel the Dark Lord and he was not in his office, he was in the Grand Hall, he suspected he was holding a meeting, the sight that greeted him when he opened the door confirmed his suspicions. Thankfully it wasn't a full meeting, but just one between the inner circle. The voice that had been speaking cut off, as they all glanced at him before swiftly glancing back at the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," Severus said approaching the powerful wizard and bowing, unlike the new recruits they weren't required to kiss his robes in a show of subjugation and loyalty.

"Severus," Voldemort said, nodding in approval and to let him know to take his place.

Severus swiftly stood up straighter before claiming his rightful seat next to Lucius, cursing the fact he couldn't have gotten away earlier, now he was going to be forced to listen to everything before delivering his own news.

"Lucius, what news at the Ministry?" Voldemort stated.

Severus relaxed marginally at that, the meeting was almost over, Lucius was in a bad position with the Dark Lord right now due to the fact his diary had been destroyed. He was being made to feel extremely unimportant, to work his way back into the powerful wizard's good graces once more. Until that time, he would be given extremely gruelling tasks that were almost impossible so the Dark Lord had a reason to punish him along with his usual duties in the Ministry as well.

Lucius sat up firmly, practically oozing smugness as he had done as his Lord had asked and found Fenrir Greyback; he was as of now heading to the Dark Lord's base with his pack. He had implied that he was setting his pack up closer to the base but returning on his own. As much as he followed the Dark Lord, he was an alpha and his concern was mostly fixated on his pack, he would do anything to keep them safe. "They are still in complete denial, My Lord, they seem more concerned about Dumbledore and Potter, from what I have gathered both of them are considered unofficial enemies of the ministry." he was a little leery of admitting that Potter was an enemy or calling him Potter but not everyone in the room new about the boys allegiance and he had been told to keep it a secret so a secret he would keep it.

"What plans do they have for the old fool?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowing in on the smug Malfoy in warning. He would curse that smug look off his face if he did not get rid of it.

Lucius sobered immediately, wariness taking its place, "More of the same, they're trying to completely discredit Dumbledore, they have removed him from the Wizengamot as you know, but they have also removed him as supreme Mugwump of the international confederation of wizards."

"And Potter?" Voldemort asked, nothing in his tone giving away any concern or damnation come to that for the boy.

"They believe Dumbledore is the bigger concern," Lucius replied, "I have not heard anything regarding the boy while at the Ministry, I believe they want to discredit him and that alone. Dolores Umbridge has taken up the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, while she's vile and unpleasant I'm sure she will help us in keeping Dumbledore…busy shall we say?" Lucius added smirking just a little; he had put the application forward so she had an easier time taking up the post.

"And also made my job and position harder," Severus said coldly, black eyes flashing menacingly remembering the boy's hand.

Lucius didn't even blink, but inwardly he shuddered, nobody not even the hardened Death Eaters like him wanted to be on the wrong side of Snape. Not only could he be vindictive he had spells on hand that had no counter-curse, leaving them cursed until he lifted it or until they went begging to the Dark Lord to see that he forced Snape's hand to undo it. Not that it always worked, some of the times the Dark Lord let it remain on for days afterwards before demanding that Severus remove whatever curse he had inflicted. Severus had always been a favourite of the Dark Lord's, even more so than himself, Bellatrix or even Bartemius Crouch Junior and they had all received personal training by their Lord.

"Should anything happen to compromise Severus' position, Lucius…your life will be forfeit." Voldemort warned him, his eyes narrowed as well, sensing there was more to what his spy had said, his job and position, it was his job to teach but his position as Harry Potter's protector and his spying was obviously harder as well. Clearly Umbridge had something to do with Harry's injury, which had been bad enough to cause moderate blood loss.

That definitely got a reaction, Severus' lips turned up slightly seeing Lucius stiffening, watching dread flash through those grey eyes.

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius rasped out, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, he wouldn't have been surprised if everyone could hear it.

"Leave, now," Voldemort snapped, his patience wearing thin, "All of you." their information was useless, but just in case he had to have the meetings, he would only have himself to blame if something happened, he would find useful.

They immediately stood, throwing Severus curious stares, as it became obvious, he wasn't going to leave. Nonetheless they didn't wait around, staying in Voldemort's proximity when he was angry was never a good idea nor was disobeying his orders.

"What news?" Voldemort asked as soon as he finished counting the cracking that indicated that his inner circle (or what was available of his inner circle and not in Azkaban prison, but soon they would be out, and others in their place) was gone from his home. When he had felt it, he had been furious. It wasn't just pain, it was a dark pain, something wasn't right, he had immediately called Severus to deal with it, he had felt it stop abruptly fifteen or twenty minutes later and since then he had been waiting impatiently for an answer.

"As soon as I returned to Hogwarts, I cast a spell to find Harry; he was in detention with Dolores Umbridge." Severus wasted no time in answering his Lord. "I informed her that he had detention with me for a week, he did not seem injured at first, but when I got him to the potions classroom, he showed me his hand."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes; he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he heard next.

"It seems she had forced Harry to write lines using a blood quill," Severus informed him, "I doubt very much that he will be the only student she uses it on. My detentions will only work so far, I have no doubt she will be after Harry relentlessly."

Voldemort's eyes flashed furiously; she would pay with her life for daring to lift a hand to Harry Potter.

"I have been informed that Harry wishes to take his OWLS early, I said I would inform you and see what we can do." Severus added, trying to get the Dark Lord out of his darkening mood. "I believe he no longer wishes to stay at Hogwarts, but desires to take his OWLS before departing either that or wishes to have it as a pre-emptive strike should he wish to leave in future…no doubt Umbridge's detention had brought this about." Harry was one to think ahead, that had become abundantly obvious over the course of the summer holidays.

Voldemort's lips twitched, yes it sounded like something Harry would do, there was no doubt he was thinking three or four moves ahead of everyone. To think he used to be under the impression that he was nothing but a pathetic wizard whom had absolutely no special talents whatsoever, but this had been solely from what he had seen from the boy during his first year at Hogwarts. He had been wrong; the boy was very smart, not just when it came to magic but also with strategic thinking and forethought. "Tell him I will have someone available before the week is out, the exams will be done in your quarters, and I will have something made to both hide his results until he's ready and to stop any spells being detected in your quarters." It wasn't even a week since Hogwarts started back up, and he wanted to leave.

"That would be appreciated," Severus nodded agreeable, "I had intended to teach Harry further, while he was at Hogwarts to hone his skill, we will simply stick to potions until I receive the object or spell." he wasn't surprised by the length the Dark Lord was going, he always did when he was passionate about something, or wanted something done.

"I think you'll be extremely surprised by Harry's proficiency in duelling, Severus," Voldemort stated, smirking vindictively, he had taught the boy well. If it helped Harry then he would do whatever he had to, even if it made him even more busy, hopefully within the year the boy would return to the manor, where he could truly keep him safe whether he joined his side or not, as long as he wasn't fighting him, he honestly couldn't care less whether he remained neutral or not. Although if he was perfectly honest with himself, he would prefer the powerful wizard that Harry was on his side. Oddly enough, he had no desire to mark him, it would be like marking himself, not that Harry would take it, he was too proud to bow down to him, too headstrong and stubborn, no, given what Harry had already done. His ideas had merit; sure, it was taking longer to retrieve his men from Azkaban but it would go along with his ideals at the moment - in keeping the Ministry unaware of his return. Although considering they were burying their heads in the sand…he was sure they would come up with another theory.

"After being taught from you, My Lord? I have absolutely no doubt," Severus said, inclining his head, he had also been taught a great deal from the Dark Lord and knew how advanced he had gotten after just three months of tutelage from the powerful wizard.

"Return to Hogwarts, if that woman tries anything…inform me at once," Voldemort demanded, he was not going to allow any harm befall Harry Potter and incidentally his Horcrux. He would kill anyone or anything that tried, and someone already had, some idiot within the Ministry of magic had told a Dementor to go after Harry and suck out his soul, soon enough he would have a description of whom or even better a name. Which would happen the day before he and his Death Eaters infiltrated Azkaban to retrieve all his followers and leave the Muggles permanently poly-juice potioned dead versions of them behind.

"Very well, My Lord," Severus replied agreeably, knowing without a doubt by the end of the week Harry would indeed be sitting his OWLS. "Before I leave, I am sure you will appreciate this memory," he added, handing over a vial with a copy of his memory, of the start of the year feast. Standing up, he bowed in respect before he left without another word, his bed had been calling to him for hours, and hopefully within the next fifteen minutes he would be within it, and actually get some sleep tonight.

Voldemort remained where he was sitting staring vacantly at the room, a vindictive smirk on his face, Dumbledore would soon lose his precious weapon, and oh he wished he could see the old man's face when it all came about. He'd bet everything that Dumbledore would never see it coming. Glancing down at the vial, he stood up and left the room, going to his office to view the memory before he got some sleep before beginning to work on getting someone on his side in the education department of the Ministry and those spells to hide any spell detection within Severus' quarters.

Harry made his way to the Great Hall the next morning, his hand had stopped hurting, and in fact it had healed completely overnight. He had to admit he was slightly surprised to see it completely gone when he removed the bandages to discard them this morning. He observed Ron and Hermione sitting closely to each other with a copy of the paper between them talking in hushed whispers. Completely ignoring them, he sat down, although he was curious what they could be reading. He heard the word 'Ord' from Ron so he was going to assume he was meaning this Order of the phoenix Dumbledore headed.

"Hey, Nev, you finished with the paper?" Harry asked the teen next to him.

"Sure, Harry," Neville said, without any stuttering today.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, shifting to the page number that Ron and Hermione were on, thanking his perfect eyesight.

TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Minister of magical watch wizard Eric Munch, who found him, attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defence, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to Azkaban.

Harry frowned thoughtfully, "Hey, Nev…what's top security at the Ministry?" he knew next to nothing at the Ministry of magic.

"W-well the Ministry has a lot of top security, but none are more secure than the Department of Mysteries…" Neville explained, flushing red, he wasn't used to Harry actually asking him or talking to him. He knew it was probably temporarily until he made up with his friends again, and they always made up, the golden trio everyone called them.

"What is in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry then asked.

"It's a section of the Ministry that deals with confidential stuff, where the Unspeakables work…nobody knows the projects or experiments they get up to down there." Neville told him, "It's older than the Ministry of magic itself…it's been around since 1672, and the ministry was built around it in 1707,"

"Cool," Harry said surprised and impressed, now if they learned this sort of stuff at History of magic, it would be far better.

"Yes, it is, there was even a Minister who tried to close the department down, but he was ignored by the Ministry and Unspeakables," Neville said wryly, refusing to speak the name, despite the fact it was merely a descendant not the man himself who had done it. Minister Radolphus Lestrange.

Harry shook his head amused, he wondered if he had been put in Azkaban for trying to do something for the Order and got caught. Or if it was Voldemort trying to get rid of the order members by watching them and ensuring they got caught. Podmore was an Order member and Voldemort wanted rid of them, given how dangerous vigilante groups could be, causing rebel after rebel so he wanted them gone before he actually came out to the magical world so to speak and took control.

His amusement faded fast when he noticed a few people rubbing at their hands and wincing, his nostrils flared, and his fists clenched in anger. She was using that damn blood quill on other people, not just fifth years but that was a first year! He thought furiously, how dare she? Gritting his teeth, she couldn't get away with that, it was illegal, but what was the point of telling anyone? Would they listen? Perhaps going to McGonagall would help…surely, she wouldn't let anyone hurt first year Gryffindors? He wouldn't hold his breath on her helping him, she had yet to listen to him but…hurting others?

Glancing around the rest of the hall, trying to see if there were others suffering, angling his head, but he couldn't get a good view of the tables or their hands. Turning back around stabbing at his food, that bloody quill had hurt him and he was used to pain…he could only imagine how painful it was for the others who weren't used to being hurt at all.

"You alright, Harry?" Neville asked, sensing Harry's shifting moods.

"I'll be fine," Harry said giving him a lopsided grin, which was rather tense but he tried. He would try and talk to McGonagall before classes started, hopefully he'd be able to catch her before any students showed up. Rubbing at his forehead, trying to eat as much as he could, but his stomach was churning. He hated himself, for being even just slightly concerned about those who would sooner stab him in the back than help him if the roles were reversed.

"Harry?" Hermione said, her tone concerned, as she finally spoke to him, she had tried to catch him but she hadn't had a chance he'd been avoiding them.

"What?" Harry stated curtly, turning to face her, his green eyes glittering coldly.

Hermione swallowed thickly, "Nothing," she whispered, turning away, she'd need to catch him in the common room at some point, he was obviously still really angry at them, she just didn't understand why or what for. She tried to tell herself she wasn't cowed by the look, but damn, he was intimidating, he'd never been like that before…what had happened this summer?

Harry scoffed, "Nothing new there then is there?" he sneered at the back of her head, the scene of her standing up to Umbridge flashing through his mind, egging him on further. "I'll see you later, Nev!" Grabbing his back, he left his half-finished breakfast and walked away, making his way to the transfiguration room, hoping to catch McGonagall before she started teaching…if she had anyone to teach first thing.

It didn't take him long due to the fact it was only one flight of stairs, he leaned against the wall of the classroom with patience.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Minerva called when she caught sight of the boy, slightly surprised.

"I needed to speak to you professor," Harry informed her.

"Follow me, Potter," Minerva said, inwardly sighing in exasperation, she could do nothing to reverse Dumbledore's decision to take the ban off the boy, she had tried, something she'd had to explain to the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, the twins were not pleased.

Harry followed her into her office, which was behind the classroom, when she sat down, she gazed expectantly at him.

"Umbridge is…" Harry started.

"Potter, you need to be careful," Minerva warned him, "Misbehaving in Dolores Umbridge's class can and will cost you more than house points or detention." yes, she knew about the detention the boy was in her house after all. She also knew he had earned a week worth of detention from Severus on the very first day of class. It was as if he was trying to outdo his own father and godfather when it came to the number of detentions he got.

"What that's not what-" Harry argued, anger began to simmer deep within him, he was so sick and tired of nobody listening to him. That wasn't entirely true thought, was it? A sneaky thought whispered to him, Voldemort listened to him…had actually changed his plans and used his bloody idea.

"Potter use your common sense," Minerva stated, "You know where she comes from, you must know who she reports to."

"This has nothing-" Harry replied, trying to keep a cool head and actually explain.

"Keep your head down and temper under control," Minerva cautioned him.

Harry stared at her, his green eyes filled with fire, huffing a bitter chuckle, why had he thought this would go any other way? Did she know what he was going to complain about and trying to stop him from telling her directly so she could go on her way and remain ignorant? Or did she just truly not care? Each time she let him down flashed through his mind which seemed to give his second thought credence. Turning away without another word, he quickly left her office and out of the classroom, ignoring her when she called for him, he wasn't interested in hearing what she had to say.

He was so done with this shit; he prayed that Voldemort could come through for him and he could take his OWLS when he left Hogwarts, he wanted to know he could safely use his wand when he turned seventeen without it being taken and snapped. Another bitter incredulous chuckle left his lips, who would have thought he would be relying on Voldemort for anything? Life certainly had gotten strange in the span of three months. Sighing softly, he made his way to his first class of the day; all the while looking forward to detention with Snape so he could get an answer to his question…he prayed he could.

Harry laughed a little at that, ignoring the startled looks from the other students as they passed by, looking forward to detention with Severus…hoping Voldemort came through…yep, life had gotten weird, and it was only here and now that he was truly beginning to see how odd his life had become.

The look on Dumbledore's face if he learned all this would have truly been comical.

He was unaware that it was pretty much the same thoughts Voldemort had just last night.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 22

To say the weeks passed at a snail pace would be putting it mildly to Harry who was slowly going insane with the chaos surrounding Hogwarts. He'd known and been warned about Umbridge, of course, but bloody hell, the woman was causing more problems than he could have conceived. Which didn't bother him as much as the fact she was giving him detention with a blood quill. Not as often as she liked, thank Merlin for that, but it was solely down to Severus that he was able to keep his sanity. She had seen to it that she'd been self-appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor by the Minister for Magic. The desire to kill her was becoming increasingly stronger by the day, and that was saying something, there was only four people he felt similarly to, Figg and the Dursley's.

Today though, today was going to be a good day, he had finally finished the spell he'd spent weeks creating and crafting just for Umbridge. Unfortunately, nothing dark or drastic as he would have liked, he would have had to have left Hogwarts to cast them, and it wasn't something he could do yet. No, he was going to enjoy watching her completely humiliate herself. Sliding out of bed, he stumbled slightly, as an overwhelming feeling of happiness and smug superiority over came him, causing a prickling sensation in his scar. Now Harry was definitely curious…what was Voldemort up to today that caused those feelings? Ever since he had accepted and acknowledged the Horcrux within him the pain was lessening when he saw things or as demonstrated just now feel things.

Brushing it off for now, Harry quickly got dressed, noticing that everyone else was up, he must be later than anticipated but Detention with Umbridge had lasted well past midnight. Then he had stayed up to complete the nice surprise he was making for her. She hadn't noticed that he had removed the stone in the broach and replaced it with a copy, the thing she so liked to clip on each disgusting gaudy pink clothes she liked to wear. It was little wonder he'd slept through the alarm. Hopping on his foot, he managed to slide his left shoe onto his foot before shuffling it into position and tied it once he got to the bottom of the stairwell, and into Gryffindor common room.

He couldn't be too late he noted as he stood up, seeing that there were still others milling around the common room, either waiting until last minute or waiting on someone who was late themselves. Groaning softly, he stretched himself out, his muscles still hurt like hell from being crouched over finishing the spells on his bed last night.

Ignoring everyone, he made his way out of the common room, not even listening to Hermione who was calling for him urgently as she ran after him. He sighed softly, she just wouldn't give up, she'd apologised dozens of times and while he wanted so badly to forgive her and be friends again…he didn't want to do it, she would just screw up again, he had forgiven her enough during the years for the things she'd done including running off to a teacher after Sirius gave him his broomstick. He knew at the back of his mind that it was concern for him, but he wanted to hate her so it was easier to think it.

"Harry!" she called once more skidding to a halt in front of him.

"What is it?" Harry asked vexed, stepping aside so he continued to walk, making it more than clear he just wasn't interested, but he knew Hermione would just continue to do whatever she wanted. Despite the fact she had been glaring at him because of his good work in classes, her becoming even more annoyed because he was getting all the spells completed before her as well didn't help.

"I've been thinking," Hermione said, panting as she spoke, having ran quite a bit to catch up. "I mean we aren't learning anything in Umbridge's class,"

"Don't you mean professor Umbridge?" Harry pointed out spitefully, just like she'd used to get on at them for not using the proper title.

Hermione brushed it off, she was not going to use that title with that woman unless she had to. "I was thinking…we could create a secret club, one where we can teach the students, me and you, together, that way they will be prepared for their OWLS or NEWTS!" her tone was hushed but excited as she rushed through it. "Not only will it help them but we won't end up rusty either…and we both know something will happen at the end of the year." It was customary now.

"Why would I want to help anyone else?" Harry asked his tone slightly bitter. "Let's not forgot that people can't keep a secret, someone would inform Umbridge and we'd both end up in trouble, it's definitely not worth it." grabbing the banister, Harry made quick work of the stairs. "Trying to keep a secret just means it gets around quicker."

"But Harry…nobody is going to learn for an entire year!" Hermione hissed, "Just more reading from that boring book! He's back now; we have to learn how to fight."

"Then do it yourself!" Harry snapped annoyed, tired beyond belief at the blatant manipulations going on around him or against him. Why did he have to do everything? It was like everyone was incapable of thinking. Hermione was smart; she could do all she suggested on her own, with terrific timekeeping of it for Merlin's sake.

"Harry please," Hermione said as they finally reached the ground floor.

Swinging around to face her, he narrowed his eyes, his mouth unconsciously curling just so as he read her surface thoughts. There would have been a time when Harry felt guilty about that, okay, maybe that wasn't really true. This was all an elaborate scheme by Dumbledore. He wanted their friendship repaired by the look of it, he'd had an intense look on his face as he spoke to Granger about it…as if it was vital that he be friends with the two…but why? Why were Ron and Hermione so important to Dumbledore's plans? Honestly sometimes it was impossible to predict Dumbledore; he thought dozens of moves ahead. How could have predicted he'd need those two before Hogwarts?

"We can work things out, it's not too late you know," Hermione added, her tone soft and pleading, as if she had sensed weakness or perhaps, she felt as though he was close to giving in.

"It was too late months ago, you chose Dumbledore over me, I needed you more than I ever had and you ignored me. Nothing you do could ever make up for that." Harry said honestly, "Just let it go. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going for breakfast before class's start." with that he turned around, shaking his head, before entering the Great Hall. He didn't wait for her to come nor did he wait on any sort of reply.

"Hey, Nev," Harry murmured as he sat down, wasting no time before he began to fill up his plate.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said, giving him a smile before he began to eat his own breakfast again. His stutter was beginning to fade as he spoke to the other boy, especially as it became clear he wasn't just someone Harry intended to befriend while he was on the outs with his friends. It seemed like the golden trio was split for good this time with irreconcilable differences.

Harry quickly grabbed the OWL Ancient Runes book from his bag, and juggled it on his knee, flipping it to the last page he had used. He had both his written and practical Ancient Runes exams tonight, he'd assumed that Voldemort would have either blackmailed someone into doing it or had them under the Imperious curse, he had underestimated the reach Voldemort had over the magical world. The Death Eaters he'd seen were just the active fighters, he had silent followers all over who would jump to his aid, he had followers who didn't wish to fight and he strangely accepted that, utilising their talents in a way that benefited both parties. Harry was impressed, and he knew he likely didn't even know the half of it.

"I didn't know you took Ancient Runes, Harry," Ginny said, eyeing the book highly curious.

"He doesn't," Hermione commented, interrupting the conversation. Imputing her own knowledge out there, regardless of whether anyone wanted to hear it.

"This book, it's used during the OWL year, Bill and Charlie had one, and they were forever reading out of it, there's dozens of pictures at home with them studying." Ginny corrected her without any attitude. The book was hers now, since next year she would be taking her OWLS, not for class, just to read so she could get ahead a little. "I've got it myself although mine is a lot more faded." she said simply. She was used to having second hand things; it's the way life had always been.

"Why are you reading about Runes, Harry?" Hermione asked perplexed, "You aren't even taking the subject."

"Because it sounds interesting," Harry replied noncommittally, as if he was going to tell her the truth! Dumbledore would put an end to his exams if he did that. He'd need to find a way to get the real stone back into Umbridge's broach, she was wearing the fake right now, so it was too late, he'd need to use Dobby to make a switch.

"Regret not taking it instead of Divination?" Ginny teased with a grin.

"You can say that again, anything is better than predicting my own death over and over again," Harry said wryly, ignoring the disappointed look on Hermione's face no doubt because he was practically ignoring her. Yawning tiredly, he began to read the book memorise the runes and their shapes and sizes. He'd already read it in Voldemort's manor, this was one he'd bought himself because Voldemort wouldn't let him take any of the books from the library to bring with him. Absently eating his breakfast as he read, his head jerked up when he heard Seamus exclaiming "BLIMEY!" in horrified fascination.

"What is it?" Harry asked, trying to get a read on the newspaper.

"Let me see!" Hermione said trying to snatch it from Seamus but the boy refused to let her, looking a little annoyed. Sighing in exasperation she quickly began to untie her own delivery, as everyone began to read it hastily.

"Something happened at Azkaban," the Irish lad said, his accent stronger than normal.

"Don't tell me it's a breakout," Hermione groaned, finally yanking the string from the plastic paper around the bag before shoving it out and beginning to read it. "Oh, it's not." she said sounding dreadfully surprised.

Neville was sitting there with a satisfied look on his face, the two Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix had died at long last, as wizarding flu coupled with their…inhabitant made for weak immune systems and they hadn't stood a chance apparently. It wasn't just the Lestrange's but they were the only ones Neville saw…and he relished in their demise.

Harry immersed himself in a copy that was lying unattended, before glancing around to see everyone's reactions subtly of course. Draco Malfoy and many other Slytherin's had gone pasty white, obviously they weren't in the know and it did make Harry feel quite smug - not that he showed it overly much. He also noticed Dumbledore staring at the newspaper with a perplexed look on his face, the same one that Hermione currently had as if she was trying to decide if the story was true…or if it was something the Ministry was covering up.

It looked as though she was still rereading it and trying to decide when the bell rung for class. Closing the book with a snap, with the bookmarker in it, he slid it into his bag before grabbing more breakfast and leaving the hall to the first class of the day. So, he'd done it then, Voldemort had used his move to release the Death Eaters from Azkaban after all. He hadn't been sure whether he actually would or not but the fact he'd actually thought about it meant more than anyone would ever know.

"I could help you, learn I mean, if you want," Hermione said following Harry out of the Great Hall, Ron as always following behind her.

"No thanks," Harry replied, it was impossible to shake them off. It was mostly why he had started using the Marauders map to get around the school without being detected. "I can read and learn on my own." When would she learn that they weren't going to be friends again? did she honestly think annoying him and what them becoming study buddies would make it all alright again? She wasn't that foolish, but sometimes she definitely acted like it.

"But you're on the third book they recommend for Ancient Runes…if you don't know the basics the advance runes will be difficult." Hermione argued, trying to show just how much smarter she was, to make up for all the lessons they'd attended where Harry got everything first. If she could prove she was smarter – even only on one thing right now – it would make her feel so much better. So far nobody was interested in the idea of starting a club, not even fellow prefects! Hannah and Ernie as well as Patil and Antony.

"I do know the basics," Harry replied, "I had plenty of time to learn this summer." almost exclaiming in relief when the door to the classroom was in sight. Peace at least, Hermione wouldn't annoy him in any class, too busy trying to be the best at everything. He found a seat amongst the Ravenclaws so he didn't need to sit with Hermione or Ron and settled in.

Harry grabbed his wand, school bag, Marauders map and invisibility cloak before disappearing underneath it. Checking to see where everyone was, he turned the light off with a 'Nox' and began to sneak out of the common room, being quick seeing as Neville was making his way to the portrait. Just when he was sure Neville might say the words, he opened it, and snuck out just in time before Neville bound through the hole and closed the portrait behind him.

The common room was the easier part; it was avoiding Draco and his goons in Slytherin territory, as if being a Prefect didn't already make the idiot show his power-hungry side. The sucking up was giving him the heave, and then again there wasn't much that didn't make him feel sick to his stomach. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to get to Severus' quarters deep within the dungeons, while hiding when others went by.

Despite knowing the password to Severus' office, Harry still knocked, he could feel the protections the wizard had around his rooms, there was nobody going to get in there without his permission. He could identify almost all of them, but there were others that had him stumped, he wouldn't be overly surprised if they were ones Severus had come up with on his own.

The door opened abruptly and Severus made a quick motion for him to enter, as soon as he had stepped into the room enough Severus was already closing the door. Once that was done, he did what had become a familiar routine, he pressed his wand and murmured under his breath against a crystal, one that Voldemort had sent so they could duel, it overrode the wards on the school. Giving them peace of mind that they most definitely wouldn't be caught. It even prevented anyone from recording any activity with the Floo network; it wouldn't register at Hogwarts at all.

"You're early today, he isn't due over for another fifteen minutes," Severus said, giving Harry a curious look, he was never early. If anything, he was exactly on time, each and every day, very punctual, another part of his personality Severus was becoming increasingly familiar with.

"I saw a chance to get away…I took it," Harry said, sitting down, "How many is left do you know?"

Severus gave him a deep penetrating look, "The Dark Lord got them all out, and the others have been placed in the prison under Poly-juice potion."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Harry frowned.

"No, they're catatonic and will remain so until they die," Severus said wryly.

"How long will that take?" Harry asked genuinely curious about it.

"Give or take a few weeks to a few months, not all at the same time, they'll be buried by the Dementors just as the others have been already." Severus said dismissively. He had to admit the idea was absolutely amazing, very well thought out. He had almost choked on his own saliva when he heard it had been Harry who came up with it. He was sure the Dark Lord had told him just to see his reaction.

"Let me guess…you're making all the potions?" Harry summarised, wincing at the thought, he would be brewing forever.

"You and I ensured they were covered for at least a fortnight, longer for the Dementor potion. With the stronger nutrition potion, you created they won't need to take so much or for long as you would the original." Severus mused thoughtfully, tapping his foot absently, "I am brewing to make sure they are refilled but thankfully not much will need brewed in urgency."

"I guess Barty will keep an eye on everything?" Harry questioned, Barty was desperate for something to do, and if he knew Voldemort by now, he would probably delegate that task to him, someone he trusted and the others would too despite their stint in Azkaban.

"That I do not know," Severus stated, just then a 'Bing' sound surrounded the room, alerting them to someone coming through the Floo, the fire flared and a figure stepped out of the grate. Rabastan had been one of the first removed from Azkaban and replaced by a muggle under the potion. He hadn't seen him yet, he dreaded it for sure. Luckily, he was distracted by the wizard that came to aid them. Well, more accurately aid Harry on the Dark Lord's behest.

He was dressed in in a pristine suit, royal blue; he was a short thin man, with black hair tied up at the nape of his neck and brown eyes. He had a finger missing, his pinkie, Harry had never asked about it and the wizard had never revealed what caused it, but considering the scars around it and the lack of finger, he would guess it was a dark curse. He had a black briefcase with him that Harry was familiar with; it held all the documents he'd be using.

"Mr. Potter, Severus," the wizard said with deference, something Harry had learned wasn't just because Severus was in the room. Which had made him immediately wonder just what the hell Voldemort had said or done to him. It had soon become apparent though that he wasn't there against his will, nor was he under any spell, he was quite happy to help. It still didn't explain the deference the wizard used when it came to him. With this being regarding schooling, Mr. Potter was the correct form of address, and not Lord Potter which he was legally.

"Clarence," Severus said nodding, "I will be in my lab," he added, which he did sometimes but not all times.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, let's get to it!" he said, his tone slightly bright but not overly joyful or annoying. Placing his briefcase on the table Harry would be using for his exams, he began to take out all the necessary material, before taking a seat by the fire to wait patiently for Harry to finish…which would take anywhere from an hour to the necessary two hours one received to do their exams. Despite the fact he was a Dark Wizard and on the Dark Lord's side, he wouldn't abide by cheating, hence he kept a good eye on Harry.

Clarence didn't talk overly much, but he couldn't help but speculate about what was going on. When the Dark Lord had demanded his presence he'd wondered why, then when his newest mission was revealed, he had sat there stunned, his mouth agape, he just couldn't help it. Thankfully he had regained himself before the Dark Lord lost his patience and he had agreed to it. He was still reeling, for the first time in a long time, he actually felt hopeful that the Dark would take its rightful place again, instead of relegated to the back as if it were the most atrocious thing possible.

The scratching of a quill brought him back out of his thoughts, glancing over his eyes gazing critically around, but as always Harry's hands were clean, arms bare, no book in sight, he was definitely not cheating. Plucking his book from his bag, he begun to read, every few sentences glancing up briefly to check on Harry's progress and to ensure there was no cheating going on. He would be here very frequently in the coming weeks as he got through both theory and practical magic exams the boy was choosing to take, and yes, apparently, he was taking exams of classes he hadn't taken but felt prepared for.

Harry was determined this would be his last year at Hogwarts, McGonagall had cinched it for him. She'd ignored him (and the harm coming to the other students) for the last time.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 23

Voldemort strode through the north wing of his manor, which until now had been unused; it was now filled to capacity with some of his followers, who he had just released from Azkaban prison with the aid of his other faithful Death Eaters. Grant was in charge of overseeing their return to full health, with Barty and Pettigrew aiding him as per his demands. It was not decorated, but he had installed beds to ensure the comfort, they deserved more for never denouncing their lord and Voldemort would reward their loyalty as he always did. Knowing where Grant was, due to the fact his wards let him know where everyone was, made easier by the Dark Mark etched upon their arms.

Opening the door, he observed Grant working, the wizard knew he was there, not only did he glance very briefly before getting back to work, but his magic was unmistakable, all his followers were very much aware of his presence. He never made any effort to mask his power, and why should he? He was the most powerful wizard in the magical world.

"How are they?" Voldemort demanded once Grant had finished with his current patient. The empty vials were removed by the House-elf, to be washed, sterilised and returned to the potions lab for further use.

"They have not yet woken, my Lord," Grant said respectfully, giving a low bow in deference. "It makes it increasingly difficult to ascertain their mental state. Their physical state is much easier to deal with at the moment. It is as I expected with such a long time incarcerated in Azkaban, they are severely malnourished, they will need Harry's potion for at least three weeks, and this is just a guess on my part, even with the stronger potion there is no knowing how long it will take for their physical recovery. They're covered in sores, infections which I've already begun healing. I have given each of them a dreamless sleeping potion, this will aid in their mental recovery and give them much needed sleep, as they are dangerously sleep deprived." with Dementors for company it was hardly surprising. It disgusted him to see his – for now – patients had been treated. Nobody deserved to be in Azkaban, something really needed to change.

Voldemort nodded, he had expected as much.

"I will begin them on the potion tomorrow to aid in their healing of their mind due to the influence of the Dementors once the dreamless sleeping potion wears off. This will allow them to heal and naturally the potion causes the drinker to succumb to sleep for most part while the potion does its work." Grant continued a clipboard still in his hand, "This gives me the opportunity to heal their wounds, and a few have broken bones I'll need to deal with as well."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, "And just how did their bones come to be broken?" he asked suspiciously, not believing it was Grant but rather the Auror's.

Grant understanding what was being asked, "Three seem to be breaks from throwing oneself against a wall, the other two…are from spells, I believe they occurred during their transference from the Ministry to Azkaban given the dates they were inflicted it adds up." Lips pursed in displeasure, the way they treated their prisoners was diabolical. He prayed that the Dark Lord would sort that dreaded place when he took over.

"The bones will be healed properly without damage?" Voldemort asked smoothly, his eyes gleaming maliciously, when he found out which Auror had lifted a wand to his people while they were already bound, he would eviscerate them.

"That I do not know, My Lord," Grant admitted stiffening slightly, "I will need to re-break them and give them the potion. Only time will tell I am afraid."

"Use the House-elves if you need further help, only while the others are unconscious," Voldemort warned, he did not want them hurting or worse killing his House-elves, not that he particularly cared about their feelings, it would just be an inconvenience to him. Not to mention just how prissy Harry would get over the entire thing, for some reason he rather liked house-elves.

"Yes, My Lord," Grant acknowledged the order.

"Have you tended to them all?" Voldemort asked Grant, giving the healer a once over critically. His usually immaculate long brown hair was in disarray, half out of his ponytail; his clothes were covered in grime and blood. His face was paler than normal and he could see the strain the wizard was under. Perhaps he should have someone else to help in order to lighten the burden.

"Yes, My Lord, and I will be alerted the moment they wake," Grant assured his Lord, he took his duties as a healer very seriously and he would see them recovered.

"Go shower, get something to eat and rest, you may use any room in this wing you wish," Voldemort demanded, he wouldn't be any good to anyone if he exhausted himself. He had already been up all night tending to them, without taking so much as a single break. "As you say, they're under a Dreamless sleep they have no further need of you for a time." This make him realize it definitely the best thing to let them be rescued in groups, if all of them had been released at the same time, Grant would have cracked under the strain of attempting to help them all on his own.

"Thank you, My Lord," Grant said, gratitude showing through, he had been thinking there was something different about him for a while now, but it was becoming more and more pronounced and glaringly obvious that he had changed. Not only in the way he would go about his goals, but he was staring to care about everyone again and that was a relief to him.

"Tish?" Grant called, writing hastily on the clipboard before placing it on the table nearest him.

"How can Tish be helping?" Tish asked, appearing before Grant, bowing to Voldemort who was her Master before eyeing Grant who called her - they'd all been told to go if Grant called, to treat him as if he was their Master.

"I need you to bathe everyone, remove their…clothes, clean them and mend them as best as you can…" Grant was cut off before he could continue.

"Burn the clothes," Voldemort stated sharply, his lip curled in repugnance those Azkaban suits were not fit for animals to lie on. "I will see to it that they have something to wear by tonight." he added flippantly. It would be easy enough to get Lucius to go into St. Mungo's and get a pile of the usual wear for patients they get while at hospital. Transfiguring clothes for all of them would be troublesome, he'd rather some were just fetched.

Once Grant was sure the Dark Lord did not intend to continue, he began to speak once more, "They will remain asleep, they've been given a potion, make sure they're kept warm."

"Tish will be doing this," Tish said, nodding her understanding eager to help.

"They will be awake in twelve hours; their stomach won't be able to handle rich greasy foods. Porridge will be the best thing for them, and dry toast." Grant added thoughtfully, it was best to tell them now rather than forget and find the House-elves had made a feast of greasy foods they just wouldn't be able to eat, and if did attempt so they would just end up regurgitating it.

"Yes sir!" Tish chirped eagerly.

"Instruct her on what you wish brought from your home, you will stay here for at least the first few days a room has been prepared." Voldemort added, "That will be all." he stated before turning and swiftly leaving the room and the wing itself. There was no point to remaining, they would not waken for a while, and it would probably be longer still before they were in any way coherent enough to listen to him.

Despite the fact he had a lot to do, even after nearly three weeks the urge to enter his office or the training room at this time was day was strong - it was at this time every day that he had taught Harry some of the spells at his arsenal. Yes, some, he had been around a significantly long time, and it would take years upon years, even with him teaching, and Harry being a brilliant student to teach him all he knew. There was no denying he picked up spells with relative ease, especially those of the darker nature. It was annoyingly infuriating how much he missed the boy. His stubborn nature, the fact he argued, challenged him, it had been a long time since anything like that happened and he found himself relishing the moments between them.

He hadn't hesitated for a second in getting Clarence Moran to help Harry achieve his goals. The sooner the boy realized he belonged on his side the better. It had been by far the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do by letting the boy return to Hogwarts. Letting his Horcrux leave the safety of his wards. Yet he had taken Severus' words of warning to heart, he wanted the boy to join him and if it required Dumbledore helping ease the way who was he to deny that? It did give him a sense of feral satisfaction that Dumbledore was digging his own grave. He repeatedly made the same mistakes over and over again; it was as if the old fool didn't learn from them.

Entering his office, he took his usual seat; oh, he knew why Dumbledore had done it. He'd wanted a weak malleable boy to mould into the perfect sacrificial saviour. He'd taken a risk, not wishing Harry to grow into a confident, powerful wizard he would have if grown up in his rightful world. It had backfired, and it amused him to no end, the duplicity of Harry's character was really something. He truly prayed he was there when the boys true character came to light, he would pay a great deal to see the look on the old fools face when he realized his world would come tumbling down around him.

Sighing in exasperation, whether he wanted to kill Harry or not, it seemed as if the boy was constantly on his mind. The worry he had felt for Harry had surprised him that night Umbridge had carved into his flesh. The woman would die, the first opportunity they had he was going to bring her here, let Harry deal with her himself. Seeing Harry at work was truly…mesmerising, he had a way with spells that made his work on traitors seem insignificant. He missed him, especially reading quietly in this office. He'd gotten used to the boy coming in for a book to read or reading one of his own.

Scoffing at his absurd thoughts, trying to push Harry out of his mind - which by the way was utterly impossible to do. Lucius would hopefully succeed in creating a false trail for his new identity. Good enough that it would fool even the most intense scrutiny, starting with Durmstrang, old addresses and old jobs mostly abroad, but with money and the right incentive (whether it was manipulation or not) they did as Lucius wanted. Between that and looking for Greyback (who had been found) and his usual duties within the Ministry Lucius had been extremely busy.

He couldn't approach the Ministry with his current looks, he might actually stick with the political route this time if things went his way.

Drawn to the sound of an owl tapping at the window, he arched an eyebrow when he realized that it was Harry's owl. Flicking his wand lazily, he opened the window but the owl did not fly towards him as they usually did. This was the only place the owls could fly to; he had changed them slightly due to his getting in touch with others to gain allegiances. Before standing he knew the owl was evidently not for him. A snort left his lips, Barty, it was obviously for Barty, hmm, perhaps the mail was being watched - or just Harry's which wouldn't surprise him. Dumbledore would be desperate to know where Harry had spent his summer.

He called a house-elf to inform Barty of his…mail. He stared at the owl annoyance creeping into him, along with something he couldn't discern, jealousy maybe; he didn't like it either way.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, in his hand he held a missive from Gringotts, his blue eyes absent from their twinkle as he once more read the letter for the third time. He was furious, he had no idea how the boy had found out about his inheritance, and he had gone all out to ensure it never happened. He'd planned on the boy being dead before he found out at the age of seventeen where his power of attorney finished and before Harry claimed his Lordship. Not that he would have been the one doing the killing; no Harry would have walked to his own death by the time he was through.

Inhaling sharply, trying to reign in his magic, for so long everything had been going so smoothly, he had been so proud of his accomplishments where it came to Harry Potter. He was exactly where he wanted him, how he wanted him even at the age of eleven. He had seen Voldemort offer Harry a place at his side and saw the boy deny Voldemort even with the threat of death hanging over him. It had filled him with glee; Hagrid had truly done what was expected of him and filled Harry with thoughts that his parents loved him more than life itself. Which they did but Harry had to know so he'd never consider Voldemort at option.

Now in a single summer it had all gone to hell, he wasn't quite sure if he believed that Harry had been going from 'hotel to hotel' like he said, but there had been no sign of him lying either. Pursing his lips, caution crawling up his spine, he must find a way to deal with the boy, without causing too many ripples. He already realized he'd been a bit too hasty in his chosen punishment. With Minerva's and the Gryffindor Quidditch Teams constant glares and disapproval he had reluctantly taken his word back. Not that it had accomplished anything, from what he understood the boy did not go back to the team. Instead, Ginny Weasley had taken over as Seeker and Ronald was the Keeper. He didn't like that at all; the boy and Granger had to win back the boy's friendship. Being busy with Quidditch would absolutely not accomplish that. He'd compelled Granger so hopefully she would succeed on that front.

Pursing his lips, he glared at the letter his hand curling into a fist and causing the expensive parchment to crush in his hand. The unexpected intrusion of Goblins prevented him from getting his masks back up fully. He stood up at full height, his eyes strong and powerful, disapproval written all across his face despite the fact it was useless, the Goblins had never been intimidated by him.

It took all his composure not to move when they started summoning things from all over his office into the goblins waiting hands. He inhaled sharply, as the Potter Grimoire was found in his secret (not so secret now) stash behind the bookcase. The boy knew, he hadn't just taken on the mantel, he'd read the comings and goings of his vaults. Swallowing thickly, trying to regain his composure, seeing Severus standing in the doorway watching the proceedings cautiously helped a great deal in him regaining his bearings.

The goblins spoke in gobbledegook, smirking ferally, they had everything, and just like that the goblins piled out of his office and left without another word.

"Albus?" Severus stated, frowning.

"Come in, Severus," Albus said, his twinkle reappearing but not up to his usual standards. "What is wrong? Have you been summoned?" it was very unusual for Severus to come to his office without being prompted, and never in the morning before classes. Severus was more caustic in the morning so Albus always made sure to meet with him after dinner. He was difficult to deal with as it is without putting up with his personality this early.

"In a manner of speaking," Severus replied with his usual dose of sarcasm.

Albus peered at Severus through his half-moon glasses, "Meaning?" he enquired, reclaiming his seat acting as if nothing had happened.

"I have been summoned by the goblins," Severus revealed, noticing Albus' attention snapping up at that. "I've been summoned to the will reading of Lily,"

It took all of Albus' will power not to react in any way, but he would have been ashamed of himself if he realized the blood had drained from his face, leaving him paler than Severus on a bad day. "I see," Albus said in feigned casually. "When is it?" all the while wondering just why he hadn't received his own, glancing at the pile, perhaps he hadn't gotten to it yet he thought with dread.

"Saturday, at 1 PM," Severus replied, a confused perplexed look on his face, it was to be expected, after all Lily had died a long time ago and he was just now being invited to her will reading. He had already received his things, including a letter that had strengthened his resolve in keeping Harry safe. Ironically enough Lily had said she didn't even care if Harry joined 'You-Know-Who' himself, as long as he was happy and safe it was all she cared about. Reading it had given him Goosebumps, either perhaps she thinking that he would raise Harry to be one or it was just one of those exaggerated statements parents like to make. He wasn't sure which one gave him the most comfort.

"I'll bring it up during the staff meeting, I'm sure we can accommodate some of the teachers leaving for a few hours," Albus informed him.

"Very well, Albus, I must depart, breakfast will begin momentarily," Severus said smoothly, knowing if he lingered it would be terribly out of character. So, with a nod, Severus swiftly turned around and walked back out of the office, using his wand to close the door as he did so.

Only once Severus was gone did Albus slump on the chair, his old wrinkled hand wiping down his face wearily. Merlin today had just started but he was already feeling tired and drained. Merlin how had this happened? He asked himself despondently. Reluctantly summoning all letters from Gringotts, a few from his in-pile flew at him, as consternation flowed through him.

The first one was opened hastily, a sigh leaving his lips; will reading, of both Lily and James Potter. He prayed the goblins hadn't revealed his decision to have the will sealed, but he had a feeling that it was exactly what they had done.

Placing the parchment down, he picked up the second letter, expecting it to be the goblins informing him that Harry wanted all his items returned. Instead, he found to his never-ending horror, that Harry had closed down all the transfers he had coming out of his accounts. Which means the money for the Dursley's, Doge and Arabella had been stopped. At the moment the Dursley's and Arabella were of no consequence at the moment due to the fact they were missing. Doge however, would understand, he was very easy to manipulate.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, resignedly, there was truly nothing he could do. He could scarcely believe the Potter had threatened the Dursley's with Sirius Black. Perhaps he should have informed them of Black's innocence, it would have prevented them from running, and he would have known about Potter sooner. Cursing Vernon Dursleys lack of spine, he leaned back contemplating what to do next.

He couldn't deny the boy the right to go and attend his parents wills, but he would need to explain himself, cursing Potter to hell and back, he stood up, despite his anger, he placed his genial masks on, it couldn't do to let anyone see him furious. He had too much to deal with as it was, without this coming along.

Without another glance back he left his office, annoyance and worry his most primary emotions. It was time to eat breakfast in the great hall, he wanted to be glad it was Friday, but the knowledge of what tomorrow held - held it at bay.

"Harry!" Sirius called into the mirror, sitting on his bed, gazing desperately into the mirror. Despite his wanted status he had received a letter from Gringotts to attend the will reading. To say he had been surprised and horrified to receive it was putting it lightly, he'd thought the damn thing had been read - why wouldn't he? With him in Azkaban it wasn't as if he would have been let out to attend it.

"Harry!" Sirius called out once more, praying that his godson hadn't already went down to breakfast, it meant he'd have to wait like eight hours before he could talk to him.

"Silencio!" was the first thing Sirius heard other than his own voice, causing him to perk up. "Hey, Sirius, what's wrong?" Sirius felt guilty at causing his Godson so much concern, especially with everything he was already going through. He almost wanted to say 'nothing' and let him get on with his day.

"A-ah, did you…um…did you get a letter from Gringotts?" Sirius asked, not very subtle of him.

"About my parents will? I've not been to breakfast yet; I'll get it when I get down there." Harry said, watching surprise fly over Sirius' face much to his amusement.

"But how…you can't be…right?" Sirius stuttered a little flushed.

"Sirius, you're smarter than this, what happened last year?" Harry pointed out, smiling in amusement.

"Voldemort came back," Sirius said immediately.

"Yes, but before?" Harry pointed out, "Think the entire year."

"The tri-wizard tournament," Sirius added he had been so terrified for Harry all year; it wasn't something you tended to forget.

"Yes, unwilling participation or not…I became an adult, in the eyes of magic itself." Harry said, smugly. "You aren't going to try and attend the will reading, are you?" he asked giving Sirius a warning look not to lie to him.

"Of course," Sirius blurted out confused as to why Harry would say something like that to him.

"No!" Harry stated sharply, "Promise me you will not go, I mean it Sirius, swear an oath on my parents graves that you will not attend!" he couldn't risk Sirius being captured, not when he was so close to being revealed as a free man. He didn't want to risk Dumbledore giving the Aurors Sirius' location. Dumbledore would do anything that much he knew.

"Why?" Sirius asked, hurt flickering through his eyes.

"Because I don't want you to be captured, just do this for me Sirius, I'll send you anything that's yours, from both mum and dad." Harry soothed away the hurt in Sirius' eyes, already knowing Sirius would do it for him.

"Alright, Harry, for you," Sirius sighed resignedly, understanding the reasoning more than he wanted to. "I swear I won't attend your parents will reading."

"Thanks, Siri," Harry said smiling at him, "You're looking a lot better," he was obvious sleeping better.

"I feel a lot better, that potion…it's bloody amazing, Harry!" Sirius admitted he wasn't overly fond of Potions mostly because of Snape and Slughorn.

"I told you," Harry said smugly. "But your thoughts…?"

"A lot clearer," Sirius said soberly, he hadn't thought this clear since Lily and James had been alive. All his memories had slotted into place, and he wasn't having nightmares about his time in Azkaban so much…and he could swear that his body felt warmer, like his soul had replenished after what the Dementors had done to it. He could feel positive emotions again properly, what he'd felt before had been pale imitations. "Harry, I let you down so badly…I was in a dark place but that was no excuse…"

"Dark place?" Harry asked, already knowing, just wondering if Sirius would tell him, he knew because he'd seen it in Barty before the Dementor potions got given to him. He wasn't sure why he even called it a Dementor potion, it was actually a post-Azkaban potion but it was a bit on the long side.

"I never really noticed, you know, before I took the potions," Sirius confessed, being straight with Harry, treating him as an adult, he had been forced to come to the realisation that Harry hadn't been a child for a long while. The abuse…then everything he'd been through in the wizarding world. Scoffing inwardly, yeah, his godson was nowhere near a kid by anyone's standards. "My feelings were sort of dulled, the Dementors didn't half do a number on me, but I can feel things properly again, it's almost overwhelming," he admitted, rubbing his chest as if he could sooth away his intense feelings.

"Guess it sometimes gets a bit too much, huh?" Harry said genuinely feeling a little bit sorry for Sirius. "Have you thought about meditating?" he knew even as he suggested it - it would not happen, Sirius wasn't exactly the sit down and meditate kind. Then again that was before the potion, maybe he might calm down and stop being so foolhardy. He was waiting for Sirius to calm down some more before setting up his next round of manipulations by revealing more of Dumbledore, but obviously he wasn't ready for that.

Harry wasn't ready for the thoughtful look that came on Sirius' face at his suggestion. Maybe, just maybe…there was a chance after all.

"That might help," Sirius said quietly, every Black had been taught meditation, then they stepped it up to Occlumency lessons, but he'd ran before he completed them.

"I have to go, I'm starving," Harry said, "Give it a try alright? I'll talk to you tomorrow afternoon after the will readings,"

"Bye, Harry," Sirius said, watching as his godson disappeared from the mirror, breathing deeply, meditation, huh, well it couldn't hurt. Hopefully he'd be able to meditate with Molly Weasley's grating voice all around him. He would do whatever it took; it shamed him so much that Harry had been the one looking after him since he got out of Azkaban. Worse still it took Harry pointing it out to get through to him. No, it hadn't really been that, it was the potion.

He would do everything he could to prove to Harry he could be a proper godfather. Everyone else could go and screw themselves.

Harry joined everyone in the Great Hall, his green eyes gleaming brightly. The broach had finally been given back to Umbridge, he so hoped that he was there the first time it activated. He had spent two weeks on it, so that it was totally undetectable even by Dumbledore, they'd never sense anything from it. The short bursts of magic it emitted fused away after a few minutes stopping it from being detected. He'd also made sure his own magic wouldn't be caught either, the spells were his own making so he was not going to let anyone come to conclusions about him.

Sliding into his seat, he automatically began to plate up his food, true to his words to Sirius - he was absolutely starving, so he quickly devoured his food but kept his table manners thank you very much.

"Harry, I made the Quidditch team! I'm the keeper!" Ron said, his eyes sparkling excitedly, his chest puffed out proudly.

"This doesn't make us friends, but congratulations," Harry said, giving him a genuine smile and patting him on the back unaware of the twinkle that re-emerged from Dumbledore's eyes. "Bit of advice, dry toast only before your first match." old feelings stirred, but he refused to let it deter him. This was Ron's greatest wishes, as was being a prefect, he just wanted to be better than his brothers…well it looked as though he was succeeding somewhat. All you need to do is do better at your course work and get the grades to be an Auror."

Ron swallowed thickly, unlike everyone else he understood what Harry was talking about. The mirror of Erised, his eyes dimmed remembering what Harry had seen. His parents. Something he would never be able to get back. "Thanks mate," Ron croaked out, he'd always thought they'd be friends through thick and thin, now look at them, they might as well be strangers.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, understanding what Ron was thinking about, and it did warm his heart that Ron could think of someone else other than himself from time to time. He always seemed to make it more about himself than anyone else.

The sudden shrill girlish scream caused everyone to jump, the scream continued, everyone was astonished staring at Delores Umbridge in confusion, some worried but mostly everyone watched her with sadistic amusement, especially those who had been attacked courtesy of her damn blood quill.

"STAY AWAY DISGUSTING CREATURE! I AM DELORES UMBRIDGE! UNDERSECRETARY FOR THE MINISTER OF MAGIC! AWAY I SAY! I'LL HAVE YOU IN AZKABAN IF YOU DON'T DESIST!" Umbridge shrieked, backing away, almost falling down off the teacher's platform, her face was drained of absolutely all colour, the smell of urine and excrement filled the air causing everyone near her to ditch their breakfast and back away from the suddenly crazy woman who had her wand drawn.

"What the hell…" Neville muttered, wide eyed.

"AWAY! AWAY I SAY! HELP ME! HELLLP ME!" Umbridge shrieked looking around at everyone, backing into the wall, one hand raised defensively near her head, the other still pointing her wand, but her entire body shook with terror. "DUMBLEDORE DO SOMETHING! DON'T LET IT GET ME! I'M THE UNDERSECRETARY FOR THE MINISTER!" curling in on herself, trembling as the feral werewolf pawed impossibly closer, she could smell it's disgusting breath on her face.

It was too much for her, the terror caused her to pass out.

There was only one person not watching Umbridge as she passed out - Severus Snape. He was gazing shrewdly at Harry, suspecting that he had something to do with it. He had been far too complacent about her actions - especially considering just how vindictive he really was.

Harry smirked ferally for all of a second, and if anyone saw they would simply think they imagined it. After all Harry Potter did not go around smirking ferally, he wasn't evil after all; he was the savour of the wizarding world.

Severus suppressed a smirk of his own as Dumbledore swiftly made his way over to the unconscious witch. Waving his wand, everyone watched with bated breath wondering who had done it…since surely Dumbledore would know within the next few seconds. Yet as the spells continued, they began to realize…maybe, just maybe Dumbledore didn't know. The furrow on his brow gave even more credence to that theory.

Dumbledore sighed in exasperation, wondering what on earth was going on. There wasn't a spell on her, she hadn't ingested anything, nor injected with something. He was quite frankly puzzled, conjuring a stretcher; he decided to leave it up to Poppy to figure out. "Go to classes, come on, chop, chop!" he said cheerfully enough, waiting until the students had vacated the Great Hall to go to class before he began to levitate her to the hospital wing.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 24

Harry stepped into the Goblin's office, the large round table, that could fit up to…with a rough count of the chairs, thirteen people. He had gone to McGonagall with his letter and she had agreed to let him come, not like she could deny him, he was legally allowed to leave Hogwarts whenever he wanted, also legally obligated to attend the will reading, he was Lord Potter and with that became specific obligations. His retribution on Umbridge didn't prevent the witch from putting up more rules, obviously she'd heard what Granger was thinking off doing and had made it so that extracurricular group activities were banned. The look on Grangers face had been comical, cross between scared, furious and betrayed. He knew better than to think she'd forget about it, once Granger put her mind to something she'd do it, it wasn't his problem though so he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind, occluding to keep all his thoughts safe as he wandered to the top of the table and sat down.

McGonagall had brought him to Gringotts but since she was not invited to the will reading, she had merely dropped him off inside Gringotts before departing once more. He had seen her giving him concerned glances, he wasn't exactly sure why, because of how quiet he was? He doubted it; she didn't exactly listen to him when he actually spoke to her. He was still furious with her over that, a lot of students were being hurt because of Umbridge. Not just Gryffindors either, he'd spoken to them, urging them to go to their head of houses, but they'd all flat out refused to do so, Harry had told them how to best treat their wounds and left it at that. If they didn't want to do it, then he couldn't exactly force them.

Harry glanced up when the door opened again; he wasn't exactly surprised to see Dumbledore coming through, with Severus following beside him. He narrowed his eyes on Severus suspiciously, hatred flashing through his piercing green eyes, he found it rather difficult to maintain it when Severus sneered at him in turn. If one knew Severus well, you noticed the various degrees in which he sneered, there was a 'derisive sneer', 'I think you're a completely idiot' sneer, and the worst 'I wish I could kill you with a rusty spoon' sneer, this sneer he'd describe as Severus' playful sneer, he doubted Severus would agree with that assessment though.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry called out acting surprised, he hadn't seen nor heard from Remus since his third year at Hogwarts. When he left Harry had hoped that the wizard would stay in touch but he hadn't. Hell, he'd found out from Severus that Sirius and Remus were or at least used to be in a relationship for Merlin's sake.

"It's Remus, Harry," Remus informed the teenager a fond smile on his face as he joined him, sitting beside him, giving both Albus and Severus a nod from where they sat at the opposite side, Severus just blatantly ignored his presence.

"Is it?" Harry asked, staring blankly at him, for as long as he was able since his neck began to crap at being in the same turned position too long.

Remus stared at Harry confused; he didn't understand what Harry was implying. Unfortunately, before he could open his mouth to enquire further, Harry had turned away from him, and Augusta Longbottom entered the room. The delicate thin woman was wrapped up in a long fur coat, with a large hat perched upon her head. Aristocracy dripped from her every move, as she took a seat perching herself delicately as she stared straight ahead. The only reason he knew who it was, was because of the Boggart incident when he was thirteen.

"Good afternoon, Augusta," Albus said, giving the woman a warm greeting.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Augusta said, giving him a nod.

Harry gazed speculatively at Lady Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandfather; the epitome of a graceful Pureblood, Harry could have sworn it was a dismissive one. She wasn't fond of Dumbledore; it might be why Neville wasn't a stuttering mess when it came to the old man. He knew she wasn't in the will, but considering he knew what happened to Frank and Alice, she must be there representing them. Either that or she treated everyone with the same cold distain. He sincerely hoped that she at least let Neville know she loved him behind closed doors.

At exactly 1 o'clock Coop, the Goblin Harry had been writing to (only twice and in both times he'd taken Hedwig 'a walk' around Hogwarts and let her go with the letter right at the gates of Hogwarts and watched her fly away himself) just to ensure that nobody ambushed his owl. By anyone he meant Umbridge, he suspected she was intercepting the mail, Hedwig had come back all tussled. Nobody could open the goblins letters; to try was to wish for death, so he hadn't needed to worry about the replies.

"It seems there are quite a few people absent," Coop said, observing the mostly empty room as he claimed the seat at the top of the table, next to Dumbledore and Harry. Placing the box he'd carried in with him. "We shall wait a few more minutes then we will have to move on. The room is only free for one hour." he had already known that, Harry had informed him that mostly everyone wasn't going to be able to come.

"Of course," Albus said, still smarting over the fact the goblins had removed all the items he'd had in his possession for years.

Harry rolled his eyes at Dumbledore trying to be the centre of attention as always. He had no power here and he knew it, but it was amusing to see him try. There was no denying Dumbledore could be dangerous, and he was walking a fine line, especially if Dumbledore found out about him not intending to fight for the light side anymore. He was only alive to defeat Voldemort after all, if Dumbledore thought he was a threat, there was no telling what he would do, probably kill him to prevent Voldemort's immortality and continued existence. He wouldn't stand a chance against a duel with Dumbledore, not yet, it would take him years to match him.

Coop, having removed the paperwork from the box, unrolled the will, gearing himself up for it, he hated those things, the sobbing and arguing drove him crazy. Wizard's emotions were so weak, it was pathetic really. When they didn't get what they expected at the will reading and others did, the arguing started. It was why these rooms had dampening wards on them, preventing accidental or not so accidental magic from happening.

"This is the Last Will and Testament of James Potter," the goblin started, "I thereby revoke all my former wills."

Dumbledore tensed, knowing what was coming and mentally preparing himself for it.

"I appoint Albus Dumbledore executor of my will, and gift him one thousand galleons to prove my will,"

"What?" Remus whispered in disbelief, utterly confused, why would it have taken so long for the will to be read if Albus was the executor of the will?

"I give the following monetary gifts free of tax," Coop continued, "To Sirius Black, the contents of vault 232," the Potter's had thoroughly prepared for everything. Putting money into individual vaults and the keys for each vault were stored here for him to hand out. "And this box, and its contents." Coop removed the shrunk chest from the box at the side of him. It was almost as if they had known they'd die.

"I shall tak-" Albus started.

"I will give them to him," Harry spoke over Dumbledore, refusing to let him get his hands on anything his parents had given to Sirius or anyone else for that matter. He took the box and dragged it close to him; he didn't trust Dumbledore to take it regardless of his words. He absently used his fingers to drag the tip of his finger over the JFP; this had been his dad's school trunk.

"I give the following monetary gifts free of tax to Remus Lupin, the contents of vault 233, along with this chest," the goblin slid it magically over to the werewolf, the key gleamed brightly on top of the chest, this one was delicately carved and not a school trunk.

"Thank you," Remus croaked, stroking the chest reverently, his heart hurt, even after all these years, he still missed them. The chest had belonged to Lily; it didn't surprise him that Lily had helped James with his will. She had always been the more responsible one in the partnership, it was a good thing really, and James probably took it for granted that they were safe. Yet Lily probably wanted to have everything prepared just in case and thus the wills came into play.

"To Frank and Alice Longbottom the contents of this chest," the goblin said, levitating said chest towards Augusta Longbottom who didn't even move forward to claim it. There was no denying the raw pain in her eyes when her son and daughter-in-law were mentioned. "To my godson, Neville Longbottom, I give the following monetary gifts free of tax, the contents of 234 to use as he wishes and the letter."

"Wait a minute, why isn't Neville here?" Harry demanded, staring between the goblin and Augusta Longbottom.

"I informed my grandson I would stand in his stead," Augusta stated, her tone sharp and strong despite her old age.

"Informed or ordered?" Harry asked, biting his tongue, he shouldn't be arguing about this.

Coop sighed resignedly, here it goes, the arguing, although surprisingly it wasn't about money.

"How I handle my own grandson has nothing to do with you, Potter," Augusta informed Harry haughtily.

"Everyone can see how you're handling your grandson," Harry scoffed, "We've all heard the tales! You let your grandson be shoved off piers! Thrown out of windows! You won't even let him get his own wand; you're affecting Neville's own magic! Didn't you know that the wand chooses the wizard? It's not you who choose which wand goes where! You are responsible for Neville's underperformance! He would do a lot better than he is now if you just let him get a wand of his own! Because let me tell you this, Neville is better than anyone thinks he is, ten times better than YOU think he is." Harry's face was grim and determined; he meant every word he said.

Augusta stood up, her face blank scooping up the chest and her hat then she turned around and exited the room without further word. Dumbledore was staring at her retreating back utterly stunned, Augusta was one strong fierce woman, and she had left even him nameless a few times. She was one of the women he wouldn't dare antagonise for any reason; quite frankly he'd rather take on Minerva McGonagall. He'd expected Augusta to tear Harry a new one. Considering how the boy was being at the moment, he must admit if only to himself he had been looking forward to it, stepping in when he deemed it a suitable time.

"That was extremely unwise, Harry," Albus admonished the teen with a hint of steel in his voice. He was glad however; to see Harry still had many of his Gryffindor qualities despite what was happening.

Harry ducked down, crossing his arms defensively, looking every bit a contrite young man, who valued the Headmaster's praise and hated being reprimanded. He slunk back into his seat, before reluctantly adding, "Sorry, Headmaster," he replied, no guilt in his voice, if there was one true part of Harry's personality that had shone through - it was he was very defensive of his friends. That had not changed, only those he thought of as friends had.

Coop cleared his throat, "If we may continue," he said baring his teeth in annoyance. "The remainder of my estate in the event of my death I leave to my wife, Lily Potter and son, Harry James Potter."

"In the event of my wife passing after me the entirety goes to my son, Harry James Potter to receive upon his majority or coming of age." Coop added, reading only the relevant information to the group. Coop passed over a similar designed chest like the one Remus received, he had not taken them the day he visited, unlike Severus Snape, who had taken his, well one of them at any rate. That chest had all the keys to his vaults, and other items his father had wished for him to have.

Albus felt his heartbeat shoot up; while James had not mentioned Peter Pettigrew, he knew Lily had, she'd always been an extremely smart and talented witch. When it came to her son, she had taken every precaution necessary, including naming who the secret keeper was.

"Thank you," Harry said, accepting them.

"Now, for the Last Will and Testament of Lily Potter nee Evans, who Albus Dumbledore was also appointed as executor of the Potter estate."

"Upon the event of my death, should my husband, James Potter be unable to perform his duties as a father, I give custody of my son to his godfathers Sirius Black and Frank Longbottom, and godmother Alice Longbottom, if for whatever reason are unable to perform their duties, the following list of people will be the only ones my son will live with. The list consisted of one person, Severus Tobias Snape."

Harry's eyes widened comically, staring at the goblin unable to believe his ears, shaking them as if he was hearing some sort of static white noise. His cheeks were getting steadily redder each passing second.

"Under no circumstances is my son to be left with Petunia Dursley nee Evans,"

Harry's hands balled into fists, this one was no act, he was still furious over the fact Dumbledore had known both his parents wills and utterly ignored his mother's wishes. He should never have gone to the Dursley's; he should never have grown up abused, unwanted. As much of a hard ass Severus had been in the beginning, he had no doubt that Severus would have raised him right. May have taken a while to warm up to him for sure, but he would have been raised by a man who cared about his mum. He would have grown up smart, powerful, aware of his world and entered Hogwarts with confidence.

Glancing up at Dumbledore allowing the betrayal he still felt to shine through, carefully concealing the hatred he felt for the old man. He wrenched his gaze away before Dumbledore tried any funny business, he didn't want to test his Occlumency walls right now, not when he was feeling so emotional.

"I leave the contents of vault 200 to my son, Harry James Potter," Coop intoned, handing a folder to Harry, with letters from his mother and the key to his vault inside. "To Severus Snape, I leave the trove to you," once more items levitated over, it was merely a transfigured empty box, per Harry's demand, and apparently, they did not want Dumbledore to know Severus had been at Gringotts with Harry weeks ago. He had no problem doing this, and he had to admit, the acting going on today was exemplary. Normally he couldn't stand those displays, but he was genuinely enjoying himself, he hated Dumbledore. His constant condescending attitude was grating, every goblin would agree.

"This is for Remus Lupin," another chest floated towards Remus, who took it delicately as if it was the most expensive treasure in the world.

"I assume you wish for Sirius Black's item?" Coop queried, staring directly at Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered immediately, accepting the box from the goblin. He would give them to Remus as long as he promised to give them straight to Sirius after the will reading - he would know since he planned on going straight back to Hogwarts and informing Sirius all about what happened.

"If we are dead, the responsibility belongs to Peter Pettigrew, who is our Secret Keeper, should the Secret Keeper change at any time, this will, would have been edited. Sirius Black has served himself as a decoy to keep James, myself and our son safe from those after him. An official note is to be handed into the Ministry of magic, as well as to Amelia Bones and Alastor Moody respectively." Coop drawled, finally finished - and it was a good job, since the room was needed in less than five minutes.

"W-w-who is the signatories of the will?" Remus croaked amber eyes alit ferally.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom," Coop said, watching Remus buckle under some sort of invisible strain only once that happened did Coop add… "And Albus Dumbledore."

Remus let out an inhumane growl, his amber eyes flashing furiously as he turned on Dumbledore looking ready to tear him to pieces.

Harry noticed that Severus had paled drastically, no doubt remembering what had happened when he was a teen. While Severus knew he could defend himself, some scars just ran too deep, Harry knew that as well. "Come with me, come on Remus," Harry said, urging the furious werewolf up, "That's it, easy, take back control, you can do it, you're strong." rubbing his back as he continued to guide him out of the room, everything they'd been given floating behind them.

Dumbledore told himself it was Remus, not Harry who was doing it - after all, it was a warded room it shouldn't have been possible. Remus was the one furious enough to do it, yes, it was him.

"Are you feeling better?" Harry asked him as soon as they were breathing fresh air outside of Gringotts. Plucking his things out of the air, he shrank them and slid them into his cloak pocket; he would deal with it later. He however, kept a hold of Sirius' things, planning on giving them to Remus. "Look I probably don't have long before Dumbledore comes back out…are you alright?"

"Did you just call him Dumbledore?" Remus said blankly, looking caught between amused and confused.

"It's far too busy to discuss that; can you do something for me?" Harry asked, staring intently at Remus.

"Of course," Remus said as if Harry had to ask.

"Go straight to Sirius, give him these, I'll be talking to him in less than half an hour so I'll know if he doesn't have them by then, please?" Harry said, not giving them over just yet.

"Sure," Remus said still slightly dazed, accepting the items.

"Go," Harry stated his tone becoming darker, seeing Dumbledore quickly making his way over. "GO!" he hissed quietly, but urgently.

Remus then disappeared with a pop, leaving Harry on his own to deal with Dumbledore.

"Come, Mr. Potter, we must return to Hogwarts," Albus said glancing around worriedly as if he expected Voldemort to pop up and begin cursing everyone. Now wasn't the time for Harry's death as relieving as that would be now that so much had gotten out - information he hadn't expected to get out - ever.

Harry allowed himself to be side-long Apparated by Dumbledore; he had to get away from the old man before he lost it though. He was seconds away from saying things that he knew would blow a lid on all he wanted to keep hidden - keep secret.

As soon as they landed, Harry took off, ignoring the Headmaster calling for him.

"Let him go, Albus," Severus stated, watching the boy run, knowing or heavily suspecting the real reason. "The brat needs to deal with it before the weekend is over." unable to sneer fully, but Dumbledore would no doubt chalk it up to the fact his own emotions were all over the place with the mention of Lily.

Albus turned to stare at Severus, only to watch Severus' wince in agony, trying and failing to stifle his reaction to the Dark Mark burning. "Go, be safe, Severus," Albus urged him, turning swiftly and returning to the school, hopefully when he returned it would be with news he could use. He needed to catch Tom in the act, but he realized it was probably Tom being furious that his followers had died in Azkaban. Hopefully, he wouldn't go too far in his punishment, he needed Severus after all.

He despondently and disappointedly made his way up to his office, neither Lily or James had left anything for the Orders continued fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. They'd also not left anything for him either, he had expected them to add a clause or two after he signed it, despite it not being strictly ethical, many people did due to the fact they did not want the signatories knowing what they were getting. Money was getting tighter where the Order was concerned, he hated having to dip into his own money.

He needed to expand the search for the Dursley's, he wanted Harry to return there for Christmas. He would inform the boy that it was to replenish the blood wards, but the reality is he needed the boy to relearn that he was worthless, useless, a waste of space, he needed to die for the greater good, and he would rather the boy went willingly, but if he had to intervene then so be it.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 25

Harry ran as fast as he could, probably looking like a bat out of hell, not that he cared truly. He just wanted to get to his dorm, and use that time getting there to try and exhaust himself enough that his magic wouldn't explode because of his feelings. Even Occlumency wasn't helping his state right now, oh he'd known most of the things Dumbledore had done to him, and he wasn't by any means stupid. He had also read the will and known, but until it was said out loud his anger had been just simmering under the surface just looking for a reason to come out. The will reading and the fact the goblins had said the damned words out loud had obviously been the straw that broke the camel's back.

His legs began to strain as he made his way up the stairs, level after level not even bothering to stop - not even when his breath was coming out in pants. He only skidded to a stop and almost bowled over, hands on his knees he rasped out the password, his voice coming out weird due to his inability to breathe normally. The portrait opened, and Harry weakly and on shaking legs stumbled into the common room, using everything he could get his hands on to help keep himself upright, perhaps it hadn't been the best idea, but his magic was no longer feeling ready to explode any given moment.

The stairs he went up this time, he went up one at a time, pausing briefly to inhale sharply and breathe out, and then taking another step until eventually he was on the landing to the dorms. Opening the door to his dorm, glad to see it was completely empty, which of course it would be, nobody spent their weekend in the dorm. Closing the door behind him, he gratefully sat down his entire body sagging in relief at the respite.

Before his body could stiffen completely, he summoned Sirius' mirror, and cast a 'Muffliato' around his bed. "Sirius," Harry murmured, his breathing was now getting back to some semblance of normality. His screen glowed blue indicating that the mirror had alerted Sirius that he wanted him in the second mirror he had. His hands were shaking; thus, he levitated the mirror so it wasn't glaringly obvious. The adrenaline crash was going to be awful, luckily not as awful as it was when he was running on empty – as in starving – for the millionth time.

A frown began to appear on his face as the seconds ticked by; he couldn't say he was overly surprised. Sirius was probably going nuts right about now if Remus had already told him. Considering how furious Remus had been, there was no way he had subtlety told him. Nor was he probably able to calm him down, he would just have to wait until Sirius calmed marginally and remembered the mirror. It would be beside him, of that Harry had no doubt, he'd probably been waiting on him coming back from the will reading but Remus will have thrown that in a loop.

Laying the mirror on the middle of his bed, Harry reluctantly got up and moved over to the table in the corner of the room against the wall containing glasses and a large pitcher of water. Pouring himself one, he downed it in two gulps before pouring himself another before replacing the pitcher and going back to his bed. His parched throat sated temporarily, idly wondering if Umbridge had had a second 'episode' yet. He had made it so it was completely random so nobody could be accused of doing it to her. He rather hoped not to miss an episode, but he didn't want to risk having it activate with his own magic so he'd made it random. It was just the start, he planned to make her life an utter misery before he killed her.

Drinking the glass he absently levitated it back to its spot, trying to decide on what book to read since he had time to pass - which wasn't true as at that moment Sirius' face appeared on the mirror, and unlike the other times they'd spoken Sirius wasn't happy or excited. He was red faced, furious and his nostrils kept flaring as if he was about to lose all control.

"Harry," Sirius said, his voice strained.

"Hey, Siri, are you alright?" Harry asked, levitating the mirror so his face was showing not the canopy above his bed.

"I'm fine," Sirius said, trying to smile but it came out as a grimace.

"Siri, I'm not a five-year-old boy who needs protecting, I'm nearly an adult, I feel like one too," Harry pointed out, "You're also an exceedingly very bad liar."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, genuine amusement lighting up his eyes as he stared bemused. "That I am, there's only one thing I really could keep a secret, something I'm sure Remus is grateful for." he had never been able to keep anything from his friends, they'd saw right through him and obviously his godson could as well.

"Yes, I'd say so," Harry said wryly, grinning in amusement, Remus wouldn't have remained at school if the students had found out about the fact, he was a werewolf - not even Dumbledore would have been able to keep him there - the pureblood's would have dragged their kids out and the Ministry would have had to interfere. Possibly with the threat of 'putting him down before he harmed the students'.

Sirius just grimaced again, looking very torn and Harry genuinely felt sorry for him.

"What are you going to do, Siri?" Harry asked he wouldn't like to be in Sirius' position right now. He could hear cluttering in the background, it sounded like cups or something, and obviously Remus was still there.

"I don't know," Sirius managed to say, obviously taking Harry's words to heart to treat him like an adult.

"Sirius…close off Grimmauld Place, don't let Dumbledore continue to use you…not after this…" Harry suggested, "He knew this whole time, he let you rot in Azkaban…for what? So, he could put me at the Dursley's? to ensure I grew up abused?"

"Why would you think such a thing?" Remus asked, sounding perplexed, as if he didn't quite believe Harry.

"Don't you know what happened that night before you turned tail and hid in a hole for twelve years?" Harry snapped out in annoyance. "Despite having a best friend, a lover who needed you? Or how about a child who had just lost everything in a single night? You know I have more respect for Pettigrew than I do for you. At least he stood up for what he obviously believes in…whether he was wrong or not doesn't come into it."

Sirius gaped at Harry in shock, his eyes abnormally large, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what had caused it. The fact he knew they used to date? Or the fact he'd just said he respected Pettigrew? Or maybe a combination of the fact he'd called Remus a coward and everything else on top of it.

"Then I'll inform you of exactly what happened, my parents were killed, Sirius shows up, presumably comforts me since Hagrid took me from his arms, and I was transported to Privet Drive with Hagrid in a flying motorcycle. I was taken to Privet Drive twenty-four hours BEFORE Sirius was arrested, when he was my godfather and magical guardian. Dumbledore then dumped me on the doorstep and left, I was found the next day by my Aunt when she put the empty milk container out. Shortly afterwards he had the wills closed as 'executor of the estate' ensuring that Sirius would not go free and I would not gain a magical guardian so I would grow up completely oblivious about my status in the magical world supposedly Dumbledore wanted to ensure I didn't get a fat head." Harry informed them, if this didn't get them away from Dumbledore and the bloody Order nothing would. Harry knew if they stayed with Dumbledore now…he would lose Sirius, no amount of manipulation would help if Sirius could stay on the light side after what Dumbledore did. "He knew when he sent you to Grimmauld Place to 'keep you safe'; also ensuring he had control over you and me."

Sirius swallowed thickly, his shoulders hunching as he was forced to hear what he had just learned from his godson in such a matter-of-fact way. He was still reeling; the anger had faded by the time he picked up the mirror now a profound sense of betrayal and hurt was thrumming through him. Wondering what he had done to deserve twelve years in Azkaban…why the Headmaster had abandoned him and none of it had made sense until now…until Harry spoke.

Remus himself wasn't fairing any better, the guilt he had been feeling since Harry spoke of seeing Peter Pettigrew on the map and coming to the conclusion that Sirius could be innocent. He had denied it and better denied it until he had been forced to face the knowledge when he saw Pettigrew on the map, right next to Sirius. The worst of it after transforming back from his wolf form, he'd been exhausted for days and forced to face everything as all he'd been able to do was lie down and think. It had been steadily worse seeing Sirius again, all the apologising in the world would not, and could not make the guilt go away; he should know he was living it. To hear Harry practically call him a coward and have more respect for Pettigrew by Merlin it felt as if he was being ripped to pieces. The underlying knowledge that Dumbledore had set this all up, Dumbledore of all people, a man who he felt immense loyalty to for allowing him to attend Hogwarts had completely ripped his life apart. Had stolen twelve years of Sirius' life…had given Harry to a family where he was abused, and sent him back continuously, Remus knocked back the entire contents of whiskey in his glass, the burn was appreciated for only a second as it forced his thoughts on that instead of everything.

"I can't close Grimmauld Place…the Order…" Sirius whispered, "They're going to help you, they're needed,"

"You think I'm going to join the Order?" Harry asked, forcing a curious look on his face.

"You're not?" Sirius asked taken aback.

"No," Harry revealed honestly, "It's what painted a target on my parents back, I will never trust Dumbledore again, not after this," he successfully choked out the words as if it was killing him to admit it, if this got back to Dumbledore, he had to make sure that he could claim he was just 'emotional' and 'not thinking straight'. As much as it pained him - only slightly mind - he didn't trust either man one hundred percent, so he wasn't going to reveal anything they didn't already know. Especially not his loyalties or the lack of them in Dumbledore.

"You will need help to defeat Voldemort," Sirius told him calmly, as if he had come to a decision.

"Why do you think I must do it?" Harry asked blankly, "I'm not the only one who's lost parents to Voldemort during the war." protesting heavily. "Stop thinking of me and what must be done or has to bloody happen. I will not be joining the Order, I won't be coming to where you are, and so what you do is up to you. I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you, but come tomorrow you'll be getting a trial, mum made sure everyone knew who the real secret keeper was, then you'll be free to do whatever you like. Considering your words, if Dumbledore told you I have to go back to the Dursley's you'd just accept it - when it comes down to it, you'll always put Dumbledore above me…just like my friends." Harry said, not that the Dursley's would ever be seen or heard from again - no need to tell anyone that titbit - it would keep Dumbledore distracted looking for them. He didn't even wait for Sirius to protest he just murmured "Deactivate." the urge to smash the mirror against the wall was strong, but he didn't, he put the mirror in the drawer and used Parselscript to lock it, preventing anyone from getting at it. It was up to them now; he'd done all he could to make them see Dumbledore for what he was. A disgusting master manipulator that did whatever he wanted and used the excuse 'for the greater good'.

Sighing softly, he slumped back against his pillows, life at Hogwarts was just bloody tedious, it always had been but for some reason this year was the worst. Perhaps because he'd had a slice of what life could be like, even if it was with Voldemort. He certainly wouldn't have been Harry's first thought when it came to having a life without the Dursley's in it, but hey, he definitely wasn't complaining with the outcome.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the door opened so suddenly and Neville was standing there, talking, but he couldn't hear him over the muffling spell. Using his wand this time, he undid it and said, "Can you repeat that?" only a little breathless thankfully.

"What did you say to my Gran?" Neville asked, his tone wasn't demanding in fact he was very confused and a little bit elated.

"Oh," Harry murmured moving until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet on the ground. "Did I get you in trouble?" Neville knew enough occlumency that his immediate thoughts weren't coming in loud and clear to even him - a proficient Legilimens - which meant he was either a natural or he had learned it before coming to Hogwarts. Harry was one to bet that it was entirely natural; Neville was too emotional to maintain the necessary calmness that one needs to erect Occlumency barriers. It was obviously something that purebloods were taught before entering the school, since mostly all the Slytherin's had barriers on their minds too.

"No, no, but what did you say?" Neville queried again, desperate to know.

Harry winced, "Alright, alright, I'll tell you." he replied, "I may have told her she was responsible for you not being able to use magic correctly."

"But how? It's not as if she put a block on my magic, which is illegal by the way." Neville pointed out, believing that was the only way to affect ones magic.

"I certainly didn't imply anything like that," Harry protested, "No I just told her by giving you your fathers wand she was completely derailing your magical progress. The wand isn't right for you; even Ron was able to work his second-hand wand better than you could. Ron got better at magic with his second wand; you don't have a wand that is right for you, Neville. I mean…when I went to Ollivander's he said the wand chooses the wizard, not that this particular wand finds you lacking, it's just the core inside just isn't a good fit for you. I also told her that you were ten times better than she thought you were."

Neville swallowed thickly, nobody had ever had confidence in him, he didn't even have any confidence in himself, yet those words…a longing desire to prove himself to Harry emerged so fiercely. "S-she's going to get me a new wand."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that, at least something came out of it," Harry said smiling a little, "Did you know we were god-brothers, Nev?"

"W-what?" Neville said eyes extraordinary large as he stared in disbelief.

"My parents were your godparents, your parents were my godparents," Harry explained, something inside of him giving in relief that Neville hadn't kept that information from him for four years. It probably wasn't exactly wise to befriend Neville, especially considering he'd be considered a traitor when it became obvious, he had no intention of fighting in the war. No intention of killing Voldemort or stopping him taking over. The magical world was pathetic, and he honestly wanted to see what changes Voldemort would bring - surely anything was better than the way it was now?

"I-I never knew that," Neville whispered, betrayal thrumming through him, another thing his Gran continued to keep from him just because she thought he was a failure as wizard. He remembered the looks he'd got from her before he performed magic, and to this day it affected him. Nothing he did was ever good enough; she always looked down on him so when the letter came, he had been so surprised.

"I didn't either," Harry informed him, "It wasn't until I went to Gringotts for the will reading of my parents, and they left you something,"

"Oh," Neville said awkwardly, "My parents…well, they're not dead…"

As much as Harry wanted to lie and conceal the fact he already knew about Neville's parents, he didn't, instead he told the boy the truth. "I already know, Nev, Dumbledore left his pensive lying out…I didn't know what it was of course," he lied, with regret; he had known what a pensive was. "I saw the trial, I know what happened to your parents, and I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but you obviously had a reason for not wanting anyone to know so I respected your wish and carried on as if I didn't know." he also silent apologised for being friends with one of the people responsible for Frank and Alice's torture. Perhaps it was best to distance himself from Neville; Neville would find it a huge betrayal. Surprisingly what the Lestrange's had done hadn't been in the newspaper.

"We're doing some homework in the common room; would you like to come?" Neville said, abruptly remembering why he had come up the stairs, to begin with - before receiving the letter - a book he'd forgotten to pack this morning.

"No, I need some time to myself," Harry replied honestly, and he knew Neville would understand.

"Alright, will I see you at dinner?" Neville asked, understanding how overwhelming it could be, Harry like him had no real memories of his parents. Visiting them in St. Mungo's just wasn't the same, he was just constantly reminded of what he lost, but it was the only way he could see them that and he knew his Gran wouldn't react well if he told her he didn't want to go. It just wasn't worth it, so he just persevered as always.

"Maybe," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, feeling a little conflicted.

"Alright," Neville murmured, quickly grabbing the book from his trunk before hastily leaving the room - giving Harry time to himself - something he obviously desperately desired.

Upon touching the Dark Mark, Severus was transported to the Dark Lord's side, which at the moment was his office. The mark as soon as he was in His presence stopped the annoying twinges. He was being called more often now than he had all summer, ironic really, but the Order had been out in full force trying to locate Harry, all the while his Lord had been trying to convince Harry to join his side, and kept him hidden away from even the elite. Although really, he didn't think Harry had needed much convincing. He wasn't alone with the Dark Lord he realized, Pettigrew was there, standing snivelling as he always was, and Severus' lip unconsciously curled, how he hated the loathsome traitorous rat, and couldn't wait until the Dark Lord tired of him and he could finally torture and kill him - with Harry's help no doubt.

"My Lord," Severus said, bowing his head respectfully but remained standing. "Dumbledore is unfortunately, aware that I was called, he was with me when you summoned me. We had just returned from the will reading."

Voldemort faced Severus and nodded curtly, before turning to face Wormtail again, "Leave!" he snapped, the only reason he had called the disgusting pathetic wizard was to summon Severus not listen to his snivelling voice.

"Yes, your lordship," Pettigrew said bowing low, so low in fact his face came into contact with the floor before he quickly wobbled away, his entire body shaking as if he had just been under the Cruciatus curse, he hadn't been, it was just his usual countenance.

"I want you to brew these potions," Voldemort stated, removing a list from his desk and handing it over to Severus.

"When do you require them, My Lord?" Severus asked, knowing better than to think it was a suggestion, it was an order.

"You will brew them here," Voldemort informed him; already knowing Severus would prefer to return to Hogwarts to brew them. "I will give you a time-turner so you do not need to explain your long absence."

"Of course," Severus replied, his eyes glancing over the list, hearing the words time-turner had made him wonder how many potions and how long he'd be there. Fortunately for him he knew he could brew at least four at a time, maybe three with a few of the potions on the list that require near constant supervision. "I have the results of the tests you requested that I run." he added, remembering the paperwork he had been carrying around in his concealed cloak pocket for the past few days for when he was called - which he had been of course.

"Sit," Voldemort demanded immediately, his hand barely twitching as he summoned a chair from the corner of the room, if zoomed over slowing to a stop right next to Severus who did indeed take a seat, as he began to remove parchment from his pocket. "What have you observed so far?" he demanded accepting the paperwork surprised by the work Severus had put into it, he'd gone back further than he anticipated he thought as he looked over the family trees.

"That nine of the Muggle-born students have at least one magical ancestor often time two, the information I gathered regarding the names I found seemed to indicate that they were squibs who were presumably thrust into the Muggle world as soon as it became apparent that they were not magical." Severus explained, "If there are names of wizards in the other family tree's they aren't ones I am familiar with, perhaps you or Nott might have more luck with them."

"You tested only known Muggle-borns?" Voldemort questioned him glancing up from the paperwork in front of him but he knew as he asked that Severus would have been thorough.

"That is correct." Severus nodded once, "There is quite a surprise in Hermione Granger's results, apparently Armand Malfoy was not the sole heir to the family, they had another son, Barnaby Malfoy, who was presumably a squib and disowned." Severus explained sounding greatly amused. "I had to refrain from showing Lucius what I had discovered." he chuckled dryly, surprising himself, he never ever let his guard down around the Dark Lord…and he just had.

"Armand was the first of the Malfoy's to arrive in Britain, I assume the son had been disowned as they settled," Voldemort stated thoughtfully, remembering Abraxas revealing parts of his history while they were at Hogwarts. Severus had gone quite far back, 1066 was when Armand Malfoy had come to Britain, it had taken a long time for magic to come back into the family, but if they all married Muggles with no magical ancestors then it made sense. His eyes skimmed over the magical tree, wondering if both parents had squib ancestors. He found himself wishing to investigate further; long lost pureblood names could be renewed. Magic could actually flourish again, there was only twenty families left that could say they were 'pureblood's' and most of them were pathetic, Crabbe and Goyle being a prime example, and look at what had happened to the Black family in a few decades. There was only one heir left, if Black didn't have an heir the Black line would be next to go.

"Yes, I believe Lucius has no idea of this titbit of information," Severus replied, the family tapestry was hand woven, if he hadn't been put on it, it could be very well that even Armand hadn't known about his sibling.

"Crouch will help you with the potions if you require it?" Voldemort suggested, arching an eyebrow at his Potions Master, actually asking a question.

"I will be fine, thank you, My Lord," Severus stated immediately, he didn't like people breathing over his shoulder as he worked, as helpful as Crouch would be he didn't want to end up being there past midnight. If there was a single accident then he most definitely would be.

"Use my potions lab, it will open for you, everything you need will be down there," Voldemort stated, refraining from smirking at the gobsmacked look on his spy's face. Yes, he didn't just let anyone in there, well, anyone at all as a matter of fact. He would never risk the chance of any ingredients being tampered with and tainted; it could cause an accident normal wizards wouldn't be able to come back from. Paranoia was a good thing; he just wasn't as bad as he used to be when it came to such worries.

"Yes, My Lord," Severus stated gathering his momentarily scattered composure before standing, giving another nod before swiftly exiting the office, closing the door behind himself and making his way to where he knew the Dark Lord's potions lab was. It was in the wing that absolutely nobody got to go to, not without permission, in fact it was the same wing that Harry's rooms were located.

Voldemort's eyes carefully roamed over each of the family trees that Severus had brought him. Slightly amazed that he had so successfully managed to get fifteen Muggle-borns blood from them without alerting them. This Hermione Granger was truly the great-great-great granddaughter of a Malfoy. There hadn't been a female Malfoy in ever, it had been Narcissa's wish to have a daughter, but they'd barely been able to have Draco, it was just too dangerous for her to have another child and Lucius did not want to lose her.

Each family tree uncovered the same thing, all at different times, so there was no set limit to how long it took for magic to re-emerge in certain lines. None of them were quite as impressive as the bloodlines that ran through Harry's veins though but still, the boy was correct. He recognized the names of fourteen wizards, but the fifteenth one remained a mystery for now. He would get to the bottom of it. It was no coincidence that they all had a magical ancestor. He was mesmerised, just how had Harry cottoned on?

Pursing his lips he leaned back gazing blankly at the parchment in front of him. He had always assumed the Muggle-borns were pathetic, a waste of air, admittedly his belief came from Salazar Slytherin, and the desire to finish what his ancestor had started. They were destroying everything, because of the Muggle loving wizards they no longer celebrated the pagan rites, Yule had become Christmas and they no longer celebrated the solstices and that was just the tip of the iceberg. The fact the proportion of Muggle-borns were on the rise while pureblood's declined also annoyed him. He'd wanted rid of Muggle-borns as well as the sympathisers. Why hadn't he killed Harry again? He thought completely vexed. He did not like questioning the beliefs he'd held for sixty years nearly. Part of him had hoped Severus would tell him the opposite of what he just had. Damn the brat, he thought grouchily, as he had to admit defeat.

He sat up at abruptly when he felt the wards twinge; it appeared as if Fenrir Greyback had at long last arrived. With a wave of his hand everything regarding the tests he'd had done on Muggle-borns flew into the drawer and closed. It was time to talk to his Alpha werewolf; soon he hoped to have the creatures all on his side.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 26

Harry stared down at the note that one of the second year Gryffindors had given him - from Dumbledore - just after sitting down for breakfast, a curious mixture of feelings brewing within him. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since the will reading, it was Sunday morning, yet Dumbledore couldn't leave well enough alone. Was he going to try and explain himself? Had Dumbledore already spoken to Sirius and Remus? Had they betrayed him? They usually did parrot everything he said or wrote back to the old man, but Sirius had insisted it was truly out of concern. If they had gone and repeated what he said at Dumbledore then he was through with the pair of them, he wouldn't be able to trust them again. Although a biting voice in his head reminded him that they might not want anything to do with him because of his reluctance to fight for the 'good of the magical world' Merlin, help him he didn't want to fight, he just wanted to create his own potions and spells and be left alone and not expected to deal with a wizard who had sixty years more magical knowledge than him. Voldemort was fine with that, oh who was he kidding? Voldemort actually wanted him on his side; he could see that clear as day. He would be satisfied with Harry being neutral though, of that, he was sure.

Shaking his thoughts off, there was no point to wondering, he would find out soon enough since he was to go after breakfast. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he'd spent the rest of the day yesterday refreshing his knowledge on all subjects OWLS test related. Just in case he missed anything during the reading he'd done this summer. Hell, he had been reading NEWTS material and more but between classes, homework, his actual OWLS exams and getting last minute revision done he wasn't getting much sleep.

Folding it up, he put it in his pocket before he began to eat his breakfast sedately, taking his time as much as he'd love to put it off, he knew he couldn't outright ignore Dumbledore's summons he was the Headmaster after all. Glancing around the hall, idly noticing that Umbridge was once again back on her feet, a little cowed but not enough for his tastes even scared she managed to pull off a haughty attitude from where she sat lording over the table as if she owed it. Grimacing in distaste, his eyes sought out those in Slytherin, Merlin help him but they were getting worse, each day that passed, Malfoy was making everyone's lives hell. His silence and refusal to bite back just made Malfoy more determined.

He had a feeling it would all start back up again, clenching his fist, the words were barely visible, but still there and he loathed the sight of them. Clenching and unclenching his fist, while the detentions weren't brothering him overly much pain wise, he was just tired of being the constant target everyone picks. Was it too much to ask that for once he wasn't forced to endure something happening at Hogwarts? Just to have a good year without anything going wrong in his life? Who would have guessed it would only be Voldemort not bothering him? with him being hit on all other ends, Dumbledore, the Ministry and the bloody Slytherins he wasn't going to get started on his roommates who didn't believe Voldemort was back.

"Up for a game of chess later, Harry?" Neville asked after swallowing his food, he wasn't Ron thank you very much, even with Hermione's complaints and admonishing he still hadn't changed in four years. He'd never been able to summon up the courage to ask Fred and George if Ron always ate like that at home.

"I have to go see the Headmaster right after breakfast," Harry informed him shaking his head, wiping his mouth with his napkin where residue from his scrambled egg had run down his chin. Knowing Dumbledore, he'd be there for at least an hour while he tried to manipulate him.

"I mean after lunch, Gran's coming in a few minutes to take me to get a wand instead of waiting until Hogsmeade weekend or the holidays," Neville said, puffing out with a grin. His Gran had written to Professor McGonagall and gotten the permission slip for her to take him out of school for the day. He wasn't sure what had changed her mind so quickly that she'd written a letter then another a few hours later but he wasn't complaining. If what Harry said was right…he might not be so useless after all…it might have been the wand that made him unable to do many spells right.

"Sure," Harry agreed, picking up another piece of toast, "After lunch then," he could get some reading done in-between. There wasn't much time between now and the holidays though really.

"Great!" Neville replied, "You don't mind if Luna comes do you?" here he added that hesitatingly.

"Not at all," Harry answered, as long as she wasn't like everyone else, mocking him because he'd told the truth of Voldemort being back.

Neville gave a relieved smile, relieved that Harry had agreed. He liked Luna, she was a good friend, always there to lend a helping hand. He didn't want her to think he was just going to abandon her because he was spending a lot of time with Harry now. Luna didn't have any friends, not even in Ravenclaw, she was just like him and he wanted better for her.

Ron chewed on his bottom lip that was something he and Harry usually did at the weekend, play chess. It was one of the few things he was better at Harry at. Despite the fact he always bet Harry at the game, they still played, Harry was much better than he'd been when he was eleven and playing for the first time though. Not having Harry as his best friend was awful, hanging around with Seamus and Dean just wasn't the same, he felt like an outsider most times since when they joked or reminiscent on past occasions he hadn't been there to really understand their amusement. That and there was the belief that Voldemort wasn't back when he believed it, Dumbledore believed it so he did too.

"Harry?" Ron finally said, his breakfast finished, already nabbing a few things from the table to eat a second helping.

"What is it?" Harry asked, turning to Ron.

Ron relaxed a little, he'd honestly half expected Harry to ignore him, "W-would you like to fly after dinner? You know…maybe help me for my first game?" he was extremely nervous about it, but he really wanted to do well.

Harry grinned, Ron was acting like he had at the age of eleven, honestly, and you wouldn't think Ron had grown up with the sport the way he was acting. "You want me to throw a Quaffle at you repeatedly?"

Ron gulped audibly, "Er…yes?" not sure if he should be agreeing…Harry was mad at him still. He probably deserved it; he had listened to Hermione and Dumbledore and ignored him.

"What do you think, Neville? Should I help him?" Harry said turning to the teen that looked as though he'd been caught in the headlights.

Neville shrugged; he honestly didn't want to get in-between them although Harry did look as if he was just kidding around. "Depends do you want Gryffindor to win the Quidditch cup?" he bravely said.

Harry laughed, "Alright, Ron, I'll help you, do you have permission from McGonagall to practice?"

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione reprimanded unable to stop herself.

She was promptly ignored by the three conversing wizards.

"That's only for when the whole teams practicing, I checked," Ron confessed blushing red, "We can play anywhere really," he just wanted to practice.

"You probably should get permission to use the pitch though," Harry commented idly, glancing at the teachers table to make sure they were all still sitting. They all were, with one notable exception, Dumbledore was already gone. "You know what will happen if Umbridge catches us without permission." he didn't relish getting another detention, at least not for another fortnight by then he should be through with his OWLS or close to it.

"Good point," Ron admitted his brow furrowed as he thought about their newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Who would have thought they could hate anyone more than Quirrell or Lockhart? Hell, even Moody was better than Umbridge and they'd been taught by a lunatic all year. Not getting to use magic in defence classes sucked, practical classes were always the best, hands down, which Professor Lupin did a lot of during their third year. "I'll speak to her after breakfast." he decided, he didn't want Harry mad at him again like he had been after their first Defence class.

"Alright," Harry nodded before finishing the remains of his now cold breakfast, wiping his face again before placing the cutlery down and the cloth napkin went on top. There was nothing else he could do now to stall the inevitable meeting between him and Dumbledore. Surely it was unethical to call up students to your office all the time, when it rarely ever had anything to do with school. Scowling at the thought of the oncoming event, he murmured quietly to Neville, "I'll see you later," with that Harry left the Great Hall not even waiting on Neville's reply, ignoring the looks he could feel boring into his back.

Harry didn't meet anyone wandering the halls as he ambled towards the Headmaster's office, looking for all the world as if he was merely taking a stroll around the school.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Harry stated confidently as he finally reached the Headmaster's office, the password had been written down on the letter under post-script, he couldn't be any more obvious about it, how nobody had snuck in and killed Dumbledore in his own office yet he had no idea. Once the gargoyle had stopped moving, Harry stepped on and casually made his way up, until he was right in front of the large oak door with the lion handle.

Knocking only once on the door, knowing Dumbledore liked to call out after the second knock, he always knew who was knocking, between the portraits that constantly reported to him and the spell on his door, there was nothing mysterious about it. Harry pursed his lips in amusement when after a few seconds pause when it became clear he wouldn't knock again, Dumbledore's voice called for him to "Come in, Harry!" his voice slightly confused. He obviously wasn't used to people not playing along with his games.

Turning the handle, Harry entered the red and gold office, standing there with a bored mask on his face, "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he observed the teen, "I did, please sit down, Harry, we have much to discuss," Dumbledore said, his voice calm and soothing, as if he wanted nothing more than to reassure Harry that he could be trusted. "Tea? Coffee? Lemon drop?" he questioned, dipping a spoon into a cup of coffee already on his desk and stirring it. The small bowl of lemon drops was in the centre of the desk, where they always were, offered to anyone that stepped foot in the office.

"I've just eaten breakfast," Harry stated bluntly, as he took a seat, hiding his resignation at having to even be near Dumbledore. He ensured his mental barriers were at their top efficiency.

Dumbledore's twinkle dimmed at the way Harry was speaking to him, he wasn't sure how to fix this distance between them. Harry had to trust him for everything to go according to plan; he had to believe him when he said he would need to die at Voldemort's hand at the right moment for the good of the magical world, the good of his friends. Which still wasn't fixed, Harry was still continuing his friendship with Neville Longbottom. He was going to have to try something a bit more drastic to pull the trio together again; perhaps an attack on the Weasley's would pull Harry back in line and strike the friendship up again. He would have to think it through, plan each detail carefully he didn't want to risk killing one of them. "My boy…I'm sure you have so many questions regarding everything that had happened recently…perhaps we should have a frank and honest conversation, don't you? We don't want Voldemort to win after all do we?"

Harry blinked at him, his face blank; he not talking to Dumbledore was letting Voldemort win, was it? That attempt at manipulation was the most pathetic he had seen from the old man yet. The thought of Dumbledore having an honest conversation was amusing; he had to fight to keep his lips from twitching out into a smirk. Did Dumbledore even know what it was to be honest with someone anymore? "I couldn't agree more, Headmaster," Harry said, glancing at the floor, trying to look a little abashed or ashamed of himself. His heart really wasn't in it though, he was tired of the constant masks he wore here, harder still because he'd acceptance to the real him during the summer…a friend in Barty too. Regretfully though needs a must he really had to keep himself in check, he could say all he really wanted to say to the old fool when all was said and done and he left Hogwarts for good. Putting it this way, if Dumbledore didn't get rid of Umbridge he didn't think he'd last the year, hence his reason for getting his exams done as soon as possible.

"I'm glad you agree," Dumbledore said giving Harry a beaming proud smile, which had never failed yet.

'I'm sure you do,' Harry thought with derision, his wide green eyes innocently staring up into Dumbledore's was if he hadn't envisioned the old fools death in every possible way imaginable. Instead of giving him a verbal answer, he just smiled a little; he wasn't going to make it easy on the Headmaster.

Dumbledore seemed to deflate before his very eyes, "I do hope you can forgive me, Harry," Albus informed the teenager, "I have been such a blind old man, I understand it must look bad as the situation stands, but let me reassure you, everything I've done was for your benefit." the guilt clearly showed in those baby blue eyes that were for once not twinkling at all.

"Situation, Professor?" Harry asked, clenching his hands into fists under the table, straining to keep his face from showing just how furious he was for Dumbledore having the gall to use him for the decisions he'd made over the years.

"It was a tough time, Harry, very tough time, Voldemort had just gained the allegiance of the Dementors and his forces were close to taking over both Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic." Albus' eyes glazed slightly. "I admit I signed the wills but I did not look them over as I should, between Wizengamot meetings, Order meetings and trying to keep the population as well as the students at Hogwarts calm…I was busy day and night and I trusted your parents to sign them without looking them over."

Harry bit his tongue, stopping himself from gritting his teeth.

"Then that Halloween it was over, just like that, your parents were gone, you only had the Dursley's for family and you needed the blood protections that came with it. It was a good thing too otherwise you may not have survived the encounter during your first year." he said admonishing the boy as if he hadn't set the entire thing up. "I made a decision to hold out on the will reading until you were old enough to attend; regretfully I kept putting it off, wishing for you to be a child just a bit longer. You already had so many responsibilities burdening your shoulders I wished to save you from some of it."

Harry said nothing, remaining stoically silent as Dumbledore lied through his teeth. He'd heard it all in the past, and honestly, he would rather be doing something else rather than listening to this. Part of him believed that Dumbledore was quick to threaten the Dursley's into taking him in because he was worried what could become of his potential weapon if he grew up in an orphanage environment, probably terrified of actually creating another psychopath. He needed Harry malleable and to look up to Dumbledore and the teachers, see them as saviours taking their sides in any situation for getting him out of an abusive environment.

"I knew you wouldn't be happy at the Dursley's; I had hoped they would take you in and love you as their own, with the Death Eaters after Voldemort, looking for him and you as well, I couldn't risk your life, your mother had died to save you and doing so cast the ultimate protection against any and all who would do you harm. The protection will keep you alive." Dumbledore continued on a roll; the silence was daunting; Harry was usually predictably easy to ire. "You see, Harry, I didn't want you to grow up troubled like Voldemort did in an orphanage."

"I understand," Harry replied seeing that Dumbledore was evidently waiting on him saying something - anything - at that point.

"Why did you not come to discuss your Lordship with me, Harry?" Albus asked after over five minutes of silence, during that time he had found his coffee was at the correct drinking temperature and had a few sips. Deciding to change the subject sensing he wouldn't get more of out of Harry. He was obviously not going to forgive him easily for that, if the Dursley's weren't found perhaps letting him spend time with his godfather would earn him some brownie points. Perhaps even suggesting that he go there over Christmas break. "I would have been more than happy to give you your things back, they are after all rightfully yours." making it seem as though he'd had every intention of returning them. All the years of having the Potter Grimoire he still hadn't successfully found a way to override the charms on it, thus he had been unable to read it. He had been convinced he was getting close though, regretfully its secrets were now lost to him. He'd been specifically wanted to look for information on the Invisibility cloak and a few other magical items.

"It was summer holidays," Harry said simply, "I had no idea the Dursley's had ran off, I knew you'd just try and force me back, I've made it more than clear what they do but it doesn't matter what I say, Sir, to me the protection isn't ultimate, if it was it would have protected me from my aunt and uncle." having to stop himself from spitting out what he really thought of them 'Filthy fat Muggles' that they were. "The Goblins suggested they could get them for me, I thought it was a win-win scenario."

Of course, Albus thought in annoyance, he should have thought it was the goblins idea from the beginning. It meant things weren't as dire as he had thought, this was good. He just needed Harry to forgive him for leaving him with the Dursley's, he was a teenager, it was just a simple matter of teenage rebellion, all teens went through it, once the rebellion ended, he was hopeful that Harry would go back to normal forgive him and his friends he would need them before the end after all.

"Do you have any questions about your Lordship?" Albus questioned, digging for information, trying to find out what Harry had learned about it so far. He would also discuss it with Sirius Black when he went through to Grimmauld Place after this meeting. He needed to piece absolutely everything together.

Harry shook his head, "I'm not really interested," he said, rolling his eyes a little, watching in interest as Dumbledore relaxed just a tad, if he hadn't been watching very closely, he wouldn't have noticed. Now why would Dumbledore be happy about that?

"If you like I can retake the mantle until you finish school," Albus suggested, it seemed to him that the goblins may have initiated the entire thing; perhaps the Potter seats weren't lost to him as he had believed. Not that it mattered right now with him being on shaky ground within the Ministry of magic, his status as chief warlock of the Wizengamot was gone, and he'd been told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't allowed back until this 'phase' passed.

"That's okay, Sir, I'm sure you've got enough on your plate without adding to it," Harry said gesturing towards the large pile of mail taking up one side of Dumbledore's desk. "It's just money, it can wait a few years maybe then I'll learn what I have to." shrugging, making himself out to be completely unaware of the laws and ways of pureblood's, heirs, Lordships. While he didn't know everything, he was still learning, Severus kept handing him a large black bound book on laws and regulations of a lordship society, the seats, the Wizengamot and what they did whenever he saw him unoccupied either while he waited for the examiner or waited for the potions to be finished.

"Very well," Albus said sitting back thoughtfully, giving in for now, but knowing the boy didn't care about his status meant he might be able to convince him to sign the seats over to him as proxy. He was sure informing him that it would help with the war efforts would see to it that Harry hands them over. For now, he decided to leave it, at least until he was back on the Wizengamot when Voldemort made his inevitable appearance amongst the magical world - he had patience and time - so yes, it was merely a waiting game. "If you change your mind, my door is always open to you." it hadn't gone the way he'd hoped but it could have gone a lot worse. He was beginning to realize it would take a while to gain Harry's forgiveness.

"How would you like to spend some time with your godfather?" Albus enquired, 'got you' he thought in satisfaction as Harry's eyes lit up for the first time since he came into the room.

"Really?" Harry asked joyfully and not having to feign it, he would like to spend time with Sirius, work on manipulating him face to face instead of through a mirror. He wanted his godfather on his side, so he was going to do everything he could to ensure that. Or at the very least make sure Sirius wouldn't remain in the Order, it would make him a target waiting to happen.

"Say over Christmas?" Albus suggested he was sure Sirius could get the child to open up even if he didn't manage to do so. Maybe even find out where he had been staying, something just didn't feel right about the 'hotel' to 'hotel' story Harry had given them, no sign of lies but Albus just couldn't point it out, something was bugging him about it. Perhaps it was just Harry's newfound confidence?

"I'd love that, Sir," Harry said grinning in genuine delight, he definitely didn't want to remain at Hogwarts - not that he'd intended to no matter what Dumbledore said - whether it was in session or not he had a feeling Umbridge would somehow find a way to give him detention and make his life a misery.

"Good!" Albus beamed, "Now go on, I'm sure you have other things to do than talking to an old man on a Sunday morning."

"Yes, I'm playing chess with Neville," Harry said standing up, letting the old man think he was getting through to him. He'd just turned his back when he started speaking again, much to his irritation.

"Ah, yes, I had noticed your falling out with Ronald and Hermione," Albus said looking at Harry over his half-moon glasses in disappointment. "Both of them have stuck by you through thick and thin, I don't think you could get better friends than them, you should forgive them, my boy, before it's too late, trust an old man with many regrets under his belt." he said solemnly.

Harry turned and nodded absently, wondering what the hell made Ron and Hermione so important to Dumbledore that he felt he needed to interfere with who he accepted as a friend? Was it possible that Dumbledore already had them picked out before Hogwarts? Or decided after he came? It seemed to him that Ron had accepted their friendship wouldn't be the same and was taking what he could get…and Hermione she'd been compelled - whether it was willingly or not he wasn't sure - to become his friends again by suggesting an illegal defence club.

Seeing Dumbledore distracted perhaps by his lack of enthusiastic answer? Or maybe thinking about his plans either way, he saw an opening to leave without answering more questions and he took it. "Goodbye Headmaster," Harry murmured just loud enough that the portraits could say they heard him. As he was opening the door he noticed one of the Headmaster's smirking at him, he blinked at it, it looked a bit like Sirius, the eyes and dark hair gave away an obvious Black heritage, he'd been in Slytherin too judging by the silver and green scarf he wore, but unlike Dumbledore he didn't have his office painted in his house colours he observed seeing the office and how it had looked while this wizard was in it.

He'd have to ask Sirius later; he gave the portrait a grin causing it to laugh before he closed the door behind him. Only once he was out the room did he allow himself to relax fully, mentally and physically. Well, it looked as though Sirius hadn't said anything to Dumbledore, he supposed that was something, he really didn't want to leave Sirius behind but if he was betrayed by his godfather then he would have to. He'd do all he could to make sure Sirius survived, but even at that he didn't think there was much he could do.

Glancing outside the window longingly, before grudgingly trudging up the stairs, he needed to get a few more study sessions in before tomorrow since he had another exam to prepare for. He supposed he should just thank his lucky stars he wasn't being forced to do the exams at the weekend as well. He would need to get an early night tonight, not only was he going to be up early for class, he wouldn't get to the common room until around ten or eleven o'clock at night.

Albus was startled out of his thoughts when the door closed with a loud click and Black began to laugh in his portrait. Giving the dead Headmaster a disapproving look as he pursed his lips. He honestly didn't know what to do with the boy, all his plans had been screwed up at one point or another, he had never expected (or wanted) Harry to become a Lord, the only saving grace was the boy had no desire to use his influence. Rubbing his fingers over his lips, he was so sure he would have all plans back to normal at the end of the year, once Umbridge was gone, Harry would see him as a protector once more. If he deviated further then he would have no choice but to get him to toe the line again.

Now it was time to speak to Sirius and Remus, unfortunately they wouldn't believe him when he said he signed without reading, since they were wizarding raised, and knew nobody signed anything without reading it over. He would need to be cautious, since if they did discuss it, his lies could be known. Not that Black really mattered, or his thoughts, he was useful for now; he had given them a place to hold the Order meetings. That was as far as their contribution was useful.

Standing up, mulling over possible ideas, he grasped a handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the intricately designed, marble fireplace that had stood the test of time. "GRIMMAULD PLACE ORDER HEADQUARTERS!" Albus called out, throwing the Floo Powder at his feet, the lurching sensation of falling through the Floo met him only to be jarringly slammed into the back of a fireplace before yanked back and spat out into his own office.

Dumbledore coughed and spluttered up ash out his mouth, gaping at the red and gold rug in front of him as if he couldn't believe his eyes. All the while feeling like his knees were situated in his ankles. He was in agony.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 27

The weekend went far too quickly for Harry's tastes; he'd played chess with Neville and actually got to know him better, Luna as well actually. Although he did worry about that, Ginny and Hermione had taken to glaring daggers at Luna. Ginny more obvious about it and Hermione just had that irritated 'I've been replaced' look, out of them both he'd say that Ginny would be the bigger problem. Hermione was predictable, whereas Ginny…not quite so predictable. The Weasleys were very easy to anger, well, some of them anyway. The ones that took after their mother, Molly Weasley, who was well known for her explosive temper. If not in person, then most definitely due to the howlers she'd sent her children over the years.

"Harry you've got an owl!" Neville called into the communal bathroom, unsurprisingly not bringing the letter with him, since you never really knew how owls would react to someone other than the intended recipient trying to remove the missive. Some owls had been trained to attack if anyone so much as attempted to remove the mail from the owl.

"I'll be out in a moment," Harry called back, a few moments later he shut off the shower and stepped out of the cubical with a towel wrapped around his body, putting on the bath robe before proceeding forward. "I'll wait in the common room for you," he added closing the door behind him to give Neville some privacy, like him, Neville preferred not to get changed in front of the others he was a little self-conscious.

Absently wrapping his robe around his waist, he wandered back into the dorm room, unsurprisingly Ron was still snoring away, Dean and Seamus were already gone down to breakfast. His window he observed had been opened, probably Neville trying to see who it was for. Harry undid the tie around the owls leg, claiming the letter giving it a few strokes before it hooted loudly and took off into the sky, Harry watched the majestic creature take off, they were beautiful, none more so than his own owl but he might be just slightly biased. Okay, totally biased. He didn't care, it was Hedwig.

Harry recognized the writing immediately, sighing softly, rolling his eyes he sat down on his bed and opened the letter. Wondering what Sirius wanted now, he'd made his feelings pretty damn clear. Which irritated the hell out of him, why the hell would Sirius want to remain in Dumbledore's sphere of influence when he knew what the old fool had done? He didn't know if he would ever understand Sirius…but as he read the missive a bark of incredulous laughter left his throat, well that was unexpected to say the least.

Sirius had removed the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld place, the one in which Dumbledore controlled, and Remus had cast the spell for Sirius to be the Secret Keeper of the new spell, which kept the place secure. Not that they were living there, they were using it as a decoy, instead Sirius had withdrew money from Gringotts and bought a place in the Muggle world using a fake name, magically procuring the documents they'd need the Muggle none the wiser that they were fake credentials. Sirius begged Harry for another chance, insisting that he truly only had Harry's interests at heart. Adding that if he wanted to be neutral in the war then he would support him. Harry meant more to him than anything else, and to please just answer him over the mirror or a letter. That he didn't want to lose Harry in his life that he'd been all he thought about all those years in Azkaban.

"Alright," Harry sighed in exasperation, putting the letter on the bed he quickly got dressed in his school uniform. Buttoning his shirt, cursing when he got to the top and realized he'd missed one somewhere. Grumbling under his breath, he more carefully undid and redone them, only once he was done did he open his drawer and remove the mirror, which he'd forgotten about, and it had been silenced as well hence he'd had no idea how many times Sirius had called.

"Sirius?" Harry called into the mirror after casting a silencing spell around his bed to prevent Ron from overhearing anything.

Slowly the blue shimmer gave way to a brightly lit room, so different from Grimmauld Place that it was jarring to see actually. Sirius blearily stared into the mirror obviously having been asleep when the mirror went off. More importantly, there was a lump in the bed alongside him, he'd bet his fortune it was Remus. Sirius' eyes widened and he threw a look over his shoulder before hastily vacating the bed and making his way out of the bedroom, his face flushed red.

Harry just smirked at him causing him to flush further; honestly he was acting like a bloody teenager caught by their mom or dad…at least to his imagination since such a thing would never be a reality for him. He had come to terms with his loss a long time ago, if it could really be called a loss since Harry had never known them. Perhaps that's what made his decision not to participate in the war at all. "What age are you again, Siri?" he asked him amused.

"Funny," Sirius grumbled as he sat down in what was obviously the kitchen, which was done in tasteful blue with silver appliances.

"It is to me," Harry grinned, "Sirius…promise me that you cut off access to Grimmauld Place because it was what you wanted and not because of me. To either make me happy or because I told you I wasn't going to follow Dumbledore?"

"You know I hate Grimmauld Place, Harry," Sirius answered grimly, "It was the safest place for me while I was on the run, I won't be on the run for much longer, and after my pardon I'll officially be a free man. Remus talked me out of burning Grimmauld Place to the ground…so it will just remain under the Fidelius Charm to stop any of my relatives from gaining access to anything in the townhouse."

"Also talked you into something else," Harry said pointedly, oh, it was quite fun winding Sirius up, he was so easy to embarrass honestly.

"Er…are you alright with that?" Sirius asked, moving his arms a little cramping up with keeping the mirror eye level.

"What, why would you think I'd have a problem?" Harry asked giving Sirius a penetrating look, as if trying to gauge what the hell he was thinking.

"Well…you did grow up with the Dursley's and they aren't very tolerant," Sirius grimaced just discussing the disgusting fuckers. He'd begged Dumbledore to let Harry come to Grimmauld Place after Voldemort returned and the school ended. He was repeatedly denied, being told that the wards were too important and they could save Harry's life. How could he argue with something like that? He had, for a little, which resulted in basic blackmail, Dumbledore promised to let Harry come after a few weeks ONLY if he didn't write to him since Voldemort knew about the Black residences he could be leading the evil wizard right to Harry's door.

"That would be another reason for them to hate me then," Harry said dryly, wondering if Sirius would get it.

"You're…" Sirius gaped, "But…Hermione…Ginny," he stuttered out.

"What about them?" Harry asked blinking in confusion. "Can't a guy be friends with girls without fancying them?"

"Uh, I just thought…never mind, it's not important," Sirius said shaking his head, "You are aware though that it isn't just friendship that Ginny wants from you?"

Harry screwed up his face, "I don't have an Oedipus complex thank you very much!" Harry rasped out shuddering violently at the thought.

"Oedupeus what?" Sirius muttered his brow furrowed.

"She looks like my mother, Sirius, do the math," Harry said rolling his eyes heavenward; honestly, the magical world was too behind compared to the Muggle world.

"Oh, OH!" Sirius grimaced a heaving shudder leaving him as well, "That's just disgusting!"

"And she is very much the wrong gender," Harry informed Sirius, nobody else knew this about him, he kept it a closely guarded secret, much like he did with all his other secrets. He did ponder on the thought that Sirius didn't tell him because he was afraid of his reaction…sounded stupid to him but Sirius had probably been mentally around nineteen years old still before the potion. Then again with him being the oldest male heir, they probably expected Sirius to marry and have an heir, being gay was probably unacceptable. "Did any of your family know?"

Sirius scoffed, before admitting "No." he'd been gone from the family by the time he was sixteen, added to the fact, he'd hated them, why would he tell them about his relationship with Remus? No, he hadn't told them anything. "They would have had a conniption if they knew."

"Because they needed you to marry a girl and have the next Black heir?" Harry summarized.

Sirius narrowed his eyes on Harry speculatively, "Did you take the sex education class last year, Harry?"

"There's a Sex Ed class? Um, no, and speaking of class I'll need to go very soon or I'll end up missing breakfast." Harry said bemused.

"Maybe they cancelled it with the tournament on, either that or it was held while you were in the hospital wing," Sirius said thoughtfully, "Wizards can get pregnant, nine times of out ten it's potion induced, it's very difficult for it to happen naturally, by very difficult I mean next to impossible, you have to be a natural carrier, there's never been a documented one since the founders time. It needs someone with really immense power to achieve it."

"So why would your family be against it?" Harry asked.

"They aren't, my hatred of them didn't stem from that," Sirius reassured Harry so that he didn't get any sort of belief that the magical world was prejudice in such a manner. Muggle-borns could be, which was regretful, a left-over impression of living with muggles that seem to abhor a lot of different things. This baffled Sirius, but he hadn't paid too much attention to it.

"Oh," Harry murmured, shaking off his thoughts, "Prejudice against werewolves then?" although, as far as he knew until the end of his third year, he'd been under the impression nobody knew about Remus being a werewolf?

"Pretty much," Sirius nodded grimly in agreement.

"Dumbledore called me up to his office," Harry said, catching movement out of the corner of his eyes, he nodded to Neville before refocusing on Sirius. "He suggested that I could stay with you during the winter holidays, trying to get back in my good books after stealing from my vaults and what he did to you. He tried to tell me that he signed as a signatory on their wills without looking at it because he and I quote 'trusted them' he'll probably either try to get to Grimmauld Place to see you and if he can't then he'll write to you with the same nonsense."

Sirius laughed, "If he does, he'll be spat out in his own office."

Harry laughed as well at the image that presented.

"Wait, did you say steal? What did he take from your vaults?" Sirius asked perplexed.

"The Potter Grimoire, my invisibility cloak which he insisted my father gave him before he died when I was in my first year he returned it, and a lot of other books and items, no money, just things probably worth a fortune." Harry explained, seeing Sirius' eyes darkening, "I'm getting it back, the goblins did it for me."

"Good," Sirius said grimly, Grimoire's were extremely private, handed down from parent to child, decades upon decades of information packed into them from potions they'd created, hexes, charms and even notes and letters for the descendants. He wasn't sure whether James had been able to write anything in it, but if he had then Harry should be the first to see it, then again if it was like all other pureblood started Grimoire books it will be spelled to prevent anyone other than those of their own blood from glimpsing the wonder in its pages. He had long suspected that Lily had gotten some sort of ritual from it that saved Harry's life, but it was guesswork, who knew what really happened that night?

"I have to go, Sirius, I'll write to you after Classes," Harry explained, barely waiting for Sirius to reply before he muttered "Deactivate," and the mirror went blank, Harry then shoved it in the still silenced drawer and hissed in Parseltongue keeping the mirror secure.

Removing the silencing spell, "Sorry, about that," he informed Neville.

"It's alright, ready to go then?" Neville said, having stayed and waited for Harry to finish his conversation which he couldn't hear and had no desire to even if he was a little curious to know who he was talking to.

"Yes," Harry said, grabbing the letter from Sirius, he shoved it in his bag as he picked it up, ready to face the day whatever it would bring. Which included bloody Umbridge today, since they had Defence. "Let's get going then," and with that both boys headed down the circular staircase. Not feeling the need to talk, quite content with the silence.

Harry shoved open the portrait door and both of them climbed out, it closed automatically behind them. "Can I ask you something, Nev?" he asked the boy, as they descended the stairs, nobody was around since the Gryffindors bar Ron was already at breakfast. Ron, last he checked was still sleeping, the teen loved his rest and it was near impossible to wake him up, he was slightly glad it wasn't his problem anymore.

Neville blinked, "Sure!"

"How did you hear back from your grandmother so quickly? I mean I had just literally got back from the will reading, give or take thirty minutes for me to get from the gates to the dorm." It had been annoying him all night as a matter of fact.

Neville ducked down, "My gran sent our house-elf with a letter," he confessed quietly, "Gran's never written anyone with such barely legible writing, she definitely was affected by what you said." It was wrong of him to feel some sense of satisfaction that his gran was forced to open her eyes. Was this how Ron and Hermione felt with Harry as a friend? With someone to defend you against all odds even your family?

"Huh," Harry murmured, as they continued to move surprised.

"It used to be that house-elves couldn't pop in and out of Hogwarts, but the wards aren't what they used to be," Neville confided, "When gran and my father were at Hogwarts you couldn't summon your house-elf, not even in the event of an emergency. I'm not sure how gran figured out it would work, or maybe it was just to try and if she couldn't to walk to Gryffindor common room, maybe?"

"Yeah, the wards are pathetic now, aren't they?" Harry said derisively, the general hubbub of Hogwarts students mingling with his words, so even if the portraits had been listening in, they didn't get to hear Neville or Harry's conversations.

"Are they?" Neville enquired, throwing a glance at Harry as they stepped onto the marble flooring, making a beeline for the food they could smell wafting from the Great Hall.

"Troll, Basilisk, Dementors, Boggarts, Death Eaters and worse…" Harry said dramatically, as Neville's eyes widened as he leaned forward to hear what he had to say. "Umbridge."

Neville laughed, unable to help himself, she was a class all on her own, he was lucky to avoid her though. The other part thought Harry was kidding, Umbridge while an awful teacher wasn't a Dementor or a basilisk or worse Death Eaters.

Walking half way down the bench, Harry and Neville sat down and hastily began to fill their plates, barely pausing before they began to eat.

"I don't know if I can endure any more of her classes," Seamus groaned, noticing the pink clad woman at the Head table. "Can't someone just kill her already?"

"How much is it worth?" Harry said, glancing at Seamus who paused for a moment before he burst out laughing, those in the vicinity that heard as well, except Neville, began to laugh. As if their hero would ever hurt anyone, let alone a Ministry worker, even if she was disliked by the majority of the students at Hogwarts.

"I didn't think anything could be more boring than Binn's class…she's proved us all wrong." Dean scowled into his porridge.

Neville watched Harry closely from the corner of his eye, he had a feeling that Harry hadn't been kidding around. Surely, he had to be? Nobody really wanted to see Umbridge murdered, despite the fact she was a horrendous teacher that drove them all crazy. Shaking off his thoughts he made a noncommittal agreement that the class was boring as he speared the sausage on his fork, dipping it in yolk before eating it.

As one everyone glanced up as the flapping of hundreds of owls was heard descending upon the now quiet hall, some people were hastily moving their food when the spotted their owl or perhaps even their friends ones so their food wasn't ruined. The owls either dropped their burdens or had to land so the letters or shrunk parcels could be removed - like Harry's letters - before the owls took off again.

Harry glanced at the front of the three letters he'd received; he didn't need to open them to know who they were from. Barty, Voldemort and one from Gringotts, probably a normal statement he'd get every month now or word from his account manager. He kept the Gringotts letter on top just to be on the safe side before sliding them into his pocket after glancing at the time. The bell was going to ring any minute now so he wanted to at least eat as much of his breakfast as he could. He just swallowed a piece of toast when he glanced to the side hearing Parvati speaking.

"Why isn't Dumbledore doing anything?" Parvati complained, in a rare move joining in the boys conversations.

"Because he can't," Hermione butted in, as always rushing to defend the teachers from her ignorant peers. "Didn't you hear what she said at the beginning of term? The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts! The Ministry." she repeated it as if it was necessary.

Harry cocked his head to the side, "Have any of you thought about writing home? Telling your parents exactly what's going on at Hogwarts? That your teacher is using a dark illegal blood quill? And how you're going to be completely unprepared and way over your head during both your practical and written DADA OWLS exam? Send them a copy of the work you've done so far, proof of what is going on." So that the parents didn't think their children were exaggerating as teenagers were so prone to doing.

Silence met his question, none of them had thought about writing home about what was happening.

Harry rolled his eyes, of course they hadn't thought of it. It was going to be an extremely long day, he realized noticing that Umbridge wasn't wearing the broach; she'd either figured it out or wasn't wearing it today.

"Luna suggested you get interviewed for the Quibbler," Neville whispered quietly, wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin before putting it on the table since he was finished with his breakfast. Just in time too as the bell went, he guessed he'd have to wait and see what Harry thought of getting an interview with Luna's dad.

Harry had no idea just how long a day it was going to be, between Umbridge finding a reason to give him detention, serving it way until after curfew, leaving for Severus' room to sit one of his OWL exams, by the time he returned to his Dorm it was well past midnight and everyone was asleep, he didn't even take off his uniform, he rolled under his covers and fell into a deep sleep without even reading the letters that had come at breakfast for him.

He couldn't wait until the holidays. A very first for him.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 28

Sirius paced restlessly uncharacteristically biting his lower lip, feeling extremely on edge and worried, so much so that his stomach was churning. There were two open letters on the table, both of them had been read but only one was causing him so much worry. One was official, from the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Amelia Bones wanted to see him, it was the beginning of proving him innocent. He should never have doubted his best friends for a moment, he owed Lily everything, smart, intelligent witch that she was she thought of everything.

"Sirius? What are you doing up so early?" Remus asked so suddenly that Sirius jumped almost a foot in the air, Remus' lips twitched a little at the sight. He hadn't seen Sirius so jumpy in a while, he didn't think it had anything to do with the new place, they were very safe here. Wandering over he gave a nudge getting Sirius to sit down, before he sat down himself. "Hey? An answer please?"

Sirius leaned forward and grabbed the letter passing it to his partner, the warmth of him calming his anxiety each passing second. It hadn't been easy in the beginning for both of them, due to the mistrust they'd had in each other. Sirius worried that Remus would go dark (who could blame him with how their so-called own side treated him) and Remus thinking he had actually joined the Dark Side killing both of their friends and his godson in one fell swoop. They'd both admitted their mistakes and desire to try again, they'd already lost so many years together that it seemed so damn pointless to continue to deny what they wanted more than anything else.

"This is good," Remus said, perking up, the last dregs of sleep leaving him. "Why does this have you so worried? This is what we hoped for! What we've been praying for…it was a miracle that Harry got the will read otherwise Dumbledore would have made sure it was never unveiled…you would have remained a wanted man." hell Sirius had been put under a multitude of glamours to get this property with him, having fake names and credentials only got you so far, since the Muggle authorities were looking for him too.

"Nothing works out for me, you know that," Sirius sighed, elbows on his knees carding his hands through his long hair. "I get away from my parents then almost get myself expelled from Hogwarts in disgrace, nearly killing you in the process…Snape too." this was added grudgingly he didn't like the wizard, but it was entirely mutual. "I decide to be a bloody decoy to keep James, Lily and my godson safe and what happens? My best friends die and my godson is taken away from me to be abused by the damn Dursley's and I end up in Azkaban. To top it off I almost get free by getting Pettigrew only to lose him and have to go into hiding…I guess I'm just waiting for the shoe to drop."

"No, Sirius, this is nothing to worry about, Lily wrote to the authorities, they know you are innocent." Remus said grimly. "More than one person got a copy of it, it was written after Peter became the Secret Keeper. Undeniable proof that will see that your freedom is granted." as always the level headed one that kept Sirius from doing something stupid - most of the time. Sirius' own worst enemy was his overactive mind.

"It's going to be just fine," Remus added after a few minutes of silence, "Come on, let's get some breakfast, you're due at the Ministry in an hour, why don't you go and get a quick shower and get dressed? I'll have breakfast ready for you when you get down." he suggested, kissing him on the cheek, "You'll be fine, I won't lose you again." he whispered before withdrawing completely. That being the only show that Remus was just was apprehensive as Sirius was.

"Alright," Sirius said breathing evenly, perhaps he should talk to Harry….but it was too early, if anything happened to him he wanted his godson to know he wasn't to blame and that he loved him. He'd proven that by severing all ties from Dumbledore and quite possibly the light side. They wont take it well when they learn that Harry had no desire to fight. He and Remus had spoke about it for days after Harry dropped that revelation on them. As always Remus was able to understand Harry and make him see he truth too.

Harry had been abused by Muggles, thrust into the spotlight, everyone just expecting him to fight Voldemort. It wasn't right, at least they'd made a conscious choice, nobody had forced them into it. Yet everyone was trying to force Harry into it? Including Sirius himself? Who did that? If Harry didn't want to fight that was his choice end of story. He'd already been forced into a confrontation with Voldemort before.

Sirius had argued that Voldemort would just keep coming after Harry. Then Remus dropped another bombshell, it was not really Voldemort…not until last school year. Each time it had been a sheer coincidence and it had been Harry himself who revealed that during their conversations in his third year. That maybe Voldemort could be bargained with, that Harry has nothing to do with the war, then he has nothing to worry about. They knew the reason that Voldemort was so worried, a stupid damn prophecy made by a seer.

Even back then Harry had been planting seeds, just waiting on them taking hold at the right moment.

Remus wandered into the kitchen, he was trying to show Sirius how to cook without magic or even with - it wasn't going well. At least he wasn't burning the toast, and could make cheesy toast, or make beans and soups. He was no means going to reach gourmet chef any time soon. Glancing at the time, deciding against a proper English meal, he nabbed bacon out of the fridge and began to cook it up, buttering the bread at the same time, Sirius would soon be free, by Merlin he felt as though he was on pins and needles.

He was just as worried as Sirius that things might not go as well as they hoped. Neither of them trusted the system as far as they could throw it, Sirius more so than anyone else he had been illegally detained for twelve years without a trial.

The Ministry

Amelia Bones waited on Sirius Black inside her office, having given the wizard her private office Floo Address so he could get to her without having to stop at the atrium. He would need to keep his head down until this was all sorted out and the public were told he was innocent. Normally she would add - if they were innocent - she wasn't one for believing what she was told. She just didn't see how this could be lies, the will was written after the Potters had gone under the Fidelius Charm to keep safe, Lily Potters letter and will spoke the truth of that she had no doubt.

Nonetheless just to be on the safe side, she'd told Cornelius she was meeting him two days from now, she didn't trust for something to go wrong just like she'd been informed of Bartemius Crouch Junior at Hogwarts far too late to act. It wasn't Cornelius' jurisdiction, she had tried to uncover what had happened but no success so far. So today she'd safely meet with him, get a few of the Wizengamot members up and have him declared innocent before anyone could stop it. She also had quite a few questions for him about how he'd managed to escape too.

Straightening up when the Floo pinged, righting her monocle she stared at the two figures who stepped out of the fireplace. She blinked in surprise, it seemed as though Black had at least somewhere to stay and had been eating healthily, since he was no means a stick figure that most are when coming out of Azkaban. Standing up, she put out her hand, "Mr. Black…" shaking his hand, before staring enquiringly at the other wizard with him, "Remus Lupin," he answered her unasked question.

"Mr. Lupin," she said, greeting both of them, noticing how nervous they were. "Please take a seat," which all three of them did.

"Would either of you gentlemen like some refreshments?" Amelia asked kindly but still holding her no-nonsense attitude.

"No, thank you, we've just eaten," it was Remus who spoke, his hand in Sirius' squeezing it reassuringly.

"Would you consent to the use of Veritaserum, Mr, Black?" Amelia asked getting straight down to it.

"Yes," Sirius agreed, anything to help prove his innocence.

"I would like to bring two Wizengamot members into this meeting, that is all that's required to declare you a free man." Amelia continued, glad that Sirius would take the potion, it made it less complicated and allowed her to deal with this in a timely manner.

"Please, not Dumbledore," Sirius begged, completely forgetting that he wasn't a member of the Wizengamot now.

"No, Mr. Black, not Dumbledore, he has been removed from his position as Chief Warlock," Amelia replied, "Give me a few moments." with that Amelia wrote to the two Wizengamot members who were in the Ministry at the moment, flicking her wand at them they formed airplanes and zoomed out of the room. She had been very vague in the letters, she was taking no chances.

"Tell me, Mr. Black…how is it that you and Bartemius Crouch successfully escaped from Azkaban?" Amelia asked seriously. The very first two do succeed in getting off the island too, it was a security problem a severe one.

"You don't know?" Sirius asked surprised, she was one of the most resourceful witches he'd ever seen, trusted her to an extent, it was why he was here.

"Pardon?" Amelia blinked in mild confusion.

"Um, haven't you spoken to Harry?" Sirius asked, surely, he was one of the first people she would have spoken to. "I mean he was one of the last people to speak to Barty before he got away thanks to Dumbledore."

"He was?" Amelia sat up straighter at that news.

"Yes," Sirius said slowly.

"And did he reveal this information to you?" Amelia then asked.

"I didn't ask," Sirius replied honestly, "Harry has a knack for getting information out of people." he added wryly with a grin, shaking his head ruefully.

"Interesting, I wasn't aware that Mr. Potter was involved in anything to do with Crouch." Amelia sighed in exasperation.

"Everyone at Hogwarts did, Crouch posed as Moody for an entire year, it was Harry who uncovered who Crouch was." Sirius explained baffled by the fact that the Ministry were so in the dark about the happenings at Hogwarts. "It was also Harry who unsealed his parent's wills after Dumbledore sealed them."

"That I am aware of," Amelia stated, she had started an investigation into Dumbledore, what she had wouldn't even see him in court, so she would have to dig up more. Apparently, she was going to have to talk to Harry and find out what he knew. With this new information, she completely forgot to ask Sirius how he had gotten out of Azkaban himself.

A knock at the door broke any further conversation.

"Come in Gentlemen," Amelia called, unlocking her door and removing the silencing charms for only a moment before placing them back on once they were in her office. "I'm so glad you could make it, Mr. Black has consented to the use of Veritaserum to prove his innocence. Before you ask why he isn't escorted by Auror's we received a letter from Lily Potter that proves that Sirius Black wasn't the secret Keeper to the Potters. Obviously, what happened that night isn't what we fully believed."

"Even if he is innocent of that he still took the lives of several…." the wizard did not get a chance to finish.

"I didn't do that!" Sirius said breathing harshly through his nostrils in anger.

"Easy, Sirius, you knew they'd have to ask about it," Remus said, a warning clear in his tone.

Huffing quietly, he slumped further into his seat, uneasy.

"Go ahead and administer the potion, I will set up the dicti-quill," the Wizengamot wizard replied moving around her office picking up supplies as Amelia did as she was told. She didn't give him three drops, just two, so he would answer their questions truthfully but wouldn't go fully under the influence.

"What's your name?" Amelia started off, not able to get around that since they needed it on official record. She noticed that the names of everyone present in the room was already written down, even Remus' so the wizard knew who he was.

"Sirius Orion Black,"

"How long did you spend in Azkaban prison?"

"Twelve years,"

"Did you betray your best friends by revealing their whereabouts to Lord Voldemort?"

"No, I wasn't their Secret Keeper," Sirius answered.

"Who was?"

"Peter Pettigrew,"

"Did you attack a street full of Muggles when you cornered Peter Pettigrew and blasted him?" it wasn't Amelia who asked but one of the Wizengamot wizards.

"No, I didn't attack the street," Sirius replied.

"What happened that night?" Amelia stepped back in giving the wizard a pointed look. In the background the dicti-quill was recording every word that was said.

And Sirius went on to explain monotonously, not even able to express his grief over what happened. Telling them about the bad feeling he had that night when he got to Pettigrew's to see it trashed. How he'd hopped onto his motorbike and raced there as fast as possible only to see the house in flames, with the roof folded in. How he found James dead on the ground floor, Lily on the top floor in Harry's room. How he's just managed to get his godson quiet before Hagrid showed up and demanded Harry, taking him from him and insisting Harry was to go to Dumbledore despite him being his godfather and magical guardian. How he'd blown into a rage without any anchors and hunted Pettigrew down, not stopping until he found him and was about to demand answers when Pettigrew began wailing that he'd done it. Then the horrifying moment that Pettigrew let loose a blasting curse, and turned into a rat going down the sewer and how he'd just laughed incredulously that he'd been deceived by the son of a bitch.

There was complete silence in the room when he was finished, all bar Remus were sitting there in horrified silence. An innocent man had been in Azkaban for twelve years, for the first time it truly hit them. They were aghast at what they'd allowed to happen. What had happened, it was a disgrace, and they were going to have to inform the public which would make it ten times worse for them.

"I believe we have more than enough, don't you gentlemen?" Amelia asked both wizards grimly.

Neither spoke, they just nodded their heads in agreement.

"Then Mr. Black you are free to go, truly an innocent man, but please give us until the end of today to get it into the newspapers so the public doesn't panic." Amelia informed Sirius.

"That's fine," Remus said speaking for both of them, Sirius just stared at them truly overwhelmed that he was actually free.

A few moments later Sirius had the paperwork to prove it, then both were gone leaving Amelia and the others to deal with the fall out this would cause.

At Hogwarts

"Er…Harry that's Hedwig! She looks hurt," Neville said his eyes wide as he observed the owl who was flying erratically towards them. He, Harry and Luna were sitting in the courtyard, just wanting to get away from the rest of the students and Umbridge since they had a free period after breakfast. Neville noticed the way Harry's eyes darkened every time she was mentioned. It probably should have scared him really, but Neville understood that kind of anger.

Harry abruptly stood up, moving down the last of the steps in the courtyard holding his arm out for Hedwig to perch herself upon. Her wing was at an odd angle, feathers completely ruffled, with a hoot she swooped down almost falling to the floor but Harry kept her from falling completely, worry consuming him for his familiar.

"She's been attacked," Neville observed worriedly. "You need to take her to Hagrid,"

"He's back?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Yes," Neville nodded, "I heard a few first years talking about their lessons with Hagrid."

"But he's not been attending the feasts," Harry mused, stroking Hedwig softly, wondering if he should take her to Hagrid…he'd honestly prefer to have Severus see to her. "She's getting on my last nerve." Harry growled angrily, knowing who had done it. His frustration rising to new heights, it was one thing to mess with him but another thing entirely to mess with his owl.

Neville blinked at Harry's abrupt shift in temperament, but it didn't take him long to figure out what was going on. "Normally I'd say are you sure she'd do something like that," Neville admitted, "But she's a real piece of work, makes me glad I only have Trevor and that he's safe at the manor."

"Daddy could help her," Luna commented, she adored animals and Hedwig was no exception to that rule. She was absolutely beautiful and she loved petting and talking to her when she had the opportunity. "I don't think her wing is broken though," she wouldn't have been able to fly properly, would she?

"It's alright, I'll try someone else first," Harry said shaking his head, "I'll see you both later, alright?"

"Sure," Neville replied as Luna nodded in understanding.

"Bye," Harry added, his arm straining to keep aloft with Hedwig on his arm, he didn't want to move her to his shoulder just in case, she was still slightly wobbly hooting in distress occasionally. He hoped Severus could help her, he'd lost enough in his life without losing the one thing in his life that had been there for him - unconditional support - Hedwig didn't care about whether he was light or dark, or whether he decided to be neutral in the war she was just there for him.

It was risky actually going all the way down to Severus' quarters without his cloak on, but Hedwig wouldn't remain quiet wrapped up in an invisibility cloak and he didn't want to risk her punching holes in the priceless piece of magical shroud. Groaning, Harry finally couldn't keep the weight up on his arm so held out his other hand and Hedwig stepped onto it, chirping softly. He stroked her belly with his fingers, finding it extremely soothing as always.

"What the…" Pansy Parkinson's muttered her eyes sharpening in on the figure at the bottom of the corridor, cutting the conversation she was having with Daphne, Draco and Blaise. "What the hell is he doing down here?" this was Slytherin territory, no Gryffindor should be here.

"Potty," Draco spat after turning around wondering what Pansy was dithering on about. "You don't belong down here, go back."

"I would suggest you move out of my way," Harry bit out through gritted teeth, "I am not in the mood to deal with your dramatics right now." he hadn't since Hogwarts started back up but that was life. Bloody Slytherins honestly, it was as though they never had anything better to do.

"Draco, let's go," Blaise said, giving him a shove out of the way, there was a time and place for everything but Potter looked furious and given some of the things that happened around Potter when he was angry, he didn't want to be in the vicinity. If the rumours were true, he had blown up his aunt for mentioning his mother. He could see that the owl was hurt, and Potter and his bleeding heart probably would lose it over the thing. Even he wouldn't disparage the bond between a wizard and his or hers familiar, it would be like mocking his own traditions.

Draco threw Blaise a furious glare for interrupting him, but by that point Harry had already swiftly walked around them and down the darkened corridor. "Don't be stupid, his familiar was hurt, you'd do the same if it was your hawk." Blaise rolled his eyes, plus he'd heard through the grapevine that Lucius had warned Draco against antagonising any of the Gryffindors. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't say anything like that without a reason or purpose.

"There's nobody down there except for Professor Snape," Daphne pointed out, staring at the corridor where Potter had turned out of sight. Suspicion churning in her gut, why would Potter go to Professor Snape for help? Potter hated Snape! You'd think he'd go and take his owl to Hagrid before anyone else. He had a soft spot for the damn half-breed, it was disgusting to see.

"Probably been told by Dumbledore to go down," Pansy sneered, "Potter wouldn't deny Dumbledore anything, pathetic little puppy that he is."

"I don't know about that," Daphne said speculatively, were they blind to how Potter had been acting since school resumed? There was more than met the eyes, Pansy and Draco were just too blinded and prejudice to see it. Blaise knew something, or suspected as much otherwise he would have happily watched Draco tear into Potter…or try to at any rate, he hadn't been successful before now. The detentions or loss of points didn't seem to bother him at all.

Hogwarts Severus' Quarters

"Get in here," Severus hissed in annoyance, seeing Harry standing at his door without his damn invisibility cloak on. Anyone could see him, the last thing he wanted to do was try and explain himself to Dumbledore of all people. Thankfully though his Slytherins should know not to say anything, key word should know, and there were hardly any portraits down this way, he'd removed them all when he took on the position of Head of Slytherin house. He wasn't going to help Dumbledore spy on the students within Hogwarts. He closed the door behind Harry quickly, "I assume you have a good reason for showing up here?"

"She attacked Hedwig," Harry said, his mask nowhere to be seen, leaving a face that promised retribution in its wake.

Severus sobered up, glancing down at the owl in Harry's hands, he should have guessed, Harry didn't make a habit of carrying Hedwig around with him. He was glad to see she was alive, if Umbridge had killed Hedwig he was afraid there would be nothing he could do to prevent her death. "Put her on the bench," Severus demanded, already knowing why Harry had come to him, making a little nest for her by transfiguring a few pieces of paper.

Harry did what he was told, watching Severus mutter quietly in Latin, so low that he couldn't even begin to hear what kind of spells he was using. A light blue glow spat out of his wand and encompassed Hedwig gently, it didn't seem to bother her as she sat and preened her good wing.

"Don't just stand there like a spare end, you know where the book is, go read," Severus stated firmly, glancing up briefly, not surprised to see Harry was worried. Hedwig was probably one of the few things that could elicit true emotion from the wizard in front of him. "I'll come to you when I have healed her." and he would heal her, he wasn't a professional and only had basic training in even Medi-wizardry which was required as part of his Potions Mastery.

Harry just rolled his eyes, before skulking off to the couch grabbing the book he'd been reading whenever he came down here. Crossing his legs, he opened it at the bookmarked page,

"Did you have anything compromising in a letter you just sent out or had being delivered?" Severus asked thrusting a cup under his nose half an hour later.

"No," Harry answered, his green eyes glinting sharply in the firelight, Umbridge had gone too far.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 29

Harry woke with a shout, shooting up in bed, panting but not in fear but rather exertion, as he came to himself his face flushed redder than a tomato, groaning in complete embarrassment and disbelief. Grimacing, Harry flicked out his wand and cleaned himself up, of sweat and the sticky residue of cum again. His mind reeling over the fact he'd just had a wet dream over Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Voldemort yet again. Bloody hell, he thought, the dreams were getting more and more erotic to say the least, and he'd thoroughly enjoyed every second of the dreams especially this one…what did it mean for him? He could still feel the phantom feelings of the silky rope biting into his wrists, and just thinking about it elicited another reaction from him, desire. His only experience at being bound was never good to say the least.

There was no denying that Voldemort was attractive as he had been as a teenager, in reality he now looked like barely over twenty years old. He was powerful, smart, determined, and cunning; all things Harry valued and displayed himself. Shaking off those ridiculous thoughts, it would never happen. His mind however, didn't seem to agree as pictures of his dream flashed through his mind, causing him to shiver once more, licking his dry lips he flicked his wand requesting the time.

It was nearly time to get up, he realized, he still felt sweaty, it was best to go and get a shower. Part of him didn't want those dreams to continue, another bigger part desired them to. Who wouldn't? He was hot, no matter whether it would go anywhere or not, which it wouldn't. Why the hell would Voldemort want to be with him? He was a teenager for Merlin's sake, so the dreams would be as far as it went and what dreams they were.

Shivering in cold as he got out of bed, grabbing his shower bag he made a beeline for the bathroom, he contemplated going to the Prefect's bathroom but he nixed the idea he just wanted a quick shower and to get down to breakfast. Severus had warned him against making a move on Umbridge so close to Hedwig being attacked, especially since he was being watched so closely by Dumbledore. Only because Dumbledore hadn't been able to find Sirius, despite the fact he'd been on the front of the newspapers going shopping in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade a few times. Everyone knew he was innocent, of course, everyone had believed he was and were all quite quick to say as such. Hypocritical shits that they were he loathed them all.

Speaking of professors, he'd had to stop himself from laughing at Umbridge when she'd been so thoroughly insulted without even realizing it by both Severus and Professor McGonagall when she sat in on their classes. The broach he'd enchanted continued to do its work, but she was still causing havoc all around the school much to his consternation. Including putting Hagrid on probation, which he'd found out overhearing Granger screeching about it and the unfairness in January, Harry was just glad he wasn't taking the class anymore. It had hurt Hagrid, but Harry had no desire to take the class and Severus was demanding high scores in all his classes. He refused subpar results.

As he stepped under the spray, Harry was unaware that something would happen today to change everything.

Closing his eyes he groaned in relief at the warmth spreading through his bones, warming him completely. The pendant he'd received from Barty at Christmas was safe from the water, it just repelled it and rolled on down. It would stop any minor and most major hexes directed at him some that even his Lordship ring wouldn't detect. He actually missed Barty a great deal, as nice as his friendship with Neville and Luna was…they didn't know the real him, Barty did.

Grabbing his shampoo, he stepped back and lathed it into his hair, letting it sit for a few moments while he scrubbed the rest of himself with some mint shower gel. Stepping back under he thought of the only other important thing that had happened in the past few months. His owls. He had completed them with ease. He felt as though he'd been the last to learn his scores, Clarence of course, his examiner who made sure he completed everything himself and didn't cheat. Then Voldemort, then Barty then Severus before he'd been able to see them. Twelve Owls, all Outstanding he'd taken every subject and passed with flying colours. Hardly surprising the way he'd been taught by Voldemort, he'd long ago surpassed O.W.L; with some revision he could actually take his N.E.W.T's which he was tempted to do.

He took the results of his tests with him everywhere, despite the fact it could blow up in his face, he didn't care though he was extremely proud of himself. According to Clarence only five people had achieved twelve O.W.L's, and only one had achieved all Outstanding, Tom Riddle (Harry wasn't sure if Clarence even knew if he was talking about Voldemort but considering he hadn't used the Dark Lord's title he was going to say no to that one). The others who'd taken all twelve exams were Dumbledore, Barty, Percy Weasley and Bill Weasley.

Wrapping up in a towel, Harry grabbed his shower bag after he finished. The towel had a warming charm it in, so that he didn't get completely cold. Sliding his feet back into his slippers he made his way back to the dorm. He had Defence this morning, now that was going to be fun, he thought sarcastically.

"Is that you, Harry?" came Neville's voice from his bed, sounding tired still, he knew it was Harry nobody else got up early, Dean and Seamus got up when they had to but Ron more often than not ended up late if nobody woke him up. Since Harry wasn't doing it anymore, the others had to remember lest they end up with more lost house points.

"Yeah," Harry commented drying himself off and beginning to get dressed.

"You're up earlier than normal," Neville said peeking out from his beds curtains.

"Bad dreams," Harry said sarcastically, but one look at Neville it seemed as if his sarcasm had been lost on the boy. Instead, he had a look of understanding on his face. Well, it could be considered a bad dream, a very, very bad dream. Yes, that's what it had been.

"Do you still have those Skiving Snack boxes from the twins?" Neville asked hopefully, as he realized just what kind of day he was going to have. Defence with Umbridge then Potions with Snape although that was just before dinner, the last class of the day.

Harry gave him a knowing amused grin, "Only if you want to end up in the hospital wing, they haven't perfected them yet." speaking of the twins they seemed rather troubled. He wasn't sure if it was Umbridge or something else, but he'd seen them staring looking perplexed and a little sad. When he went over to try and talk to them, they disappeared.

"Too bad," he sighed resignedly, as he went to the bottom of his trunk to gather his own shower supplies.

"Least you don't have detention with her," Harry snorted derisively, the evidence was on his bloody hand, even with the potions and the help from Severus he could still see the lines on his hand. She wouldn't dare try anything with Neville, not with the connections his grandmother had…or the fact she was his grandmother! Everyone seemed to be utterly terrified of her, including Neville.

"I'll see you in a bit," Neville said with a sympathetic smile, it wasn't the first time Harry had said that, and probably wouldn't be the last either.

Harry made a noise of agreement, as he piled everything back into his own trunk magically drying his hair before straightening it so it didn't look like a birds nest anymore. He was so bored here at Hogwarts, he didn't dare take any books (well any he'd actually want to read) out of the library, and he hadn't been able to bring any reading material with him…Voldemort had summoned all the interesting books he'd hidden. It was mind-numbingly tedious. He often thought of leaving but in the end he didn't. Although if anyone made him want to run for the hills it was Ginny, one minute she was sleeping around with Dean the next she was trying to seduce him. It was like she was dipolar or something. Did wizards get such illnesses? He thought such illnesses would be removed with magic.

Shrugging it off, he grabbed his tie and began to do it up, his Gryffindor tie; he thought in distaste, how he often wondered what his life would have been like at Hogwarts had he not fought the sorting hat's decision. It was for the best though; he would have been watched a lot more closely in Slytherin that he knew without a single doubt.

The day went quite fast all things concerned, especially considering he had Umbridge, and the foul woman had found a way to give him 'detention' for yet another imaginary crime. Apparently not falling into her trap and speaking back was 'ignoring' the teacher and her authority. He had icily wondered if he'd end up with Severus or Filch in detention if she couldn't take it oh, the urge to spit two words at her 'Avada Kedavra' was strong, to see the look of shock, horror and surprise written across her face.

Herbology went quite fast and then he'd had lunch with Neville and Luna, all of them just picking up something to eat before leaving the Great Hall. None of them wanted to see the smug look on Umbridge's face as she lorded over her position. It quite frankly turned his stomach and vanished his appetite. Then after lunch it was Transfiguration and then last but no means least, his secret new favourite class Potions, especially since he wasn't learning anything in Defence.

He decided to forgo blowing up any potions today.

"You coming, Harry?" Neville asked speaking lowly, worry coming off of him in droves; he hated Potions class…or rather was completely terrified of their Potions professor. He had already packed everything up and was just itching to get as far away from Snape as humanly possible now that the bell had rung.

"I'll see you in the lunch hall," Harry said, shoving his thumb in Snape's direction rolling his eyes. Taking his time in packing everything away, doing it with precision through habit. The potion had been expertly brewed, and he intended to take the rest of the batches with him and leave only one.

Neville's eyes widened and he squeaked before he nodded and quickly scampered out of the room throwing his bag over his shoulder with his tail between his legs. Assuming he must have missed Snape giving Harry detention or something, which wouldn't surprise Neville.

"Just exactly what was I supposed to have done?" Severus asked dryly, after closing the door with a loud bang and putting up a silencing spell so they weren't overheard.

"How's Hedwig?" Harry asked, he missed her, he'd sent her off to Voldemort's just to keep her safe, which wasn't helping his urge to kill Umbridge, which he would one day, of that he swore.

"I'm sure she's well," Severus stated, he didn't visit the Dark Lord every night, even then he wouldn't see her, he was sure the Dark Lord was taking good care of her though. He wanted Harry on his side, so he would do what was required, Harry wasn't like the rest of the Death Eaters, wasn't easily swayed, and he'd have to have a true reason and desire to join. Harry was dark there was no doubt about it, but just because you were dark it didn't mean you had to join the Dark Lord. Many just practiced their crafts in secret and were content with that. He had hoped that Harry would join; with two of the most powerful wizards in the magical world they could change the world.

"Can I stay here and read a book?" Harry asked, his face showing just how bored he was.

Severus' lips twitched, "Very well," he agreed, moving over to his desk he muttered under his breath and released a secret compartment that even the Dark Lord would have trouble finding. Plucking out the book he held it out taking his seat at the same time. He began to correct the homework the fifth years had just handed in.

It wasn't even fifteen minutes later that they heard screaming.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered staring at the door, his wand already in hand, he noticed that Severus too had his wand out a perturbed look on his face. "It doesn't sound like Umbridge." he added thoughtfully, so it wasn't as if she was having another 'episode' so to speak. Sliding from his seat, he gave Severus back the book, before he exited the Potions classroom, vexed that he couldn't read a damn book without something happening and also a little bit curious.

The noise, he quickly realized was coming from the Entrance Hall, squeezing back the students until he got a clear view of what was going on. He blinked at the sight in front of him; Trelawney was out of her classroom, a rare occurrence by itself. She was utterly drunk, sherry by the look of the bottle, she had two trunks nearby, her belongings? It dawned on him what was happening quite quickly. No doubt Dumbledore had the woman terrified out of her wits that Voldemort or the Death Eaters would kill her if she left Hogwarts…and right now she did look utterly terrified. For once Harry felt a smidgen of pity for the woman.

"No, No! This cannot be happening…it cannot…I refuse to accept it!" somehow despite the fact she'd been drinking she was coherent.

"You didn't realize this was coming?" a girlish voice immediately let him in on the fact it was Umbridge to no surprise. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?"

Harry winced as Trelawney began to howl and cry with tears streaming down her face, screaming at Umbridge that she couldn't sack her that she'd been a teacher here for sixteen years. 'Hogwarts is my home!' yes, pity was what he was feeling at the moment and understanding. For so long Hogwarts had been his home too, for he had known no other, despite all the bag things that had happened here it had still been better than the alternative of being at the Dursley's.

"It was your home," Umbridge said, the glee on her face made Harry grit his teeth in fury, he would see that she was dead before the end of the year, of this he vowed to himself most vehemently. "Until an hour ago, when the Minister for Magic countersigned your Order of Dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."

Harry's eyes sharpened when he noticed movement towards the front of the crowd to see McGonagall marching towards Trelawney. He knew McGonagall hated her, called her craft 'a load of tripe' he watched her hand over a tartan handkerchief from her robes and comfort her. He raised an eyebrow at her words, not have to leave Hogwarts? How curious.

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge asked her voice going serious. "And your authority for that statement is?"

"That would be mine," it was Dumbledore, his voice was unmistakable.

Harry clenched his fists together; even the sight of him was too much to bear these days. The old fool was still looking for the Dursley's and had asked him to write a damn letter telling them that Sirius Black was innocent. Stating it was only a matter of time until they found out as it had been plastered all over the Muggle news. He shook his head; he couldn't lose his composure here. Not now. He observed Umbridge explaining she had the most power within Hogwarts, that Trelawney was sacked because she wasn't performing to standard.

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid, that the power to do that still resides with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

Trelawney gave a bitter laugh and proclaimed she'd seek her fortune elsewhere.

"No," Dumbledore stated, "It is my wish that you remain."

Harry glanced down at his hand, which had the faint outline of words imprinted on it by this bitch. He was paying the price between the Ministry and Dumbledore who were playing a game that he had no interest in playing. What the hell was he doing here? Dumbledore and McGonagall both knew what Umbridge was doing to everyone, knew it was illegal, yet they made no move to protect the students as they had sworn to do. Looking around at the sea of relieved faces at the sight of Dumbledore he sickeningly felt himself beginning to heave inwardly.

He wasn't going to do anything for them, he realized, he was content to let this go on but for what? And for how long? What was Dumbledore's end game? Why let her get away with it at all? Dumbledore didn't let anything happen he didn't want; then again, his power had been reduced significantly in the magical community with the loss of his position in the Wizengamot and the ICW. Was he as helpless as he appeared or was, he content to let Umbridge think she was winning while he did what he wanted for his side in the war?

An image of his own bedroom (at Slytherin estate) flashed through his mind's eye it solidified his decision.

He was leaving.

"Hey, Harry, you alright?" Neville asked, moving towards Harry now that the crowd was beginning to disperse. "You coming?" he had seen the entire fiasco but everyone was now returning to dinner now that it was over.

"Yeah," Harry said, he would miss Neville's friendship but that was no reason to stay. Turning around both of them made their way to the Gryffindor bench and claimed their seats. Instead of eating, Harry removed a clean piece of parchment from his bag and began writing. Anyone that tried to pry found themselves looking away courtesy of a well-placed spell to stop anyone reading it. I

Once he was done, he folded it in half, then proceeded to copy his O.W.L test scores and placed it within and folded both parchments once more. He glanced at Neville and wondered if he should say anything, he should really, but what? He wasn't sure Neville would understand.

Standing up thoughtfully he bent down and whispered to Neville, "I'm sorry, Neville. Look out for a letter tonight." the boy gazed at him wide eyed in confusion.

"Wha…" Neville began, but stopped when Harry tightened his hand on his shoulder, telling him to stop talking without saying anything.

"Remember what I said," Harry informed him, before he marched up to the Head table, the eyes of every student watching him go. Wondering what was going to happen next, until the beginning of the year, Harry had always been easy to anger, always standing up for what he felt was right. So many began to wonder what Harry had up his sleeve now.

"Hem, hem, Mr. Potter go back to your seat," Umbridge demanded, "I would hate to have to give you another detention so soon."

Harry barked out a sardonic laugh, "Hate it would you? You're a sadistic bitch using a blood quill on whoever you want, but you will not use it on me again…not only will I not allow it but it is illegal." he stated loudly, hoping against hope the idiots would understand.

"Detention, Mr. Potter, I will not tolerate lies in my school!" Umbridge shrieked girlishly.

"I'm afraid I won't be attending any detention you give out," Harry stated standing on the platform opposite her, he flung the letter down on the table. "I'm done; I withdraw my attendance from Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry."

"Then by rights I must take your wand," Umbridge said, her eyes gleaming victoriously, her voice even sweeter than Harry had ever heard it.

"Mr. Potter, please accompany me to my office," Albus said loudly, standing up, his blue eyes hiding a stern warning.

"If you had looked in the letter you'll find a copy of my O.W.L results," Harry added, his own voice imitating Umbridge's voice, completely ignoring Dumbledore. With a smirk of satisfaction seeing her deflate and then go red in fury, he turned and began to stalk back down the students benches who were all standing up cheering and clapping, stomping their feet and hooting in celebration that someone had managed to get one over the pink toad.

"MR. POTTER!" Dumbledore called out moving after him, fast for his age, but not as fast as Harry, who slid out of the Great Hall doors before Dumbledore could command them to close, if he would have done such a thing in public. "MR. POTTER!" he roared out again, hastily making his way to the doors, by the time he had opened them there was no sign of the boy.

Panic and fear began to consume him as he hastened as quickly as he was able, calming himself somewhat, he must be at his dorm collecting his things. That was until he heard the students calling out about Harry's 'awesome Quidditch move' he was outside on his broomstick. Blinding running down the stairs, breathing harshly by the time he got to the entrance hall…all he could see was a dot on the horizon; Harry was fading rapidly from view.

Harry Potter was gone.

Dumbledore gaped, completely blindsided by this occurrence, he had never expected anything like this. His heart thumping loudly in his ribcage, he turned around, making his way through the thong of students that had appeared for the second time around the Entrance Hall to watch a spectacle. He returned to the Great Hall, making use of the Floo network to get to his office…he had to get the Order alerted to this problem NOW. Damn Black to hell, because of him he wasn't able to use Grimmauld Place, they'd not found a new Secret hideout yet, instead they'd been using The Burrow for now.

He had to get Harry back in Hogwarts, he was too important to the war for him to go off in a fit of teenage rebellion.

For the first time in five years…Harry felt free and he continued to soar to freedom.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 30

Dumbledore sat in his office, he stared blindly at the O.W.L results belonging to one Harry James Potter. To say he was utterly bewildered was putting it mildly, he couldn't believe the boy had successfully taken his exams early and to such an extent that he had gotten all Outstanding in each subject, outdoing even his own scores. The boy had been mediocre in most classes, barely scraping by in most subjects according to test results, especially in History of magic yet his O.W.L results said otherwise.

"Albus, any sign?" Minerva asked her tone concerned as she entered the office, Severus followed behind her a sneer twisting on his lips as expected whenever Harry was brought up into a conversation. Nevertheless, he was there and no doubt worried about the teen just like the rest of them were. Both of them took seats, Minerva almost crippling in guilt, she knew of course, about the blood quill but there was nothing she could do other than protect the students.

"I haven't heard back yet," Albus said, today hadn't been a good day at all, he was completely vexed.

"Just what exactly do you intend to do once you've managed to catch up with the boy?" Severus enquired; upper lip curled.

"Albus is his magical guardian, Sirius is his godfather, I'm sure they can convince him to return," Minerva turned to say to Severus, blue eyes still shadowed in a deep concern.

"He's legally an adult in the eyes of the law, he cannot be forced to attend Hogwarts since he has withdrawn its legally binding, which won't matter if the Dark Lord gets to him first." his tone changing just enough to show a smidgen of concern.

Minerva's lips became one drawn line, as she pursed them; she had forgotten Albus had said Harry had taken his Lordship. Harry loved Hogwarts; as soon as Umbridge was dealt with she was sure Harry would be amendable to the idea of rescinding his decision to leave the school. They just needed to find him first; no doubt the students had already written home, Harry was in danger each minute that he was out there. "Have you contacted Black?"

"I have written to him," Albus sighed, placing the copy of Harry's exam results on the desk in front of him. "Unfortunately, since the Will reading, I haven't been able to find him and he has yet to respond to any of my letters. I believe Remus is with him since I've tried to contact him as well but gotten nowhere." Everyone knew those two had been constantly joined at the hip, and it occurring again would surprise nobody.

"Is it true?" Minerva asked once Albus gazed up, she added, "That he has taken his exams? He hasn't slipped a fake in there?"

"I contacted the Ministry, they are real, as are his results accurately portrayed," Albus told her; he had hoped that they were fake but unfortunately not. He couldn't contest them either, especially since he didn't know the circumstances in which Harry had set his exams, he may only end up making a fool of himself, which he didn't want to do. Since he was person non-grata at the moment…he doubted anyone would take him seriously and investigate anyway. "Twelve Outstanding results in each and every subject he took."

"Twelve?" Minerva croaked trying to swallow, her throat suddenly dry. "That's impossible, he didn't take Ancient Runes or Arithmancy!" and those were just two of the examples of the classes he hadn't taken. He doubted even Hermione Granger would achieve twelve O.W.L's and most certainly not all Outstanding either.

"It seems there was more to Harry than met the eye," Albus informed his deputy Headmistress, his brow furrowed.

"Potter cannot have passed potions with an Outstanding, he was barely scraping by in my class, he would not have achieved the results required to get into my N.E.W.T's class." Severus sneered derisively. It was somehow demeaning to say as such, especially considering he now knew just how smart Harry was, and regretfully he couldn't break character. Unlike Harry, he couldn't just decide enough was enough; he would be spying until the war was over.

"These results say otherwise," Albus said, giving Severus a disappointed look as if he hadn't encouraged the enmity between them. Severus had an important job to do, and he wouldn't and couldn't do it if he grew attached to the boy. He hated sitting here while the Order searched for Harry but there was nothing he could do. He could only hope that they were successful in finding him and taking him to the Burrow.

Severus merely turned his nose up at it, giving the impression that he couldn't care less what the paperwork said he wasn't going to believe it. He hadn't had a second to alert the Dark Lord what was going on, and he knew Dumbledore would be watching him closely, mostly just to see if the Dark Lord did call, which he would have done if he 'caught' Harry in order for all of them to see his 'downfall' but that wasn't the reality anymore. It was a reality that Dumbledore believed, however, so he would definitely need to be careful. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he was tired; it had been a long day.

"If there is nothing else, Albus, I will take my leave," Severus stated, just about to stand when a Patronus trotted on through the outer wall into the office. It was a horse, Clydesdale Horse in fact; the Patronus belonged to one Alastor Moody. From the horse alone, Severus had deduced that Moody had grown up in Scotland and most likely grew up around horses, probably had one as a familiar. Something his mother had done he would guess as Moody came from a line of 'distinguished' Aurors, his father and grandfather had been head Auror's in their time. He paused and waited, tense and alert, worried that Moody had in fact caught up with Harry.

'Caught up with the boy in Culloden, he got off his broom at a Hotel roof and Apparated, I kept his trail for five minutes before I lost it, we have no idea where he is now, Albus.' the Horse began to fade after Moody's voice trailed off grimly.

"Culloden? That's in the other direction in which he left," Minerva insisted perplexed. It was still the Scottish highlands though so it wasn't that far out that it bordered incredulity that he was there.

"He must have circled around," Albus deducted, the boy was smarter than he anticipated, it was a surprise Alastor had managed to find him at all at this rate. His mind was spinning trying to think of where the boy would go, did he know where Sirius was? Had the teen managed to lie to him without him any the wiser? If he wasn't going to Black then where was he going to go? He may have been in charge of the Potter vaults but that didn't mean he knew every single building owned by the Potters. In fact, he hadn't even been to Potter Manor, James hadn't used any of the Potter homes when he went into hiding until Godric's Hollow a year later. There were just too many spies for James to risk his family in any of the homes, regardless of the wards. Only then did Moody's words penetrate, "He Apparated?!" a sinking feeling sank into his gut immediately.

The summer holidays, the new knowledge, the sudden desire to learn, taking on his Lordship…Apparating…Harry had help, someone magical was helping him. Sitting up in his chair truly alarmed once more, who could be helping him? If there was someone unknown out there helping then finding Harry might end up even more difficult. Who was it? If they were going against him, it was someone either neutral or worse still dark.

Severus had to refrain from smirking, oh he knew what was on the old fool's mind, and he had spent over a decade in his company. He had finally realized someone was helping Harry, he would never figure it out until it was too late. He'd never be able to conceive the idea that Harry would join Voldemort. Harry had done his part well; too well, in fact, nobody would want to believe it. Oh, but to see the look on his face, he sincerely hoped he was there the day it all unveils. Perhaps he had been a bit hasty in wishing to leave, this was anything but boring watching dread and worry seeping into those blue eyes of Dumbledore that were usually twinkling horrifically.

Arching an eyebrow, feigning concealed curiosity, "Albus?" he prompted, if this was any other situation he would want answers.

"Yes, yes, you may go, Severus," Albus said, coming out of his thoughts, unwilling to share them. "I believe both of you have your rounds to make tonight." dismissing them without actually saying the words. He mumbled a goodbye absently after they both said good evening to him; drawing his index fingers together he pressed them both against his mouth as he sat there deep in thought.

Ever since Tom had been resurrected everything had gone to hell, in perpetration of his return, he hadn't taken into account the blind fools reactions at the Ministry or how far Fudge would go. He wasn't happy in the slightest with Umbridge in his school, especially the blood quills but other than Harry nobody else of importance was targeted. Evidently, he had let it go too far, he had expected Harry to come to him, and instead he pulled this. No doubt there was a hoard of angry parents reading the news of Harry's vanishing act and more importantly Umbridge's usage of a quill. Cornelius would have a lot of explaining to do, he just wished he could have prevented the students from blabbing about Harry, news would reach Tom soon enough and he would send out his Death Eaters.

He could only hope Alastor found his trail again and picked up where he left off.

Unfortunately for him, that didn't happen, those outside looking for him all stopped by ten o'clock, it was just too dark they couldn't see anything and couldn't risk exposing themselves.

Harry breathed a momentarily sigh of relief as he landed in a very familiar place, Moody had gotten a bit too close for comfort three times. He'd had to bolt three blocks before daring to Apparate again, only when he was positive Moody hadn't appeared yet so he couldn't see him, damn his magical eye it was annoying. Letting his guard down proved to be a very bad idea indeed, as he heard a curse which he had no doubt was aimed at him being cast.

"Lacero!" was spat out with a slashing move of the wand.

Harry automatically ducked, knowing he wouldn't be able to get the shield charm up in time, he had not anticipated being attacked. Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough, as he felt heat blaze over his cheek, blood immediately began to gush out of the wound, leaving Harry dizzy momentarily. Fortunately, this wasn't his first brush in a duel, so he immediately went on the offensive.

"Confringo!" Harry spat: back his grip on his wand tight, the unknown wizard, who had the very distinctive mask of a Death Eater on his face, ducked out of the way but Harry grinned viciously when the curse hit his shoulder blasting him back, blood and bone splattered the hallway, as the wizard cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder from where he had fallen to the floor, the wizard too was used to pain as he got back to his feet.

"Flipendo!" Avery spat out, knowing he wouldn't use any lethal spells that was in his arsenal, his Lord would kill him if he accidentally killed the boy of that he had no doubt. He stuck to other dark curses and hexes hoping to bring the boy down, still reeling over the quickness in which the boy had used the blasting curse on him. "Bloody hell!" he spat jumping out of the way when the curse was rebound on him, crashing his good shoulder into the wall to prevent more severe injury to his injured shoulder. "Oppugno!"

"Protego! Sanguinem ferventis!" Harry chanted, deflecting the spell, and using one of his own spells, but anyone well read in Latin would understand what this particular spell did. The spell itself was non-lethal -but extremely painful -immediately, but if kept on for an extended period of time it would cause death in the end.

Harry ducked when his own spell was flung back at him, only to have the Death Eater cast "Crucio!" it hit its target and Harry went down, "Stupefy!" Harry managed to cast out, as pain wracked his form, like a puppet on a string he relaxed somewhat once the wizard let up the spell to deflect the stunner.

Scrambling to his feet, sensing weakness, although he was feeling woozy himself now due to the blood loss. "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort wouldn't be impressed if he killed his precious Death Eater, and he definitely didn't want to rock the boat so soon, as amusing as that would be. There was a difference between winding Voldemort up when they were alone…doing it in front of his Death Eaters was just asking for trouble.

The spell was overpowered, it didn't just remove the wand from the wizard's hand, it sent him veering into the wall, ironically enough in the same place as before judging by the blood coating the paintwork. Breathing out in relief, he leaned against the wall for support staring dispassionately at the wizard.

Avery stared back maliciously yet pained but a chuckle left his lips. "You've breathed your last, Potter," he spat the others in the inner circle and the Dark Lord stood behind him; he had no chance of getting back out. The Dark Lord, of course, gave them all a single look and they stood back, it was him who would end the boy, and he'd made that very clear to everyone. What irked Avery was the fact the boy didn't even look the least bit intimidated or pained for that matter.

Lucius wanted to shake his head at the stupid idiot, to make matters worse Avery Senior was watching on in pride under the wrong impression that his son would be praised and held above all others for bringing Harry Potter here. Which of course, didn't happen, he'd bet that Potter had either Apparated in or used a Portkey. The others in the inner circle were all looking ready to celebrate as well; they had no idea that Potter was now considered untouchable as his Lord himself. In other words, he would need to be careful with the boy; he didn't want to see who was more important himself or Potter. He knew who would be picked; Potter was the number one desirable any side would want to have.

"It took you long enough," the Dark Lord spoke in dulcet tones, often used deceptively. Quite enjoying the looks of shock and incomprehension on his elite.

Avery gaped blinking rapidly, feeling his head wondering if he had suffered some sort of blow to the head. He didn't dare say anything for fear of angering his Lord.

"It's only been seven months," Harry said wryly, he'd left in September and was only March 9th. "Miss me?" he added with a grin reminiscent of the time he'd asked Voldemort that down in the cells. He didn't even flinch when Voldemort's wand slid into his hand and pointed it at him, everyone else held their breath still reeling with what was going on. The Dark Lord was speaking to Harry Potter as if they were on the same side…and to make things more interesting the boy wasn't even slightly scared at the sight of the Dark Lord's wand. If it had been them, they would have been scared stiff.

"Tergeo, Episkey," and just like that the wound on Harry's cheek and face began to ooze out the small debris inside it before it sealing closed. Harry himself was watching everyone's reaction with vicious amusement, too bad the masks they wore also masked the majority of their reactions.

"Thanks," Harry said, sighing in relief as the majority of the pain faded leaving only mild stinging in its place. His eyes catching sight of Tom's fingers and the way they held his wand. Long and dexterous, just like they had been in his dream, clearing his throat, praying at this face did not give away his thoughts, thanking Merlin for his ability to close his mind off. He had to stop thinking of him as Tom; it wouldn't end well if he ended up saying it out loud. Voldemort hated the name almost as much as he hated Dumbledore for some reason.

Harry caught sight of what was probably the biggest guy he'd ever seen, what the fucking hell did they feed him? He thought, staring at him, he had blue eyes, set into a stern angry face, long hair, which was going white he must have had dark hair since it was more greyish than white overall. When the guy saw him looking, he growled at him, baring his teeth animalistic like causing the others near him to flinch at the sound.

Harry slowly grinned roguishly, in realization, this must be Fenrir Greyback the werewolf, he did cut quite an intimidating figure but Harry was well aware that size didn't mean everything.

Greyback eyed the wizard with a little respect, he knew he scared most of the people he met, and mostly due to his reputation and the fact he was a werewolf. He did wonder if the boy realized what he was, but heavily suspected he did. Surely, he knew what he had done to Lupin; no doubt the pathetic man had told the boy in something touching attempt to make sure the wizard protected himself. He re-entered the meeting hall with everyone else after the Dark Lord swiftly made his way back inside with a non-verbal indication for them to follow. His thoughts regarding the wizard temporarily forgotten, in a bid to hear what Voldemort had to say.

Harry glanced at Avery on the floor; it seemed as punishment his injuries were to remain either that or to be healed after the meeting. He didn't have very much luck, he was the only one cursed during the rebirth, now this he knew they all revered Voldemort, would do absolutely anything he asked. That sort of loyalty was…amazing, he was slightly envious of all the people that he had following him who would do anything. He would probably be cursed some more if he didn't get back inside.

Sauntering over, Harry held out his hand, grasping a hold of Avery's semi good hand, "You owe me one." he told the wizard, stopping the bleeding and mending any bones that had been broken before healing over the wound.

Avery just stared back utterly baffled, "Why?" why had he just helped him? Was this really Harry Potter? Had the Dark Lord truly converted Potter of all people to the Dark side? It was beyond comprehension.

It was a good question, but Harry didn't answer, he just grabbed his fallen broomstick and moved away from the stunned wizard. Sliding into the room, remaining by the doorway, watching the free show curiously. He didn't even spare Avery a glance when he re-entered the room and took his place, minus his mask which had fallen off in the duel Harry noted, also wondering what a Death Eater meeting was like when it wasn't Voldemort's 'rebirthing' party as he'd coined it. Voldemort had sat back down looking extremely comfortable, as he eyed his people with a speculative look as if wondering if he could trust them.

"Mr. Potter is remaining here for the time being, he is to be treated with the utmost respect," Voldemort stated, his tone cold and harsh, he didn't even need to elaborate on what would happen should they disobey it was all in his voice. He paid no attention to the responses his words elicited. "You will treat him as you treat me, is that understood?"

Harry was surprised there wasn't a momentarily drop in pressure as everyone in the room inhaled sharply in what was probably disbelief at what they were hearing. This was fun, he thought in amusement, the only one unaffected was Lucius Malfoy, but that wasn't a surprise since he already knew and had been warned.

"Yes, My Lord," they all responded confusion bleeding into their words.

"Good now leave," Voldemort dismissed them, it wasn't just them he had to tell either, and he had his other Death Eaters to inform the ones he had not called, since they were not needed. "Not you, Fenrir, I want you in my office in twenty minutes." he demanded, having a need of him.

Harry observed that none of them Apparated from the building itself, they were leaving through the door. They weren't keyed into the wards like he was evidently. All of them were gazing him in either curiosity or anger as if they were stopping themselves from strangling him. Harry paid them absolutely no mind, wondering if the Lestrange's were amongst the people here.

"Is it true you can change forms without the aid of the full moon?" Harry questioned Fenrir arms crossed as he observed the werewolf, no Dark Mark, no cloak or mask, he briefly wondered if it was normal or if Greyback was the only one.

There went the question of whether the Potter boy knew he was a werewolf or not. A sadistic smirk stole over his features as he changed on the spot, baring his teeth he approached the boy, having no intentions of hurting him of course, but he didn't need to know that. Yet Harry wasn't reacting normally, he had an eyebrow raised and his head cocked to the side, his green eyes roaming over his form as if he was inspecting it carefully for something hidden, something only he could see.

"You can't turn anyone when it's not the full moon, the only thing I'd end up needing is a tetanus potion," Harry said, knowing without a doubt what the werewolf would be thinking. Trying to scare him no doubt but he was not prejudice against werewolves so it would not work. "I wonder if it's your magic turning your wolf form into an Animagus form of sorts, you're different from the only other werewolf I've seen at any rate."

"And just when and where did you come face to face with a werewolf?" Voldemort asked eyes narrowed in warning, silently demanding an answer and no cheekiness in front of his followers. Better yet what had made Harry decide enough was enough now? Had his decision to leave Umbridge paid off? It had served two purposes, to let Harry see how far the corrupt Ministry would go, and of course to give Harry the incentive to leave after seeing just how useless everyone was under Dumbledore's thumb. The longer he remained the higher the possibility that he might stay on the light side. Something he wouldn't and couldn't condone.

"Pettigrew didn't tell you?" saying the name as if it disgusted him to even utter the word. "Or better yet, you didn't get everything you could from his mind?"

Voldemort waved his hand, "I got everything of importance from him, he was very forthcoming," especially with the threat of a curse hanging over his head.

Harry snorted caught between amusement and derision, shrugging his shoulders he explained to both of them, Fenrir too seen as he was now human and just as curious as Voldemort if not more so. It wasn't every day you heard a tale about someone managing to avoid being bitten and turned when faced with a werewolf. Rubbing at his face, which was still very sore, but compared to what he was used to he could stand it. "Which one of your Death Eater works in executing 'dangerous creatures?'" he had observed the mark but had not realized at the time what it was, it was only a year later that he'd truly understood what happened. He'd been in the presence of a damn Death Eater who would have loved nothing more than to kill him.

"Walden MacNair," Voldemort informed him, wondering what his Death Eater had to do with any of this.

"He was there as well, although he had nothing to do with the events that led up to it, he was there to put Buckbeak down, a Hippogriff," Harry said, thoughtfully, "We'd just been down to Hagrid's cabin to 'comfort' him," a grimace on his face said it all, "We were just making our way back when we were attacked by a big black dog, he grabbed Ron and took him down to the shrieking shack. We, of course, went after them, only to realize that the dog was Sirius Black in his Animagus form, and he wasn't after Ron at all, just the rat, long story short, he was caught, Remus and Sirius wanted to kill him but I convinced them otherwise, what good would he do me if he ended up back in Azkaban? For all the good it had done I might as well have let them kill the bastard."

Fenrir snorted, he hated the disgusting rat himself, he stank of rodent and urine.

"We were all piling out of the Shack when the moon showed itself, Lupin transformed, he was nothing like you though, it was quite disgusting really, black and distorted barely any fur," Harry told them, vividly reminded of it, "Black transformed and distracted it, as weak as he was, he was useless against the feral wolf, he'd forgotten to take the last of the Wolfsbane potion. A howl drew Remus away, we later realized it was Hermione who howled," seeing the look on their faces he added the last part, "Time-turner, Dumbledore's bright idea, he decided to send two thirteen-year-olds to save a hippogriff and Sirius who was going to be kissed on sight. We got to both of them and Sirius flew off on Buckbeak."

Fenrir's lips curled in disgust; of course, the man would swallow that swill, poisoning himself at the same time. That was why his werewolf was 'distorted', how long before that night had it been since his wolf could roam free? He was killing himself, the utter idiot; he should just kill himself it would be a far more pleasant death. In a few years, he was going to wish for a quick death if he doesn't stop using the Wolfsbane. "Merlin, he's a bloody idiot," he spat, it would have been better if he didn't survive his attack as a kid, what that stuff was doing to his insides nobody deserved, not even Lupin as far as he was concerned.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked surprised by the vehemence behind his words, it wasn't exactly what he expected he knew Greyback didn't care about Lupin…or did he? Voldemort had said that what everyone believed about Fenrir wasn't true after all.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 31

"My office," was all that Voldemort needed to say, before he began to move, looking as though he was gliding with his robes swirled around the way they were. Harry Potter had changed even more than he'd anticipated in the seven months he had been away; unfortunately, he was still as stubborn, headstrong, cocky and defiant as before. His hair had grown a great deal longer, although it would probably need cut now, since the cutting charm had cut through skin and hair. Thankfully not bone deep, the jaw bone was a delicate one, and not so easily repaired, especially seen as you weren't supposed to move said bone for at least three days to give it time to mend. Not so easily done when one has to eat, and were totally incapable of keeping their mouth closed - which described Potter to a tee. He looked older around the face, taking on a more aristocratic look, but with those school robes on he looked younger. The quicker he removed them the better he thought in distaste, he did absently notice that absolutely nothing had changed in way of the uniform in sixty years. He was glad to see that his instruction had paid off, Harry had held his own against one of his inner circle, although no lethal spells had been used, and it was a good job for Avery, otherwise he would be dead.

Oh, he knew why Avery had refrained from the more lethal spells, he was far from stupid, and he didn't need to read his Death Eaters mind to know it. He had made it more than clear in the past that Harry Potter was his to deal with, which had turned out to be a good thing in the end. He had of course, not informed his most faithful about Harry's switch in allegiance, or perhaps more accurately his decision to opt out of the war altogether. He had high hopes of Harry in the future, and the fact he was here once more could only be a good thing. Perhaps he owed Severus a great deal for his insight into Harry.

Fenrir Greyback didn't sit down; instead he moved over to the blazing fire and stood in front of it, warming himself up. As a werewolf, he was naturally warmer than humans, but even the coldest weather had him chilled to the bone. Watching Potter remove his robe and tie and fling it over one of the leather seats as if he was used to such actions. He observed that the Dark Lord rolled his eyes, pursed his lips but inevitably said nothing. That was interesting, this definitely wasn't a new thing, he had never seen anyone comfortable in Voldemort's presence except himself, but he was appropriately cautious, the Cruciatus Curse did hurt even him. The Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse might be preferable to the old feeling of transforming but he wasn't used to 'that old feeling' anymore, not since he became one with his wolf.

"So, what did you mean out there?" Harry asked, using his thumb to gesture to outside, a severe frown on his face.

Fenrir turned to face Voldemort, seeking his permission, he had been asked to come to the office for a reason, and this was obviously not it. The Dark Lord had been in a good mood when they interacted, nothing that showed, just the lack of curses being inflicted on those who did not deserve it - just those who let him down enough to warrant it for a few moments - that said it all really. It was said that this boy was the only one that would defeat Voldemort, so if he had turned to the dark side, he understood the Dark Lords' moods in greater detail than before.

Voldemort, in quite high spirits that Harry (and incidentally his Horcrux) was safely within his reach again, gave Fenrir a go ahead gesture, he could wait a few moments before he got down to discussing what he wanted to with the werewolf.

"Lupin, he's an idiot," Fenrir said baring his teeth animalisticly, showing his anger at the situation.

"Yes, you said, but there's more to it than that," Harry said shrewdly, leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowed in on the werewolf, his green eyes intense, for his age anyway, silently demanding answers from him. "What do you know?"

"I know a lot more than you do little wizard," Fenrir sniped, it was his natural state.

"I have no doubt," Harry responded in a bored tone, tracing an invisible pattern with his finger, "You are older than me big bad wolf," he added sardonically. Giving as good as he got, oh he loved sarcasm, but he didn't get much opportunity in ways to display it. Surrounded by a bunch of Gryffindors who'd take it into their heart to be insulted by his comments most of the time.

Fenrir barked out his amusement, eyes gleaming, before he nodded to himself, he liked the boy, and so he elected to answer his question...by asking another question of course. "What do you know about the Wolfsbane potion?" Spitting the word out as if it was filthy.

If Harry was surprised by the question, he didn't show it, "Not much, I know it's exceedingly difficult to brew, it requires a Master of Potions to do so. The ingredients are expensive, thus the potion is itself, which defeats the purpose since most if not all werewolves cannot find work, in other words they cannot buy the potion for themselves." it wasn't just one potion, it was seven, to be drank each day including the night the moon comes up.

"Do you know how long the idiot has been consuming it?" Fenrir asked his expression and voice gave nothing away, except for the small gleam of concern he was unable to fully hide.

"I know he took the potion while he worked at Hogwarts…forgetting it once, and very nearly killing or biting four people…if he'd continued taking it then near enough two years. If not then only one, but I think he has continued using it…Dumbledore's probably making Severus make it." Harry replied shrugging indifferently. "I ask again, why?" he already had a funny feeling he knew how this conversation would go.

"Do you know the ingredients in the Wolfsbane potion?" yet again asking another question.

Harry frowned, "I don't," he admitted, he'd seen Severus brewing it, but he'd been too busy reading it to really observe anything, let alone the ingredients.

"The clue is in the name," Voldemort added to the conversation flippantly, eyeing Harry curiously and closely, wishing to know his reaction.

"Wolfsbane? More commonly known as Aconite," Harry stated, "Or monkshood, leopards bane, blue rocket or…queen of all poisons,"

Voldemort nodded it seemed as though the boy finally got it.

"But it's safe as long as it's dealt with very carefully," Harry pointed out; surely the Wolfsbane wasn't deliberately poisoning werewolves? Closing his eyes, "Just who was Damocles Belby work for?" gritting his teeth painfully. He didn't need either man to confirm it, this had been another ploy by the Ministry of magic to get rid of werewolves without lifting a hand themselves to do the dirty deed. The words that came merely confirmed his thoughts.

"After graduating Hogwarts he went on to be a Potioneer, working for the ministry of magic, years later he invents the Wolfsbane potion and was awarded the Order of Merlin first class." Voldemort said sardonically.

"The potion is nearly entirely made up of Aconite, whether it's properly brewed or not, it's poisoning him," Fenrir grunted, his fists clenching and unclenching. He held no regrets in what he had done to Lupin, he couldn't, because of his actions the exterminators had been stopped and disbanded, saving the lives of untold amount of werewolves, not too soon, unfortunately he thought, his eyes darkening considerably. He had lost many people he had cared about…and an unborn cub. Part of him wished he had succeeded in killing him, but he knew if he had Lyall Lupin would have been even worse. His one moment's desire for revenge could have cost him, but it had not, instead Lupin had become a werewolf and he had slid into the shadows raising his werewolf son in secret.

"How can that be? If ingested it would kill anyone within two to six hours! A big enough dose will cause instantaneous death!" Harry argued, not because he didn't believe them it was contradicting his own knowledge. His mind reeling over this information that had been given. Considering just how intelligent Remus was…he knew what he was doing to himself. There was no way he could be ignorant to it surely?

"He's still consuming large quantities of a very poisonous substance, each month for five days, as if the transformation isn't hard enough…his internal organs are probably already deteriorating, blackening with decay." Fenrir barked out, angry that he was being questioned especially from a little wizard.

Harry slowly nodded, conceding his point; Lupin must know what he was ingesting. If he didn't he must know the harm he was doing to himself. Nobody in their right mind would take a potion of that magnitude without first making sure they knew what was what. Surely Sirius didn't know? He wouldn't let someone he obviously loved take something that was going to kill him? It seemed he may be overdue in another conversation with the Animagus. He honestly doubted Sirius knew if he did any respect he had for him would be completely washed away - so soon after gaining it too - they were lovers after all and you didn't sit back and let your partner poison himself to death. Not when it did nothing other than let Lupin keep his mind, the transformation was just as painful with it.

"My Lord," Barty said stepping into the room, "Harry! What are you doing here?" he blurted out in surprise, eyes wider than normal. It wasn't time for Hogwarts to be out yet, unless he'd fell into a coma for five months.

"Hey, Barty," Harry grinned wryly, he looked so much better than when he'd last seen him, he had obviously taken the potion and exercise regimen Grant gave him seriously. He shouldn't have been surprised, he had seen what the potion was capable of with his own eyes, experienced it himself. "Been taking real good care of my relatives I hope?" sneering the word relative as if it was something dirty and disgusting.

"Of course," Barty insisted slightly insulted that Harry would think otherwise. "I certainly haven't been neglecting them," an insane gleam in his eyes as he chuckled wickedly.

"I'll find out if you've been a bit lax with them," Harry said continued, "Although I am hoping I'll have someone…new to have fun with." even if he had to set it up himself.

"Umbridge?" Voldemort stated his bored drawl startling Barty as well as Fenrir.

"She's mine," Harry stated, and he had just the House-elf for the job, but he had to look up bonding's, he wanted to make sure Dobby couldn't betray him like he had the Malfoy's especially when Dobby learned that he was just as dark if not more so than the Malfoy's. The only thing that Dobby didn't have to worry about was being hurt or being forced to hurt himself, Harry wouldn't do that, he knew how it felt to be treated like a House-elf. It was also how he planned on communicating with Neville, he couldn't send Hedwig back to Hogwarts, and he wasn't risking her.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes in warning, which of course Harry received, but didn't show much outward reaction as per usual. "Indeed, she is, it's why she's been left alone for now…do not make me regret that decision." he retorted sharply. Well, part of the decision, the rest was just to give Harry a nudge in the right direction. Which it had, much to his not so considerable delight.

Harry nodded his head, "Where's Hedwig? Is she alright?" he hadn't actually seen her since she'd been injured; she'd still been recovering when Severus brought her here.

"She's safely and in your room," Voldemort informed him, easily able to inform him due to the wards, wondering why he had missed the impudent brat again? Not even an hour upon his return and he was being disrespectful and annoying as always. He did also bring with him a lot of amusement, he did ponder on what Harry would do to Umbridge when he got her. He would leave that to Harry, since no doubt it would be spectacular and he definitely would make the time to see it. He also wanted Harry to be there when Sanguini visited, the alpha vampire and representation of his side, one who was working hard to entice the others of his own kind to join the war, having similarly the same duties that Fenrir had but to the werewolves instead of vampires.

"Why are you back early? Your last letter said you were going to stay the course," Barty asked, from what he'd observed Harry was stubborn and does what he said he would. It must have been something either annoying or painful he reckoned to get him to back down or go against his word. Admittedly he might be wrong, he'd only spent a few months with the teen. It was enough time to know Harry was sarcastic as hell and stubborn to the point of almost being cursed for his pride. The rest he had during Yule – with his godfather and Lupin – had rejuvenated him to the point he'd remained at Hogwarts all the while taking more exams.

"I was," Harry sighed, rubbing his head tiredly; at least he'd copied all the books in the library now, so he had gotten something out of attending Hogwarts. Well other than bloody misery at Umbridge's quill, he was going to get the teachers back for that, if it was the last thing he did he swore vengeance. "I need to go the library," he didn't ask for permission, Voldemort had made it clear he valued knowledge above all else and had encouraged it.

"The library? You just got back! I thought you wanted to see the Dursley's?" Barty said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively while his grin became bloodthirsty. "I'll tell you everything that's happened in the past seven months." he hadn't been able to write anything down, it was just too risky, so he'd just said a few 'innocent' comments about rats, that he was sure Harry would pick up on. Upon hearing his Lord clear his throat, he amended, "Well almost everything,"

"You can help me look for the book," Harry suggested, "Would go much quicker."

"Why what are you doing?" Barty asked curiously, trying to listen to Harry's reply and the conversation his Lord was having quietly with Fenrir Greyback.

"I need a House-elf, I'm looking for a bond that's better and more secure than the usual Master bond that's usually used." Harry informed him grimly. "Despite how Dobby was bound he found a way around it to warm me repeatedly that his 'Master was a very bad wizard' and that 'Horrible things would happen at Hogwarts' I'm not going to risk being betrayed."

Barty looked curiously, he'd never heard of a House-elf willingly betraying it's Master before. Winky had been loyal, and had a soft spot for him and usually did more than she'd been ordered by his filthy father, even managed to get his father to let him go outside for 'good behaviour' as if he'd ever had a choice in his behaviour under the Imperius curse. She had never gone out right against him or betrayed him. "Who is Dobby?" he enquired, which family did he belong to? It wasn't as if House-elves were ever mentioned in day-to-day conversations they were servants after all.

"Malfoy's old House-elf," Harry said with feral amusement, "When I set it free it stood in front of me after Lucius raised his wand and proclaimed 'Master shall not hurt Harry Potter,' and when he started uttering the words to the killing curse, Dobby clicked his fingers and sent Malfoy flying down the corridor to land on his ass twenty feet away."

Barty burst out laughing, so much so that tears were running freely down his face unable to contain his amusement. Oh, this was just epic, he was going to have so much fun telling this tale, and Malfoy was never going to live this down. The pompous ass that he was, a House-elf had gotten the better of him. It explained why Harry did want the bond to be so strong he supposed. "You have to let me see the memory," it would be worth paying to see it.

Harry just smirked deviously; he would need to think about how much it was worth to Barty before that. Then again, he already had a boon from him as it was. What else could he possibly want from Barty? Anything he wanted he was fully capable of collecting himself. "He'll be furious when he learns I've told you that, he's embarrassed enough at everything else when I talk about it." his tone let him know he honestly couldn't care less if he found out.

Leaning back he sank further back into his seat, already feeling at peace for the first time in seven months. He didn't understand what had convinced him to go back to Hogwarts in the first place. Perhaps he'd been stupidly hoping against hope to have at least one normal year were his life wasn't endangered…no, he had endured a lot because Hogwarts had been his home. Since it was no longer his home…he no longer had to endure, and after two months of his true nature being let out to play, the thought of playing the saviour or victim left a foul taste in his mouth. He wasn't able to quite reign himself in anymore, after finding a home and a place were he fitted in.

For one in his life he was just Harry, and part of him hated that he had Voldemort to thank for it…but it was such a small part of him that he wasn't even consciously aware of it.

"Fine, come on then," Barty grumbled, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry opened his eyes, momentarily confused before he stood up; he had a lot to do tonight so moving now was probably a good idea.

"First bookshelf, third book on the top," Voldemort stated idly, already knowing which one he would pick, since it was the same one he himself had employed upon his House-elves. He and Harry were more alike than even his Death Eaters could fathom, at least for now, soon they would see.

Harry smiled genuinely and dipped his head before he and Barty left the room.

"Harry Potter?" Fenrir asked in question after the door closed behind the two of them. "You trust him." it wasn't a question it was a statement. He had learned a lot tonight, more than he had expected, the boy had his own family here in the Dark Lord's cells, and had evidently given Barty permission to 'deal with them' so to speak. The Dark Lord rarely trusted people completely, and from what he'd observed…it seemed he did.

"Perhaps," Voldemort replied, giving an answer without being blunt about it.

Fenrir moved away from the blazing fire and sat himself down hunched in the seat looking as uncomfortable as he felt. "The prophecy?"

"Self-fulfilling, had I not been so determined to hunt him down my cause wouldn't have been put back for over a decade," Voldemort stated, red eyes flashing angrily, he didn't like thinking on how he had been so reckless. Still, he couldn't complain, what was done, was done all he could do was move on. "The boy is as dark as I was in my youth, Fenrir, and I want him on my side." and oddly enough Voldemort wasn't quite envisioning it as a Death Eater, Harry Potter would one day be his equal, to see him subservient to him would admittedly be arousing but at the same time disconcerting for reasons he couldn't quite articulate.

Fenrir's eyes widened, he was letting Harry stay here when he wasn't sworn in? That was unprecedented, the Dark Lord had always been adamant about those joining his side or dying, there was no in-between unless the Dark Lord truly didn't care for the family and left them to remain 'neutral' but Harry was here, the Dark Lord did want him, it explained why he was getting away with things that no other person before him had. "He certainly has a spine," 'unlike some Death Eaters' went unsaid but certainly understood.

Voldemort let out a snort, "He is not afraid of anything, not even me," and that was with both threats and actual curses, anyone else would have been bowing before him eager to please in a bid to prevent more of his usual motivational methods. He had sensed just how content the boy was in his company just five minutes ago, this didn't surprise him he had been more than comfortable after a few weeks of his company.

After a few moments of silence Voldemort straightened up and got down to business, "Have you had any success?" the creatures that had been on his side in the past were showing reluctance to join him, due to the fact the last time it had blown up in their faces and made life even more uncomfortable for them. He reluctantly acknowledged it had, he had seen the legislations had that been passed over the past decade and it infuriated him.

"Any werewolf worth the title makes sure they aren't easily found, even by me," Fenrir grumbled out, and he respected it despite its annoyance. "I need the full moon and extra senses to track the pack down, I got as far as Rutland before I lost their tracks, it's a big pack, not as big as my own, I'm hoping to track them the next full moon. With news of your return reaching each corner of the British Isles hopefully they will leave clues if they want to be found." clues that no wizard would see let alone understand.

"Good, do not fail me, Fenrir," Voldemort warned, he needed them on his side; they were undeniably one of the best weapons against wizards.

Fenrir stood, giving the Dark Lord a curt nod, it was time to head back to his pack, the full moon was just little over a week away, and they would need to make their way to where the last caught a whiff of the pack. Then begin the tracking them again from there, hopefully they didn't move around a lot. Usually they never moved unless they had no choice but to leave it behind, whether by wizards or bigger packs fighting for territory.

"Why do you want a House-elf anyway?" Barty asked, sitting across from Harry, chewing on a half-eaten apple. Harry was busy reading the book his Lord had suggested which admittedly saved time.

"To send letters," Harry informed him absently, never pausing in his perusal of the book.

Barty choked in incredulity, "You're going to use a House-elf as an owl?"

"I can't send Hedwig anywhere, not without risking someone following her or attaching a tracking charm on her…that's if someone didn't just decide to hurt her." Harry explained, "I, especially, can't let her go to Hogwarts she's too noticeable, and honestly? I don't want to buy another owl, Hedwig is enough…she's my familiar." and those three last words were enough, familiars were very important to wizards. Thank Neville for the idea, he hadn't thought of it before.

"Alright," Barty said agreeably, "I guess you want to keep in touch with Weasley and the Mudb…Granger," he amended seeing the dislike on Harry's face, another one that didn't like the term for Muggle Borns, between Snape and Harry he never got to say it.

"My mother was a 'Mudblood' as well Bartemius Crouch Junior, do not let me hear you say that foul word in my company again, do you hear me?" Harry growled out.

"Aww…come on, Harry!" Barty whined with a pout, he wasn't stupid enough to go up against him, he'd seen how vindictive he could be, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it but his vindictiveness was child play compared to Harry's.

"Do you know she's related to the Lestrange a few generations back?" Harry said so suddenly that it took a few moments for it to sink into Barty. His mother had had Lestrange blood in her, and he now in turn had it too.

"WHAT?!" Barty was so startled that he actually fell off his chair, staring up at Harry in shocked disbelief. "What did you say?" the apple rolled under the opposite table forgotten.

Harry grinned before repeating himself, "My great grandfather was a Lestrange, Marcus Lestrange, a squib who was either disinherited or just sent to the Muggle world to live. I also have Black and Malfoy blood mixed in there as well, but from my father's side."

Barty just stared dumbly before getting to his feet and sitting down unable to process it.

"All Muggle-born students are just descendants from squibs, Barty, old lines rejuvenated and returned to us." Harry stated, "Why do you think in the past six maybe seven decades the number of Muggle-born students has tripled? They stopped killing their squib children and just sent them away. A few generations later magic is strong enough to reappear."

"That's…impossible," Barty muttered bewildered.

"It's true," Harry said wryly, before going back to the book, he had to get it done quick, he had after all promised Neville a letter tonight. He wasn't sure what he could say, he couldn't tell him where he was going or what side he truly was on. It might come up one day, but he hoped Neville understood that he just didn't want to fight…not against a side he understood…for most part, the whole Muggle-born/Mudblood thing was annoying but it was changing…Voldemort's goals were changing maybe being here he could make things even more different.

Only time would tell if he could succeed.

"Dobby!" Harry called out, knowing the House-elf could find him, he had the bond he wanted to implement now was the time.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 32

Neville sat ensconced in his bed; the four poster curtains drawn around him his wand lit allowing him to see the missive he'd received from Harry just a few minutes ago. He had been unable to sleep, and had gotten the fright of his life when Dobby the House-elf appeared on his bed, he would deny that he had squealed like a little girl when he felt his bed suddenly dipping. Thankfully he had room to deny it, nobody had heard, his rather girlish squeal. His own house-elves didn't come in the dead of the night and surprise him like that. Not that it had happened frequently, only twice, and it had been an emergency and for the same reason, Harry's defence of him and confirmation that his wand wasn't right.

Nev,

I'm sorry we didn't get to talk before I left Hogwarts; it was a spur of the moment decision.

I just couldn't take any more of the constant debasement from Umbridge, especially with the teachers doing nothing.

They knew Neville, they knew what she was doing all along, I even tried going to McGonagall, but she interrupted me at every turn. How can I trust them when they would do such a thing? Eleven-year-old kids were being tortured; I don't know how many I saw crying in pain after detention with her…I felt very useless despite offering what respite and aid I could.

I am also tired of everyone else and their backstabbing ways, I thought I could last the year out but I was wrong.

I won't be returning to Hogwarts; I'll take my N.E.W.T's independently.

Don't worry about me, where I am, I am safe, safer than I was at Hogwarts and that is indisputable.

Nev, don't let anyone push you into anything you don't want, no matter who they are, not even Dumbledore.

A piece of advice? No one can make you feel inferior without your consent, stop believing in what others tell you, and live your life. You want to work in botany then do it, truthfully there is no other career more suited to you. Don't let the war, your parents belief's, your Grans or Dumbledore's influence you. You are your own man, and will have to live with the decisions you make, they won't.

You are a good friend; I hope regardless of the fact I'm not at Hogwarts that you and I will remain friends.

Be safe,

Harry

The hurt Neville hadn't been aware off that Harry had left without saying anything receded; he couldn't really blame him for a spur of the moment reaction. Especially if it was true what Harry had written, which he didn't doubt, in five years he'd never heard Harry caught out in a lie, and his shy nature made him invisible to most people, they forgot he was there, and he had heard it all, the twofaced nature to people.

In fact, he had heard nothing but hypocrisy from his own roommates for hours before they'd finally actually gone to sleep! Going on about how awesome Harry's Quidditch moves were, how professional players could learn a thing or two. Even managing to get on the topic of Harry and the dragon he'd faced during the tri-wizard tournament. How they wished they had done what he had only earlier, they seemed to forget especially Seamus how much of a dickhead he'd been to Harry since the school started back up.

Neville couldn't say he was surprised by Harry's decision not to return, he had seen how hard being at Hogwarts had been on his friend. He couldn't believe McGonagall and Dumbledore had known about the blood quill; those children were probably traumatised by what happened. How could they ever trust a teacher again after what had happened? After what had been revealed?

He frowned at the line about making his own choices; he couldn't help but get a sense of foreboding at that line. It was almost like Harry knew something he didn't and was trying to warn him. It was very specific about Dumbledore as well; the question was why? What would Dumbledore ever want with him? Shaking it off, refusing to think on it, although the feeling inside refused to fade, as a ball of anxiety flared within him.

It was something he didn't want anyone to see either, since Dobby had instructed him to burn after reading. The house-elf had looked eerily happy saying he had another errand to run before he left too saying something like 'here toady'. There wasn't even anything really badly written in it, did he truly distrust everyone that much? Maybe he just didn't want the papers to find out he wasn't going to return to Hogwarts? Although really, he had made his point very clear, but he had no doubt everyone thought he'd be back. Sighing softly, he climbed out of bed, sliding his slippers on, before making a quick dash towards the closest toilet, making a quick use of the facilities to do his night time ablutions. After he dried his hands, he placed the letter in the sink and cast a burning spell, watching the parchment become naught but ash. Once it was done, he murmured the 'Evanesco' spell to get rid of the remains still perturbed by Harry's insistence of burning the letter.

Shivering at the cold, he quickly backtracked to his bed, he cuddled into the warmth of his mattress before toeing his slippers off and using his foot to slid them along until they landed with two dull thuds on the floor. For the first time that night Neville actually relaxed enough to sleep, he'd been too worried before. His face flushed red when he remembered the nickname Dobby had given him. 'Master Harry's Nevvy' other than Harry then later Luna were the only ones who had cared enough to give him one. He'd always been just Neville, even as a young boy, but until he came to Hogwarts he had never interacted with another child before. He'd grown up in seclusion with his Gran, tutored in everything he needed to know. He didn't know what his parents had called him; his Gran never answered any of his questions about them.

Sleep came pretty soon afterwards for the relieved Longbottom.

Meanwhile someone who had been causing a lot of problems for Harry was going to find herself in a predicament she wasn't going to get out of.

Wide bug eyes which had held nothing but panic in them as she let the letter slip through her fingers. Cornelius had all but told her that she was on her own, he was really angry about the forged documents allowing her to use the blood quill on the brats. The parents had accosted the Minister just half an hour after the despicable Potter brat had revealed all in the Great Hall, which made him question everything and uncover some of the documents she'd signed for him. He was the Minister of magic, she knew him best, and he was so busy, signing everything was tiresome so she'd merely helped him along.

"That brat!" Umbridge hissed, steaming like a bull she could curse the boy for ruining everything. The thought of the Auror's coming to arrest her or interview the students made her lurch from her pink seat and began flicking her tiny wand, as she began to pack all her possessions, she had to get to the Ministry and somehow make this mess go away. She had a few people she could blackmail, but Bones wasn't one of them, so she had to make sure the Law Enforcement Officer didn't get her hands on any of the paperwork.

The letter she'd received from Cornelius was still lying on the floor, as her trunk and bag sailed through the room neatly packed together to come to a stop in the middle of the classroom everything packed up including her pink kitten plates that had adorned her wall. Umbridge paused as she stared at her possessions, feeling conflicted, and what if Cornelius had her arrested the moment she showed up? She knew he would throw her under the bus, he had warned her of that in the letter without outright saying it. The urge to run was strong, but she wasn't one for giving up, but she was one to put her survival first and foremost.

Fortunately…or perhaps unfortunately for her the decision was quite quickly taken from her.

Umbridge jumped in startlement when the sound of a popping sounded the room; panting a little she quickly found the source of the disturbance, a House-elf. "I did not call you, leave!" she snapped at the thing, her lip curled in repugnance, not even House-elves were exempt from her disgust at all creatures. She straightened up puffing herself out when she noticed the vindictive twinkle in its eye. It was a Hogwarts House-elf; she'd seen it while inspecting the kitchens.

A blast left its hands causing her to shriek and dive out of the way, her wand slipping in the process. When she realised it had fallen on the floor, she crawled on her hands and knees to get to it in a hurry scrambling blindly, the cold stone floor biting into her knees and legs, causing her to cry out in pain. Triumph shot through her as she clutched her chubby hand around her wand, for all of a few seconds, before she was hit with another blast, causing her to skid along the classroom floor, and thump into the wall, her head smashing against the table, her eyes filled with tears and pain coursed through her body, through the tears she could see that the House-elf had let loose another beam in her direction. When it hit her unconsciousness quickly claimed her, and she knew no more.

Dobby stared grimly at the witch; he knew what she'd been doing to Master Harry and the other students at Hogwarts. Master Harry had told him, so he took vindictive satisfaction seeing her in pain. Nobody hurt his Harry Potter! His kind Master had saved him from the evil Malfoy's who hurt him, who constantly made him hurt himself. His existence hadn't been a good one, while he had liked being free, he had longed to have a wizard of his own to serve, a wizard named Harry Potter, and it had finally happened. He wasn't going to let him down.

Clicking his fingers, Umbridge's wand was in his hand, another click later and the luggage was gone, rushing over to the unconscious witch as quickly as his little legs could carry him, he hooked his gnarly fingers around her hideous pink cardigan and both of them were gone in an instant. Leaving only the open letter the Minister had sent in the now empty room.

Every indication that the witch had fled the scene in the dead of the night, even magic could attest to that.

Harry leaned against the wall, observing the Dursley's through the bars, green eyes gleaming with satisfaction, feeling vindicated after everything they had done to him. They had made his childhood unbearable; he'd had nothing to make it bearable, and it's probably why he was the way he was now. Vernon and Dudley had lost so much weight in seven months, honestly, they were unrecognizable, he'd never in his life seen them anything other than gluttonous fat bastards. They'd long ago stopped pleading and begging to be let go, even longer since they'd demanded anything from him. He wasn't sure they would survive nine more years of this, which was what he had decided on in a spur of the moment, to repay them for every day he'd lived in misery, cold, fear and hunger. If they died before it then fine, it was just the way of it, either way he at least he got the last laugh.

"Told you," Barty said smugly, showing off his handiwork like a proud toddler.

Harry threw Barty a sardonic smirk, soon everyone who had hurt him would have paid for it with their freedom an inevitably their lives. He had no desire to torture them, which was unusual, perhaps he did feel a little sorry for them…but he did have a more urgent desire to see that Umbridge paid the price of torturing him.

"Now that you're back, does that mean you are joining our cause? Our side?" Barty asked, unusually serious.

"I don't know," Harry said honestly, his gaze vacant as he thought that question through. "What you've done in the past is horrendous, and that doesn't include the raids, it's too reminiscent on what Grindelwald did, I know unlike you, what the Muggles are capable of, magic should never be revealed to them,"

Barty scoffed not believing Harry the slightest.

"Even in the past Ministers have agreed, they signed laws preventing wizards and witches from joining the world wars, the exposure of magic was just too risky. A single bomb can cause devastating affects; four hundred yards can be exploded with one bomb killing thousands of people. They have nuclear weapons, if they used them…nothing will survive, the radiation poisoning will kill everything, plants, animals and people, not even we would be immune to it. The entire planet would be annihilated."

"And you think they should be left alone with stuff like that?" Barty choked out, he understood radiation poisoning, but to think the Muggles had something that would kill every living thing on the planet?

Harry shrugged, "We have time turners, if anything happened, we could go back in time to stop it, only if it's just the one place that's the source of the disturbance, but if everyone saw magic…inevitably it would be our last war on the planet." sliding from the wall to stand on his feet, instead of leaning against the wall. He supposed he really should answer Barty instead of being vague. "We are too few to take on everyone. Although it doesn't look like they've started back up but that might be because Voldemort doesn't want people to know he's returned yet."

"The Dark Lord didn't start up the raids," Barty admitted, watching those green eyes gleam with curiosity. He didn't ask, but it was obvious he wanted to know more. "The first time it ever started it was one of our own, a pureblood who had been left in the hands of a Muggle orphanage and then sent to someone's home, he wasn't adopted, I can't remember what they called it actually."

"Foster care," Harry answered, nodding briefly.

"That might be it," Barty said, "He was abused for years, he kept it quiet the idiot," Barty's hands clenched at the injustice of it. "When we found out we made everyone pay, the neighbours for not doing something about it and the family for their actions."

"What happened to him?" Harry asked.

"He was taken in by the Lestrange's; he joined the Dark Lord after graduating from Hogwarts. He never speaks about his time there, never gives a reason as to why he kept quiet for three years after learning about magic." Barty told him, shivering a little in the cold; the lower dungeons were always freezing.

Harry arched an eyebrow, for someone so smart that was a stupid thing to say. It wasn't easy coming out and saying that you'd been abused any given day for a child, let alone one who had a Muggle family and they were a witch or a wizard. That had probably worked in Dumbledore's favour, one he knew what the magical world thought of him, he hadn't been quite inclined to tell anyone that he was abused. He had told Dumbledore, and asked to remain behind at Hogwarts for all the good it had done him, he'd been made to feel like a liar, while he said all families have their 'troubles' as if what he'd experienced was nothing. He would have felt deeply betrayed if he had trusted the old man, but the life he'd led…he had learned from a young age never to trust anyone.

Their conversation was forgotten for the moment, as a pop indicated that a House-elf had teleported into the cells, and since there was only one person due to come in, they didn't need to hear her voice or see her to know who it was. Another click of Dobby's fingers and he was outside the cell, with a load of luggage beside him.

"You packed up her belongings?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow amused.

"No, Master Harry, she was already packed," Dobby explained, swaying back and forth on the tip of his toes, still reeling in utter happiness and contentment. So much so that he wasn't able to express it, and wasn't being his usual bubbly self. Then again, his Master Harry always tried to keep him calm, he liked it that way and Dobby was determined to be the best House-elf ever, even if he was in the same place as the Dark Lord wizard. "If the blood quill isn't there, Dobby will go right back." he promised.

"It doesn't matter if it's not there, I can make one," Harry said flippantly, and he'd make it a lot worse than the one she'd created of that, he was sure. He was sure between Barty, Voldemort and himself one could be made. They were all extremely powerful and smart after all. It would also be far worse than the one she'd used on him.

"What are you planning?" Barty asked, peering into the cell, "Wait a minute, I recognize her," the pink clothing was unmistakable.

"Was she at your trial?" Harry asked moving forward so he could look in as well. She was unconscious still, and he'd leave her to come around on her own, he wanted her to be utterly terrified before he made his appearance. Perhaps if he was lucky, he could convince Voldemort to put glamours on that made him look like his old self so she can know her fate right away. A grin worked its way onto his face, he was sure Voldemort would do it, he was sadistic he loved scaring the shit out of people.

"No, I just knew her from the Ministry; towards the end when my mother was really sick and he was doing overtime constantly I'd go to him and beg him to be home with her. My mother loved him despite the fact he neglected her all her life," Barty admitted, his white-knuckle grip on the cell door his only show of anger. "She deserved better." he was too out of it to protest when his mother and father appeared in Azkaban, when he found out he had internal raged in fury, unable to express it with the Imperius curse on him. He had thought for a brief time when Jorkins appeared that he'd be freed but no, HE had come and wiped her memory of the incident.

"A lot of people did and do," Harry replied, "She had you, that had to count for something." feeling sympathy for Barty.

Barty snorted derisively, "I broke her heart, she wasn't even at the trial and I am grateful for that," he had been in the presence of Dementors for weeks before his trial, he'd been half mad that day, and every day since until he got the potion. He owed his Lord everything for freeing him and seeing that he was healed. He hadn't cared for many people; his mother and the Dark Lord had been exceptions. Although he'd never admit it, he had grown rather fond of Harry. He was just the right amount of crazy as him, with admittedly better handle on himself, and fun to be around. "Sorry," he muttered after a few seconds realizing who he was talking to.

"For what?" Harry asked gazing at Barty in confusion, wondering what was going through his head.

"It can't be easy listening to someone going on when you never knew yours," Barty admitted.

Harry snorted, "It's hard to miss something you never had, and they chose to join Dumbledore, get involved in a war instead of staying out of it and raising me. I know they were probably convinced they were making a better world for me, but what good is that better world if they didn't survive? It's meaningless to speculate anyway there's no point to dwelling on the past." some may think he was being harsh and unfair on his parents, but honestly, he loved the idea of them, more than he could scrounge up any real feelings for them. He knew next to nothing about them, his mother was pretty with green eyes he looked exactly like his father that was it. Ollivander had given him more information for Merlin's sake than the people claiming to know them.

"Point," Barty conceded with a nod, "So, what do you plan to do to her?" getting back on topic, quite uncomfortable with the topic that had been brought up. He only had himself to blame, he had spoken of it first. Then again, he didn't really have anyone else to talk to; most of the others were still healing and getting back into shape. That and he honestly wouldn't want to have this kind of conversation with them, not that they'd understand. The Lestrange parents had been much like his father; House-elves had practically raised them until they were old enough to be educated. Same with Bellatrix's parents, although it wasn't all their fault, Bellatrix had always had a screw loose.

"You'll see," Harry stated eerily. "So will she," with that Harry levitated her belongings, which would be burnt just as soon as he found her damn quill, if he didn't then he'd make a new one. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd already gotten rid of all the evidence. That could wait, no doubt Dumbledore had already written to Sirius and Remus, and he didn't want them crawling back into his hold because he was 'missing' he wanted to distance the two of them from Dumbledore and hope he could get them to become neutral.

"I'm off," Harry said, and with that he began to make his way out of the cells, Barty followed him, having no desire to remain there on his own there was just only so much fun to be had. They didn't run into any Death Eaters on the way to his rooms and that did pique his curiosity but he never asked for clarification. "If you come in, stay out the way, and keep quiet,"

Barty stared utterly bewildered, wondering what on earth Harry was talking about. Staying in the doorway, as Harry went into his bedroom, digging through his stuff before coming out with a mirror? He was about to enter the room and ask Harry what was going on when he spoke his godfathers name and he saw a small blue glow emanating from the mirror. Arching an eyebrow, deducing that it was no usual mirror. A million questions wanted to burst through his tightly pursed lips.

"Harry!" Sirius shouted into the mirror, his eyes filled with relief, ten years sliding from his face in mere moments. "Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"Better question would be…where are you?" Harry asked, it was obvious Sirius was outside, stone and trees and grass surrounding him. Darkness surrounded everywhere else as if he was in a dome, but it was just his wand lighting up the immediate area.

"Scotland, Culloden, it's the direction Dumbledore said you could be." Sirius told him, stopping in his walking and leaning against the tree.

Harry closed his eyes in exasperation, "Please tell me you've not crawled back to Dumbledore with your tail between your legs?" gritting his teeth just a little unable to contain his anger entirely.

"I never answered his letter," Sirius admitted sheepishly, self-consciously itching the back of his head. His teeth chittering in the cold, he was on his own letting Remus get some rest before the full moon. "But I couldn't just do nothing, Remus wanted to come as well, but I convinced him to stay and get some sleep. Are you really alright? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Sirius, none of the tracking spells you've cast have worked, have they?" he pointed out knowing Sirius would have.

"Well, no," Sirius said slowly, wondering what was going on with his godson lately.

"Has Remus taken the Wolfsbane potion?" Harry asked, his tone becoming grim making Sirius stand up straighter and take notice.

"Of course he has, Harry that time he didn't take it was a mistake, he regrets it," Sirius said defending his partner.

"Do you even know what it's doing to him?" Harry asked his face impassive.

"Wha…Harry what are you talking about?" Sirius asked bewildered wondering when the conversation had gotten so grim, shivering in the cold of the night.

"The Wolfsbane potion, do you know what it's doing to him?" Harry repeated his question, his face never once lightening up even a little.

"Alright, Harry, what is it doing to him?" Sirius asked resignedly, he wasn't going to play whatever game Harry was. He obviously felt strongly about it at any rate, although why still eluded him.

"It's killing him, slowly, if he keeps using the Wolfsbane he won't live to see his fortieth birthday," Harry stated sharply, "No matter if the Wolfsbane is properly dealt with he's still consuming something that is poisoning him, I wouldn't like to see the state of his internal organs with that stuff flowing through him. He can never gain a lot of weight, can he? His liver is trying to flush it out of his body but more just keeps getting consumed. If you don't believe me, investigate other werewolves who take it…if you can find one that's alive at any rate."

Sirius paled at Harry's words, staring at Harry he knew that his godson wasn't kidding; he truly meant every word he said. He had hated potions, and didn't pay any attention to the Wolfsbane potion or its ingredients, but he knew Remus must have. He knew his partner well; he would have researched it, even looking for a way to brew it himself. If what Harry said was true (and he knew it was) then Remus knew too, he was willingly poisoning himself just to keep his mind during the full moon. The urge to go home and demand answers from his lover was strong, very, very strong. Yet the rational part of him realized that Remus could wait, his godson needed him at the moment.

"Harry, I'll take care of it," Sirius promised, giving a solemn nod, "Right now you are more important, please tell me where you are and why you decided to leave Hogwarts!" he added desperately, he wasn't going to let Harry side-track him.

"I can't tell you where I am, it's safer that way, just trust that I know what I am doing and that I am safe," Harry told him confidently, "As to why I left Hogwarts…it's complicated. Do you know anything about Umbridge?"

"Yes," Sirius said darkly, "She's a prejudice bitch who hates creatures, she's the reason Remus can't get a job," he spat angrily.

"Did you know she was the DADA teacher this year? I'm not sure if I mentioned her at Yule," Harry stated.

"No, but I can deduce why," Sirius sighed rolling his eyes heavenward.

"She's been using a blood quill on the students during detention, making eleven-year-old write out lines in their own blood. I tried to tell McGonagall but she wouldn't let me get a word in edge wise…she just kept telling me to keep my head down," Harry sighed, his tone becoming weary. "I think both McGonagall and Dumbledore knew what she was doing…and they did nothing about it. My hand is permanently scarred because of what she did. It just got too much, I handed in my written notice of leaving Hogwarts gave them a copy of my O.W.L scores and left. I loudly told the entire school about how illegal the blood quill was that she was using. Hopefully the students will write home and she will be sacked or something." drawing away any suspicion Sirius could entertain of him on Umbridge's disappearance. That's if Sirius had heard anything beyond her using a blood quill, his face had gone all red.

Given his earlier words, Harry reckoned Sirius would gleefully dance on her rotten corpse.

"Wait O.W.L scores?" Sirius blurted out, the red fading from his face, his mind still reeling, "What do you mean your O.W.L scores?" was that the reason he'd spent so much time studying during Yule? He'd asked him a few times but he hadn't said anything in particular. Sneaky sly little…he definitely had more of Lily in him than James, he wouldn't have been able to keep quiet about it if he took his exams early.

"I took them early, a week into my fifth year, I'm taking my N.E.W.T's independently as well, and I'm never going back to Hogwarts." Harry explained softly, his lips twitching at the pride and awe on Sirius' face.

"Can we at least meet up?" Sirius asked eyes still shadowed with a little worry. "My home will be safe it's under the Fidelius, I can tell you the…"

"Stop," Harry commanded sternly, "Do not dare to tell me where you are especially not out in the open, do it when you get home…I'll visit, I promise."

Sirius relaxed happily with that announcement. "Is your hand alright?" he eventually asked, permanent scarring Harry had said. "Has it healed?"

"It's healing, I'll put something on it tonight," Harry promised. After he was finishing setting up Umbridge's torture…oh, he was going to have so much fun with her. "I'll talk to you tomorrow alright?"

"Every night?" Sirius asked, with a hopeful look on his face that he was purposefully using, he'd do anything just to know his godson was doing alright even if it meant manipulating him.

"Fine," Harry said, he had no problem with that, he gave Sirius a knowing look, he wasn't an idiot but he did decide to let Sirius think he got his own way.

"Alright," Sirius said, too busy beaming in delight to see the knowing look Harry had given him.

"Now go, stop Remus from using the Wolfsbane potion, all you need to do instead is expand a room, grow some trees and plans and stuff make it look like a forest, we're wizards we can do that you know. Maybe even use a trunk, create an entire forest inside, so if you take the Fidelius down no Muggle is going to wonder why someone has a forest in their room." Harry said, sarcasm bleeding heavily into his voice. "With you around he doesn't need much in way of controlling; wolves are pack animals after all."

Sirius just blinked stupidly at Harry, cursing inwardly, feeling stupid for not thinking of such a thing before, it would solve every single one of Remus' concerns! It would be like a secure room to which there was no escape.

"I best go get something on my hand, I just wanted to let you know I'm safe." Harry said, "Night, Sirius." Very pleased that the wizard hadn't gone running back to Dumbledore but had searched for him of his own back. He was beginning to be far more independent and it really pleased him. It would make it less likely for Dumbledore to ever get his claws back into him.

"Night, Harry," Sirius said smiling happily, he was just so glad Harry was fine.

"Deactivate!" and with that the mirror shimmered blue again, and his own reflection replaced Sirius'.

"So, that was Black, does he know you aren't on his side anymore?" Barty said, leaning against the doorjamb.

"No, he doesn't, but I am hoping to turn him Neutral," Harry stated sharply, "Remus is already dark, he's a dark creature, he belongs here, he just won't admit it, he's fighting for a side that would see him condemned and dead rather than move a muscle to help him. Do you have any idea how bloody frustrating it is having to deal with that?" Harry scowled in exasperation.

Barty said nothing, not even to the 'he belongs here' he hadn't said 'on their side' he pondered on what would happen if Harry never made a decision. What would his Lord do then? Would he kill him? Hold out hope? Now that didn't sound like him at all, but he did desire to have Harry on his side, he was giving him a lot of liberties no other had ever received before in the past. It might continue he was looking forward to seeing it. The Dark Lord didn't mark anyone that was underage anyway; he usually waited until they were adults.

Sighing softly, Harry placed the mirror in his desk, he had long ago warded his room so nobody could get in, well except Severus, Barty and Voldemort, who he couldn't keep out even if he wanted to, it was his manor, his wards would just rip through his if he so desired it. He did hope that Voldemort would respect his privacy; he'd never had much of it - or any - in the past.

He was feeling quite exhausted, elated yes, but quite tired. He only had a few more things to do before he could get some sleep.

"Where are the Death Eaters? I mean the ones who were in Azkaban?" Harry queried, staring at Barty, absently rubbing his hand where the scar still throbbed a little from the last 'detention'.

"Other side of the manor, they're not allowed in this wing, the only reason they're allowed in his side of the building is if they're attending a meeting in the Great Hall, although some of them could be out following orders." he said nothing of those orders.

"They've recovered?" Harry asked closing his door as both of them made their way back to the library.

"Yes, largely thanks to Severus brewing the potions, and your invention," Barty explained, "They've still got a bit to go," which reminded him, he'd need to speak to his Lord, find out if the Lestrange's knew about Harry being a relative, if they found out and not from their Lord it was possible they might react negatively and want to kill him out of misplaced pride and family honour, the embarrassment of having a half-blood relative.

Honestly, if they did that, they wouldn't survive to see another day.

The Dark Lord would be best to inform them, and stop any potential problems it might bring.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 33

The home safe under the Fidelius Charm was visible to Sirius and Remus only, to everyone else it just wasn't there, it was so much more than just a home though. It was a fresh start, a new life, somewhere truly safe, where he'd never have to watch his back, live in a house he utterly detested, and he never had to look Dumbledore in the face. There were no bad memories associated here, Sirius thought as he made his way inside, yet, he added darkly, he didn't doubt Harry for a moment, and he truly feared that Remus knew what it was doing to him and was continuing to consume the poison on a monthly basis.

The thought left him cold, as if a Dementor had made itself known. Closing his eyes a shudder of fear wracked his frame, even just thinking about those detestable creatures took him back to Azkaban. With Remus (and the potion Harry gave him) the nightmares weren't so bad anymore, he still had them from time to time, woke up in cold sweat not the same sort as before, very mild compared to that. Sometimes thinking of his godson helped, when in Azkaban it had been Harry who kept him sane, and even now it was Harry keeping him sane. Closing his eyes he visualized the Patronus, the clearly visible stag, identical to James' Animagus form, the warmth and power that came with it. His godson was unbelievable, so powerful and he didn't even realize it. Thirteen-year-olds just didn't go around conjuring blood Patronus charms.

Now he'd gone and taken his OWLS early, Sirius thought with wry fondness, his heart rate began to lower, as the fear receded to the back of his mind. Remus was going to be proud of Harry, shocked yes, but proud, he was the nerd of the group, and by Merlin his mother would have been so amazed. He often thought about talking to Harry about his parents, but when he opened his mouth to say anything he froze, the words just got caught in his mouth. He didn't want to upset Harry, remind him that everyone had known them except him. Plus, it hurt so much, and until he took the potion quite honestly his mind had been scrambled, he barely remembered his memories especially the good ones. The bad ones he had in abundance, constantly reminded due to the presence of the Dementors.

"Sirius?" Remus called out from the top landing, sniffing the air gently, and his senses was much better nearer the full moon.

"I'm back," Sirius said his tone distant, subdued.

"Did you find him?" Remus asked, briskly rushing down the stairs, the carpet keeping his bare feet protected in a way that Grimmauld Place could not. His face was hopeful yet resigned, he honestly didn't think Sirius would find Harry, but he couldn't help but hope that he would nonetheless. He could smell that the panic was gone, but there was another emotion he couldn't quite place wafting from Sirius instead now. Not just one emotion actually a whole plethora of them. Pride, worry, happiness, dread. "Sirius?" he repeated, "Did you find him?"

"We need to talk," Sirius said strongly, much more strongly than he actually meant.

Hearing those words made Remus' stomach shrink; it was never words anyone in a relationship ever wanted to hear. Had Sirius not truly forgiven him for what happened? Would he really leave him? He sounded very upset, as if he was forcing himself to say the words. "Alright," he said, feeling quite sick and anxious, not good on top of his usual ailments at this time of the month. The full moon was absolutely dreadful to deal with, but it had been part of his life now for so long he didn't remember any other way.

Remus made his way into the living room, sliding over to the cabinet and removed two tumbler glasses, and poured equal generous amounts into the glasses. He had a feeling he was going to need the bottle, not just a glass, but he would wait and see. Passing one to Sirius, he sat down on the chair, watching his partner with dread and anxiety shooting further when he noticed the pacing beginning. Sirius didn't hold in when he had something to say, he just said it, so it was a sign of how bad it was that he was silent. "Sirius, what do you want to talk about…it isn't Harry is it?" Remus felt his heart stutter, he hadn't thought of that.

"No, Harry's fine, he's safe, he's somewhere safe." Sirius reassured Remus, he'd never let him think such a thing.

"Somewhere?" Remus echoed, "Not Hogwarts?" it was a silly thing to do, especially with Voldemort out there, Harry could be captured or killed if he didn't return to Hogwarts.

"No," Sirius confirmed, "He's reassured me he's safe, I think he might be in one of the old manors, you know how many properties the Potter's have in the entirety of the estate." and those old manors were completely secure, he doubted even Dumbledore could get into them, unless he was already granted entrance into them. He'd need to tell Harry how to retract someone's acceptance passed the wards just to be on the safe side. He couldn't allow himself to get side-tracked he scolded himself.

"I see," Remus murmured he'd have to talk Harry into returning to Hogwarts where he'd be safe. Voldemort wouldn't go near the school, not with Dumbledore there as Headmaster. Sure, the old man wasn't on their good side, but he wouldn't hurt Harry, he was too important, and if he did anything the case would be put under a microscope, surely Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen. "Was that what you wanted to discuss?" he added after a few moments of silence, he was feeling quite perplexed. Seeing Sirius down his glass in one go, he realized that it definitely wasn't over.

Sirius exhaled slowly, he really didn't want to know the answer to the question he was about to ask, he internally admitted as he walked over and filled an overly generous amount into his empty glass. Staring at the beech cabinet, he tried to get as many light-coloured items into the house as possible after living in such damp dreary conditions for so long. "Did you investigate the Wolfsbane potion when it first came out?" still staring at the cabinet.

Remus blinked in utter befuddlement; it took him a few moments to get his mouth working. "What?"

"You heard, did you?" Sirius asked, glancing around briefly before staring blindly at the wall, a picture of a wolf and a black dog in separate paintings, both Muggle, Sirius had seen them one day and just had to get them. He was now constantly on the outlook for a stag.

"Yes," Remus replied cautiously. "The retail price was extortionate, I wanted to brew it myself but it's far too complicated." coming from him that was saying a lot. There was probably only three or four potion Masters in the world who could effortlessly brew the potion. If not the world, then certainly Great Britain, it's why it cost so much to make. He had been gutted, then Dumbledore had asked him to be the defence professor, he had declined, of course, only for Dumbledore to dangle something in front of him he could not refuse. The Wolfsbane potion. Brewed for him every month even when he wasn't at Hogwarts during the summer. The thought of seeing Harry had been enticing and that's what Dumbledore had used to begin with. He hadn't been able to face his best friends son, couldn't endure the questions as to why he hadn't been there. Oddly enough Harry had never asked, not once. Not in all the times they'd been together while he helped Harry do the Patronus charm, he hadn't expected him to produce a fully-fledged Patronus of all things, but he had.

"So, you know what the potion is doing to you?" Sirius said icily, furious with Remus for being so careless with his life.

Remus gulped down the contents of his glass, rasping out a quiet, "Yes," he admitted.

"You know you won't live to see your fortieth birthday but you kept using it…letting me think you were just fine?" Sirius spat eyes blazing as he spun around.

"I-I-it's not like that, Sirius, it isn't," Remus murmured, desperate for his partner to believe him. "You're just exaggerating."

"Oh, am I?" Sirius asked coolly. "Didn't think I deserved a say when you slowly kill yourself by ingesting that poison!"

Remus flinched, both at the words, and the reminder that only Greyback ever called the potion poison. It was an accurate assessment, but he'd always forced himself into denial, to not believe it. "So, what would you have me do? Go back to not using it?" he asked him incredulously.

"YES!" Sirius roared suddenly. "To have some consideration for me! You and Harry are all I have left…" he choked suddenly pale and shaken. "I can't lose either of you…I can't watch you poison yourself." his voice hoarse as if he'd hurt his throat with his sudden roar.

"What are you saying?" Remus asked a quiver of fear in his voice. He couldn't go back to being alone, he just couldn't. He'd been alone for so long, he loved Sirius, and he truly did, had for a very long time.

"I won't…I can't watch you kill yourself, Remus, I can't," Sirius whispered gulping down the whiskey terrified that Remus would pick the poison over him.

"You don't know what you're asking," Remus choked out, clenching his hands into fists.

"Was it truly that bad when you had us to help that you need to do this?" Sirius asked in defeat, sitting down on the leather couch his eyes closed tiredly.

"No, it was after," Remus admitted.

"Please, for my sake stop taking it," Sirius begged, pleading with his partner to stop taking the potion.

"I can't do that," Remus whispered, his heart felt like it was being crushed. He didn't want to lose Sirius but he couldn't stop taking the potion.

"Why?" Sirius snapped.

"I can't Sirius!" Remus said in warning.

"At least give me an explanation as to why you're choosing the potion over me!" Sirius argued.

"I can't!"

"WHY!"

"I CAN'T!"

"WHY?"

"I KILLED SOMEONE!" Remus roared, his eyes going more amber as he let his wolf out a little in his anger. Belatedly realizing what he had said, Remus paled further than one could possibly imagine, especially since he was already pale due to the closeness of the full moon and the feeling of sickness that came with it.

Like a balloon both men felt their anger burst replaced with different emotions.

"Oh, Remy," Sirius whispered guiltily, "How long have you kept this to yourself? How long have you tormented yourself?" why hadn't he told him?

"It was the full moon after it happened," Remus confessed, sitting down, glass hanging empty in his limp hand, his left hand covered his shame filled face. He didn't need to elaborate on what 'It' was, the horrific Halloween, where he had lost every single member of his pack. Lily, James, little Harry, Sirius and Peter. He still wasn't sure how it had happened either, as in grief as he was, he never took chances. Jumping a little when whiskey was poured into his glass, he hadn't even sensed Sirius moving. "Moony got out, I don't understand how, I took every precaution I usually do," a tortured sound left his throat; it was a cross between a plea and a whine.

"Did anyone know where you were?" Sirius asked quietly, his guilt intensifying, if only he hadn't gone after Peter he might not have ended up in Azkaban. He would have raised his godson, and his partner wouldn't be guilty of something he had no control over.

"Just Dumbledore, he came to see me before I left after the full moon, asking that I don't visit Harry so he can have a normal upbringing without the strain of being the Boy-Who-Lived on his shoulders." Remus whispered tiredly, "As if I would have mentioned that! I don't care about his so-called fame." bitterness coating his voice. It wasn't as if he knew where Harry was anyway, Lily rarely spoke of Petunia, and when she did it was with sadness at what had become of her relationship with her sister. In fact, he had only met her once, at the wedding.

Sirius felt suspicion squirming in his gut; could Dumbledore have set it all up? To make Remus run? Guilt him so he wouldn't visit Harry? No, Dumbledore might be many things but he would never risk that. He'd gone to great lengths to keep Remus' furry little problem from getting out after he had stupidly tried to get Snape in trouble. All he'd done was nearly get his partner 'put down' it was his biggest regret. Remus had been so angry with him. He'd thought he had completely ruined their friendship for good. Probably would have if James hadn't realized the enormity of what he had done and gone straight to the rescue.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the idea.

"Remus, you can't blame yourself for something you have no control over," Sirius said, trying to comfort his partner but knowing nothing truly would.

Sick to his stomach he stated sharply, "Yes I can," of course, he bloody well blamed himself.

"Remus you know that it's not you!" Sirius protested, "You lead with this heart here." pressing his hand against Remus' chest, feeling the pounding of his heart.

"I remember ripping him to shreds," Remus croaked, and the power that came with it. "I enjoyed it," he had been for a brief moment been one with the wolf, the perfect predator. No worries or fears, he'd just tore apart the guy and relished in his kill, in eating him. He'd woken up afterwards in the forest, well away from the hideout he'd been using; the first thing that dawned on him was he could taste the copper taste of blood in his mouth. Normally he couldn't remember much, but he had remembered that. He'd covered up every shred of evidence and returned home, still in shock and was still that way when Dumbledore came knocking at the door.

"No, the wolf enjoyed it," Sirius corrected him, "You aren't the same being, he enjoyed it, it's natural for a wolf to enjoy something like that, don't get yourself mixed up with Moony."

Remus just shook his head, gulping more whiskey down his throat, he really shouldn't be doing this, but at this point he didn't quite care at the moment. Sirius wouldn't understand, couldn't understand, he had enjoyed it, and he had been utterly terrified of himself since. So, when the chance to keep his mind for the full moon cropped up, he'd taken it without pause. Now Sirius was telling him to stop taking it or end up alone. The problem was Sirius might not like the person he becomes if he and his wolf were to become one again.

"Where did you hear about the Wolfsbane potion?" Remus asked, grumbling at the fact he was already sobering up, his metabolism was extremely fast. Sirius didn't read unless he absolutely had to, so the chances of him having picked up a book was pretty slim. He had been out there on his own trying to look for Harry unless he'd bumped into an Order member, why an Order member saw fit to talk about that particular potion he had no idea.

So, it was to his eternal surprise when Sirius informed him how he had heard about it, "Harry,"

"Why would Harry…" Remus gaped baffled, his mind off his confession.

"I'm not sure, he was really…cold with me when he was asking about it, he's angry at you for taking it and me for thinking I'm letting you kill yourself." Sirius admitted, "I assume he knew you were taking it? Probably did some investigating as well."

Remus' lips twitched, "He thought Severus was poisoning me,"

"No, you're just poisoning yourself," Sirius said but without bite, in fact he sounded subdued. "He's taken his OWLS you know, Harry, he's graduated early."

Remus' jaw dropped, "He actually passed enough classes to graduate and so early?" pride swelling within his heart, he couldn't have been prouder of him if he tried. James would have been half horrified half stunned that his son was so studious; Lily would have been on cloud nine.

"Evidently, I don't know his scores, but it wouldn't be hard to find out," Sirius grinned wryly, the urge to use the mirror was strong but it was late…Harry would be sleeping by now. "Harry also said that others have died using the potion…the Ministry obviously wouldn't publish that information." why would they? They wanted to control the werewolves not cause more to stop using the potion and become unpredictable and a danger to society.

Remus swallowed thickly and nodded, truthfully it had always been there in the back of his mind, but he'd refused to think on it. All he would need to do was remember that full moon and his concerns would fade away. Now though because of Sirius the lid had been blown right off, and all his suppressed fears had just come swimming to the forefront of his mind. It had been a necessary sacrifice. To hear that both Harry and Sirius were angry at him hurt, they were the only people he had left in his life, and they were both adamant about him stopping taking it.

"I don't want to bury you before you turn forty, Remus, I want us to have a long life together, and too much has already been spent alone and hurting." Sirius explained tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "Can you do this…for me?" he pleaded.

Remus wordlessly nodded, feeling exceptionally drained. This argument had taken a lot out of him, it would have been worse if he hadn't taken that nap earlier.

"Tomorrow I'm going to see about getting a healer in, late afternoon so you can get some sleep." Sirius said, his tone booking no arguments. He wasn't going to let this one go; Remus would be looked over by a professional healer, not a damn prejudice one either.

"What? Why?" Remus asked, bewildered by the seeming sudden change of subject.

"I want to know what damage has been done, figure out a way to counter it, it's why you've found it so hard to keep your weight up, the potion constantly purging from your liver…the poison making you sick." Sirius said, he didn't truly understand what Harry meant about that, but he would take his godsons word for it. Since he actually seemed to know the damage, it was doing. Sure, he always looked a little skinny after the full moon but nothing like the skinniness he had these days.

"It will cost too much," Remus argued, home visits? They'd try and bilk Sirius, use his concern for his welfare to get him to agree to stuff he didn't even need.

"I won't argue over this, Remy," Sirius stated, "I need to know you're alright, you've been taking that potion for years."

"What do you expect me to do without it? Change here?" Remus pointed out worriedly.

"I'm not weak and frail like I used to be when you turned in front of Snape, Hermione, Ron and Harry," Sirius pointed out, "I'm much stronger now, plus you know I can distract your wolf me and James did well enough during the full moons at Hogwarts. We will get through tonight and I promise…we'll find somewhere we can go where the wolf can run free without anyone stumbling upon us. I swear I'll find something alright?"

"No, it can't be let out to run free," Remus disagreed.

"Harry actually suggested a multi-compartmented trunk, you know put a massive forest inside, latch a door up high so that the wolf cannot get out…" Sirius suggested anything to make Remus agree to stop taking the potion. He'd spend every single sickle he had left to ensure it.

Remus blinked, now that was actually a brilliant idea, why hadn't he thought of that before? "That…is…an amazing idea," he murmured dazed.

Sirius grinned, "Then that's what we will do," he promised himself that he would go out first thing tomorrow and see about getting exactly what he wanted.

"But what about tonight?" Remus asked, "If I could just take…"

"NO!" Sirius argued before Remus could get the words out. "Not happening." he was going to write to Snape and demand that he stop supplying the potion as well. Pay him for the supply he had given them (despite the fact he didn't have to) and tell him that Remus wouldn't be taking it in future. He'd probably be relieved anyway, that potion was obviously time-consuming. He might not like Snape but if he said it nastily, he had a feeling the wizard would continue sending it out of spite; he wasn't risking Remus taking it behind his back.

"Then you better lock me up then," Remus informed him, his eyes closed, he was so very tired.

Sirius pressed his fingers to Remus' face, stroking over the tired features, "You know I do this because I love you, don't you?" he confessed, "We've only just found each other again…I don't want to lose you, not for the sake of you keeping your mind during a full moon. I love you, Remus, all of you, the good and the bad and the wolf." kissing him with soft claiming, aware he wasn't in the mood for much else.

Remus pressed his face into the warmth of Sirius' hand, "I know," he said, sighing softly. There weren't many people who actually accepted all of him, except those closest to him. James, Lily, Sirius and Harry, Merlin Harry didn't care about his werewolf, and he'd grown up in the Muggle world. So, to hear he didn't care was quite shocking if he was honest. "I love you too."

Sirius leaned forward, letting Remus' head lie in the crook of his neck, his own eyes closed. He had been through every single emotion conceivable tonight. He and Remus had sorted this out though, and his godson was safe. He felt relief, but a part of him was still caught up on what Remus had said about Dumbledore and his own suspicious thoughts regarding what happened that night. Remus was never one to lax on the spells to keep his wolf contained in a certain area. If nobody had been back to that safe house…it was conceivable he might be able to find out the last spells used. He would need Bill for that, but luckily, he could actually pay him, make it an official job, one he couldn't talk about. Yes, that was it; he had a lot to do tomorrow. One would only take ten minutes to sort out (the trunk) and the other…may take longer, it required a trip to Gringotts then to see Bill who would either be working or at home or possibly visiting the twins.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 34

"Where's the big bad wolf?" Harry questioned as he stared at the table that only housed Voldemort and Barty Crouch Junior. They were already eating breakfast, Harry grinned sardonically wondering what people would think if they saw the three of them eating breakfast together, or Voldemort eating breakfast full stop. It wasn't something people would think about, Voldemort eating or anything like that, he was just a scary monster out to kill them - or so they liked to think. Maybe posting a picture of him eating breakfast in the Daily Prophet would make half the population have a heart attack.

"Right now, he's busy, on an important mission," Voldemort stated in his usual imperious tone, "He will be back after the full moon," hopefully with good news for him.

"That's right, you had the werewolves on your side last time," Harry said giving a nod, as he claimed his seat and began to fill up his plate. Placing the book and the black quill to the side for the moment.

"One of the many," Voldemort added, eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. Unfortunately, when he had died, they had gone back into hiding, back to their old ways of life. They were now reluctant to trust their future with him, due to what had happened in the past. It was why he had decided to have Harry present during the meeting with the vampires, knowing they knew how to be discrete; he was sure Fenrir would use every advantage as well.

Not that it had helped him in the end, Harry thought, he'd set in motion his own bloody downfall, all those safeguards he had…useless in the face of the fact he hadn't told them what they were or what they could do at least if he didn't want his Horcruxes known. His own paranoia had truly been his undoing, believing a prophecy, paranoid enough to hunt down a baby, too paranoid to inform his followers of what they had.

People would probably judge him to hell and back for the simple fact he was siding with his parent's killer. Truth was, how could you miss something you can't remember? It was simple, you couldn't. Nobody had noticed his lack of…questions regarding his parents, sure they'd told him scraps of information and expecting him to be grateful like a bloody dog. When he had asked it was merely out of curiosity to see their reaction, and because it was expected of him.

"My Lord?" Barty asked, and for the first time, Harry saw just how perplexed and puzzled he seemed, he hadn't noticed before because it wasn't something odd that the others were quiet and respectful in Voldemort's company. They certainly didn't want to raise his ire and get cursed for their troubles.

Voldemort made a motion with his hand, giving him the go-ahead gesture, his good mood was still present, things were finally looking up again this time he was in the right mind to relish it. He wasn't under any circumstances going to let himself become insane again.

"Is it true…that Harry's related to the Lestrange's?" Barty asked, swallowing thickly, glancing at Harry apologetically. It wasn't that he didn't believe him, or doubt his word…he just wanted someone else to say that it was so.

Harry narrowed his eyes, keeping them that way regardless of Barty's apology; he did not like his word being doubted. He began to eat, watching him, knowing that Voldemort would tell him the exact same thing. He was looking forward to another over the top reaction from the wizard again…with a little luck.

"It is," Voldemort stated curtly, annoyed that his breakfast had been interrupted for such an inane question - one he already knew the answer to. "To the Black and Malfoy family as well,"

"Do the Lestrange's know?" Barty asked his eyes wide, "I mean…Bellatrix wanted to kill her own sister for marrying a Mud…er…Muggle-born wizard." he feared what the unpredictable witch would do given half the chance with Harry. He had gotten along with the Lestrange's, the guys more so than Bellatrix. Bellatrix was slightly…insane, she'd received the worst of all the Black genes.

Voldemort paused in eating, glancing at Barty, his eyes filled with consideration, Bellatrix had always been one of his most loyal followers, albeit one of the hardest to control. She was ardently loyal to him, to the extreme, one of the few witches he had in his service. He was able to rely on her to get things done each and every time, always sending the Lestrange brothers with her in a bid to ensure her wild side was tamed so she didn't go overboard. So, when he had heard of her incarceration and what she had done he hadn't truly been surprised. He had viewed the entire thing from Barty's mind, unsurprisingly it had been mostly Bellatrix's doing, that wasn't to say the other three hadn't participated; they had merely held the curse on as an incentive for them to talk. They had truly thought that the two Auror's had known something regarding his downfall. Bellatrix furious at the fact they did not, had done the unspeakable. Yes, the Aurors had defied him numerous times, they were thorns in his side, but the way they had died…even he wouldn't go that far, and if he did, he would have killed them after he was finished. Each drop of magical blood spilled was a waste. So many of the lines had died out already without more being added to it. Luckily most Aurors were second born sons and a few daughters, so when they died in the line of duty, they weren't risking the extinction of their family name, their lines.

Harry arched his eyebrow at the continued silence, from the memories he'd seen Bellatrix was insane, he honestly didn't see what use she had. That was before ending up in Azkaban, although for all he knew…they had been in Azkaban before their trial, Sirius had seemed utterly insane from his poster, so he probably shouldn't judge. He definitely wasn't going to take sides, he would understand why Neville hated her, and it was his right to, but he couldn't go down that path. He'd hate her if she gave him a reason to. Only time would tell on that particular front. He made a mental note to brush up on his duelling skills just in case he ended up confronted by the witch.

"Bloody purebloods," Harry grumbled, "You're trying so hard to cling onto your magic and lines that you don't even realize what you're doing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Barty cried out indignantly.

"You don't see it do you?" Harry said shrewdly, pushing his unfinished breakfast aside, gazing at Barty, "I don't know how people could be so blind to it. Tell me, what is the common denominator between the Gaunts, Nott's, Black's, Parkinson's, Burke and Yaxley to name a few."

"They're all pureblood's so what?" Barty said blankly, not seeing where Harry was going with this, he wanted answers he felt slightly insulted and slighted by his words.

"Would you say any of them were even half way decent looking? Present company excluded of course," Harry said, managing to sound completely noncommittal and he was rather proud of himself. Especially considering the bloody dreams he was having, not that they scared him, but he definitely didn't relish anyone finding out and thinking he had a 'crush' on Voldemort, plus there was no way in this world Voldemort would be interested in him, probably wasn't even gay.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Barty asked, getting irritated and showing it.

"Do you know anything about genes?" Harry asked lazily, quite enjoying himself with how worked up Barty was getting over their conversation.

"No," Barty asked perplexed wondering what this 'genes' was and what it had to do with the others.

Harry nodded unsurprised, "Muggles came up with an understanding on the human body, or rather what was inside of it, in the twentieth century. We all have coded genes inside of us, DNA, it stands for Deoxyribonucleic acid, and it can let us know of anything we may get from our parents or grandparents, hereditary, like Parseltongue and Metamorphmagus. A common justification for prohibiting incest, which is what they do, marrying their cousins even half siblings, is avoiding inbreeding: a collection of genetic disorders suffered by the children of parents with a close genetic relationship. Those children are at greater risk for congenital disorders, death, and developmental and physical disability." Harry informed him, "Their looks are the first to go, then their mind, and then magic somewhere down the line because of their refusal to see what's in front of them."

"You seriously think squibs are a result of this…inbreeding?" Barty asked, his mouth hung open unattractively, his smart mind able to keep up with what Harry was saying, he just couldn't believe it.

"Yes, it wipes magic out but after a few years of continuous new blood magic comes back, that is where Muggle-borns come from. They don't steal magic, they aren't dirty blood, and the gene just brings it back. Two Muggles couldn't produce a magical offspring,"

"What about the Wizard or witch who gets with a Muggle who have one magical child and one squib?" Barty argued, not quite willing to give up on it.

"Again DNA, but it's bound to be very rare that it happens, I've never met anyone who has a Muggle sibling when they're so called 'Muggle-born' themselves, for all we know they cheated and the kids aren't even the two magical or magic gene partners." Harry shrugged, "It's probably as rare as twins being born one with magic and the other without." he did raise an excellent point but it was no mystery. "It decides whether you have blue eyes, green eyes and yes, down to whether you'll have a magical core."

"Where did you learn all this stuff?" Barty asked blankly.

"Muggle school, science explains everything about it, although it's for high school students, people aged twelve to sixteen with the option of staying on until you're eighteen years old and gaining higher qualifications." Harry said, "I spent a lot of time in the library when I was actually able to attend school." it was the only place Dudley couldn't get him, although sometimes he couldn't make it there in time before they were chasing him and beating him up.

"You and I are taking a trip into the Muggle world, I want a book that will explain everything about DNA and genes," Barty stated, he wanted to know absolutely everything. He could probably pass off as a Muggle but he didn't relish the thought of being near them for an extended period of time…best let Harry deal with that task. Belatedly realizing that his Lord was sitting there his eyes widened, "That is if it's alright with you, My Lord?" his mind whirling with this new information, and a desire to know more suffused him, ever the Ravenclaw.

"Very well," Voldemort agreed, giving a loud, long-suffering sigh, the boy was going to turn everything on its head. Regretfully both Severus' tests and Harry's ancestry does make the proof quite exemplary, it was undeniable. Perhaps Harry was going about it the right way, getting others to spread the word for him, since he knew no doubt, that he wouldn't be believed, it was actually quite a Slytherin move to make he realized, not that he was surprised. Definitely not. This was going to get complicated and messy very fast, at least they all had recovered from Azkaban mentally at any rate, at least well enough to digest the information that was about to be thrown their way.

"I know just the place, the Order won't be looking for me there," Harry said thoughtfully, it was where university students bought their books for their courses and areas of study.

"Refrain from using magic unless you absolutely have to," Voldemort ordered sharply. Apparation didn't count as using magic since you had to be in the area and immediately use a spell to track them or already have a tracking spell on you which nobody did.

"I won't," Harry replied wryly, he had no intention of letting Dumbledore or the Order kidnap him - and it would be kidnapping since he most emphatically did not wish to be in their presence. "I'll need to go to Gringotts though, I have no Muggle money."

"Then let's go!" Barty stated, standing up and eyeing the quill and book, "I'll even help you with that - unless it's hers?"

Voldemort gazed between them; curiosity well-hidden but burning brightly within him.

"She got rid of them," Harry shook his head, "So I'm making some new ones…better that way, I can make them the way I want them." he added viciously. She was smart enough to get rid of the evidence, too bad she hadn't thought that he'd seek retribution. He would get a proper read of her mind; see how she could have seen this going any other way.

Voldemort suppressed his amusement as he realized what Harry was up to, he'd need to keep an eye out, he definitely didn't want to miss any of the fun. It was quite arousing to see the 'famous good-hearted light sided Harry Potter' being quite so vindictive even now after getting used to the real boy under the masks. Vindictive didn't quite cut just how ruthless he could be to anyone who wronged him, but he did still have stubborn morals but he hoped to one day find out how far those morals would push him. If only Dumbledore could see his precious saviour…the look on his face, he would cherish it for the rest of his days, and since he was immortal then that meant forever.

Summoning his cloak and Gringotts key, he put the key in his pocket and the cloak around his neck. He placed a quick glamour charm around himself, sort of wishing he'd competed that Metamorphmagus potion, it would be much cooler - he envied that ability, but considering he had Black blood he was positive he could make it work. He just needed time and to priorities his projects, but he'd never been good with that, to begin with. Either the muse was there or it wasn't, if it was, he could create as many as three of four spells or potions in a single afternoon, other times he could only half complete them and they just remained stuck where they were for years nagging away at the back of his mind.

Giving a nod to Voldemort, Harry grabbed a hold of Barty as soon as he finished applying his own glamours and Apparated them to the marble steps of Gringotts.

After two quick transactions at Gringotts - the goblins had known exactly who they were without seeing the keys hardly any surprise - a brisk demand for fifty galleons to be converted into Muggle money and they were off. Apparating as soon as they exited the bank, not wanting to dawdle, no doubt Dumbledore thought he could potentially come here, or rather the Leaky Cauldron more likely, so he would have the Order out looking for him. He didn't wait around to see if he was right or not, he had no desire to be chased around by the Order, but it would definitely be amusing to say the least.

They appeared in a filthy side alley, like the Leaky Cauldron's entrance to Diagon Alley, but there were all sorts of things here. Some odd-looking muggle contraption (trolley) with wheels on it. White rubber lying on the floor, needles with blood on them! It raised his hackles just seeing it. There was also a duvet scrunched up in the corner that was more black than white at this point. Grimacing in distaste, he quickly ran after Harry what on earth had the boy brought them?

"Why did you take money out? Better yet, why did you convert it into Muggle money?" Barty questioned, as he continued to follow Harry out of the alley and into a blustering street, eyeing the Muggles as if they were poisonous and ready to bite him…infect him. There was so many of them, they were bumping into him and going on their way, desperate for some reason. Barty shuddered as he rubbed at the spot where the guy had bumped into him. Disgusting! Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

"He's not going to give you a disease," Harry chortled in amusement, "It's better to have it and not need it than not have it and want it." he had only converted half the galleons into Muggle money.

"Bloody hell what is their rush?" Barty grumbled, watching as the Double Decker bus moved at a snail pace, how the hell do they get anywhere without magic? It must take hours to get to where they want to be. The double decker bus was filled with dozens upon dozens of muggles.

"They're all rushing towards their jobs," Harry explained, it was that early that most people were just getting to work, "Come on, let's go," he added, grasping a hold of Barty so he didn't get lost in another crowd getting off the bus. The side street they went down was much quieter and less hectic, he spotted the sign for the shop and relaxed into a more casual walk.

Barty looked around, watching the Muggles while walking, if what Harry said was true, it really puzzled him that some of these Muggles could have the magic gene as he'd called it. Could be descendant from lines that were long gone and forgotten…it was bloody mind-boggling really. Could it be possible? He couldn't wait to understand, since he didn't have a clue what Harry actually meant. Thus, his desire for the books, so that he could understand properly.

"In here," Harry stated louder than necessary to break Barty out of his thoughts, opening the door to the bookstore. These places relaxed him, he loved learning he truly did, but he liked creating even more. "You alright?" he asked, as he made his way straight for the science section red basket in hand.

"I'm fine," Barty said, brushing off his probing tone, relaxing alongside Harry, the smell of new books always did make him feel like everything was going to be okay.

"If you say so," Harry replied giving him a knowing look, he'd been around enough pureblood's to know what he's probably thinking. Wondering if it was the truth, then thinking on it, then refusing to do so until he had all the answers in front of him. "So, Bellatrix really tried to kill her sister?"

"Well…." Barty drawled, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "She spoke about doing it, but I don't think she actually tried. Rab and Rod are able to keep her straight; they might have talked her out of it."

"Rab and Rod…I guess that's Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange?" Harry questioned quietly, as he removed books from the shelves and put them in the basket. "What are they like?"

"Now or before their stint in…prison?" Barty asked his eyes wide with a number of books Harry was putting in the basket.

"Both," Harry shrugged, "But later," he commented, making his way to the till one never knew where wizards and witches ventured or where squibs are. It would just be the height of his bad luck if a squib did happen to overhear their conversation, no he wasn't risking it. It didn't matter that they wouldn't know who they were due to the glamours or the fact they weren't using names, it would make the Order start spreading out through Muggle London…which sounded like a good idea you never knew when he'd have to be back.

Barty didn't follow Harry to the till but remained standing beside the bookshelves, the store was not empty, but Harry telling him not to speak had made him feel paranoid, did he see someone suspicious? The Order? He was tense, waiting on something happening, his fingers itching to grab his wand. The Dark Lord would kill him if he let anything happen, he should never have let his guard down, to begin with. He continued to watch, keeping an eye on Harry as him and the muggle collected a few books from the bookshelves then left for the counter.

"Alright, we can go now," Harry stated handing over one of the bags, which were quite heavy, he didn't want to use magic not yet anyway. "Is there anywhere else you want to visit or see while we are here?"

Barty just gave him a deadpanned look, he didn't even know where here was for Merlin's sake and it was the muggle world, no thank you. Although the bookstore wasn't all that bad, for the muggle world. He did make sure to memorise everything so that if he wanted to come back, he would be able to.

"Fair point," Harry chuckled not even needing Barty to say what was on his mind. "Let's go then,"

"Why exactly do you need all these books? They aren't all for me, are they?" Barty asked, eyeing the books in contemplation. Was this DNA thing complicated? It might be if Harry didn't even attempt to tell him more about it. Just offered to take him to the bookstore to get what he needed to truly understand it all.

"You know nothing about science, you'll need to learn about it all if you want to understand what I mean," Harry explains as they made their way back the way they came. "Not all of them are for you though," he wanted to see if he could start up some sort of science thing in the magical world, give them conclusive proof that staying 'pure' would bring ruin to the magical world. Truthfully, he reckoned Barty was going to do that himself.

"Let me know how much they were," Barty commented as they made their way into the alley again, this time having to move further into some sort of warehouse seen as someone was sitting there huddled into the duvet. "I have no need for this paper money," he said giving it a once over, why did they put old people on the front of their money? Shaking his head he stuffed it back into his pocket. It was odd to think this was legal tender, what was wrong with coins? How did they not lose their money all the time?

"Keep it," Harry snorted, "I'm not going to suddenly become poor because I bought you a few books," he had more money than he would be able to spend in a single lifetime. Once he knew they were truly alone, he Apparated them back to the manor, a wry grin appeared on his face when he felt Barty truly relaxing since they left. Not even realizing that his own body had reacted similarly.

A couple of flicks from Barty's wand had both of them back to their normal appearances as a simple 'Finite Incantatem' had the glamours removed. "You told me not to talk; I assumed you found someone eavesdropping?"

"No, not really," Harry explained as they wandered back into the manor, "You just never really know who is listening and what they know. I mean I went my whole life back at Privet Drive living near a fucking squib, as you know, so it's always best safe than sorry…especially when taking about those who are supposed to be in Azkaban or dead,"

"Good point," Barty conceded, "They guys used to be quite funny, pranksters at heart, but they're a bit serious now, but after what happened…I can't blame them, it's a long time to be imprisoned, especially in that hell, I wasn't there that long but it was enough for me." he was still fuzzy about what happened, he remembered his mother speaking to him in a soft heartbroken voice before the Imperius curse went on him and he changed into his mother and his mother into him. He'd cried and begged and mentally pleaded for her not to do this, but nobody heard, he had no control over his own body, but his mind had screamed so loudly that day. He would never forgive his father for leaving his mother to die in that horrendous place! To die and be buried there like nothing, he didn't even have a place where he could visit her.

"It will come back out in them, they've just got to get used to being free," Harry said seriously, "Then again Sirius had his Animagus form to ward off the Dementors from, I doubt they did."

"Maybe," Barty conceded, he missed their fun nature, but that was more to do with the fact he wished for things to be the way it used to be. Not the Dark Lord's politics, but how free life had been, how passionate they'd been. Having a home, having his mother back and most of all actual freedom.

"Didn't my potion help them? It's supposed to make the nightmares go away, restore memories to order and help them get over the emotions they're not used to anymore…" while in Azkaban all you could feel was hopeless despair, it was like being in a state of constant depression in which you didn't want to move, couldn't summon up the hope or the willpower to escape…to hope for something more beyond the island. Thus, making a potion for them had been rather easy.

"To a certain extent, it's easy to get rid of the symptoms but the underlying fear is still there, there's a lot to get over, mentally get over, if you get what I mean," Barty explained, "Even I'm still getting over it." They were physically getting there as well, just the mental damage that had to be dealt with and the Dark Lord wasn't letting anyone do anything if they weren't one hundred percent mentally fit.

"Your situation is different, you experienced an out of body experience for years, your mind was awake and your body was just not in your control, sort of like how some people say a coma is like…it's definitely its own brand of hell, getting back at your dad probably helped." Harry grinned savagely, "It certainly made me feel better getting back at the Dursley's and that squib." Which reminded him to visit Umbridge soon, he just needed to finish tweaking the last spell to get it exactly how he wanted it.

"Man, you don't half have everyone fooled," Barty said in clear admiration.

"Oh, how's that?" Harry asked as they entered the dining room, Harry quickly claiming his book and the quill, he sensed Voldemort's magic in it. He would need to speak to him and find out what he'd done to it before he continued.

"You have absolutely everyone fooled, you even had me completely fooled," Barty stated, "You were just what I was expecting, or I thought you were, sickening light and hung on to every word from the old fool." he'd been unable to believe this pathetic idiot had been the cause of his Lord's downfall and had to refrain from killing him. The only reason he had was that the Dark Lord had made his orders clear, and thus he'd bore it with great difficulty. He was glad he hadn't acted rashly, he had found a friend in the teen, and one he knew wouldn't end up betraying him just to get further up the ranks. Harry had no desire for power or to further his name, he just raised hell wherever he went.

"Pretending to be Moody or not you were definitely a good teacher, especially when you transfigured Malfoy into a Ferret, you were a complete legend after that. Especially in Gryffindor common room." Harry confessed, grinning widely, it was still his most favourite memory, ever. Nothing, and he meant nothing would ever come close to the hilarity that had suffused him seeing Malfoy get his comeuppance.

Barty snorted, remembering the look on the kid's face, he predictable 'wait until my father hears about this' coming from his mouth. No doubt he'd been saying it since he entered Hogwarts, and unsurprisingly his father had done absolutely nothing. He was, for the most part, all talk, unless you really, really pissed him off then he'd get you back with a vengeance that you should have seen coming but didn't. He was exactly like his father, he did the same, acted the same and uttered the same nonsense. Abraxas had done exactly what Lucius had, not a damn thing.

"Where are they all anyway?" Harry asked as they left the dining room. "The others I mean, I've not seen any of them."

"They can't get into this side of the manor," Barty explained, "At least not yet." he didn't question the Dark Lord's decision either.

"Ah," Harry nodded; he supposed he would need to make sure they were loyal and not liable to try anything before he let them near here where his guard was at least marginally down Harry supposed. "I'm going to look for Voldemort, he's put some sort of spell on this quill and I can't quite figure out the magic."

Barty shook his head, "You really should stop calling him that,"

Harry barked out an amused laughter, "Trust me it's better than the only other name I'll ever call him, now that, that would get me cursed to hell and back." Voldemort did not like his birth name. Putting one of the bags on the floor he shuffled through the books before giving Barty the books he would need and the order he'd need them in. The other bag was raked through as Harry rifled through them until he found the books he'd bought for himself. Leaving the rest of the books for Barty to read, they were just extras he thought he would like, such as the animal husbandry and such, it would give him a good idea how it worked in humans.

"Thanks," Barty said sincerely, "I'll see you later," with that Barty rushed out, not wanting anyone to see him with muggle books, also, wanting to begin reading them as soon as possible. It was way too draughty to read them in the dining room, no, the library or his bedroom were definitely the comfiest.

Remus & Sirius

"It looks like she's busy with an emergency, we don't know how long she'll be, let's head…" Remus said as he began to stand up, only to be halted by Sirius grasping his arm and pulling him back onto his seat. "Back home," he added petulantly, he really hated hospitals and healers; it had been conditioned into him from such a young age. Healers would find out his secret, could find out, and it was dangerous never go near them, even to this day he could hear his father cautioning him and his mother.

"Just calm down, I've gotten an Oath from her so she cannot reveal anything she learns," Sirius soothed the agitated werewolf, who looked like he'd rather flee even as sick as he was feeling after the full moon than wait on the woman finishing up with her previous patient. She was a healer; she had her Mastery and she worked from home.

Remus sighed resignedly, "When did you become the mature one?" he sighed yet again.

"I will not take any chances when it comes to you," Sirius said firmly, "You and Harry are all I have left and I won't lose either of you!" no matter what it took, Harry and Remus came first. "Plus, I told you, that potion Harry gave me…it's made me see things more clearly for the first time since that night." he didn't need to elaborate on what he meant, the night their best friends in the entire world had died and the other betrayed them.

"Mr. Lupin?" she called opening the door, apparently there must be another exit or the other patient had just Apparated away.

Remus stood up, stiffening his spine refusing to show his reluctance, both of them entered her office/hospital room, and she gestured for them to be seated before she calmly began speaking.

"Mr. Black has explained a little bit to me, about your condition and the results of what he believes the potion has done to you," she started, "I would very much prefer to do a thorough diagnosis and not just the basic one. Of course, I will need your permission and your blood for the spell; you will be present during the entire procedure and the remaining blood taken with you." If Mr. Black was correct, then he would definitely need to do this spell and not just a basic diagnosis.

Remus cleared his throat, "Alright," he said giving his agreement; he knew Sirius wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he didn't.

"Good," the healer said, giving him a comforting smile as she searched through her drawer to find a vial, approaching the wizard, she watched him roll up his sleeve, before she used a small cutting spell to draw out the blood, letting it trickle into the vial before she healed the small wound and let him sit back.

Sirius and Remus watched her carefully, which wasn't easy to do as she was busy with parchment and spells with her back partially to them. They did observe that she was working with runes since they glowed blue on the parchment when the blood was placed on it. St. Mungo's didn't use blood work to find out the problems, they felt it was too dangerous and insulting to ask anyone to give up their blood. It made Sirius realize he had made the right choice; at least they would definitely know what was wrong. The parchment grew in length quite an alarming size actually by the time it was done. Some of the writing was red; the rest of it was black which was quite curious.

With a blank look on her face, the healer sat down the results in front of her, and the vial placed directly in front of Remus. "I am afraid that Mr. Black was quite correct to be concerned, the damage done to your internal organs is quite…immense, Mr. Lupin," she said, struggling to keep her face in her chosen professional setting. "They're barely working at 40% it's not something we often see in the magical world. Most certainly not at your age." He wasn't even forty years of age yet; it was quite horrendous really.

Remus swallowed thickly, the possibility was different when faced with reality, his heart was pounding erratically, and he was quite frankly terrified. He didn't want to die, not in agony as his internal organs shut down one by one.

"Is there any way to reverse the damage?" Sirius asked, his voice like him barely holding it together.

"There is only one potion that will help him, it requires Phoenix tears, and it immensely difficult to brew, more so than even the Wolfsbane potion it is said." the healer informed them sympathetically. "I wouldn't be able to get it for you, you will need to acquire a Potions Master to brew it, the probability of them requiring you to pay for the phoenix tears up front is high also." she immediately scribbled on a spare piece of parchment and handed it over to Sirius. "This is what it's called, and the book in which you'll find it, I have also put down three potions Masters who have the ability to brew such an extensive potion."

"Thank you," Sirius said swallowing thickly, accepting the results and the spare piece of parchment she handed him.

"Come in for a follow-up appointment when and if you get someone to brew it," she said softy, "I would like to make sure that you recover, which you will, we all know how potent Phoenix tears are."

"I'll do that," Sirius said, giving her a smile of thanks. "Thank you for seeing him," he added standing up, helping Remus as well, he was as always, a little weak after the full moon.

"Do you feel up to going for the trunk with me?" Sirius asked as they left through the door they'd come in. He'd ordered it, but the specifications he'd requested needed more work done to it, so he'd had to wait for it to be complete. He'd received a message this morning, just before they left, informing them that the process was complete, and that he could come whenever he pleased.

"Yes," Remus answered, still a little shaken by what the healer had revealed, he was strong enough to go an errand with Sirius, he wanted to ensure his safety.

"Alright, I'll Apparate us," Sirius stated, and they left with another quiet thank you, and with that, Sirius held onto Remus, but after a few steps he was able to walk himself. Remus gripped his partner tightly, swallowing thickly, shell shocked by what he'd heard. "Thank you," he murmured to Sirius, leaning against him just relishing in the ability to do so.

Sirius apparated directly in Diagon Alley. He noticed quite a few of the Order around the Alley presumably looking for Harry. They wouldn't find him there he thought with amusement, as he quickly got them into the shop, they didn't have long, no doubt one of them would alert Dumbledore to their presence here. Hopefully, they would be gone; he didn't want to deal with Dumbledore. "You never need to thank me for looking after you." He was grateful Harry had told him; he didn't even want to imagine what would have happened otherwise.

"Ah, Mr. Black! Here we are! Exactly as specified!" he was very proud of his work actually; it was the first time he'd truly been challenged since he got his mastery decades ago.

"Brilliant, thank you," Sirius said, handing over a bag of galleons with the exact price of the trunk with all the additions to it. Pricey, but Sirius reckoned it was going to be worth every single penny.

"Shall we?" gesturing for them to go down and give it a proper inspection, as was the norm for someone buying items specially made.

"I'm afraid we don't quite have the time today, but if I do find anything lacking – which I doubt our family has used you for years – we'll return to deal with it." Sirius said politely, giving him a smile. It was true enough; they had been buying their trunks for generations from here and from his family. They did not get those cheap ones from trunk-it, that had zero modifications or anything on them, ones that the muggle borns were actually told to get – with their Hogwarts equipment list – for school.

He didn't want to deal with Dumbledore, and better yet, he didn't want Remus to have to deal with Dumbledore either. Especially considering how unwell he actually was.

"You may make use of the Floo, if you desire," the elderly wizard told them, as he shrunk the trunk and handed it off to Sirius, eyeing Remus with gentle concern.

R&R

Chapter Text

mbracing His True Self

Chapter 35

Harry groaned as he stretched out, languidly rubbing his eyes as a yawn fell from his parted lips. He had missed this, he wouldn't admit it, but he did. Having his own room, being able to get up whenever he liked - although at a respectable time - since if he did sleep in too long a House-elf would definitely come for him and tell him to get up. He had finally found out everything that had been added to the blood quill, Voldemort was brilliant at what he did, no contest there, Umbridge was going to find herself in a world of agony, and he couldn't wait to see it unfold on the witch.

Shoving his covers aside, he got up, still thinking of the witch, she had gotten enjoyment out of torturing kids, which he found unforgivable, those eleven-year-olds had not deserved her punishments. Everything he doled out would be fair play, and he was going to enjoy every moment of the witches torture, give her a taste of her own medicine. A smirk of pure satisfaction stole across his features as he shrugged out of his nightwear, and grabbing a set of clothe to wear from his wardrobe. The House-elves had put everything in his trunk away into the drawers and cupboards, or at least his clothes and such, his other things like his books and stuff had been left inside the trunk. Sirius had bought him it this past Yule, it was mostly just his school books that remained in his trunk. The good ones went on his bookshelves, he was content with the knowledge that nobody could come in and steal from him.

It wasn't easy to stop himself hiding and hoarding his stuff, to keep them safe, but he was getting there.

Stretching out once more, curling his arms at the back of his head, getting the last of the kinks out of his system. Absently waving his hand, his nightwear zoomed over to the laundry basket and his cupboard door closed and last but no least his bed made itself. Harry didn't even bother glancing back to see if it worked, merely glanced at the time as he made his way through the halls until he got to the dining hall, he blinked in surprise at the sight before him.

He had expected Barty and Voldemort maybe Fenrir if he was back…not the three Lestrange's, who were looking at him. The brothers' faces were impassive, their eyes though betrayed their interest, much like Barty's had in the beginning after being warned against hurting him. Bellatrix though…her eyes were wild and suggested an untamed soul. He would never be able to figure her out, probably because even she didn't know herself. He would need to be constantly wary around her that was for damn certain, he'd like to think Voldemort had control over them but he wasn't going to rely on that. He gave Barty a deeply unimpressed look, before sliding into his seat.

Barely four seconds passed as those thoughts ran around his head, before he continued on, his pause barely noticeable, especially for those who didn't know him. It would surprise nobody that Voldemort and Barty had probably realized Harry was assessing the situation. They'd been out of Azkaban for months now, and if this was them just getting better, he wasn't sure he liked the thought of how they would have been just after they got out.

Their bones were still visible, gaunt, delicate even, and the clothes they wore still hung off their frames. It wasn't like they could go out and get themselves measured for a tailor. Either that or they wanted to wait Their features were pale as snow, and he would bet they still felt cold even sitting next to a fire. They had suffered a great deal for their actions, Azkaban was torture, and you could see it when you looked at them. Harry wasn't sure how much longer they would have survived in that hellhole they called a prison to be honest. He couldn't say he was surprised frankly; Sirius had been the same, but unlike those Voldemort had rescued Sirius hadn't been given the same treatments, wasn't helped to get better, just locked up away from the general populace. He was getting the help he needed now, and without the prospect of war hopefully it would heal Sirius completely.

Rodolphus' despite his blank mask, which he had honed well before attending Hogwarts was intrigued. It was unbecoming to appear anything but to a pureblood, emotional displays were a weakness after all especially in public. He observed the boy right back, he couldn't tell what he was thinking, but if what Barty had been telling him it was no surprise. He was Slytherin to the core, Harry Potter wasn't what he expected. Not that he'd thought much in Azkaban, too difficult, but when he had, he had cursed Potters existence, wished him dead, it had been his fault their Lord had died and they were placed in Azkaban without their Lord to come to their aid.

Then not too long ago, he had felt it, the most joyous pain he could have ever received. The mark had burned searing hot for the first time in a long, long time. He'd known it was only a matter of time before his Lord came for them, they had been loyal after all and would remain so. They'd ensured that the Aurors had remained ignorant to the return of the Dark Mark, fearing that if they found out that something would happen to prevent their Lord coming for them. The anticipation had nearly killed him, then the prickling started…Bellatrix started cackling and thankfully she'd listened, to keep quiet. Since the attack had been evasive, he had someone on the guard rotation on his side and he'd helped, one by one they'd all been retrieved and a doppelganger, a Muggle, had been put in place of them. They were all officially dead now, nobody was looking for them, and apparently it had been all Potters idea.

As if that hadn't been shocking enough, he'd been given the results of Potter's genealogy test, not only had he been lied to about never having a squib in the family…the boy was family. He was lanky like the Lestrange's, tall too, not as tall as the rest of the family yet. Other than that, he couldn't see anything of the family in him, too much of the Potter family in him. No sign of the Black or Malfoy heritage either, although Sirius and Regulus had uncontrollable hair, more curly than wavy. Then again, they were related to the Black's a few generations back and nothing screamed out 'Black' to them. He'd need to keep an eye on Bella, make sure she didn't make a mistake she'd not live to regret long.

Rabastan tightened his grip on his cutlery, family, it wasn't just him and his brother anymore, to think he'd been forced to grow up with Muggles. If only they'd known, they would have raised him, he'd always wanted a child, and he honestly wouldn't have cared if the child had 'defeated' his lord, he would have raised him to support the dark side anyway. He'd always been the 'softer' twin his mother often commented with a soft look in her eyes. He and Rodolphus had been ten when she died, from a tripping hex an Auror had sent her way just because of who she was married to, she'd went into labour right there on the cobbled stones of Diagon Alley, and died giving birth, dying alongside their little sister, Rhea Lestrange. Their father had never been the same after that, despite it being an arranged marriage, they always insisted they'd been 'soul mates' and meant for one another. Unlike most other husbands or wives after they'd had an 'heir' or heir and a spare' depending on the family, his parents hadn't sought other partners, his father hadn't even looked at another person with carnal appreciation let alone bedded them. Things may have changed since then, but Rabastan doubted it, their father would have mentioned it, he'd spent a great deal of time with him and his brother while they healed, only leaving occasionally. Today was one of those days.

Harry gulped down his potion, which was as always sat at the table waiting for him in his usual space, he noticed that there was one for the Lestrange's as well. He gave Voldemort a look his lips twitching as he usually did, although he wasn't quite as talkative. The potion he took wasn't his own specialised one, he no longer needed it, he was merely still taking the weaker version of the potion until Healer Grant actually gave him the all clear. The last time he'd seen him he'd commented that everything looked good but Harry had a lot to make up for. He'd rather have too much than not enough, he knew what the consequences would have been if he hadn't taken the potions, what the malnutrition would have done to him long term.

"Hey, Barty, how much or many of the books have you read?" Harry asked, smothering a grin at the wide-eyed look he supported glancing at the Lestrange's as if the book was suddenly going to sprout legs and dance in front of them.

"Still on the first one, nearly done though," Barty explained relaxing back into his seat when it became obvious Harry was asking out of curiosity and not spite, as a Ravenclaw he thirsted desperately for knowledge, and this new information was unlike anything he'd ever read before. It was a good job he was so smart, otherwise he knew, he knew, he would have struggled with it. It was just the right amount of frustrating, made him have to think to comprehend the words, and that was his favourite kind. He often compared it to things he knew, like spells and potions, which helped a lot too.

"If you need help let me know," Harry informed her seriously, he was no expert when it came to Science, but he knew more than Barty, even if he didn't remember every single little thing from primary school - he remembered enough. Whereas Barty was a pureblood, he presumably hadn't learnt absolutely anything regarding science.

Bellatrix couldn't help but roll her eyes but deftly withheld a snort of derision, it was obvious her lord held the boy in some sort of high capacity for the moment. She'd need to tread carefully, see for herself what her Lord saw in him. It wasn't her business, but she was going to make it hers. She wasn't going to allow him to betray them, she couldn't trust the boy, he was the reason for their downfall, and she absolutely refused to let it happen again. So yes, she'd keep a good eye on him, see where his true loyalties lay. Barty didn't just trust people, so he must have done something to prove himself to the wizard. The thought of Barty needing help was humorous, Barty was probably the smartest next to their Lord and Snape, even if she loathed to admit it.

She was reluctantly impressed with him, he had all the airs and graces of a pureblood, especially for a muggle raised boy. She couldn't exactly call him a Mudblood without insulting her family now, could she? She had seen the proof with her own eyes, he was related to both her families, the Black and Lestrange's. She hadn't been ignorant to the Gaunt's on the list either, or the Malfoy's. A few months ago, she wouldn't have been able to comprehend it, but thanks to the aid she was getting through therapy and the potions she was beginning to feel a little bit more mentally stable.

Voldemort meanwhile watched it all unfold with sadistic amusement gleaming in his eyes, oh, he knew the Lestrange's were still reeling over the information he had shared this morning. He also knew that the twins wouldn't dare to even look at Harry the wrong way, Bellatrix though would bear watching carefully. He wouldn't trust her with his familiars food let alone his actual familiar or Harry, and it wasn't just because of the Horcruxes. She would need to prove her loyalty to him, a willingness to listen to his orders without deviation, he needed people who would do as he asked, not whatever they pleased. He had made that clear to her, whether she would follow through was anyone's guess.

It was decidedly odd to have Harry so quiet, he would have assumed he was intimidated if he wasn't for the calculating gleam in his eye and the emotions he could sense through the band. Oh, to see his thoughts would be wondrous, truly, regretfully his mind was sealed shut tighter than a vault at Gringotts. He had made it his mission to try and penetrate Harry's shields at random times to ensure that he was keeping himself safe. It had been one failure after another, the boy was good, just as he predicted. Anything to do with mental power, whether it was the Imperius curse or Occlumency came naturally to the boy, just as the Dark Arts did. The bond would be the only way to penetrate his mind, but Harry would know he was doing it, without question.

As soon as Harry was finished with his breakfast he was up and away without saying a single thing. Voldemort arched an eyebrow in curiosity as his eyes trailed after the boy. Then again, he remembered the conversation he'd had with Harry regarding who the Lestrange's were, perhaps their actions didn't endear Harry to them. Severus had informed him of the budding friendship between Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Harry. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he sat up straighter when he felt the wards in the dungeons give way, not many could get into this section of his home, so it was obviously him.

Umbridge. He remembered. she had been brought from Hogwarts, and the boy had a bone to pick with her. He wasn't going to miss this for anything, so without more ado, Voldemort stood, ignoring the others standing to give him his due respect.

He moved swiftly towards the dungeons himself, eager to see, and most definitely unwilling to miss anything. Just imagining what the boy could do made desire and a delicious thrill to pulse through him.

Harry trod down the last step and made his way inside the dungeons with a slide of his foot, the quill and paperwork he'd brought with him specifically for this was secreted into his pocket, for the moment. He gazed at the cell the Dursley's were in, or what was left of them really, the three of them were broken, shells of who they used to be, and he didn't feel even an ounce of guilt over it. They were just getting a slice of what they'd put him through for ten years of his life when he didn't even have the comfort of returning to Hogwarts to cling to. Them just accepting their fate was no fun either, its largely why he'd stopped visiting them so much. The most mesmerising thing to see was the three of them fighting for scrapes of food. They'd gone to giving Dudley as much as possible to outright punching and shoving at each other for just a morsel of food. It was like they couldn't recognize what they were to each other, their drives for survival overtaking everything. It was beautiful.

His eyes soon landed on Figg, she was sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her raised knees, the plate with some food on it lay untouched at the side of the cell. Harry hummed at that, obviously she wouldn't last much longer if she didn't eat, then again, she might not be awake yet. Other than trying to get him to 'see sense' she hadn't once tried to worm her way out of it, or talk him out of doing what he was. It was almost as if she had resigned herself immediately to her fate, and it wasn't usual, most people would fight tooth and nail, like the Dursleys…and like he hoped Umbridge would.

Shaking his head, removing Figg from his line of sight, his eyes narrowing in on Umbridge's huddled form, wedged in the corner of the cell, her pink cloak wrapped around her sleeping in a sitting position. He pondered for a moment on whether to take the cloak or not, but nixed the idea, he didn't want her getting sick so soon or heaven forbid dying on him. He had a lot of plans for her, he wanted to torture her to her bare bones and remake her.

She would regret the day she chose to give him detention and use a blood quill on him.

On those eleven-year-olds. Nobody deserved that pain. Well…except her, he thought viciously.

His wand slid out of his holster, as he narrowed his gaze on her, viciously wondering how to wake her up…blasting charm near her head or…the Cruciatus curse? Hmm, what a silly question, she deserved that and more, "Crucio!" Harry uttered coldly, pushing as much of his hatred for her into the spell as possible, knowing it hurt more.

She immediately startled awake, body convulsing out of her control, screaming like a banshee, the smell of urine permeated the air as she lost control of her body. It wasn't the first time this year and if Harry had anything to say about it, it most certainly wouldn't be the last time. Harry didn't keep it on long, only a few seconds before he sheathed his wand and stood with a lazy demeanour against the opposite cell door which was empty.

"D-do you know who I am?" Umbridge choked out though watery eyes, trying to sound confident and cocky, as if her old job could somehow save her here. Unfortunately, it came out petrified and weak, half perhaps because of the spell she'd just been under.

"A stuck-up bitch who thought she could torture children and get away with it?" Harry's voice however WAS cocky.

"I AM DELORES UMBRIDGE UNDERSECRETARY FOR THE MINISTER OF MAGIC!" she managed to shriek shrilly as her body continued to spasm occasionally.

"Correction you were," Harry said coldly, idly wondering when she would recognize him.

"I demand my lawyer!" Delores insisted, "When he finds out how I've been treated I will sue every single one of you!"

Harry choked out an incredulous laugh, "Do you even realize where you are?" Harry asked stepping forward green eyes gleaming wickedly as he cocked his head to the side, "Do you really think you're in the Ministry of magic? Seriously?" a vicious laugh leaving his lips, oh, perhaps he should have let her think that for longer, it would have been amusing to see it play out.

"Potter?" Umbridge muttered disbelievingly, as she finally sat up shakily taking in her surroundings for the first time with actual light to guide her, the light was weak at best but it became evident she most definitely was not in the Ministry's holding cells like she'd feared. "When I get out of here, I'm going to make sure you end up in Azkaban this time boy, using the Cruciatus Curse means a lifetime in the prison." her face twisted in victory.

"Oh, that's cute, you think you're going to get out of here?" Harry grinned, "The only way you're leaving that cell is if you're dead…when I'm finished with you. Considering the wrongs I've seen you committing to me and others…that won't happen for a long, long time."

She closed her eyes in fear as she was unable to find her wand, worry began to gnaw at her, she wasn't used to feeling powerless. She always made others feel powerless and she loved it. She remembered the letter from Cornelius, sacking her, telling her to turn herself in lest she make it worse for herself. Everything she'd done she had done for him! Sending the Dementors after Potter! Sticking in at Hogwarts to keep the boy quiet, punishing him for his lies and making the Ministry seem weak.

Ironically enough…Harry hadn't said a word in that regard, Dumbledore had done for both of them. Yet Harry had paid the price for it, but that was typical when it came to Dumbledore. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, regardless of the consequences. Unfortunately for the old fool, he could no longer do it when it concerned Harry.

"Why so quiet?" Harry practically crooned mockingly at the witch, his eyes glancing very briefly at the entrance, noticing that not only had Voldemort come down but so had Bellatrix…not together though, Voldemort had appeared much earlier. Revelling in her fear, "I am going to enjoy breaking you," he told her coldly.

Bellatrix cackled, skipping forward, "Oooo, ickle baby Potter all grown up, I like you!" she said, pinching his cheeks gleefully.

"Gerroff!" Harry batted her hands away, his cheeks red, but whether it was from embarrassment, pride or just the fact she'd been pinching…well Bellatrix didn't know.

"You!" Umbridge froze on the spot, looking even more like a cornered rabbit.

"Ooo you'll have to let Fenrir have a go," Bellatrix sang cheerfully, "He doesn't like you very much," she cooed in explanation to the terrified witch as if they were children on the playground. Gnashing her teeth as if in warning of what exactly Greyback would do to her.

Harry's green eyes brightened considerably at the sight of Umbridge's terror escalating to new proportions. "Well…." Harry mused thoughtfully as if he was merely considering it. "I suppose he does deserve to have a turn,"

Umbridge squeaked, huddling further into the corner shaking her head denying this was happening.

Bellatrix laughed again almost jumping on the spot, how she loved a spot of torture in the morning.

"After everything she's done to werewolves, made their lives hell, including someone I actually care about," Harry patted his finger on his chin.

"The filthy Mudb-" Bellatrix paused as Harry dug his wand into her chin, the tip burning hotly, as he channelled his anger into his wand.

"You really don't want to finish that sentence," Harry stated seriously, "Say what you like about Muggles, but he's a wizard, he has magic, he's extremely smart and ten times better than some people…he's not the only powerful half-blood either," he added in warning, yes, he knew Remus was a half-blood, his mother was a Muggle, his father was a pureblood…a horrid one to be sure, but still one nonetheless.

Bellatrix swallowed before inclining her head to the side, she honestly didn't want to test the waters so soon to whether Potter would get away with cursing her…considering that her Lord had yet to speak up she heavily suspected that the boy could get away with murder when it came to his actions and without consequences too. She knew if she tried anything though she would be stuck in her bedroom and forbidden from going anywhere or doing anything to help their cause and that was the last thing she wanted. Especially considering she wanted to keep an eye on him, she still didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

Umbridge's beady eyes were watching what was happening like a hawk, looking decidedly more nervous now than she had moments prior.

The boy…the boy was practically untouchable if he could lead You-Know-Who's inner circle without retribution…even You-Know-Who had trouble with that before he died.

Then she saw the red eyes glowing as someone stepped out of the shadows.

She needed nothing more to confirm that all the rumours were true.

Voldemort was back (he was wearing a complex glamour to look as he had previously) clearly he didn't want anyone to know about his change in features.

She fainted dead away as the implications finally sunk in completely.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 36

"Huh, so they actually believed the lies they were spewing," Harry said idly, amusement thrumming through him at her reaction, he'd been scared, yes, even he'd admit that much, only to himself. Yet he'd never actually done something so stupid as faint at Voldemort's presence, what kind of idiot fainted dead away when faced with an enemy? That was just asking for death really, the only time he went down was when he'd been stunned by Voldemort that one time. "And this is supposed to be the Ex-secretary for the Minister of magic, honestly, the more I see or hear of the Ministry the more pathetic they seem." rolling his eyes with a derisive snort leaving his mouth.

"Which part of that is supposed to surprise me?" Voldemort drawled his snake-like visage on full blast, it wasn't as if he was going to give his true appearance away now, was he? Plus, she wouldn't have recognised those features, thus been unafraid.

Harry grinned, "Well, they did know you weren't gone for good, that much I've pierced together, the Ministry looked for you for years after your supposed demise," shrugging effortlessly as if he couldn't care less. "Someone like her must have known, at least I assumed they would have known…Fudge is just an idiot in denial because he doesn't want to work for his position."

Bellatrix leaned against the opposite cells, actually echoing Harry's earlier actions, watching her Lord and Potter curiously. They had a strange camaraderie; it wasn't something she was used to seeing. Not now and certainly not in the past before her Lord had been defeated by the boy as a baby. The closest she could honestly say to anyone being so…flippant and nonchalant with her Lord would be Greyback. Greyback had sworn to support their Lord but he had not become a Death Eater so perhaps he didn't count as a true follower. Greyback was quite honest with the Dark Lord, gave him his opinion even if everyone else remained frozen in fear and worry, especially towards the end before his mind became so narrowly focused on a baby and forgot all else, including his goals, and most of them had gone the same way.

The boy wasn't scared, not even in the slightest, it was such an odd sight, who in their right mind didn't have a health fear and respect for her Lord? He was the most powerful wizard in existence, and could kill him where he stood - it didn't matter that he seemingly had no desire to do so - he could, which should make all the difference. To make it more baffling he seemed to be following Potter's lead when it came to this woman, Umbridge. He was standing back just enjoying the show, letting the boy have his way. Something that so rarely happened…what had the boy done to garner her Lord's respect and basically given him carte blanche over what he wanted? She was one of her Lord's most loyal followers and just five minutes prior she'd been threatened and the Dark Lord hadn't so much as given even a subtle sign or sound to indicate he wasn't happy with what was going on.

"Are you going to prattle on or wake her?" Voldemort drawled bored, examining the witch through the bars like a snake would a rat.

"Sadist," Harry teased, with a triumphant smirk, as if he had just figured it out for the first time.

Bellatrix had to bite down harshly on her tongue, the urge to defend her Lord was so strong, but as usual as of late…many things didn't add up or make sense. The Dark Lord didn't look angered by the words, if anything he looked amused by the disrespect, she belated realize that she'd just heard Harry Potter teasing her Lord. Teasing. It was almost as if they were used to this banter, perhaps they were, if she was correct in everything, he'd pierced together from both the Dark Lord and Barty, Potter had joined them nearly a year ago now. So yes, perhaps they were used to this.

When Bellatrix realized the truth in her thoughts, urgent pangs of anger, jealousy and sadness enveloped her. Part of her wished it was her who he was so friendly with, her who he held in such high regard, her who was able to elicited something other than sadistic amusement, impassiveness or anger from him. She would do absolutely anything for her Lord, kill, torture even die…she had spent over a decade in Azkaban prison to prove her loyalty, yet all she got was more demands after being rescued, reprimanded for trying to find him, no for cursing the Longbottom's…they were pureblood's that's why he'd been so angry, yet the Dark Lord said she had better follow his orders this time or else. He hadn't elaborated on what the 'Or else' was, he didn't need to, for each Death Eater could imagine the torture that would be heaped upon them for disobeying. Normally she wouldn't pay so much attention to his words, but there was something telling her he was being very truthful and very frank with her. If she went against any of his orders…Bellatrix honestly believed her life would be forfeit.

"Crucio!" the cold dulcet tones of Harry Potter washed over her along with the relished screamed of Umbridge, she found herself staring at the boy yet again. Perhaps he wasn't someone she should try to sabotage, or feel jealous of, instead she should step aside gracefully, the boy…was powerful, she could feel it in the air, and she could clearly see how her Lord was reacting to Potters spell. He wasn't a stupid teenager; he was a worthy wizard to bow down to in respect if she valued her life…even if he was technically a half-blood. She was having to hastily revaluate everything she knew in just a single afternoon. It was no wonder her mind was reeling. She'd still keep an eye on him though, if he was up to something she wanted to be the one to figure it out.

If she thoughts things were changing since returning…she knew it hadn't stopped changing yet. She wasn't sure what, whether it was due to her mind not being at full capacity or if she was missing something she just knew Harry Potter was going to change everything. Where these feelings were coming from, she didn't know…she felt like they could win, for the first time realizing that with Potter on their side, they would win this war. They had come so close last time, the only thorns in their side were the damn order and the prophecy.

Her eyes gleamed with excitement, oh, yes, she wanted so badly to tell her husband and brother-in-law, but she didn't dare leave…she didn't want to miss a single thing. Despite all these revelations this was the most fun she'd had since constantly envisioning torturing her damn therapist even if he was a Death Eater. Not that she'd touched him. No matter how much she'd pouted about it.

"Just a nightmare, it's just a nightmare," Umbridge muttered under her breath as she whimpered in pain as she moved. She had never been under the Cruciatus Curse before and it hurt like blazes. Oh, how she wished the damn Dementors had done their job, kissed the pathetic little boy during the summer when they were supposed to. She'd spent all that time feeling so smug and superior knowing she'd finally taken care of the brat. So sure, in their ability, she'd eagerly awaited for those within Hogwarts walls to realize something was wrong…when the boy did not appear. Yet the opposite happened, the boy did appear and Dumbledore still had been furious over it. Why she still didn't know.

"Crucio!" the spell was so swift and sudden that everyone was surprised.

"Hey!" Harry complained, glancing at Voldemort, his eyes shrewd, he knew something had changed but what…he'd need to figure it out or find out. "She's mine, you promised,"

"You'll find I did no such thing," Voldemort replied his anger still visible, but solely focused on the witch in the cell. "I merely stated that you not make me regret it."

"What did you see?" Harry asked eyes narrowed in contemplation, pondering on what she could have done that made Voldemort lose control albeit not very much but enough to curse her despite the fact he wanted her to be his to torture…and most definitely his to kill. He knew that Voldemort relished in seeing him torturing others, while his face didn't betray much, his voice and eyes gave him away.

Bellatrix stared between them, knowing she was missing something - but what? What?

"This pathetic worm is the reason Dementors came onto my property," Voldemort seethed visibly exuding the urge to cause untold violence. What went unsaid was 'this pathetic worm had been the cause of harm to what was his' and Harry was his, and he was very possessive of those who he considered his.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix ventured in confusion, "I thought…well, don't you have control over the Dementors?" It was how they were able to get out of Azkaban wasn't it, without being detected? Her tone was unsure, which was so unlike Bellatrix that even the Dark Lord was taken back by her tone.

"Voldemort was just negotiating with them when they came, they were after me, I don't think they knew who they were fucking with," Harry chortled darkly. Although if it had been his first encounter with the Dementors, it was doubtful he would have survived, Voldemort had been too far away, and he had been on his broomstick. He had been a sitting duck, just like the time he'd been in the air playing Quidditch during his third year.

Whether he meant Voldemort or himself remained unknown…at least to Bellatrix who didn't know what went down that day.

"Stop…please stop," Umbridge begged, sobbing utterly deliriously with the pain coursing through her body, having endured three rounds of the torture curse…it was a bit much for even those experienced in the curse to endure let alone a novice in being in pain.

"Oh, come on! Seriously? It's only been on you three times and you're already begging?" Harry whined; this wasn't going to be very much fun. "I was under it twice last year and I managed to run away! AND I didn't beg!" his tone here turned mocking.

Bellatrix giggled at the words, oooo, he was a tough one if that was true.

"So, it's not just rumours," the hulking form of Fenrir Greyback grumbled, amber eyes flashing angrily as his wolf almost took control and so far away from the full moon giving away the true extent of his anger.

"You were there when I mentioned her," Harry pointed out in confusion.

Fenrir blinked at the boy, who stared right back at him no sign of smell of fear even with his wolf so close to the surface. He merely grumbled at his lack of attention, he'd been a bit focused on the half cryptic conversation Barty and the boy had been having, about taking care of them and not neglecting them, his relatives, who he assumed were in here too, perhaps he should have been a bit more observant about the extent of the conversation going on around him. He'd honestly still been reeling over the fact that Potter was here and willingly so, talking to Voldemort like nobody else dared.

A grunt was all he gave in lieu of a proper reply.

"It's not your revenge to have," Bellatrix sang with devilish delight, completely ignoring the fact she had been the one to suggest that they left Greyback have a go just twenty some minutes ago. She just liked winding everyone up, it was who she was.

Fenrir glared at her ferociously, but the insane witch didn't so much as twitch.

"What will it take for you to let me have my revenge?" Fenrir grumbled out through clenched teeth, hands fisted, eyeing Umbridge like the piece of meat she actually was to a werewolf. There were many in his pack who would be quite content with getting revenge on her, after everything she'd done. Although knowing she was going to be tortured and kill would placate them…it wasn't enough for him.

Calculating green eyes met amber, "How about we come up with some sort of compromise so we all get what we want?" completely ignoring Umbridge's very loud whimper of terror, and incidentally the fresh scent of urine permeating the air.

"What do you want in return?" Fenrir narrowed his own eyes, there was no way the boy was going to do this for nothing, not when he'd been so adamant even against the Dark Lord getting a shot of the bitch. Hmm, the bitch, now that did make him envision her in a way that pleased both him and his wolf.

Voldemort watched Harry closely, while he felt and looked calculating, there was no desire to further his own goals or gather 'favours' or boons as it were from Fenrir. He seemed to genuinely want nothing more than to see Umbridge in the maximum pain possible, and he had already acknowledged that out of all people on this side…Fenrir was the one who deserved a piece of her. He was proud of himself, of unearthing this boy beneath the façade of the Boy-Who-Lived, of getting him on his side, relatively speaking, he was mesmerising to watch. Nobody had quite come so close to reminding him so much of himself…if anything he would say the boy was probably more fearless than him at that age. He had brought that out otherwise the boy would have continued to hide until he as he said, remembered the tournament and that he was legally an adult and free of Dumbledore's control. In such a sort window…the opportunity could have passed him by, that did make him more grateful, occasionally, he wasn't one for wondering what could have been, there was little point to that.

A cutthroat smirk was a reply, very wolf-like surprising Fenrir despite what he had seen so far, this boy would be a glorious wolf, oddly enough he didn't dare contemplate turning him which was odd in itself. "You can do whatever you like…as long as you bite her on the full moon…I want her to be the very thing she loathes the most, the creature she fears above all others. And I want the memories of anything and everything that happens."

A similar look flared in Fenrir's eyes, bloodthirsty and awed at this boy who was so amazing to see, he was more wolf than some of his betas. "Agreed," a pleased growl leaving his lips, inhaling sharply, thoroughly enjoying the scent of terror permeating the air around them, she was terrified - good - she should be.

"Nothing that kills her, that's my stipulation, I want to be the one to see the life leave her eyes after I'm done with her," Harry added, peering at Umbridge momentarily, relishing in the blatant fear she so expressively displayed in her speechless state, too shocked and horrified to even plead for her life. Oh, he was so going to enjoy breaking her.

"Agreed," Fenrir didn't even pause to wonder if it was worth it, he didn't care about whether he got to kill her, knowing he was going to be able to pay her back for all she'd done to his kind was more than enough.

"And what exactly do you have planned for her right now?" the Dark Lord enquired, impatient to see Harry at work, his spell work was fantastic, so he truly looked forward to seeing what else he had in that ingenious mind of his.

"I'm starting off slow," Harry admitted, bringing out the blood quill and paper. "This…this is just the start,"

Fenrir gave him a disappointed look, what was he going to do compel her to write lines?

"This is an adapted blood quill, it will write what she does everywhere, on every line of her body, and it will burn like hell, as if she's being poisoned, and I've added something extra to prevent her from suffering from blood loss…I don't want to end the game so soon now do I?" Harry looked inordinately pleased with himself.

Fenrir lost that disappointed look very, very quickly, but it was lost on Harry who cast the Imperius curse on her, commanding she remain seated, to do nothing. Harry knew what desperate people were capable of, and thus would take no chances when it came to keeping Umbridge from escaping. Upon entering the cell, he placed the quill and paper down on the floor, before exiting.

He stood for a few moments, trying to figure out the best thing for her to write…nothing seemed enough.

Nobody knew what Harry had commanded until it clearly wrote itself out against her forehead.

'I am a werewolf's bitch' as was his thoughts, the compulsion on the quill took hold with a little flourish of Harry's magic. Once the quill had been picked up as Harry dictated by the Imperius curse, Harry removed the Unforgivable, as predicted she did not drop it, compelled as she was to write.

Umbridge gave a small moue of pain before her lips began to purse as she quickly realized she couldn't stop herself…the small cries soon became outright squeals of pain.

Bellatrix laughed gleefully at the sight, and what a sight it was, small legible words that turned swiftly into little scabs wrote all over her, beginning with her face, chin throat and slowly continued on downwards.

Fenrir just watched her with rapid ease, enjoying each and every sound she let out. Sure, it wasn't as fun as physically scaring her, or biting her, but that day would come. Until then she was going to suffer pain beyond pain, and quite frankly Fenrir couldn't wait to see what Harry had up his sleeve next. If the Dark Lord wanted him on his side so badly…he just knew whatever he planned would be ingenious. Fenrir glanced at the Dark Lord, his gaze shifted between Harry and Umbridge now and again, a subtle sniff made his eyes widen, there was an attraction between them, they liked each other.

Just a Death Eater his ass, he wouldn't be surprised to see the boy leading alongside the Dark Lord when the time came.

Oh, this was glorious.

It was definitely going to be the beginning of a new era.

A sudden pop had everyone's attention diverted to a House-elf, Dobby.

Harry absently silenced Umbridge's sobbing, "What is it, Dobby?" he asked the House-elf, silently encouraging him due to his nerves with the proximity of such 'evil' wizards - and a witch not to forget - who spoke up.

"I recognize that thing," Bellatrix muttered eyes narrowed at him.

Harry threw her a dry look, "That thing happens to have a name, he's called Dobby, and if you ever hurt him, I will make sure you suffer tortures of the damned, he's mine."

"He belongs to my sister!" Bellatrix hissed a little deranged.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort barked loudly, his tone curt, well aware that she sometimes went into rabid mode, it was becoming less frequent, the damage done to her in Azkaban was insurmountable.

Bellatrix flinched back, blinking slowly taking in her surroundings, "My Lord," she murmured apologetically, bowing low, bearing her most vulnerable area - her neck - towards him to show how sorry she was. She was his and his alone, she'd do anything he asked, nothing was more important, not even her family. Her allegiance to the Dark Lord came first and foremost.

Dobby watched it all wide-eyed half in wonder half terror, but that terror was draining knowing his great Master Harry wouldn't allow harm to come to him. He'd willingly allowed himself to be bound more tightly than just a normal Elf/Wizard bond, no matter what he would always serve his great Master.

"He belonged to Lucius actually," Harry said icily, "I loathe abuse of any kind, I tricked him into freeing Dobby, so if you are looking for someone to blame, then blame me."

Bellatrix said nothing, staying quiet for the first time in her life, sensing the magic leaching from Harry, and the look of warning from her Lord is the most notable reason of course.

"Master received a call," Dobby explained when Harry gave him a look that clearly demonstrated the order to continue.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said giving a nod, clearly dismissing him.

Dobby bowed before disappearing with a pop, he knew his Master didn't care for social necessities such as bowing and showing his submission but Dobby felt it was best to do so. His Master was going to be extremely important one day, so he would continue to do it when he was with others but alone, he would do as Harry asked and refrain from bowing.

"A call?" the deceptively soft tone was applied to Harry now from Voldemort.

"Not a Floo call, I still don't know the password, it's the mirror," Harry explained, a frown evident on his face, Sirius always called at night, usually around ten o'clock for half an hour before they went to bed. Why would he be calling him so soon? Whatever it was, something was obviously wrong.

Voldemort relaxed upon hearing that, he wouldn't have put it past Harry to have figured out the Floo address and password, considering his words earlier about the password he was going to assume he did indeed figure out the address at some point. Nobody other than himself should know, it was constantly monitored and closed off when not in use so nobody could accidentally find them. He was very paranoid about his security and took every and all measure possible to secure his home.

"Excuse me," Harry muttered distractedly, as he swiftly squeezed through the passageway and straight to his bedroom.

Grasping the mirror once he was in his room, he left the door open and made sure to sit facing it so if anyone came Sirius wouldn't get a full glimpse of them. It was still blue showing that he had a call, but it was no longer active, Sirius must have de-activated the mirror when he failed to pick up.

"Sirius Black," Harry intoned into the mirror, waiting patiently.

He didn't need to wait long.

"Harry!" Sirius breathed in relief; his eyes shadowed but he smiled at his godson.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, still slightly worried.

"You were right," Sirius informed him, rubbing his face tiredly, "The things the healer said," he choked out.

Harry's internal organs shrank at the sound of Sirius' heartbreak, he was fond of Sirius, he might not love him yet, but he did care, and he would grieve for him if he died. "What did she say? Are there options for him?" there had better be! Otherwise, he was going to find the idiot who created the potion and he was going to kill him.

"Um, his internal organs are only working up to forty percent, she says she's seen nothing like it before on a wizard his age in the magical world." she must have done some time in the Muggle world while learning about healing.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, shaking his head, "That's near enough organ failure, if it dipped below thirty-five, he would have needed new organs in the Muggle world. What else did she say?"

"There's only one potion that will help him," Sirius sighed, sounding extremely tired, and he was so very tired. "Consanesco healing draught, only three Potion Masters are able to brew it to St. Mungo's standards…um, she also said I'd need to get the Phoenix tears first but I'm having trouble finding anyone willing to part with enough for the potion."

"You want to go to Dumbledore," Harry deduced seeing the look on Sirius' face.

Sirius clenched his teeth, "It might be my only option," he didn't like the thought of going back to being indebted to Dumbledore…especially considering his godson wanted nothing to do with him or the Order but this was Remus…and Harry had said he wouldn't hold it against him.

"How much do you need?" Harry queried determinedly.

"Two millilitres," Sirius revealed, which was a lot when it came to Phoenix tears, and expensive to boot but the price was not a concern to Sirius he just wanted to potion brewed so his partner can begin to recover.

"That much? I was dying of basilisk poison and it didn't take that much to cure me!" Harry protested his eyebrows sky high.

Sirius grimaced and nodded as if to say you see now why he was at his wit's end.

"I'll be right back!" Harry stated placing the mirror on the bed and silencing it so he could concentrate and nobody could hear him.

Closing his eyes he meditated calmly, searching for the bond with the Dark Lord, finding it, he kept his eyes closed and merely focused on sending words through not peeking. Voldemort hadn't been happy about it the last time, but he had gained control of himself since then. "Voldemort do you have someone who supplies your potion ingredients?"

"Obviously," came the dry yet blunt reply, trying to hide his curiosity and failing.

"I need two millilitres of phoenix tears, the price won't be a problem," Harry told him, his tone unwittingly more hopeful than he would have liked.

There was silence for a few moments, "You will have it tonight," Voldemort replied.

The anxiety that had twisted in his stomach ceased immediately, Voldemort would keep his word, of that Harry had no doubt. "Thank you," he added sincerely, before drawing back out of the bond they shared, easing himself back down on the bed. Removing the silencing charm, he summoned the book with potion, and began to run his fingers over the recipe.

"I'll have the tears by tonight," Harry explained, grinning at the surprise on Sirius' face, he could only imagine the reaction if he knew who was getting them for him. "I also know someone who could brew the potion with me too, in fact, I could start now since the tears aren't put in until last when the potion is in its ending stage, which is a good thing, it will prevent any waste. Which means I could have the potion sent to you within the next twenty-four hours."

"But she said…only three potions Masters were qualified to brew it…you've only just passed your exams…are you sure you can…?" Sirius paused, not wanting to insult his godson, "It's just that potions wasn't exactly your thing you know,"

"Do you think I'd suggest it if for a second I didn't think I was capable of it? Especially considering who it's for?" Harry asked grimly, his masks cracking just a tad he did not like to be doubted. He cared more about Sirius than Remus, don't get him wrong, Remus was one of his favourite teachers, but considering others had tried to kill him…well, it wasn't exactly a huge step up.

"I know that Harry, alright, but I'll pay you for you, deal?" Sirius stated he definitely wasn't going to budge. "The tears and making the potion," he added, so Harry couldn't try and squirm out of the deal by using logic.

"Alright, I'm sure you know the vault numbers," Harry said wryly, probably better than his own, no doubt about it.

Sirius smiled, a genuine smile that so rarely made an appearance, "I do," he confessed, "Your dad…he kept both me and Remus going for years when things were bad money wise. At least until my uncle left me money in his will, it allowed me to get a flat and kept us afloat," it wasn't easy for him finding a job being a 'Black' and Remus being a werewolf added with everything he had been doing for the Order. Now he never had to worry about money again, he had the entire Black estate for himself as the only living male heir.

"It's nice to hear something good about him," Harry commented honestly, "Other than the fact I look like him that is…or the pranks you pulled on people or bullying them." James Potter looked after those he loved and cared for apparently, something he found he could happily have in common.

Sirius swallowed, "I'm sorry, it's still hard to talk about…he was still young, Harry, he didn't really get a chance to grow up."

"Twenty-one," Harry answered, yes, he knew his parent's ages. "I have to go, Sirius, I'll let you know what's happening when you call later, I'll probably be in the lab though and won't be able to talk long tonight." he wasn't sure why he had said that it wasn't like he wanted to know more about them, knowing more about them wouldn't bring them back, nor would it give him a sense of familiarity with them. He didn't know his parents, and quite honestly…he didn't care overly much about that.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later, Harry," Sirius agreed, "Goodbye," and with that, they both de-activated their screens.

Harry grumbled silently as he stood, time to get back down there and really stop her from actually bleeding out completely. The spell would only help prevent complete blood loss if they weren't careless. He'd missed most of the fun, he would just need to come up with something else.

When he got there, he found that the others had evidently gotten bored and left, sighing in exasperation, he summoned the paper and quill from her shaking hands, the paper was utterly saturated in blood and tears. He didn't even spare Umbridge a second glance as he left, leaving her huddled in on herself drowning in tears, snot, and bloody wounds.

"Enter!" Albus called, trying really hard to put on a joyful façade, which was extremely difficult. He didn't even bother trying to summon up any hope or excitement that his people had managed to find the teenager. At this point, he honestly believed it would take a miracle to find the boy. They hadn't all summer, he didn't think it would be any different in this instance. Wherever Harry was choosing to hide, was hidden very well, or whoever was helping him. He had his suspicions considering how knowledgeable Harry was upon returning to Hogwarts. His manners and mannerisms as well, they screamed elocution lessons, that all pureblood's receive in their childhood.

Damn the boy, damn the Ministry who made him believe this was the only option. Nothing was going according to plan.

"Ah, Severus, have you heard anything?" Albus asked, to make things worse the Ministry had raided his school looking for Umbridge in order to arrest her for her crimes.

"The Dark Lord knows nothing, but I will have to tell him, Albus, the news will get out soon enough, I'm surprised it hasn't already," Severus said, grimacing at the prospect of telling the 'Dark Lord' anything, purely for show of course.

Albus deflated, "I know," which would mean that Voldemort would be out there looking for the boy as well, making it more difficult for them. The only good thing to have happened lately was the outbreak that had caused the death of the majority of Voldemort's Death Eaters, the worst of them too. It eased him to know that Voldemort would find it difficult to regain his power base.

"Has anyone thought to check any of the Potter homes?" Severus questioned, "Is it even possible? The boy knows about his estate, it's surely the most obvious of places to go to get to safety."

"It's possible," Albus said slowly, thoughtfully, "Regretfully he knows how to stay hidden, nobody was able to find him during the summer, he said he didn't stay in one place longer than a day or so…he wasn't lying, but I do believe a few details may have been omitted," failing to realise it was merely the fact Harry had mental barriers that prevented Dumbledore from finding out he was lying, not the fact he had failed to lie.

"Such as?" Severus drawled, utterly indifferent to the conversation or so it seemed.

"I don't know," Albus admitted, it was as if he didn't know the boy at all, especially as of late. He had gone about it all wrong, he knew that now, he shouldn't have punished the boy, all that had done was pull him further out of his sphere of control. It had backfired, and when he had tried to correct his wrongs, the boy had been too far out of it to be ensnared back. Now he was Merlin knows where, and he heavily suspected he had someone on his side. Someone that obviously didn't care about himself or Voldemort, perhaps someone neutral, which was worse, he had spent five years making sure the boy understood he must kill Voldemort. Now there was someone out there offering him independence and a way out of the war…but he didn't let himself worry too much about that, Voldemort would continue to look for the boy no matter what it took, a confrontation would occur. However, the fact he wasn't in control of where and when truly terrified him of the outcome. Especially with the unknown factor and what he could be teaching Harry. "I do not believe he was on his own."

"You think he has help?" Severus stated, straightening up, "That makes more sense than a fourteen-year-old being about to avoid detection for so long."

Albus felt like pouting, he didn't want anyone agreeing with him on this matter, he had rather hoped Severus would have dissuaded him of that potential outcome.

"He was receiving mail now and again, I assumed it was from Hagrid…perhaps it was not," Severus pointed out, knowing he had nothing to worry about, not only was Harry gone but he lit the letters on fire, he wasn't stupid enough to keep them.

Albus sat up straighter, "He what?" Albus managed to get out without being seen as undignified.

"Hedwig was much more active this year, he received letters from regular barn owls, I assumed it was from Hagrid…" Severus repeated himself adding a small layer of sarcasm to it.

Albus closed his eyes, it was time to bring Granger and the two Weasleys up, he had to know now. "Severus please bring Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger and Miss. Weasley to my office please." Albus ordered. He couldn't believe he'd missed all that, and worse that Severus hadn't thought to say anything, but Harry did receive owls from Hagrid offering tea, had done since the boy had started Hogwarts. There was only one problem with that, Hagrid had been absent from Hogwarts trying to make the giants see sense and stay out of the war.

"Very well, Albus," Severus sighed as he stood, exiting the room, prepared to do as the Headmaster dictated, such as it was, the life of a spy. Barely refraining from snorting, did he seriously think he'd get anything from those three? Harry hadn't spoken to them more than a dozen times the seven months he'd actually attended Hogwarts before calling it quits.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 37

Hermione, Ron and Ginny entered the Headmasters office, all of them looking worse for wear. Feeling their weary shoulders relaxing as Fawkes sung a few notes, helping them feel more at peace. The trio walked further into the room, not even glancing around at the magnificent display that was Dumbledore's office, already very familiar with the setting. Then without a word they took their seats, waiting patiently for the Headmaster to speak, it hadn't been the first time they'd been called since Harry left, and they were sure it wouldn't be the last time.

"Have you found Harry, Sir?" Ginny asked hopefully, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to date him if he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. Something her mother had been suggesting, and Dumbledore but that had been much more subtle, in fact, she was still questioning whether it's what he had meant or if she was just being silly to think such a thing. After all, why would her headmaster be even implying anything about her future?

"Alas, I'm afraid not," Dumbledore sighed, his posture one of defeat, his usual twinkle absent as he peered over his half-moon glasses at them. "Has Harry ever mentioned having a friend outside of Hogwarts?" he had asked this before, but here he was asking yet again.

"Harry doesn't have friends in the Muggle world," Ron once again pointed out. "His cousin made sure of that." he didn't get why Dumbledore was asking again, or why he was feigning ignorance on the subject. Dumbledore knew he had to; Harry had said he told Dumbledore everything. When he'd pointed a few things out in the old Order hideout, he had acted as though he was surprised, he wasn't sure what to make of it. When it came to this whole situation, he felt so confused, especially with Hermione insisting Dumbledore would do something if he could.

"Did you notice him receiving mail?" Dumbledore turned his attention to Hermione Granger, out of the three he was positive that she would have noticed what the two Weasley's would not.

"Harry always receives some mail during the year," Hermione stated, "It's not unusual, do you think he made friends with another wizard?" as always drawing the correct conclusions.

"Harry would have mentioned that," Ron argued immediately, even as he felt jealousy eating at him yet again. He hated that Harry had made friends with Neville and that loony girl his sister used to play with. This past year it had plagued his thoughts, such as, wasn't he good enough? Did he not give Harry good gifts at birthday and Christmases? didn't he write to him enough in the summer holidays? Was it because he wore second-hand clothes? Didn't have enough money? But of course, Ron shot them down, Harry had started Hogwarts in second-hand clothes, he didn't care about things like that. They'd been friends for years without a problem, except him getting jealous when Harry ended up in the tournament. He knew why they weren't friends anymore, and denying it wasn't doing anything for him. "The only mail he got other than the one from the Dursley's, is definitely from Hagrid," Ron added, he very much disliked doing this, it felt like a punch in the face as to why Harry was no longer their friends.

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore prompted, wishing to hear her thoughts on the subject.

Hermione frowned, "He did receive some mail, I assumed it was from Hagrid, he has been distance this past year, I thought perhaps he was just seeing Hagrid alone without us when he got back." she admitted, wishing she could give the Headmaster the answers he desired. She so desperately wished Harry would get their mail, she wanted to know how he'd gotten such good grades, he had never been that good yet out of the blue he was some sort of genius? Able to take his O.W.L's nearly a year early? She was going to have to really dig into her books just to make sure that she got better grades, she had always been the best, and to have that taken away from her made her feel inadequate. She'd always been told by her parents and teachers how smart she was. Right from a very young age, so this was pulling the rug from under her. So damn right she'd do her best to outdo him.

"Miss. Weasley?" Albus asked, after giving Hermione a disappointed look. He had such high hopes for her, and she was somehow managing to disappoint him at nearly every turn these past years.

Ginny just shook her head, she'd been 'dating' other boys in hopes of attracting Harry's attention. Dean primarily amongst them, with him being in Harry's year and Dorm. Unfortunately for her, Harry hadn't even glanced in her direction more than once really. No jealousy or curiosity when she'd paid boys any attention. Then spending the rest of the time writing to her mother complaining about him and his lack of attention. She just knew if she was able to dress like her friends and the other girls at Hogwarts, she would have been able to surprise Harry. Without money, it wasn't something she could do.

"I see," Albus glanced at the three of them, disappointment was written all over his face. They were the three he had chosen to watch over Harry for him, and keep him appraised, unknowingly in their case of course, at their young ages they will have just written it off as curiosity over the famous 'Harry Potter' and that was it. Not so much now, he realized, as they were questioning him, and he didn't like it, especially Ronald Weasley to whom Harry had been the closest to. "Have you at least been able to get in touch with him?"

"No, Sir," the three replied in sync.

"Very well, keep trying, and if you hear from Harry, please let me know, I do wish to be kept in the loop especially when it comes to the dear boy's safety," Albus informed them gently, the disappointed look was gone as if it had never been there, to begin with.

"We will, Sir," Hermione vowed, sitting up straighter, in fact, she was going to head to the library and get some revising done before writing another letter. She couldn't deal with any more disappointment coming her way from the Headmaster who she revered so much. She wanted him to look at her with growing pride, just like he did when he knew she did the logic puzzle in the first year, figured out the basilisk in the second year, after successfully rescuing Black and Buckbeak in her third year.

"I'm glad to hear that, on you go," Albus waved them off, the urge to award them points just to ease them to him further was strong, but they had done nothing to earn it.

"Goodbye, Headmaster," Hermione said as she stood, the other two just nodded in the Headmaster's direction as they sullenly made their way down the spiralling staircase. She honestly didn't understand why Harry wanted to leave the safety of Hogwarts or the security it provided, both because of Dumbledore and well…it being Hogwarts with so many wards to keep the students safe from harm. She voiced this to her two quiet companions.

"Well, nobody can find him right now, and nobody found him during the summer, I'd say he is pretty safe wherever he is right now." Ron pointed out; Harry had never actually told anyone – as far as he knew – where he had been this summer. Not even Neville, then again, just because he asked, didn't mean the boy had given him the truth. Perhaps Neville was far more loyal to his friend than he had been.

"But Dumbledore's here, You-Know-Who wouldn't dare attack here because of him, he's the only wizard You-Know-Who has ever feared." Hermione told them in her usual haughty 'I know better than you' tone.

"Really?" Ginny muttered scornfully, an expectant look on her face as she stopped walking, standing in the hallway stiff as a board. She'd been stupid to write in the diary, she knew that. She'd been younger and stupid, not listening to her parents, she vowed she'd never do such a thing again.

"Oh," Hermione muttered her mouth in an 'O' as realization dawned on her, perhaps she hadn't thought that statement through. "I didn't mean…" she too paused walking, she felt Ron stand there as well, no doubt worried about his little sister.

"But you did mean it," Ginny argued, "Nowhere is safe!" she added hysterically, breathing evenly trying to stop herself from panicking completely. "Not really," she added a little more calmly.

"It never really was," Ron said mournfully, "Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place, but it's not. There's the whole thing in our first year and then Ginny's too. Harry was already taken from the safety of the school and by the sounds of it got back by the skin of his teeth." they always forgot about these things, Merlin, Mione hadn't changed much from when they were eleven, he realized. She'd said pretty much the same thing just before they were trying to stop the evil wizard gaining the stone. How could she still think the same thing after all that had happened? Why did he constantly think the same thing? Well, truth was, it had been shoved down his throat all his life, by his parents. Hermione didn't have the same excuse.

"Those were…. were…just extenuating circumstances!" Hermione protested, but whether she truly felt that was true or not the Weasley's would never know.

"Oh, look, it's Potty's lost friends," Draco sneered, as usual surrounded by his group of friends, he had lost a significant amount of power since Umbridge had fled in the dead of the night. He was no longer the leader of the inquisitorial squad. "What's wrong? Not sure what to do without boy wonder?" he was still raging over the loss of that power, so much so he was egging everyone he could possibly annoy in order to make something happen. That and the curiosity about Potter was eating him up too, it was just so out of character that he was just as baffled as everyone else.

"SHUT IT, MALFOY!" Ron, spat bitterly, ready to do what it took to defend Harry and themselves.

"Come on, let's go," Ginny said, urging Ron away, the last thing they needed was trouble, she didn't want to end up in Dumbledore's office again so soon. Dumbledore had enough to deal with at the moment without adding childish feuds to the list, no he wouldn't be impressed at all. "Let's go and eat." Knowing it would distract Ron enough that he'd go without possibly starting something more.

"Would you look at that, they can't even defend themselves without Potter," Draco chortled to Goyle, Pansy, Crabbe, and Nott they all laughed but it was a bit forced, as if they were pandering to Draco's whims.

"We've got better things to do than indulge your childish whims, Malfoy," Hermione said haughtily, thankfully they were near the corner, and were quite quickly on their way, keeping Ron sandwiched between them preventing him from going and staring something they knew Malfoy would finish. Truthfully though, if Ron wanted to get out of their hold and actually start something, there would have been nothing either Hermione or Ginny could have done to prevent it. They were nowhere near strong enough, although they could have kept a hold magically, of course.

Ron valiantly ignoring the laughter from Malfoy and his cronies, while seething in fury, he hated the wannabe Death Eaters! He wished he could twist those smug looks off their faces. It would certainly brighten up his day, instead he found that it was food that brightened up his day. A slither of worry wedged itself into him, wondering where Harry was and if he was truly safe.

"…should have seen it," Bellatrix cackled with delight as she regaled her husband and brother-in-law as well as Barty regarding what had happened to Umbridge earlier.

"And the Dark Lord said nothing? Did nothing?" Rabastan asked, his eyes wider than anyone had ever seen them before in the past.

"I've told you before," Barty pointed out from where he sat on the chair, book forgotten as he listened to the tale. "They're his to do with as he pleases."

Rodolphus cleared his throat, "Seems like you weren't exaggerating the slightest," he told Barty, and he had thought that just to make sure they listened or something he'd suspected.

"I also told you that," Barty replied smugly.

"Why the hell does he let that disrespect go?" Rabastan demanded, brows furrowed as he tried to figure it all out.

"It's not really disrespect," Barty shrugged, "They're teasing each other," he didn't think they'd believe him until they saw it for themselves.

"Tease…come on!" Rabastan argued doubtfully.

"Seriously, they are," Barty nodded as if that could somehow show the brothers the truth.

"You'll see," Bellatrix grinned widely, "The boy has such power…" her eyes glazed.

"Well, it's no wonder," Rodolphus said smugly, "With Lestrange, Black, Potter and Malfoy blood running through his veins."

Rabastan felt as smug as his brother, but for different reasons, he was glad Bellatrix and his brother were taking to Harry. It meant less difficulty getting to know the boy like he wanted to. Nobody would ever replace Rhea or his mother, but they had family out there, well, one, since it was only Harry left. How different would things have been if they'd known Lily Evans had actually been Lily Lestrange? His dad wouldn't have cared, of that he was certain, he would have welcomed her despite the fact she had been Muggle-raised to that point. "Have you spoken to father about Harry yet?"

"I'm not sure he knows, the Dark Lord didn't say whether he told him or not," Rodolphus mused, "We can discuss this with him when he returns," which would be pretty soon, he didn't seem to want to leave them for long periods of time, as if he was afraid, they'd disappear back into Azkaban. Not like that would happen, they were dead, dead and buried on that despicable island.

"Good id…"Rabastan paused, glancing at the doorway, hearing footsteps, wondering whether that was their father back or if it was their Lord.

It was neither, it was Severus Snape. Someone none of them trusted overly much.

"Where is the Dark Lord?" Severus demanded, but without his usual tone, he was feeling rather puzzled at the moment. He'd been handed a box with a quiet demand that it was for 'his Lord' but the box was in his name and everything. He didn't dare open it knowing it was for his Lord. Instead, he had made his way here after his duties were done for the day.

"He's in the lab, told us not to disturb him unless it was someone reporting in," Barty explained, much to the Lestrange's surprise. Severus was one who had escaped Azkaban and declared himself a 'spy' instead of standing up for which side they were on. Barty loathed those who had gone free, especially the likes of Malfoy who had claimed bewitchment.

Severus gave a curt nod before spinning around and making his way to the potions lab without another word, his gaze lingered on Rabastan for a brief moment, but nobody noticed.

Barty blinked at the sight of the expectant look the three Lestrange's gave him. "What?" he muttered defensively.

"You trust him?" Bellatrix spat bitterly, another wizard he wouldn't trust as far as he could throw him.

"Our Lord does, so do I," Barty explained without pause.

That made the married couple glance at each other in question, if they didn't trust Snape then they were not trusting the Dark Lord…and they did indeed trust their Lord. There had to be a reason for that trust, for the Dark Lord would have surely ensured that he was truly loyal to their cause when he returned.

Rabastan however, just watched the empty door, his gaze taking in everything, it's the first time he'd caught sight of Severus (when he wasn't in a meeting and in his usual Death Eater garb) properly since before he ended up in Azkaban. He had aged a lot, they both had.

"What else happened?" Barty asked, changing the subject, knowing they'd just begin arguing if they continued to speak about Snape or anyone, they didn't believe were loyal. Although if it came to Malfoy then he would probably agree with them wholeheartedly. He hated the superior smug prick and his son.

This question brought Rabastan out of his thoughts, as he re-joined the conversation they were having, wanting to know everything that had occurred recently.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 38

"My Lord," Severus murmured respectfully, never once raising his voice above a whisper, seeing that there was a delicate brewing stage happening before his eyes. Automatically his dark penetrating eyes, zoomed in on each of the ingredients, from what he could see it was some sort of healing draught, but which one wasn't known, not by the colour, or consistency yet, he knew he'd probably figure it out by the ingredients within the package. Which, of course, reminded him, he silently slid the package onto the bench that they - both his Lord and Harry - were working on.

Voldemort finished the brewing stage, eyeing Harry who was currently dealing with the next ingredient that was about to be immersed in the potion. Once he was confident that Harry would finish in time to add it, he began to remove the packaging from the parcel. Amused by Severus' attempts to feigning impassivity, but when it came to potions, Severus' desires were more pronounced.

Once Voldemort had the vial of tears open, he ran a standard test on their purity, not that he required it. His contacts knew better than to even consider trying to con him out of money. He had been warned about the result of such a thing occurring, torture and death. He would never allow himself to be done by anyone. As always, he receives the best, or what exactly he asked for. The tears were pure, good, it meant they could finish the last stage of the potion.

"The Consanesco healing draught," Severus murmured to himself, the moment he caught sight of the pearly phoenix tears immersing in the cauldron closest to the Dark Lord. He still found himself surprised by Harry's competence; despite the fact he had brewed with him. It would take a while for him to come accustomed to it, for the past four years the boy hadn't been able to brew a decent draught to save himself. He idly wondered if Harry would seek out a Mastery in the subject, he certainly had the capability of doing so. This potion did require a Mastery hand – too volatile to risk it otherwise – hence there were only a few willing to brew it within the UK.

"It is," Harry replied busy immersing the next ingredient into the potion, before flicking his wand, and the stirrer began to stir the potion counter-clockwise ten times.

The urge to ask why was strong, and he would have done so if the Dark Lord hadn't been present.

That potion was not given out freely, and it was most definitely a difficult brew and for only those in bad way. He could not think of anyone that could be so badly off that they would need this draught. Nobody the Dark Lord knew or even Harry come to that. Harry's circle of those he cared about was very small, perhaps five or six, depending on his feelings for the Weasley's. He knew, just because Harry had switched sides, that he hadn't stopped caring for those on the opposite side from him now. That wasn't the way it worked. Though Harry had made a stand and a decision that differed from those he cared for.

"That is all, Severus, take your leave, we do not want suspicion accumulating, no doubt he's wary as it is," Voldemort easily dismissed Severus, as he placed the vial of phoenix tears upon the desk. So that Harry may use them when his own potion reached that stage. It couldn't be more than ten minutes, between when he started brewing the potion and when Harry begun.

"It's foolish to think he ever stopped," Harry snorted derisively, "And it's nothing to do with your acting, Snape, don't get your pants in a twist," not even needing to glance up to know the Potions Master had taken it upon himself to feel slightly insulted.

Voldemort valiantly and successfully managed to keep his face impassive. He wasn't sure why, but the fact that Harry could so successfully wind up his most poker-faced Death Eaters so amused him. Not limited to Lucius and Severus, but those were by far the most amusing thus far. He would eventually annoy the wrong one and would be on the receiving end of some pretty powerful curses. He wasn't sure the warning he had given them would be enough, not with the boy's attitude. He knew well enough; he even goaded him on occasion. It was as though he held no fear, or care if he lived or died.

"This is Dumbledore we're talking about; his secrets have secrets. He has plans on top of plans, and last but no means least, he leaves absolutely nothing to chance." Harry rolled his shoulders as he straightened up, stretching out getting the kinks out of his back and neck. "He's fucking good at getting to you,"

"Agreed," Severus replied, his eyebrow arched in his Lord's direction, silently wondering what was up. Or if this was just a normal thing these days where Harry was concerned. Unfortunately, with him being at Hogwarts, he had no way of knowing Harry's state of mind most of the time. He did hope to get closer to Harry, to layer over the horrendous start of their relationship. Lily was going to give him hell when he ultimately joined her one day. The very idea made him smile a bit, bittersweet as it was to imagine.

Perhaps he should duel for a while, get rid of that pent-up aggression and showcase Harry's abilities – as if the incident with Avery wouldn't have done it – didn't hurt to get a reminder.

Severus gave a nod before departing, making his way back up the stairs out of the dungeons and regretfully Apparating back towards Hogwarts.

Harry wasn't wrong, Dumbledore probably did suspect, and he wasn't going to give him cause to question his loyalty.

He couldn't wait until the end of the year approached, which it was doing so, at a snail's pace.

"You're back early," Rodolphus commented, seeing his father wandering into the library. They hadn't expected him for at least another half an hour. "Weren't the COM due to oversee a trial?" COM being Council Of Magic of course. Which Lord Corvus Lestrange, was part of, along with his being on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, a member of the Wizengamot and a few other companies council's. He kept himself very busy, it had been better than brooding at home with his sons in Azkaban and no hope of his family. Like it or not, nobody had wanted to have their daughter marry into the Lestrange family. Which left him with no marriage prospects, not even becoming Lady Lestrange was enough for most families. Image was everything, and all the riches in the world couldn't make people forget the families reputation.

"It was a quick one, some idiot thought he could use magic in front of the Muggles without consequence." Corvus complained, irritation written all over his face. "At least the Wizengamot didn't decide to muscle in again." The Wizengamot were beginning to annoy him greatly, he was getting to the point he couldn't stand it. Perhaps it was time to have someone sit in his stead, someone he trusted enough to vote in his stead, a similarly like-minded wizard.

Rodolphus snorted in amusement, "I have a funny feeling you'll like dealing with the Wizengamot again."

Corvus stared at his son, giving him a look that said, 'explain immediately' "Where is your brother?" noticing that Rabastan was nowhere to be seen. It was very rare that the brothers weren't joint at the hip.

"Bathroom," Rodolphus explained, "You remember the woman you couldn't stand?" of course, he could remember her, he kept complaining about her after each visit to the Ministry. To begin with it wasn't TO them, they just overheard. The more they recovered, the less worried their father was and thus he complained to them too.

"What about her?" his mood souring just thinking about the disgusting witch. Feeling the aches in his old bones, he wandered over and claimed a seat opposite his son, who was sitting with a book unopened on the table. He was so glad that his sons were doing better, he'd feared the worst when he first saw them upon their release. Albeit illegal release at that. It hurt him that they'd never be free, truly free, but anything was better than their placement within Azkaban.

"What was her name?" Rodolphus asked already knowing, he'd described her very unflatteringly, or so he had assumed until he got a glimpse of her. Then he'd hastily agreed with his father, if anything he was being too kind.

"Dolores Umbridge," his mouth curling unpleasantly. Who was always too eager to give her working title as if it made her better than she was. The truth of it remained, she was just a jumped up, Half-blood woman whose mother was a Muggle. Oh, the woman had paled so much when he mentioned knowing her father. Then she'd done the worst thing she could have, mentioned his sons. From then on in, he'd worked hard to try and get her sacked. Nobody said anything about his sons and got away with it.

Rodolphus laughed darkly, eyes gleaming wickedly. "You should visit the dungeons," he told his father smugly.

"Why would father care about the dungeons?" Rabastan questioned, as he finally made his reappearance.

"Yes, answer your brother, why would I care to visit the Dark Lord's dungeons?" Corvus teased, Merlin, he had missed this. If only they had told him what they were going to do, he would have put a stop to it. Cursing the Longbottom's into insanity, what on earth did they think that would accomplish? It wouldn't help bring the Dark Lord back, and it left a little boy an orphan and landed them in Azkaban for life. Wasted the prime of their lives, and the Lestrange name might now end with them. A long proud lineage gone. Bellatrix certainly didn't seem to want a child, which certainly seems like a good thing, if it wasn't directly affecting his line. Rabastan may be his only hope, if anyone would forgive his past mistakes. What mistakes they were, by Merlin, he'd tortured a man and woman into insanity, who would want to marry someone like that? They'd be terrified it would happen to them too. Thinking he had some sort of anger management problem or worse, inability to stop himself using dark spells like some sort of novice.

"Umbridge did something to piss off Harry Potter," Rabastan told his father as he wandered fully in and sat next to his brother.

"Which was what?" Corvus asked, eager to know more about Harry Potter or rather what Umbridge could have done. Then he wanted to know what exactly she had suffered through here, whatever it was, it wouldn't be pretty. He utterly detested the pink wearing monstrosity that he was, not to mention her voice. The thought of no longer having to deal with her was a great boon indeed.

"You know something…we have absolutely no idea," Rodolphus mused after glancing at his brother, both coming up empty. "Either way the boy is totally ruthless, from what we've learned." He definitely got that from the Black and Lestrange blood for sure.

Corvus nodded thoughtfully, "Where is the Dark Lord?" he asked, changing the subject. Perhaps the Dark Lord would tell him what was going on with Potter and Umbridge, he found himself very curious indeed.

"Probably still in the dungeons, brewing," Rodolphus shrugging absentmindedly. "He's asked not to be disturbed, so you'll need to give your report later." He cautioned his father.

"Has the Dark Lord spoken to you about Harry or his lineage yet?" Rabastan was the one to broach the subject, unsurprisingly. He was the most excited about the new find, and he was sure his father would be as well.

Corvus noticed his use of Harry instead of Potter and immediately became curious. Had they become friends of sorts? It could be a good thing given Potter's current position within the ranks. "Why would the Dark Lord feel the need to talk to me about Potter?" asked the baffled father. Rodolphus was looking resigned, after rolling his eyes in exasperation. Potter was friends with Neville Longbottom if the rumours were true, he couldn't see his sons and the boy would interact except with scorn.

"Lily Evans was the granddaughter of Marcus Evans, who before he was adopted was Marcus Lestrange," Rabastan explained, watching his father's face explode with shock before going sickeningly pale. Not surprising really, families didn't like to admit they had squibs in their lineage it was one of their greatest shames.

"That's not all," Rodolphus added, "He also has Black, Malfoy, and Slytherin blood rushing through his veins." His brother was nodding vehemently beside him.

Now that it was mentioned Corvus remembered that one of the Potters had married a Black a few generations ago. Most people didn't keep track of the females in family lines. Once they were married off it truly didn't matter to most families. The females became beholden to their husbands families, and that was the end of it. He knew his sons wouldn't be telling him this without irrefutable proof.

"We aren't the only ones left," Rabastan said, his tone mild and soft, he had known his father's fears. He wished he could make them go away, but it wasn't as if he could go out and get married and have heirs that his father so desperately wanted. There was one person in particular he'd actually wanted (still did) to have a family and marry. He was lucky, he wasn't the heir, and thus he'd been free to find his own partner in life. If he'd been born first, he would have had to marry Bellatrix, and the thought made him shudder anew.

Corvus scoffed, "The boy wouldn't take the Lestrange name, it's tarnished beyond cleaning," he said bitterly, but their name had been down the drain for so long, and most hadn't cared. Leta Lestrange, his aunt, had not helped matters either. Nobody seemed surprised by the 'depravity' of which the Lestrange's were capable, he'd overheard once. He'd done everything he could to remove the tarnish, but it hadn't succeeded. Although, perhaps they could help it shine a little with associations with the Potter name. He'd had no desire to re-marry but the fact he was going to be responsible for the loss of the Lestrange name didn't sit well with him at all.

"Haven't you heard Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange are dead," Rodolphus stated sharply, "We can begin anew, all that's required is a deep enough back cover and we're golden."

"And will you leave Bellatrix and marry another? Continue the family line?" Corvus griped out, she was officially dead, they all were that didn't make them free magically speaking. He knew better than to think for a second Bellatrix would settle down and actually produce that bloody heir he was so desperate for. Damn the family for not putting a tighter restriction on when a child should be produced. It was taking witches longer to have a child these days, sometimes over a decade, so yes, they hadn't dare put down a clause just in case. Naturally Bellatrix was taking full advantage of that, any other situation he would have admired it.

"I made vows, father, vows you forced me to take, I cannot abandon them," Rodolphus declared. He was many things, but he wasn't a vow or oath breaker. He wouldn't want to live without his magic – that is if it was how magic chose to punish him – and he knew his father well enough to know he felt the same. He wanted a child, he'd do anything for one, but he had to uphold his vows.

Corvus pursed his lips, he doubted his son would ever let him forget about that. He had been unaware of her…mental instability at that point in time. He'd just been very pleased to have a match for his son. To join the Black and Lestrange name together. Two pureblood families, very sure it would create a very powerfully magical child. The Black family had kept Bellatrix out of the limelight, there were always cousins and her sisters surrounding her. It hadn't become apparent until after the honeymoon that there was something missing. Something that his son had tried to keep from the public as well. He had taken up on himself to keep control of his wife, finding it humiliating if he couldn't or didn't. The one time he had been angry enough to follow her lead he'd ended up in Azkaban. He honestly believed that Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't have children. He'd demanded that she go to a healer and find out. She'd just completely ignored him. Ignored him, her husbands Lord. It was not done.

Rabastan watched the byplay between his father and brother, it was an old one, familiar even. His father regretted matching Bellatrix to Rodolphus, especially the way she treated him. She flouted the rules he put down, ignored his demands, not even Rodolphus had managed to really control her or get her to do anything he asked.

"Hey, you should see this," Barty grinned as his head popped around the door, "Sir," he added, nodding his head at Lord Corvus Lestrange.

"What's going on?" Rodolphus queried loudly since Barty had already left after saying his piece. He stood up just as Barty's head popped back around.

"They're having a duel," Barty said, with a bright devious boyish grin that nobody had seen since their incarceration. With that Barty was gone again, not lingering around, he didn't want to miss it.

Nobody needed to ask who 'They' were, it obviously meant Potter and the Dark Lord.

They glanced at each other in surprise, they hadn't had a chance to see Potter in action. They'd heard about the short fight he'd had with Avery junior, the brothers had heard, Corvus however, had been present at the meeting. Not that he'd been curious enough to stay, he'd just wanted to rest his weary bones for a few hours and that's exactly what he did.

Rabastan stood, and both brothers immediately made their way towards the duelling room. They knew the Dark Lord was teaching the boy, but not what or how much. They'd also never actually seen any of the training. The fact Barty told them meant the door was not only open they were being given permission to see it.

"I wonder why," Rodolphus whispered quietly as they slid into the room, staring at the sight in front of him surprised.

"It's a warning," the elder Lestrange informed them with amusement. Standing behind his sons observing the duel as well. Ignoring the jump that accompanied his words, they were still jumpy. "To everyone that he can look after himself. Can keep up with the Dark Lord in a duel, better than most, powerful too, would you look at that spell work?" awe coated Lestrange's words.

Rabastan swallowed as he watched the duel, he didn't think he would have been capable of this before he landed in Azkaban. Now though, the way they were moving, in sync with each other, anticipating the others move, bobbing and weaving…his body wasn't capable of that. Not yet at any rate but he swore one day he would get back to how old capabilities at least. Seeing this made him want to do better.

"I miss being able to do that," Rodolphus grumbled, unhappy with his own shortcomings.

"You heard the healer," Corvus warned his sons, "Get better first, do the exercises, try and not overdo it, you'll only end up at square one. That will not impress the Dark Lord, Bellatrix should be a prime example of that, how many times has she discarded the healers words?" every single time, he wasn't even sure she had retained enough sanity to follow the Dark Lord's orders.

"I guess," Rodolphus sighed, Bellatrix had been set back five times as far as he knew, she thought with the Potions they were miracle workers and she'd not have to do anything the healers said. Even the Dark Lord's warning didn't seem to be headed. She wasn't too bad, but she wouldn't be able to do the sort of the duel the Dark Lord and Potter were doing. His father was right though, the duel was something else. It shouldn't surprise anyone, he was a Lestrange after all, with his Black, Potter and Slytherin blood added to the mix made for a wicked combination if you asked him.

"There is no guessing," Corvus retorted seriously, "Stick to it, Grant knows what he's talking about. You'll be in decent shape soon enough. You've taken all the steps so far, don't deviate now." They were in Azkaban for over a decade, so of course, it would take time. They were feeling a bit useless, he understood that, but they couldn't expect miracles. Although the potions they'd been given had been a miracle itself, it helped them so much in the beginning. He hadn't expected such a recovery, he should speak to Grant about that, find out what the potion was, see if he wanted investors. The comeback would make the investment worthwhile.

"Lacero!"

"Sanguinem ferentis!"

"Crucio!"

"Predictable!" Harry taunted him as he ducked away from the oncoming spell, "glacies colligunt!" sending dozens of ice picks towards the Dark Lord. The ice picks were extremely thin and dangerous, can cause as much damage as a spear or knife.

"Scutum murum!" Voldemort shot up a shield wall to cover the spell, causing the ice picks to shatter as they met the wall and disappear as if they'd never even been called forth. He was rather enjoying himself; it wasn't often he was able to let loose, people were too scared of him to truly try and beat him. That and they just didn't have the stamina or guts to use half the spells Harry was right now. To add to it, Harry was taunting him, this caused a surge of competitive adrenaline to course through him. "Praetrunco!" slashing his wand in a sideway motion towards Harry's leg.

"Concido!" Harry nullified the spell and sent another one back. "Bombarda!"

"I'll give the boy credit where credit is due," Rabastan admitted in awe, "He's quite fascinating," he had never seen anyone keep up with his Lord before. Bellatrix may have stood a chance before Azkaban; Severus may be able to if he was willing perhaps even Lucius. His father was completely stunned, so he doubted anyone from his generation would have done it either.

"How long has he been training?" Corvus scrambled to say, the way they were dancing around each other spoke of years of experience. Had they all been duped for years? Yet it couldn't possibly be any longer than a year at most since the Dark Lord had just returned then.

"Two months before he returned to Hogwarts for his fifth year," Barty scratched his jaw absently, "He's just back as you know. Now his training has started back up again." there was so much still, that the Dark Lord could teach him. Even they hadn't been taught everything, the Dark Lord's knowledge was so broad that they could only guess as to his knowledge.

Hearing parselmagic Corvus nodded, the Dark Lord had him now. Only to freeze in astonishment when the boy did Parselmagic right back. Of course, he had Slytherin blood running through his veins. Two months and he had parselmagic down to a tee? Able to keep up with the Dark Lord this way? It was mindboggling, it truly was. The more he learned today the greater his desire for a drink…or ten.

"Bloody hell! He knows Parselmagic?" Rodolphus gaped, "Are you sure he was only here a few months?"

"He's always picked up the Dark Arts quickly," Barty explained in amusement, "He learned how to do the Patronus Charm in a handful of lessons when he was thirteen. He beat my Imperius curse, could throw it off completely during a single lesson last year."

Corvus felt faint hearing that, quite honestly his entire world was being spun on its axis.

"He's stronger than he looks, hell he managed to run, dodging between headstones and get away from the Dark Lord after being under the Cruciatus Curse twice." Barty added, his admiration clear. "Bet my scores too, smart as hell, keeps it all hidden though."

The three Lestrange's remained silent, reeling over everything they'd just been told. Still having the right mind to watch the duel. They could see that they were beginning to tire. Sweat was beading up on their foreheads and they weren't as quick to manoeuvre into position. Their hands remained steady despite the fact their legs and arms were shaking a little with the strain. That probably had something to do with the Parselmagic.

"Obfula!" as one they all winced when the spell made contact, with Harry Potter, completely severing his leg from the knee down.

Almost immediately after Harry crumbled on the ground, the Dark Lord was using spells to stem the flow of blood and reattach the limb. "Denuo,"

"You really need to find new spells!" Harry grumbled, wincing in pain as his leg was reattached. "I'm beginning to feel like humpty-dumpty at this point." Wiping his brow remaining where he was lying panting wiggling his toes just to make sure everything was working as it should.

"Be grateful I reattached it and didn't leave you to do it yourself," Voldemort retorted dryly, Harry knew he wouldn't, he never had, even in the beginning of Harry's lessons. Limbs must be reattached as soon as possible to prevent any nerve damage – the only exception is where dark magic was concerned – the magic rotted the nerves and skin, and made it impossible to reattach. If they forced it, then the magic would kill more than just the severed limb and caused more damage.

Harry smirked wryly, not even gracing Voldemort with a reply, they both knew that Voldemort wouldn't do anything to kill him.

"You did well," Voldemort admitted, ignoring the gasps of shocks coming from the end of the room. "Remembered more than I thought you would." He'd let him get settled in before duelling, he'd needed it, the current level of anger, rage, and shockingly the feeling of worthlessness, and irritableness because of that feeling.

"That's me alright, always getting underestimated," Harry admitted, green eyes gleaming darkly, "Works well for me, so I won't be found complaining." Sliding his wand into his holster, breathing evenly as he flexed his body, trying to stop it from ceasing up. If that happened, he wouldn't want to move for hours. He couldn't just relax, he had to go visit Remus and Sirius, so that he could give him the potion supply. Tonight, Remus would start the process of healing the damage he'd willingly done to himself for years. Honestly, for someone who was supposed to be smart, he could be utterly dense sometimes. He hated he hadn't realized what Remus was doing to himself too.

"Certainly, you had me fooled," Voldemort stated, still staring down at the teen. He was remembering Harry Potter's first year. Which he had been there for, he had possessed Quirrell, to make sure he didn't screw up again. At that point the boy actually didn't know much, per his own admission, but he knew enough to talk the hat into putting him into Gryffindor when he was one of Slytherins heir and had clear Slytherin attributes. Which were constantly twisted by everyone wearing their rose-tinted glasses to mean something else completely.

He'd fooled everyone, and he was so very glad to have the boy on his side.

"Did you continue your training when you returned to Hogwarts?" Corvus asked, as he walked over to the Dark Lord and Potter. Inclining his head in respect to his Lord, as he claimed a seat and moved it closer to the two. He was able to get away with more disrespect than his sons due to his being one of the original Knights of the Walpurgis.

The Dark Lord glanced at his – dare he say it friend – and realized immediately the brothers had informed their father. Little mattered to Corvus except family and his goals naturally. He'd set everything back though his family, and Harry, whether the young man liked it or not, was family to the Lestrange's. It didn't help how tiny in number the Lestrange family actually was.

Corvus stiffened when those glacial green eyes met his, then they blatantly roamed over him. clinical detachment, judging him, it reminded him of the looks the Dark Lord used to grace everyone with in the safety of Slytherin common room back when they were teens.

"Yes," was the answer after a few tense moments. "Not as much as I would have wished."

Rodolphus had been unobtrusively watching both his father and Potter as well as the Dark Lord. This was probably the longest he had been in Potters presence. Breakfast included. He'd never had quite such an off-putting presence like he did right now. Merlin, was the boy really just fifteen? The power, the attitude, the abilities, they screamed of someone older. Decades older as a matter of fact. Was this how the Dark Lord had been back in the day? His father often spoke of those days, and it did seem very similar in all honesty.

The Dark Lord was merely amused, observing not only their reaction to Potter but Potter's reaction to them. The Dark Lord never looked that way, sometimes he looked sadistically proud, darkly amused, beyond enraged, dementedly demanding but never this way. Once again, he couldn't help but wonder how much things were changing. They'd rarely been cursed; in fact, he'd only seen a few people hit with the curse since the Dark Lord's return.

Barty meanwhile hung back watching everything used to the constant hum of amusement that surrounded him with Harry around. Harry might only be fifteen, but he was quite quickly becoming his favourite person. Dare he say one of his best friends, he didn't know if the teen felt the same way. He hadn't needed to write while he was away at Hogwarts, but he had, and Barty had genuinely came to look forward to the witty retorts and remarks that came with his missives.

"Finally," Harry sighed as he began to move his leg more steadily, stretching it languidly. Wincing at different aches and pains made themselves known as he tried to stand.

Voldemort rolled his eyes but held his hand out, grasping a hold of it before hosting the teenager to his feet. He had gained some height, getting taller, but not as tall as him. Harry came to his chin, not that he was short. He was just naturally very tall, something gained from the Gaunt side, side the Riddles had been on the short stature side of the height.

"Thanks," Harry murmured absently, forcing himself to think ugly thoughts, slugs, Dumbledore in a tutu. Anything to stop himself from thinking of his dreams, which Tom's fingers featured prominently sometimes. He could feel where Voldemort had touched still tingling. Breathing evenly, tentatively stepping on his now uninjured leg. Testing it out, but all seemed well, it usually did after something like this. He was sick of losing his limbs in duels with the Dark Lord though.

Harry flicked out his wand and cleared up the blood that was drying on the floor. He needed a shower, he was coated in sweat and blood, Merlin knows what other bodily fluids that had come out of him. His pant leg which had been severed along with his leg, also got banished, there was no point to trying to salvage it, it was just a pair of trousers anyway.

"Here, drink it, it will get rid of the rest of the pain," Voldemort shoved two vials into his hands, one a blood replenisher and the other a mind pain relief, for him to still be tentative about putting weight on the leg, it was definitely still hurting.

Harry nodded in silent agreement, "You turning into Severus?" he asked Voldemort with a grin, as he attempted to hand the vials back, but Voldemort just banished them from where the sat in his hands.

Leaving the three Lestrange's gaping at his blatant show of disrespect.

An exasperated Voldemort, who couldn't help but be slightly amused by everyone's constant reactions to Harry's actions.

Barty just sniggered before he sauntered out of the room, it became a full-blown laugh as he cackled himself away down the corridor.

"I'll be back tonight," Harry added, as he joined Barty in leaving the duelling room, hopping off the platform as he did so. He was going to visit his godfather and Remus, hopefully stay for a few hours if he could. If Remus wasn't up for visitors though he'd visit another day. He was especially curious about the trunk Sirius had been regaling him about in his letters. It sounded absolutely amazing, Remus was going to love it, he was pleased he'd suggested it to him. Still, he couldn't wait to see what it was like in real life not just an idea. 

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 39

Lord Corvus Lestrange sat on a leather chair within the confines of his manor, squirrelled away in his office contemplating the events of the last month. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, warming the previously cold room up, casting it in a yellowy orange glow. In his hand was a large tumbler of his favourite fire whiskey, also very expensive, given he was drinking it like it was going out of fashion. Ever since he saw the duel with the Dark Lord and Harry Potter…he had watched the boy closely. He wanted to see what made him tick, learn everything he could about him. Wanted to see if there was anything familiar about him, he had Lestrange blood after all.

The first thing he learned; was it wasn't easy to find unless he wanted to be. The second was that he honestly couldn't get a read of him. He was so closed off whenever he did see him, he'd tried to catch him off guard but that amounted to nothing. He was always hyper vigilantly aware of his surroundings to the point that Corvus began to worry that there was something wrong with him, some sort of lasting trauma. It would explain his sudden turn to the dark side, he guessed, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure of his thoughts regarding the teenager anymore.

He had yet to ask the Dark Lord, the reason for that was Corvus wasn't sure, partly he wanted to come to his own conclusions and solve the mystery himself. Unveiling the boy would make him seem normal, approachable. He wasn't sure he wanted that at all. He was sure he wouldn't like the answer, the hypervigilance, the fact he'd barely cried out after having his leg severed, even his own sons would have been sobbing, the youngest generation – minus Harry of course – would have been caterwauling and begging for their parents. Yes, he suspected, he just didn't want confirmation.

Tightening his grip on his glass, the ice cube sloshing inside. He sipped the alcohol, making a sound of contentment at the feel of it burning down his throat. Perhaps he should just ask the Dark Lord, if anyone would know the boy it would be him. He'd like to have some of his questions answered, but not all, at least he didn't think so.

There was one thing he would need to admit though, that he would have been hell of a proud to have raised or taken in Harry Potter as his own. Raised him as a Lestrange, or rather Potter-Lestrange, actually it would have been Lestrange-Potter. As the last Potter heir, Harry wouldn't be able to take on another pureblood name without disinheriting himself even if he was officially adopted.

Nobody in their right mind would disinherit themselves, the Potter fortune was said to be one of the biggest fortunes Gringotts had. Right up there with the Black and Malfoy fortunes, maybe even more than them since it had gone untouched for over a decade. The Lestrange's were no slouches, but his son's wife, Bellatrix had surely gotten through it in the few years she'd been free to do as she pleased before Azkaban. As Lord Lestrange he had put a stop to her reckless spending, before she squandered his family fortune. She was only able to take a certain amount out each month now.

"Father?" a voice called out, just as the wards shifted allowing his sons entry into the manor.

"I'm in my office," Corvus called out to his eldest child. They didn't stay here very often; in fact, they'd only stayed a handful of times since they got out. Instead choosing to remain at the Dark Lord's manor where it was much safer. Not that it was a danger, due to the fact his sons were in fact 'dead' to the world, buried out in the island after an outbreak along with many other 'Death Eaters' on the same wing. It had been an ingenious move on the Dark Lord's part. Safety first though.

"What's wrong?" Rodolphus asked, a frown on his features as he looked at his father with concern. Usually this office was their fathers 'solitude', a space for him to think if things were going wrong. He had imagined his father sitting here often enough while he was in the Ministry's custody before his sentencing to Azkaban. "What's going on?" remaining standing, as he observed his father, as if he could learn through expression alone. "Did Potter do something to you?" yes, he knew about is father's latest obsession, he might be physically impaired – and perhaps a little mentally – after his stint in Azkaban, but he was far from stupid.

Rabastan merely watched, saying nothing – other than rolling his eyes at his brothers question about Harry – they would have heard about it if Harry had done something like attack whether verbally or magically their father. It would surprise everyone that his father was one of the most respected of the Dark Lord's first Knights. Something that gave him the ire of Lucius Malfoy, but even Malfoy wouldn't risk alienating him. He was curious as to what was on his father's mind himself, but not panic induced.

"I'm fine," their father stated firmly, pouring them both a drink, he didn't want to think on it anymore. In fact, his sons had perfect timing. "How is your training going?" they had been given the complete all clear bill of health, and they had begun to step up their magical training, or rather magical endurance. Training implied they required actual training but both his sons had gone to Hogwarts with more knowledge at eleven than most others achieved in their lifetime. Their mother had been very passionate about their protection and education, it wasn't only the 'Dark Arts' they'd learned either. Although many of the spells they learned while at Hogwarts had been left off the agenda, so that their sons wouldn't get bored.

"Something is obviously bothering you," Rodolphus pointed out as he accepted the magically floating tumbler of whiskey. Now this was something he'd missed, he had followed the healers rules, no alcohol, but the all clear had given him the opportunity to indulge again. Having gone so long without he'd gotten a hell of a buzz after his first drink, even now he still gained it. The more he drank it though the less affect it would have. Finally claiming a seat as he relaxed back still silently demanding answers from his father.

Rabastan followed his example, after plucking the drink from the air.

"You spent more time with H—Potter, what do you think of him?" Corvus questioned, his tone thoughtful.

Rabastan laughed, a wicked grin on his face, "You're becoming fond of him, aren't you?" he teased his father unable to help himself. "You're not the only one to like him against your initial protests." He'd even got the Dark Lord under his thumb.

His father threw him a curious look, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure the same goes for the Dark Lord and Barty," Rabastan said wryly, sipping from the glass, relishing in the warmth that spread through his extremities. Anything that helped him remain warm was alright by him, after so long in the cold damp hell hole that was Azkaban. "Our Lord has changed; I don't know what it is…Greyback actually said that the whole Azkaban thing was Harry's idea."

Corvus straightened up at that.

"I think the Dark Lord would have just broken us out of Azkaban," Rabastan explained pensively, without explaining why he'd say that. They all knew the Dark Lord had become very impatient towards the end of his first reign, insane towards the very end actually. So, the thought that their Lord would have just broken them all out wasn't totally implausible. "Then we would have just been on the run constantly."

"How would he know such information?" Rodolphus scoffed, he was barely there, and Greyback was an unmistakable presence. One that he wasn't quite sure of, he spoke to the Dark Lord so casually (disrespectfully almost) and was unmarked.

He just didn't understand the subtleties that came with being an Alpha werewolf.

Both Corvus and Rabastan both gave him a deadpanned look, every single one of them was aware of how Greyback would know the information. They were aware that Greyback much like Corvus was quite close to the Dark Lord. He could have overheard a conversation about it or had the Dark Lord reveal as such. What they all knew though, was that it couldn't be a mere rumour. Greyback would know a rumour from the truth, he was so in tune with his wolf, that he could detect lies through sweat alone. It was quite disconcerting to see him in action actually.

Nobody was comfortable with Greyback so close to them.

Rodolphus comment "We have Potter's thanks for not being constantly hunted down by Aurors and maybe being able to live out our lives." And he was grateful for it, truly, for if the Aurors had been on the hunt for them, they wouldn't even be able to venture close to their home. They just wouldn't be able to risk it, and wouldn't as a matter of fact, they'd never wish for their father to be arrested for aiding and abetting.

"The question remains why the hell you're so pissed off about him," Rabastan said more amused than anything, because his brothers hatred was illogical. Harry Potter wasn't the enemy; he was on their side. It wasn't as if he could be blamed for the Dark Lord's downfall, after all, he'd been a bloody kid, still in diapers, what happened that night was just down to Lily Potter, an actual Lestrange by blood.

Rodolphus just huffed, turning away, his cheeks going red.

"Oh, hoh! This is priceless, you're jealous!" his brother crowed, stunned by this new realisation. "No, that's not it, you're afraid, why? That Harry will take your place? Become the heir of the Lestrange fortune?"

Rodolphus swallowed thickly, making his brother and father realize they'd hit the nail on the head.

"Fuck," Rabastan muttered, he'd been taunting him into revealing what was wrong, he hadn't expected to be right.

"Why not? He would do any family proud," Rodolphus spat bitterly, "He's good looking, probably could get a betrothed within minutes, even have a kid when I can't even get my own wife to lie with me! What good am I to the Lestrange name?" rage, helplessness and desolation filling him with despair. He just wanted a family, someone that actually cared about him and not his name. Someone that wanted a family.

"Believe me, if you weren't so clouded by jealousy, you'd know that boy isn't going to marry and produce a couple of offspring with a girl," Rabastan said quietly, just as subdued as his brother. "He's gay, Rod, he could have a couple of kids I suppose but they'll be out of wedlock. Harry wasn't raised with our way of life, he won't marry because it's expected of him, have kids and keep his predilections in the closet." He had nobody to force him into it either. He was the last of the Potter line.

"Rodolphus, I would never strike you off, you are and will remain my heir, you will gain the Lordship upon my death and control of the Lestrange estate. You are my son, and I would never contemplate what you are suggesting." His father said sadness deep in his eyes, Azkaban had done this, turned his confident son into this doubtful mess. Bellatrix was once again messing with his son's mind, the urge to kill her was strong, yet all he could do was hope she messed up somehow and the Dark Lord killed her. His son deserved someone who loved him.

His biggest regret was always going to be enforcing the contract to make his son marry that bloody woman. This was all his fault, the need to continue his family line, as it had been drilled into him, had made his son deeply unhappy. He and his wife had been so happy, they'd been an arranged marriage too. He'd wrongfully assumed that the same would happen for Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

Rabastan stiffened in determination, he knew what to do, he had to go and see Harry. He was the heir to the Black fortune, since Sirius Black was his godfather and magical guardian…at least he thought so. He'd need to ask, and either way, Harry hopefully could convince Black to help them. It wouldn't be easy, but damn it, he'd do anything to help his brother.

The three remained silent as all of them unwound after that stressful admission. Quietly sipping their drinks as each of their thoughts circled around ways to make it better.

"Enter!" the Dark Lord called to the wizard at the other side of the door after just two swift thumps to his door. He knew exactly who it was, he had many wards upon his property, he was very paranoid when it came to his security. Turning around in his chair, he observed Rabastan entering his office, wondering if he would need to endure another round of pleading for something to do to aid their cause. Something he swiftly and relentlessly denied them. They had not been fit enough for that, even now, he didn't want to risk them being seen, or found out, no glamour was full proof.

"My Lord," Rabastan said reverently, inclining his head in respect. Knowing the Dark Lord would get impatient if he didn't get to what he wished to discuss he asked, "May I have permission to speak to Harry?" technically Harry lived under the Dark Lords' roof, he did too for most part, but he was in the guest wing, while Harry…he was in the family wing very close to the Dark Lord's own quarters. If Harry was in his rooms, then there would be no way for him to speak to the wizard.

"He's in the dungeons," the Dark Lord informed Rabastan speculatively, "Bear in mind that I will be very unhappy if he is attacked without provocation," or with it come to that, but he knew Harry could press everyone's buttons. Not expecting any retaliation was asking for a miracle, it did amuse him so. The only one he had cautioned Harry from poking and prodding at was Bellatrix. Even on a good day she wasn't stable, and it wasn't lost on him that she was defying even him. Not something she'd have done before Azkaban.

Rabastan had to stop himself shivering, when the Dark Lord said 'unhappy' he meant very furious. When he was furious 'unhappy' he got curse happy. Not something he desired to have upon his person thank you very much. "My Lord, I mean him no harm, I just wish to ask him a question," he promised dutifully.

"Very well," Voldemort waved him off, dismissing him.

Rabastan knew where the dungeons were, although he hadn't spent much time down there. He wasn't quite fond of small enclosed spaces, and he'd rather avoid it given the opportunity. Unfortunately, he wanted to speak to Harry more than he wanted to avoid the dungeons. He'd actually wanted to speak to Harry for a while now, months. He just didn't know how to go about it; he envied Barty for being so friendly. He was also wary because he knew Harry was friends with Neville Longbottom, which left him feeling awkward around the teen. He'd paid for his actions, heavily, he regretted them. Not that anyone, not even his brother knew, but if he felt the same as him, then he would know.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting down there, probably torture of some kind, it was really the only reason anyone came down here. What he didn't expect was for Barty and Harry to be eating a feast sat atop of a table. Ah, torture of a different kind then, mental instead of physical if one could say the Cruciatus Curse was physical, but really it was a mental torture since nobody was actually hurting them.

"Hey, Rab," Barty said in greeting, Harry didn't even turn around but he had definitely heard or sensed the youngest Lestrange. "You joining us?" assuming that he was here for him, due to the fact the Lestrange's and Harry had only ever been in a room together a handful of times – if that – and he noticed they tended to avoid him or just watch from a distance.

"Sure," Rabastan said, jealousy simmering under the surface, Barty had been his best friend, been with him through thick and thin. From being newbies in the Dark Lord's ranks to commiserating over his brother's marriage to the downfall of their Lord. He was here for a reason though, so without another word he moved down the steps and conjured a chair for himself. Watching their current prisoners salivating over the food they definitely wouldn't get. It was perhaps the worst kind of torture you could heap upon a person. "They don't look like they'll survive much longer." He said eyeing the Dursley's speculatively.

"I know, brilliant, isn't it?" Harry said baring his teeth at the family who raised him, there was no better way for them to go in his opinion. They'd starved and beaten him his entire life, he'd wanted their end to be slow and painful. He was getting his wish, if he owed Voldemort anything it was for this, and for giving him the strength required to take his freedom with both hands and not let go. Allowing him to spread his wings, even his Patronus agrees.

"Have you taken over the Black estate?" Rabastan blurted out hastily, not able to keep silent any longer.

Harry blinked, staring at Rabastan in surprise, both at the question and the fact he'd been directly questioned. Only the father had so far had actually said anything to him in all the time he'd seen the Lestrange's. "You are aware that Sirius is still alive, aren't you?" he informed Rabastan a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Legally he wasn't able to become Lord Black, not until he was declared innocent," Barty pointed out lazily as he ate the food on his plate, having gotten bored of taunting the Dursley's by offering food before retracting it and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Meh," Harry shrugged, he couldn't care less.

"You're a Black by blood, not just by being Black's godchild and magical guardian," Rabastan.

Harry leaned back, his head hanging over the chair as he stared at the ceiling. "Why don't you just ask what you want instead of trying to lead me where you want me and then trying to get what you want though manipulation." All the Slytherin's were the same, but it was just their way. There were times though that he got too impatient to do the whole run around with the Slytherin's. Left over habit from being in Gryffindor maybe?

Barty pursed his lips, giving Rab a serious nod, if he wanted whatever it is he wanted, then he'd best just be honest. He wondered what on earth Rab could possibly want from Harry, potions? It was possible but given the way he began talking about Black and his estate he doubted very much that was what it was.

"I want Bellatrix Lestrange disowned and disinherited," Rabastan informed Harry seriously, giving it to him straight.

Shock splashed across Harry's face, "I see," he replied, "I must admit that was the last thing I expected out of your mouth. Especially considering how close you all are, does your brother even know what you're trying to do?" his tone turning doubtful as he said the last part.

"They have to be," Barty revealed solemnly, "Bellatrix…isn't all there, and anything she does, well it reflects badly on the Lestrange and Black name. More on the Lestrange name really."

Rabastan glared at Barty in genuine anger, this wasn't something spread around.

"Well, that's hardly a secret," Harry snorted mockingly, "Even I could tell that after half an hour with her. She's a psychopath,"

Both Pure-blood's looked at him blankly.

"This world is so behind that's it's utterly ridiculous," Harry sighed, "Since in the Muggle world spans over many things, from blood diseases, curing sicknesses, to mental problems, without magic they've done exceedingly well for themselves. Over the years they observe people, diagnose them with problems, and give them names, there's a horrible stigma attached to mental problems."

Barty nodded, he was aware of that, he had read through all the books he had on different things. He had been out in the muggle world two more times to collect more information. He wasn't much aware of the mental side of things though. "So can she be cured?"

"Merlin, no," Harry revealed with a sigh, shaking his head.

"What exactly is a psychopath?" Barty asked, curiously, wondering if it would sound anything like Bellatrix or if Harry was just being difficult.

"There are multiple conceptualizations of PSYCHOPATHY, a grandiose self-perception is one of them, they like to cosy up to powerful people in order to raise their own status. They believe they are owed special treatment over others." Harry revealed.

Barty and Rabastan grimaced well that sounded like Bellatrix alright.

"They tend to see nothing at all wrong with their way of being in the world. Psychopaths are infamous for their refusal to acknowledge responsibility for the decisions they make, or the outcomes of their decisions. In fact, a refusal to see the results of one's bad behaviour as having anything to do with oneself— "consistent irresponsibility" are common impulsive ideas that a psychopath might act on." Using the words he'd read in the book, quite recently too. "They also loathe authority figures and consider themselves above the rules."

Yes, sounded more and more like Bellatrix the boys couldn't help but think.

"Psychopaths don't have a moral compass; they lack empathy and will do or hurt anyone they can in order to get ahead. Regardless of who it is at the end of the day." Harry continued, "They also have shallow emotions, they don't really react to death, injuries or other events, the way it would affect others." Biting into the food while it was still warm, satisfaction suffusing him seeing the Dursley's and Figg drooling as they watched him eat, praying they may get a bite, just a little bit, anything. They were so hungry.

Both couldn't help but be drawn to instances from their pasts, that ticked another box against Bellatrix. Like her father's death, her sisters – Narcissa and Andromeda – had been inconsolable while Bellatrix just stood there blank faced. It was actually the first time they'd begun to think something was wrong.

"They're cannot feel guilt, but they're good at feigning empathy in front of others..." Harry frowned trying to remember everything else he'd learned. "They love to create chaos because they bore easily, they can't bond with people, they're emotionally incapable of it, making it easy for them to pick up and discard lovers. They never really get flabbergasted when caught, they're calm and confident especially while lying…but they can and often do pretend especially if they were taught to appear so. This makes her a very dangerous individual, especially when she wants something,"

Rabastan's stomach twisted at the thought of it all laid bare, "Can it…is it genetic?"

"All the Black's suffer from some form of insanity," Harry pointed out grimly, "Bellatrix just happened to be the worst. I think my own godfather suffered a mild form of mental illness, but not a psychopath. Unlike Bellatrix he's able to make bonds with others, but he doesn't think through the consequences of his actions, and it's not just being stupid he did something when he was sixteen so, yeah, he's definitely not all there even before Azkaban. What can you expect with all the interbreeding the Black's did? As I've said before it doesn't just affect the magic it affects everything."

"Huh," Barty said thoughtfully, the food forgotten as he contemplated on the newest bout of information Harry revealed to him. He needed to get a few new books, but he definitely wasn't going to ask with Rab around.

"Anyway, why are you suddenly wanting Bellatrix out of your life?" Harry asked, even more interesting is the fact he had come to him and not Voldemort. "Has something happened?" and would Voldemort consider this a 'betrayal' if they went behind his back? It didn't really have anything to do with him, but no doubt he'd still be pissed.

Too bad Harry didn't care much about Voldemort's approval with something he considered his life.

As for Rabastan...he just wanted his brother to have what he wanted more than anything else, a wife who loved him and a child he sorely desired above all else.

Being disowned and disinherited was the only way to nullify the magic in the marriage contract between Bellatrix and Rodolphus. 

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 40

Harry had observed Bellatrix and the Lestrange's since Rabastan had discussed everything – well not everything he'd bet – with him that day. Other than when he was out with Barty in the Muggle world, quite honestly, Barty constantly surprised him by his desires to know everything even Muggle information. He'd gotten every single book possible regarding mental illnesses and even a few books on therapy, on how to deal with people with mental illnesses. Barty always went when there was absolutely nobody around and no chance of a meeting taking place – baring emergency meetings which obviously couldn't be predicted – so nobody would know what he was up to. He seemed embarrassed at the thought of being caught with Muggle books, but knowledge was knowledge in Harry's book no matter where it came from. He'd taken Barty out to the Muggle world a few times, not for books, but to let him see everything, museums, even an amusement park. He was becoming quite comfortable and adapting to the Muggle world, he no longer avoided them like they had the plague and could dress very well to pass off as one.

"Are you getting anything else?" Harry asked from where he was browsing yet another bookstore with Barty, Waterstones Piccadilly was the largest store in London, that's where he took him now. Barty had just paid for his books, using the money he had, he also had Muggle notes that Harry of course, had it exchanged at Gringotts for him. To his immense surprise, Waterstones actually had two levels concealed from Muggles, so that made eight levels, not just six like he believed, covered from head to toe with books. He had to admit he rather liked the fact he could browse properly, Flourish and Blotts was terrible, everything crammed in and when there were more than six people in the shop it just got horribly crowded.

"I'm going to grab a few Muggle books, I'll only be ten minutes," Barty said, already backing out of the shop after informing Harry. Technically he shouldn't let the teen out of his sight, the Dark Lord had warned him after all. He knew Harry could take care of himself, and he was sufficiently different that nobody could mistake him for Harry Potter.

Harry just grinned wryly, as he continued his perusal of the books on offered display. Today he was primarily interested in any potions that modified the body. He got his best ideas by reading other books, and his potion wasn't coming on any at all, frustratingly enough. He had stopped trying to create a Metamorphmagus potion a long time ago, given up really, but with nothing much else to do, he had gotten a fresh desire to try and create it. There was nothing more worthwhile than the feeling of creating something from scratch and being the first. Plus, he wanted Barty to be safe, he didn't go out as often as he'd like, for fear of being found out (even with glamours on).

Luckily enough he had a list of each potion book that had such a published potion within the book. Thankfully, not all of them were individual books, otherwise the list of books he'd have walked out with would be forty-nine in total. Instead, he only had twenty-two books, scratch that nineteen, he already had three of the books suggested to him by the assistant he'd asked for aid earlier. As lovely as it would be to browse through them all, to give him time to interrogate Barty properly…it would have been a bit much and he'd have been too distracted.

So more and more of the titles slid into the basket, that remained lightweight and ever expanding despite the number of books already placed within. They had been spelled as such to make it easier overall for everyone, which was silly really, they had every day magic at their disposal, it was simple and it was plain easy to levitate the books you desire to the checkout counter.

Triumphantly grasping the spine of the last book, he slid it into the basket before making his way to the checkout. He rarely dallied around, even though he wanted to. Perhaps they could stop for an ice cream before they returned, he definitely wanted to ask Barty a few more questions. That's if he would accept it and not just return to Slytherin estate, return home.

"Ready to go?" came Barty's voice from behind, causing Harry to jump slightly, he hadn't heard anyone approaching him. Sneaky bloody shite. He ignored the assistant for the moment as he turned around and nodded, "Up for an ice cream?"

"Here?" Barty asked unenthusiastically.

"Yup," Harry declared, nodding his head, counting up the Galleons and handing over the price he'd heard her say just before Barty had distracted him. "Oh, come on it's not so bad!" he added with a grin, the till making a soft noise as it closed with a snap. The coins were placed in his hand, turning back around giving her a smile, "Thank you," he told her, as he shoved the coins in his pocket without checking for the change.

"Really? You don't think it's bad?" Barty asked sardonically as he observed Harry shrinking down the packaged books into his pocket.

"What? They don't have many flavours as Fortescue's boohoo," Harry rolled his eyes, "Half of that stuff is bloody mental anyway, bet they rarely get eaten, just like those disgusting flavours in Berty Botts Every Flavour Beans," he pointed out with amusement, as he and Barty left the counter and begun to make their way outside. Using the lift to get down to the ground floor, having to use their wand to start the elevator magically.

"Alright, you win on that one," Barty grudgingly agreed, he'd only eaten like maybe seven flavours in total out of all the flavours on sale in Fortescue's ice cream shop.

"If it wasn't nice I can just go get us something from Fortescue's you know," Harry pointed out as they moved onto the ground floor, stepping out of the lift. It wasn't busy, it rarely was at five o'clock, most families were sitting down to eat dinner around about now.

"I wouldn't mind that actually," Barty admitted, he'd grown up with Fortescue's ice cream, he preferred it. The Muggle ice cream was a bit too different for his tastes, and it surprisingly had nothing to do with prejudice.

"Alright, let's just look for a blind spot," Harry suggested, looking for an abandoned area to Apparate blindly, so they weren't spotted. "What can you tell me about Rodolphus? I mean his character…not his activities," he had to point that out, because Barty would go on long winded tangents about the shenanigans whoever he asked about was up to or had been up to in the past.

"How long have you been waiting to ask me that?" Barty asked astutely, he had seen the attention he'd suddenly been paying to the Lestrange's lately. So much so that even Corvus – the Lord Lestrange – had become uncomfortable.

"Thirty minutes maybe?" Harry shrugged, as they moved into a side street. "So?" he prompted him.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say," Barty grumbled, "But I suppose they're proud, never wear their emotions on their sleeves, they've been taught the pureblood ways since they could walk and talk. They're really feeling anxious to help Him in any way they can, which they can't until they get better…that place did so much damage to them. I doubt nobody other than his brother and father knows what he truly wants, maybe except Him but it's difficult to say if that's true," as always watching what he says especially out in the Muggle world. Who knew who was a Muggle and which were Wizards fitting in seamlessly.

"Not even you?" Harry asked curiously.

Barty scoffed, "Merlin, no, we're close, I know general information others don't know…but they wouldn't reveal everything about themselves, they're Slytherins and know better than to reveal so much of themselves to others."

"Do you think Rabastan was right that his brother wants out of his contract?" Harry mused as they stepped into an abandoned building.

"Yes, if anyone knew it would be him, Rab wouldn't have come to you if his brother wasn't desperate," Barty stated assuredly.

"Hmm," Harry said a noncommittal noise, as he apparated them both back.

"What are you up to?" Barty asked as he swiftly regained his footing, at the gates of the Manor, Harry obviously wanted to talk some more. They'd just begun to walk when Harry's question caught him off-guard and he very nearly tripped over his own feet in shocked surprise.

"Does Bellatrix fancy Voldemort?"

"You don't just ask questions like that," Barty rasped out, eyes bulging painfully as he tried to regain his composure.

"Let me rephrase that, how long has she?" Harry amended his question, anger burning in the pit of his stomach at the thought of it. He'd almost attacked Bellatrix seventeen times this fortnight, especially with the way she stared goo goo eyes at Voldemort. As if he hung the stars and the moons, and had the answer to every single burning question in the world. His teeth still ached actually from the number of times he'd gritted his teeth. He was jealous so sue him. Voldemort had more chance of actually paying attention to Bellatrix over him, he was only fifteen, he would be sixteen soon though.

"You really shouldn't be talking about this, Rod doesn't deserve it," Barty stated firmly, not budging, it was family business, and it was so disrespectful.

"Muffliato!" and with that there were silencing wards placed all around them, that would prevent anyone from hearing anything they said. "How about now?" Harry asked, his countenance grim, "I don't have any intentions of disrespecting Rodolphus, even if he's a bloody weirdo! He shifts alternatively between glaring at me and then with respect and awe in his eyes!" he needed to make up his mind is what he did.

Barty just sighed, "Fine, she's always been a little…too…reverential towards Our Lord," ignoring the look Harry gave him for using the term 'Our' when Harry did not consider Voldemort his Lord. "Willing to do anything for a speck of attention from him. She was personally taught by Our Lord as you know, and she felt…feels entitled because she is the only woman in the ranks and because she was personally taught. Rod basically doesn't exist when Bellatrix sees him, even out of his company, she's constantly talking about him…I don't think it hurts anymore, Rod doesn't love Bellatrix never has, he was enchanted by her beauty once though…and yes, she was beautiful, I mean you should see Andromeda if you want to see how Bellatrix would have looked without Azkaban."

Harry blinked, a frown creasing at his forehead, "Andromeda? Oh, Tonks mothers, she was disowned for marrying a muggle-born wizard Theodore 'Ted' Tonks."

"Yes, Sirius' cousin, Bellatrix and Narcissa are her sisters, Tonks was born with Metamorphmagus trait that had been quashed in the Black family for generations." Barty added thoughtfully, "Another clue you may be right about new blood being required now and again."

"More research?" Harry grinned in merriment.

"I think I've done as much as can be done actually," Barty confessed, it was fun figuring it all out and writing it down to its bare bones.

"How does Voldemort deal with it?" blatantly ignoring Barty's flinch.

"Ignores it," Barty shrugs. "Our Lord has never been interested in anyone as far as I know, hasn't bedded anyone either." And it was making him sick thinking about his Lord with anyone…his Lord who had been more of a father figure than his own biological father. If anything, Bellatrix's feelings were more pronounced these days, due to their Lord's different visage. He wasn't sure what his Lord had done to regain his former looks and youth and would never dare ask.

"How pissed will she be if I do successfully break the contract between her and Rodolphus?" Harry pondered, not that he was afraid, his eyes were gleaming with vindictive amusement.

"I have absolutely no idea, she doesn't care about him, despite the fact Rod doesn't love her…he's never once broke the oaths they made to each other. He has remained faithful in their marriage, Rod had never caught her at it but there's been plenty of rumours…" Barty said, grumbling inwardly, "Now can we not talk about this anymore? Rod will kill me if he knows I've blabbed."

"What makes you think I'd tell?" Harry asked, eyes wide and filled with faux innocence.

"Harry," Barty said in warning.

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to say anything, bloody hell!" with that he removed the spell holding their conversation private before they began to meander back into the manor.

"I hope not, they've been my close friends for a long time, and no offence, but you couldn't possibly understand what Azkaban was like…what it did to us." Barty revealed, a haunted look on his face.

"You'd think that wouldn't you?" Harry said, scoffing derisively, "I had to endure their presence surrounding me when I was thirteen years old, Barty,"

Barty rolled his eyes, not taking it seriously as he should have.

Harry grabbed his arm, waiting until Barty turned around half confused half angry at being manhandled, "Two minutes in their presence three or four feet away I passed out. I was depressed as fuck the entire year trying to fight them, my Boggart is a Dementor…and that's not the worst of it, during a Quidditch match they were drawn to the emotions everyone was emoting due to the high emotions going on with the game. I could feel them before I saw them, I passed out a hundred foot in the air at their mere presence on the pitch, Barty. Think that's bad? I was almost fucking kissed, if it wasn't for my Patronus I would be practically dead, man, when I say something, like that I understand, I fucking mean it." He told Barty seriously, green eyes gleaming angrily.

Barty nodded grimly, a new respect for Harry coming through, making a mental note never to underestimate what Harry said when he spoke. He could feel the powers wafting from Harry, sense his anger, the frustration at not being taken seriously and the empathic understanding. "Come on, lets head in," Barty said after shuddering in remembrance to that time of his life. He wasn't sure which he preferred if he had to choose, the Dementors until he was rescued by their Lord…or his father's Imperius curse.

He honestly thought he'd pick Azkaban. That might have been preferable to living for years unable to control his own body.

"Have you thought about publishing your book when you can? Under a nom de plume?" Harry suggested as they headed for ice cream.

After lunch Harry found himself squirreled away in his bedroom, there was some sort of high up Death Eater meeting going on. By high up he meant only a few members of the inner circle was there. Oh, he was undeniably curious, but not enough to draw him away from the books in front of him. He was finally starting to get somewhere, there were dozens of ingredients scribbled down on a spare piece of parchment that had the potential to help him with his Metamorphmagus potion.

He was so immersed in it that his name sounding out his mirror caused him to startle.

Sirius!

Scrambling towards his bedside drawer he opened it and grabbed his mirror, shifting his books around he set it down and activated his own mirror.

"Hey, Sirius!" Harry said, grinning at the sight of his godfather, who was actually looking better and better by the day. His skin had a healthy glow to it. He was obviously spending a lot of time outdoors, which was probably a good thing for his skin after all that time away in Azkaban and then Grimmauld Place. "How are you?"

Sirius grinned, extremely happy to see his godson, even if he was becoming a bookworm, "Hey, I'm doing good, how about you? Still safe?" genuinely worried about his safety.

"I'm very safe," Harry said seriously, "How's Remus?"

"He's doing good," Sirius replied, and he was, all the secrets they'd shared with each other had taken a load of his werewolf's shoulders. He was definitely becoming more confident and assertive, and Sirius loved to see the old fun-loving wizard he knew return. Even if his actions sixteen years ago were still on his thoughts often. He had plans to go and investigate the entire thing, something just wasn't sitting right about it to him. So, he'd over the past few months since he found out, asking questions occasionally, so that Remus didn't catch on to what he was up to. He could be patient when he wanted to, everyone's wrong assumptions that he was impatient worked well in his favour.

"What have you been up to?" Harry asked, marking the page the potion was on but ultimately giving Sirius his full attention.

"I have a few things I want to look into, but other than that, it's been quiet, just enjoying the sunshine will it lasts." Sirius revealed, by last he meant until it was actually summer. Normally around this time they had rain constantly battering down everywhere it was spring nearly after all. "Still don't regret leaving Hogwarts?" his tone was mild.

"Never," Harry said vehemently. "Are you disappointed?" he asked speculatively.

"Only because of what you'll miss out on," Sirius said honestly, "Sure, it's exhausting, especially the last two years, but the graduation…it was one of the happiest times." Remembering his own, the parties, the graduation, it was elating.

"I doubt I'd have felt anything other than relief," Harry said wryly, "Hogwarts for me was different from how it was for you, I was never able to have a normal schooling experience." He'd prefer his freedom any day. Plus, if Dumbledore had his way, he wouldn't have lived to see graduation, and if he had…he wouldn't have lived long after he reckon.

"I get that Kiddo," Sirius admitted, knowing they were vastly different and that didn't bother him like it had in the beginning. His emotions and feelings were grounded now. He didn't feel like the young twenty-one-year-old who had been sentenced to Azkaban anymore.

"Hey, are you Lord Black?" Harry asked, taking the opportunity to talk to him about it.

Sirius blinked at the unexpected question, "No, I can't become Lord Black, and it's not because I was in Azkaban. I was disowned,"

"What? But it thought the Black Estate was yours?" Harry blurted out eyes wide in shock. "You bought me a broomstick!"

"I used the contents of my vault to pay for it, it had lay untouched for thirteen years at that point, probably paid for it with interest alone. Nobody realizes I can't become Lord Black…but any child of mine could have become Lord Black upon my death." Sirius revealed, eyes rolling back into his head, he hated discussing anything pureblood or politics related.

Nobody actually realized he'd been legally disowned and Sirius never corrected anyone.

"What about the Black estate?" Harry blurted out, still reeling over the information.

"Well, what about it?" Sirius asked, he had no interest in it.

"What happens to it?" he asked.

"Well," Sirius mused, scratching his jaw absently, "Anyone could actually claim it that had Black blood, as long as they were a male relative. We're all inner related, so the closest one is definitely Draco Malfoy."

"Not. Happening," Harry gritted his teeth, "I'm a Black…technically…couldn't I claim it?"

"As I am your godfather and you have Black blood in you…legally you do have the possibility of obtaining it," Sirius pointed out. He couldn't believe his grandfather had died without a bloody will; it was bonkers. Either that or the will was somewhere without anyone the wiser. He certainly didn't hold the Black lordship, and his grandfather likely hadn't brought him back into the family.

"So, you wouldn't mind if I went to the bank and claimed it?" Harry asked, already planning on it, but it would make things easier if he actually had Sirius' agreement on his plan.

"Two Lordships? That's a lot of work…and the Black estate is in a state of disrepair," Sirius warned him, shrugging his shoulders, he honestly couldn't care if Harry did claim it. He personally would prefer Harry to claim it over say Draco Malfoy.

"No worse than the Potter Estate," Harry admitted, he still had a lot of work to do regarding the Potter Estate. "I can't believe you don't have the Black Estate, I really thought you did."

"So does everyone else, it's kept it safe," Sirius confessed.

"You obviously care more than you're letting on," Harry said wryly, and that was for damn certain.

"Maybe a little," Sirius revealed sheepishly. "What are you up to?" obviously it wasn't homework.

"Just trying to create a potion," Harry shrugged, the books he'd bought this morning spread out all over his bed.

"Is that what you want to do as a career?" Sirius questioned, "No longer interested in being an Auror?" people often said they wanted to be one thing and ended up doing something else, it was just the way it was. teenagers especially constantly changed their minds.

"I don't know," Harry replied thoughtfully, "I love brewing, and I love creating potions and spells, but I don't think of it in terms of a career…just a hobby."

"You should you know," Sirius said, his tone soft, encouraging, "Not everyone finds themselves enjoying something and being good at it." Now that he was out of Hogwarts and not near Snape, he'd bet his godson liked potions even more. Harry was good at it, that potion he'd created had helped him so much. He knew that Harry's version was different from the published one, he'd seen it for himself, it was a different colour and consistency. He knew Harry had made it stronger. Call it intuition but he just knew.

Harry smiled happy at Sirius; their relationship had started strengthening once they began talking every night. Out of Dumbledore's sphere of influence Harry was able to talk to Sirius without it getting back to the old fool. He got to see the real worry Sirius held for him and the frank fear of anything happening to him. He had come to know more about Sirius lately than the entire two years he'd known him before. Instead, he was talking to Sirius about normal everyday things, including a career and advice if he ever wanted it. He was a bit too old for it, he knew, already messed up by the Dursley's but he'd take what he could get in any capacity, especially since when news inevitably did get out about his side…he risked losing them. "I'll take that into consideration."

Sirius barked out a laugh, shaking his head, the folly of youth, thinking they knew everything and had all the time in the world to decide. "Alright, Kiddo," he said in amusement, grey eyes sparkling.

"Talk to you tonight?" Harry stated, grabbing a book.

"No," Sirius shook his head, "I don't know how long I'll be out tonight, so I wanted to talk to you now, but tomorrow night I'll get in touch at our usual time."

"Finally getting back out there?" Harry teased, only for it to fall flat when Sirius' face became grim. "Oh, what are you up to? Does Remus even know? Is it anything I can do to help?"

"I'd say yes, just to spend some time with you, but no, I'm just searching for information on something that's bothering me," Sirius waved the help off, he didn't want to reveal to Harry what Remus had gone through. Or reveal his suspicions, he knew Harry would believe him without a seconds doubt. Harry had been the one to help him see Dumbledore for what he was after all, and after all he had done to his godson, he could murder Dumbledore alone for that…if he found out though that his suspicions were even remotely possible…he definitely would need help to stop himself from doing something incredibly stupid. Proving or disapproving would take a lot of work, effort and time…without the possibility of yielding results.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked, his attention focusing laser like on Sirius, his hands stopped opening and closing the book.

"Not yet," Sirius said, "Soon," he promised, he'd tell Harry if he had to, it was obvious he was growing up and it filled Sirius with a sense of pride as well as sadness. He hadn't got to see his godson grow up; it killed him sometimes especially when Harry acted so maturely these days.

"I'm holding you to that," Harry said pointing his finger at him seriously, he was undeniably curious now.

Sirius laughed, "Yeah, I know," he gave Harry a big grin, "I'll talk to you later, Kiddo!"

"Alright, talk later," Harry said, as Sirius deactivated his own mirror, Harry followed suit, before putting the mirror away, as his spine straightened determinedly. It was time for another trip to Gringotts, this time he wasn't going to just exchange money. It was time for a new Lord Black to make an appearance. He also should visit Sirius in person, see what was going on and if he could help him.

Without more ado, Harry changed into his robes, leaving his books strewn everywhere, knowing his room was safe from anyone nosing around. Well, except for Voldemort anyway, no doubt he could get into his room, but he oddly enough trusted the wizard not to do it.

"Dobby?" Harry called out for his House-elf.

"What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry?" Dobby appeared in front of him, eyes still filled with adoration.

"Take me to Gringotts please," Harry requested kindly, hand held out waiting to be transported to the bank. It was much quicker than using the Floo (into that you could here) or walking to the edge of the wards.

Dobby grasped a hold of Harry and with a single second they were both gone.

"Thank you, Dobby, return home now," Harry said from where he stood in Gringotts main lobby, his eyes narrowing in on someone stumbling, wide eyed as they stared at him mouth agape from the corner of his eye. Harry felt caution running down his spine as the old woman – definitely not old by the way she was suddenly running from the bank – he suspected it was someone under a glamour charm. Which meant the Order, which meant he'd need to get everything sorted very quickly lest he be bloody surrounded by Order members.

Swiftly stalking towards one of the free tellers, he spoke curtly, "I demand an audience with both the Potter and Black estate goblins, immediately," he told one goblin coolly.

"Very well, Lord Potter," the goblin said, barking out in Gobbledegook at one of the guards at the right-hand side of the building. "Follow Negnik, he will have you seated and your business discussed momentarily," his voice respectful but no less brusque than Harry's had been.

Harry nodded briefly at the goblin, before briskly stalking over to the aforementioned goblin who turned and stalked away after he got close enough. Leading him through a maze of doors until he opened one and signalled for him to enter. "Someone will be with you soon enough." Was all he said before closing the door and returning to his post.

Soon enough two goblins entered the room.

"Lord Potter," the goblin Harry was familiar with – Coop – spoke respectfully, as he rounded the table and claimed his seat. "This is Rajik, the goblin in charge of the Black estate, how can we help you this afternoon?"

"I'd like to claim the Black Estate," Harry informed them, his tone and face blank, revealing nothing.

"That is doable, as Sirius Black is your magical guardian you are next in line for the Black Lordship, luckily you have Black blood running through your veins of you wouldn't be accepted as the Black Lord." Rajik stated, clicking his fingers and a bowl, dagger, herbs and a piece of blank parchment appeared. Never once showing his excitement, it would be great to have someone to aid in the Black Estate which was just sitting stagnant. "You will be claiming the used seats upon the Wizengamot as well I assume?"

"Used?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes speculatively.

"Indeed, Albus Dumbledore is currently using the seats belonging to the Black house," Rajik.

"He also used the Potter seats," Coop imputed, but Harry had already been informed thusly, and put a stop to it.

Harry face was made of stone, Coop had informed him that Dumbledore was using his seats to vote in the Ministry in the first missive he got after claiming his Lordship. He hadn't quite understood the ramifications of it, but he had read upon everything he could to do with the Ministry, the legal system and Gringotts. He knew the power Dumbledore had been receiving using something rightfully his. It was how he'd been able to become Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot actually.

"I am cutting him off as my proxy," Harry stated icily, "On both the Potter and Black seats," he wondered briefly if Dumbledore even had a seat on the Wizengamot without them. No wonder he hadn't sweated too much over the loss of his bloody magical guardian if he still had the seats, which gave Dumbledore near enough uncontested power. Fuck, why hadn't he dug deeper? Swearing internally, ugh, how had Voldemort not realized it either?

"So noted," Coop replied, making a mental note to inform Dumbledore immediately after Harry left.

"I just need a drop of your blood Lord Potter, to confirm your status," Rajik informed him, handing over the dagger, "Place it in the middle of the stone basin," the herbs within would do the rest of the work for them, well that and a spell.

Harry used the dagger to slash his finger, letting a single drop of blood fall into the basin before healing his wound. Wiping the blood from the dagger before handing it over. He would never be careless with his blood; he wasn't stupid enough for that. A spell later – that Harry didn't understand – and information began to scribble carefully on the piece of parchment.

Confirming what they already knew, that Harry could indeed claim the Black Lordship.

Rajik clicked his fingers and a black shiny box appeared, the goblin grabbed it and opened it, revealing the Black Lordship ring in its bed of black satin. "This must be placed on the same finger as your Potter signet ring, they will become smaller and largen when required," that was the beauty of magic. they were very chunky and it would probably take the teen a while to get used to it.

"Understood," Harry said, accepting the ring, knowing better than to put it on yet, the approving rook Rajik gave him indicated it had been a test of sorts – which he'd evidently past – perhaps he didn't want an idiot dealing with the Black estate.

By this time Coop had finished reading through the documents that had been created, making sure everything was in place. As Lord Potter's personal goblin, it was his job to ensure that there was nothing sneaky on the contract, and goblins were known for it, although they would never do such a thing, it was still in their nature to check. "Everything is in order, Lord Potter, these just require your signature," Coop informed him as he scribbled his own signature onto it as a witness to the occasion.

Harry jolted his own new full name down, Harry James Potter-Black after reading through everything himself, just to be safe.

"There is also a Lestrange vault you can claim, your great-great Grandfather's trust vault, it hasn't been touched in decades," Coop explained after the parchment disappeared in a puff of smoke. He had just literally found it ten minutes before Harry came to Gringotts.

"Marcus Lestrange, name change Marcus Evans," Harry said thoughtfully, already very much aware of this. "I'm surprised it wasn't returned to the main Lestrange vaults."

"A trust fund cannot be touched other than for the intended recipient except the next of kin unless they die before they come of age." Rajik explained. If that happened then they'd be merged back into the main vault.

Harry was pleased with the ring. Double the protection, he was sure there were more spells on the Black ring than on the Potter one. He wondered if the Blacks were rolling in their graves at a Half-blood having control over their beloved estate. It made him smirk in delight, green eyes gleaming, he'd show them all.

Coop began to create a new document so that Harry could claim the Lestrange vault for the record.

"Is there anything you wish for me to do today, Lord Potter-Black?" Rajik asked.

"Yes, I wish to reinstate a Black member into the family again, as well as see all marriage documents pertaining to the last generation of females." Harry stated, "I want Sirius Black reinstated as my heir, open a vault for him with a starting vault of fifty thousand galleons, and a reoccurring payment every month of fifteen thousand galleons. As well as disowning Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black but only once I give the go ahead, I want the document drawn up for when it comes to it."

"That can be done," Rajik stated immediately, claiming a seat beside Coop and beginning to work hastily for the new Lord, it was very sensible of him to name an heir immediately, especially if it's a genuine Black, the Black estate might actually end up in the hands of a Black pureblood again, who knew. "You understand he cannot become Lord Black even under your rule."

"I understand," Harry nodded his confirmation, he wasn't going to have any kids, so it would be down to Sirius to have an heir and one day Lord of the Black estate.

"Sign this document and the Lestrange vault will be yours," Coop handed over the paper, watching in approval as Harry read it over before signing it.

Harry had to sign quite a few documents in the next half hour, to reinstate the others, to give Sirius access to the vaults, signing him up as his heir which he had to admit was bloody weird. Not too weird though, since he had been mostly looking after Sirius not the other way around the past few years.

"Do you wish to give any other Black an allowance?" Rajik asked.

"No, if they wish one, they can contact me," Harry stated firmly, assuming he was referring to the rest of the Black's, Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda. He didn't need to give anything to Narcissa she was well off with Malfoy. No point to giving Bellatrix anything, she was soon to be disowned, and Andromeda? Hell no, he didn't even know her, and her daughter was in the Order. He wasn't going to hand out money for Tonks to give it right to the Order for the fight. She was a fool to get involved in the first place.

Another goblin entered the room after knocking and waiting a respectful second. He handed over documents to Rajik before disappearing once more all without a word.

"The documents on top are the marriage contracts, the rest is all information pertaining to your accounts, I have added a few suggested investments you may like at the bottom." Rajik explained, "Anything you don't understand, do not hesitate to contact me."

"Thank you, how long before everyone is notified about the changes?" Harry inquired, taking the large bundle of documents.

"They will be informed within twenty-four hours, depending on where they are when the owl finally reaches them," Rajik explained, "Our owls are known for their speed and haste in which they deliver their mail." Specially trained too.

"Excellent," Harry said, his lips twitching, very happy with the outcome of his recent visit.

"Now this is the document that will ensure Bellatrix Lestrange's disownment from the Black family upon your signature." Rajik added, as Coop handed over the next wad of parchment for Harry.

"Good," Harry stated satisfied. Although he wasn't looking forward to having to trudge through the Black portfolios, he knew from experience it would take him weeks if not months to get everything in order and be satisfied with everything.

Once it was done though he'd only need to keep an eye on it each day, looking at stocks and such to ensure it continued making him money. It took him fifteen minutes to get through the Potter portfolio now that everything was settled. It would be worth it though; he'd never have to worry about money for the rest of his life. And despite his young age, he had constantly worried about the money in his trust vault, thinking it would have to do him all through his Hogwarts schooling and until he got a job. Sometimes he thought being entered into the Twi-wizard tournament was the best thing to ever happen to him.

"I'll be in touch, may your gold ever flow," Harry gave the customary greeting, to the surprise of Rajik apparently, who remained mute until after Harry exited the room.

"I thought he was ignorant of our ways," Rajik said weakly, surprised to the core. Griphook certainly had much to say about Harry's ignorance on the matters of Gringotts anyway.

"Not anymore," Coop said with a vicious smirk on his face. Someone had taught him well, either that, or he had taught himself well.

Voldemort very easily hunted Harry down later that day. Not that it was difficult to find him, even if he didn't know where every single person in his manor was. It had nothing to do with the bracelet still attached to Harry – even though it was now non-functional for the most part – it just had never been removed. It served a purpose in ensuing that Harry was healthy and whole, he wouldn't have known about Umbridge if not for that foresight.

He observed that Harry's bedroom door was open, he moved closer, and saw Harry immersed on material on his desk, which was covered in paperwork. He waited for Harry to stop writing with his quill before he spoke.

"Arabella Figg is dead," Voldemort stated coolly, giving Harry an update as he observed the teen and his reaction.

"Lasted longer than I thought she would," Harry grinned viciously, she was already old and frail when she ended up in that cell, he knew the Dursley's were probably going to go soon as well. He did contemplate healing them and letting it start all over again, and giving them more food to survive but it was no longer fun, it was kind of tedious and boring now he would admit. "What happens to the bodies?" he asked in morbid curiosity.

"Cremated and banished," Voldemort stated, at least the Muggles, his enemies he left behind for a proper funeral – wizards and witches only – Muggles he didn't care about at all.

Harry nodded as he put his quill down and stretched out, quick tempus later let him know it was seven o'clock at night. He'd been at this now for two hours since he'd wedged himself in here after dinner. He wasn't even a quarter of the way through everything, but so far all was good. "Are the Lestrange's on a mission?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes speculatively, "Why?" he asked, not gracing Harry with an answer.

"There's something I want to do," Harry revealed calmly and slowly.

"Which is?" Voldemort then demanded, wondering what the teen was up to now.

Harry shook his head, "It's something I must do, I won't change my mind." Barty's words had struck a chord in him, he wanted to help Rodolphus. Barty would know if Rodolphus was being unfaithful, men had the tendency to overshare, and if Barty reckoned, he had remained true to her then he suspected it to be true. Not that there was a way to sleep around while in Azkaban…at least he didn't think so. He thought about how he'd feel if he was trapped in a loveless marriage, and he suspected after losing so much time in Azkaban that Rodolphus wanted a family. That and he was terrified that he would be given the Lestrange Lordship, something he'd managed to wring out of Barty after hours of manoeuvring and Barty had only spoken because he was beyond pissed and exasperated. "Can you call them?"

If he could give Rodolphus a chance…then he'd do it.

"Just what are you up to?" Voldemort asked, suspiciously. He half wanted to summon them just so that he could find out. He knew that look well; Harry wasn't going to reveal whatever it was until he was ready. He doubted even threatening him with the Cruciatus Curse would work…or actually performing it on him.

Harry just smirked at him; the best part was there was nothing on the desk that would give away his plans. He could feel Voldemort looking, but he'd give in, he was too curious for his own good.

"Very well, let us go to the meeting room," Voldemort stated sharply, before twisting on his heel and leaving the room, cursing himself for giving into the boy. He was setting a very dangerous precedents, the boy might actually do this again. If he caught him in a mood, he would truly regret it, hopefully the boy would know better though.

The three Lestrange's, stuck their heads out of their doors, two were in bed the other was in his office hands still clutching their forearm where it had heated up. They adhered to a strict schedule, a schedule that required a lot of sleep, good foods and exercises regimens that left them nigh on exhausted. They'd quite literally just had a shower after training and gone straight to bed. It was embarrassing that they're sleeping so early, but they'd do anything to regain their former strength. Each of them checking to see if the other had been called, all slightly perplexed.

They'd just answered a summoning this morning, it was unheard of to be called twice, especially all of them. Usually, it was just Rodolphus and Rabastan.

"What do you think is going on?" Rodolphus asked, brow furrowed before turning back into his room to get dressed, with a few flicks of his wand being hasty, he knew better than to make his Lord wait.

"Something has obviously went wrong, he never calls us all twice in one day," Rabastan said worriedly, as he came out fully dressed himself. Had they been seen? Had someone figured out what they'd done? Were they officially going to be on the run? It was the only reason he could logically think for being summoned after the initial summoning. He could see by the expressions on his brother and father's faces that they were thinking the same thing.

"I'm sure we will know soon enough, let's go, we don't want to keep him waiting," their father stated, Corvus was tense and alert, cautioning himself, wondering at the Dark Lord's state of mind. Lately it wasn't something they'd worried about, he seemed in high spirits, it was as though Harry Potter joining him had enabled him to relax a little, and stop wanting so much too soon.

In practiced sync they touched their marks, and disappeared on the spot, reappearing at the manor they'd just been to hours earlier. The paused very briefly at the sight of Bellatrix further ahead of them, just entering the manor. They didn't wait to see who else was going to be coming, they strode along the path. Guided to where the Dark Lord was, by the mark on their arm and their own senses. The Dark Lord was a powerful wizard and he made no attempts at shielding it.

They found him situated in one of the few meeting rooms they had on hand. As they entered, they found Bellatrix glaring at the corner, one look wasn't needed, they knew it was Harry. Bellatrix's moods were worse than the Dark Lord's used to be. These past few weeks she'd been around more, getting more freedom by doing as the healers commanded. She hated the fact Harry was paid the most attention. She'd left quite happily earlier seeing that Harry hadn't been at the meeting. It seemed as if she was back to being petulant.

"The floor is yours," Voldemort stated to Harry eyes gleaming with amusement. Harry sat in the corner examining his fingers as if he couldn't feel Bellatrix's glare boring into him. It always amused him when the others fought over his attention, admittedly Bellatrix didn't have much competition, or hadn't until Harry was constantly around.

Bellatrix's indignation and jealousy hit new heights; they'd been called because of him? Her Lord actually summoned them because Harry wanted them? What the hell did Potter have that she didn't? Sure, he was powerful, but come on, she was no slouch either. She could give her lord an heir! A powerful, magnificent high blooded child to preserve their bloodline. The Black blood was older, better than Potter's mud blood.

"Rodolphus, can you come here for a minute?" Harry asked, shovelling documents around, as if he was trying to find something. He found it quite quickly and easily, laying it out on the table as Rodolphus made his way over, caution written across his face and each step he took.

He remained two feet from him, gazing expectantly at his somewhat distant relative. Which quite frankly was still blowing his damn mind. "Yes?" he said, dark eyes cautious.

"Read this, if you want to go through with it, sign it." Harry said bluntly, sliding the parchment further towards the end of the table with a flourish.

Rodolphus' brows furrowed as he took the remaining two steps, glancing down at the missive only to do a doubletake when he realized what he was reading. This couldn't be…this was the original annulment – which was placed alongside the betrothal and marriage contract – from Gringotts. This would annul the marriage between himself and Bellatrix, allowing him to find a more suitable match. By the time his father wanted it annulled, Orion Black had refused, then died over a decade ago. Thus, he'd never believed this was possible. Harry had already signed it, he was Potter-Black, two Lordships, bloody hell, he seemed to have it all. Pursing his lips, feeling hope and despair warring within him, "She won't sign it," Rodolphus whispered quietly, shaking his head resignedly. Cursing himself for the fact he'd gotten his hopes up and sounded like some pathetic Mudblood child sobbing that they don't want to leave their parents at the train station. They didn't love or want each other but Bellatrix wouldn't bore the tarnish of being a divorcee.

"Oh, she will," Harry promised his voice lined with steel, green eyes gleaming with determination.

Rodolphus swallowed thickly, this was…this was something he hadn't even been able to conceive even in his wildest dreams.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 41

Voldemort didn't wait any longer to hear what was happening, instead he moved so he could actually see what was written on the piece of parchment. It caused an eyebrow to raise in silent surprise, truthfully, he wasn't at all sure how to feel about it. He had been very happy with their marriage. A marriage between two powerful and loyal Death Eaters, who would go on – so sure at the time – to have children who too would be just as loyal to the cause. That was until the prophecy was heard, then he became cautious of any pregnant female by his Death Eaters. Thankfully, none of them had been born even in the vicinity of the end of July 'The Seventh Month Dies' as it were. No, only two were, Harry Potter and through less than twenty-four hours, Neville Longbottom, they both with parents in the Order. By Merlin, he had most certainly picked the one most like himself…more than he could have ever fathomed.

Now he had no reason to fear the prophecy, for Harry Potter was just as dark as him and very important to his immortality. Everything he read suggested only he could remove the Horcrux from Harry, by killing him that is, sure the boy can be killed, and the Horcrux too by either Basilisk venom or a Fiendfyre, those two were the only known ways to destroy Horcruxes in the books he had on the subject. Books that the Ministry would definitely have him in Azkaban over procuring let alone his kill count.

He knew how much his old friend Corvus, worried about the end of his line, it was a weight that fell heavily upon him. Even having his sons out of Azkaban hadn't cleared that fear and worry up at all. No, he would let this happen, and not interfere unless it was required of him. Bellatrix was not going to have a child with Rodolphus that was clear, they could barely stand in the same room without winding each other up. So, if his Death Eater could find someone else to care for and have a family with, while giving him the next generation of Death Eaters then he would be content. Especially if it made his old friend – Corvus – happy and eased the weight upon his conscious. He did not want to see the Lestrange line die out, it was a good, strong, pure name, producing very powerful wizards and witches.

He didn't really get into this for any wizarding blood to end.

"What are you signing?" Corvus – Lord Lestrange – demanded, worry very briefly appearing on his face before it was masked as he swiftly made his way towards his son in three short steps. Staring down at the contract, blinking in surprise, "Oh," was all the elder wizard could say, completely stunned, which everyone could tell even with an inscrutable mask upon his face, giving it an extremely blank look. For the first time in decades – he did not count anything Harry Potter related, he was entitled to be a little caught off guard thank you very much – he was rendered speechless.

Rodolphus signed the contract in blood with an eagerness he hadn't felt for over a decade.

Harry watched Lord Lestrange straighten up, almost as if he couldn't bear the thought of being seen 'slouching' like a common barbaric Muggle and yes, those words were ringing in his ear thanks to Voldemort. Then again, all the pureblood's had undergone enunciation, etiquette and Occlumency lessons – Meditation only, they were too young to have spells thrown at them at the age of eight or nine it would break their minds – at a young age. Taught how to act like a pureblood with all sorts of lessons, he too had undergone the same thing, and Voldemort hadn't been kind about it either. Lord Lestrange wasn't by far the tallest in the room, no that was reserved for Voldemort but he definitely had an aura around him that screamed he was no slouch. His son, Rodolphus was only inches shorter than him. Rabastan too was just inches shorter than his brother. You'd need to truly look at them and see them to notice, anyone else would just say they were the same height as one another.

"Let me see!" Bellatrix demanded, trying to make her way over, to see for herself what all the fuss was about. She didn't like being in the dark, and since everyone else had seen it, she wanted too as well. "Where did you get this?" she shrieked angrily, face slowly going red as she got more and more upset.

Harry smirked ferally, alerting the others to the fact Harry was going to say something worth listening to, "Now, now, show some respect to the Head of your house," he taunted her, unable to help himself. "After all, you know what happens to those who displease the Head of the family." Green eyes gleaming with viciousness that spoke of the ability to do just that without losing sleep over it.

Bellatrix froze in shock and horror at his words, "A filthy Half-blood presiding over the Black estate? My father would be rolling in his grave!" she spat, unable to curb her own tongue. She'd rather kill him than let this half-blood be Lord Black for a second longer.

"As would your Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga," Harry said, a grin splitting his face in half, he'd spent ages pouring over the Black names. "But you do realize I am of Black blood, correct? It's the only way I could have taken over the estate. It's better than the Ministry getting their hands on the considerable sum." He added absently. Which everyone could agree was actually true, even Orion or Arcturus would agree with that statement.

The youngest Lestrange continued to stare frozen, he hadn't expected Harry to really do anything despite asking. In a moment of weakness, he'd asked him to try, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected this to occur. He knew that Harry was friends with Neville Longbottom, and he honestly believed that Harry would find it fitting that both of them suffered for their crimes despite no longer being in Azkaban. Merlin, that smirk…he could see himself and Rodolphus in it, how much of the Lestrange family was really under that surface? What had Lily looked like? He may have recovered, but some things were still fuzzy, actually a lot of things.

Poor Rabastan had been young, as young as Sirius actually, and did not have an Animagus form to hide him from the Dementors like Sirius had.

"Sign the divorce papers or lose everything," Harry stated, bringing the young Rabastan from his thoughts. "By everything I mean your name, your magic, your husband, your family and I ex-communicate you." Which meant she wouldn't be able to communicate with any Black, including her sister and nephew without having them disowned as well. Narcissa would never endure the shame of being disowned thus she'd utterly ignore any attempts at communication from Bellatrix.

None of them wanted to endure the shame of being disowned.

Sure, she was 'dead' right now, but one day soon her Lord would take over the magical world and let her roam free once more. Free of the worry of going back to Azkaban and being unable to see or hear or help her Lord. Free of having to keep to the shadows, and free to do whatever she liked to the filthy Muggle-Borns and Half-Blood's who roamed their world. Gripping her wand tightly, ready to destroy the filthy Half-Blood who was daring to try blackmailing her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Harry warned her, he had a few spells he actually wanted to try out, well, one in particular actually. Standing up, his own wand in hand, a hand that showed of his two Lordship rings. Granting him innumerable protection, especially as her Lord, and Head of House. "Sign the damn papers if you know what's good for you,"

"You wouldn't dare," Bellatrix hissed standing toe to toe with him, sounding like a feral cat, eyes flashing in wrath and vehemence. Her Lord would never allow Potter to harm her, there was no way, no matter how high up he was. He even interfered with Severus when he went too far, so it wasn't a bad assumption to make, but it was wrong nonetheless.

Voldemort watched the scene in front of him, it looked as though Bellatrix was taking the place of the one Death Eater who loathed the ground Harry walked on the most. Not even Lucius stared at him with such anger and unconcealed desire to punish and kill. He would need to keep an eye on her, he couldn't allow anything to happen to the boy. He was much too important, more important that even Bellatrix who did amuse him so. Yet it was Harry who had ensured such a smooth victory so far with his ideas, Bellatrix just made things complicated, how many times had he dispatched his Death Eaters to clean up her recent messes? Too many to count, so in the grand scheme of things, even if Harry wasn't his Horcrux…he'd choose the boy over her any day. He made a mental note to talk to her soon, remind her that Harry Potter-Black was not to be touched.

Harry met her eyes, without fear or backing down, "You really don't know me at all, so don't act like you do," he informed her coolly. "Sign it if you value your life,"

Rodolphus, Rabastan and their father watched the scene, barely daring to breathe. Their Lord didn't often interfere with any duels that burst out, even when it was Harry, the duel with Avery was a primary example of that. Yet he had suffered for it, they'd watched him curse Avery for his rash actions. Then he proceeded to make sure they understood that he wasn't to be touched. That they would be punished if anything happened to him.

Bellatrix's mask of fury crumbled a little, as genuine worry began to take its place. Would her Lord even want anything to do with her if she was disowned? She'd be lower than a common Mudblood. Everything she'd worked towards, everything she'd done would be for nothing. She had gone to Azkaban for her Lord, proud and true to herself, knowing he would come for her. He had, as soon as he returned, he had come for her and set her free. She'd have nothing, no home, no money, no name, nothing to fall back on.

Not that she'd have much anyway upon signing the divorce contract. Just a single vault, that would last her maybe three or four years if she spent it wisely. She hadn't touched her trust fund since she married Rodolphus, using the Lestrange vaults instead, except when she put the gift from her Lord into her own vault and withdrew a few galleons to get some new dress robes in order to please her Lord.

"On your head be it," Harry retorted heatedly, unsheathing another piece of paper, another contract, one that would disown her from the Black family, legally and officially.

It was already written Bellatrix realised; Potter hadn't wasted any time whatsoever in making sure she lost absolutely everything. Fury rushed through her veins, burning her from the inside, she swore to herself, nay, vowed, that the boy would pay if it was the last thing she did. He should have known better than to mess with her, she was the best Death Eater her Lord had, willing to do anything, curse or kill as ordered. He would know, he would realize, just before he died. Eyes glittering malevolently, unspoken plans written across her face.

It was all the warning Harry needed to ensure he did not turn his back on the psychopathic woman, ever.

Grabbing the quill violently out of Harry's hands, Bellatrix just wishing she could gouge out his eyes with the tip of the quill. Envisioned his pain filled screams filled her with pleasure and eased the anger lashing through her still. Oh, she would get him back, when he least expected it, in the most painful manner she could imagine. Scrawling her name down, using the Lestrange name for the last time.

As soon as the contact was signed a copy of it disappeared in a flash, while two others remained behind. One for Bellatrix and the other for Rodolphus.

"You'll pay for this," Bellatrix hissed solely for Harry to hear, or so she thought, she failed to realize just how close everyone else was.

"I believe you'll try," Harry retorted calmly, excitement furling through him at the prospect of a real no holds barred duel with Bellatrix. It would be a true way to test just how far he'd come, sure Voldemort was quite vicious when they were duelling, but he never actually outright tried to kill him or finish him off for good. With him being a Horcrux and all Voldemort wanted to make sure he could defend himself, but not to the extent of actually accidentally killing him. That and he'd never admit it but he felt jealous and angry at the thought of Voldemort and Bellatrix together. He didn't get it, but he was, and it was amusing to see her trying to gain Voldemort's attention when he was around and conversing with him.

With that Bellatrix stormed off, her anger getting the better of her, Harry Potter-Black's days were now numbered.

"She's very serious," Rabastan informed him, face impassive, but his eyes gave away his very real concern for Harry. The last time he'd seen Bellatrix like that she'd tortured to Aurors into insanity. He wasn't say he wasn't guilty, he was, he had joined her and cursed them, but not to the extent she had. He'd placed it upon them for a few seconds, asked them where their Lord was, then put it on again, only for another few seconds, merely to convince them to talk if they knew anything.

"I know," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders briefly, indicating that he didn't care. He would be ready for her, and quite frankly, when and if she did attack him, he'd only be defending himself and Voldemort should have nothing to say on the matter. He would, Harry knew that, the only thing Voldemort killed off his Death Eaters for is if he suspected they were traitors to the cause.

"Leave us," Voldemort demanded, wishing to speak to the boy alone.

The three Lestrange's nodded respectfully, but before they left, Rodolphus stepped back up and collected his copy of the contract. Clutching it in his hand tightly, still reeling over the fact he was actually free. Glancing at the teenager, who had already been warned that Bellatrix would want revenge and truly didn't seem deterred. "Thank you, Lord Potter-Black," giving him the respect due, he personally didn't know anyone else who had control of two massive estates. He'd be able to preside over the Wizengamot for two seats, two votes, which could be significant in the Wizengamot. Feeling much more at ease around the boy for the first time, the irrational fear that he was going to be replaced was gone.

Harry smiled, a genuine one at that, giving his own nod of understanding.

Once that was done, the three Lestrange's left, never once bothering about Bellatrix, Lord Lestrange had already adjusted the wards to prevent her admittance into their home. She was no longer a Lestrange, and thus no longer his problem. Quite frankly, he didn't want her getting anywhere near his family books with revenge on her mind. He didn't want the blame if Bellatrix somehow did manage to hurt the boy. He was actually grateful he didn't need to endure her temper tantrums and presence in his home. He was glad his boys were home, but he honestly could have done without her.

Then Rodolphus brought up something that stopped the other two short, "How did he know?" gazing suspiciously at his brother.

"I spoke to him about it," the youngest Lestrange stated seriously. "I did not think he'd do anything about it." He revealed after a few moments. Even at that, he'd assumed the boy would ask for a boon before doing absolutely anything. He was a Slytherin if he ever saw one.

Rodolphus nodded dumbly, agreeing wholeheartedly with his brother.

"The boy is not who we thought he was," Lord Lestrange uttered wisely, "We mustn't assume we know him at all." As Harry had so aptly put when answering Bellatrix.

The boys were still in a state of shock over the events that had just transpired, their father could see it written all over their faces. They might never be, over a decade had passed and they were no longer the young teenagers they used to be when incarcerated on that island. "Go and get some rest, it's best not to disrupt your treatments, lest it put you back by at least months." Sleep was the best thing for them anyway.

Once his boys did exactly that, Corvus made his way back to his office, pouring himself a very generous amount of bourbon before sitting down all too subdued. He had answered his Lord's call expecting something to have been wrong, only to realize that his Lord had called them there for Harry of all people. That boy was more important than anyone realized, as one of the original Death Eaters…he knew that his Lord had never done such a thing before in the past. To do so now…for Harry, well it was significant, off the charts significant. Gulping down the bourbon, he made a mental note never to show any disrespect to the young Lord or allow his sons to do so. He must warn them against such a thing.

All the while, hope renewed began to kindle through him, there was hope for his line after all. It had always been difficult for many of the families and spouse to have more than a single child. He had been very lucky, in terms of having two sons, his beautiful wife would have given him a third, a girl, the first in the direct Lestrange line in generations. Clutching his glass, anger flashed through him, muted but still there after all those years. His wife and child had died, how he loathed the light side, those despicable Aurors. It had taken him years to get his revenge, done it so intricately that he had never once been suspected in their deaths. His eyes zoomed in on the large portrait of his wife hanging over his office desk. He'd never had a lover, not even after having the 'Heir' to the Lestrange fortune. He had been very happy with his match, his beautiful, kind wife, without her, only his Lord and sons had a place in his heart. To the rest of the world, he was a cold unfeeling bastard but he didn't care what they thought. There was hope now he wouldn't need to take another wife in hopes of having another son to make his heir.

Although Harry Potter-Black was coming close to worming his way into his cold unfeeling heart. He was a Lestrange so it perhaps shouldn't have been so surprising. Not many people stuck up for his sons, not many people would help them full stop just because of what they'd done.

"Just when I think I understand you…you go and do something so spectacularly…stupid," Voldemort stated calmly, giving away the fact he wasn't at all angry. He was however, watching Harry with a curious look in his eyes, pondering on why he'd just done what he had. He hadn't realized Harry cared about the Lestrange's, he knew he was terribly fond of Barty, much to his jealousy, they spent way too much time together in his grand opinion. He hadn't even done it for an unspecified boon to be collected later, and the boy definitely knew about them. So why? The boy was more like him than anyone realized, yet he would never do such a thing. Not if it didn't benefit him first.

"That's your opinion," Harry said wryly, "Bellatrix was always going to find a reason to be pissed off," and that he knew without a doubt. She was a complete nutjob, it would have blown up regardless of what he did. Her instability was actually concerning to see, one minute she was fond, grinning and laughing, the next it looked as if she was plotting your demise.

"I am surprised, I must admit, I thought you fond of the Longbottom boy," Voldemort pressed further, wanting answers from that elusive mind. He received letters from the boy, quite often in fact, and replied back, although it had been a few weeks since Hedwig had been sent out.

Harry arched an eyebrow, "If I'm not trying to kill you for the fact you killed my parents, why the fuck would I care about my friends parents?" he pointed out, like him, Neville couldn't remember loving parents, he was just emulating what he thought he should be feeling. The truth of the matter was Harry could bet his considerable wealth that Neville didn't feel anything unless he was shoved in front of them, only to be reminded of what could have been. He knew that his friendship with Neville was numbered, Neville genuinely hated the Lestrange's, hated what happened to his parents, he saw that when he saw the happiness when the news hit that the Lestrange's had 'died' in Azkaban.

He doubted very much that Neville would forgive him for siding with those who hurt his family. Neville was very loyal, and suspected the hat originally wanted to place him in Hufflepuff not Gryffindor like he should have been put in Slytherin.

"Touché," Voldemort murmured, when he put it like that, he supposed it did make the world of sense. "Why not gain something from this instead of doing it out of the goodness of your heart?"

Harry scoffed, "I didn't need to, the Lestrange's are honourable, if I ask for anything…they will go out of their way to give me what I ask for." they would feel obligated.

Voldemort watched him, sneaky little shit was right, in fact they'd be more agreeable to help due to the fact their hands weren't tied. He was going to have to remember that there was more to this boy than even he could conceive and he knew the boy about as well as anyone could, he had been in his mind constantly until he became very proficient at Occlumency and Legilimency. He pondered on how Harry would deal with the younger soon-to-be Death Eaters; they would be around soon due to the fact it was the end of the year. Which meant it would soon be Harry's birthday, sixteenth birthday. When one looked at him you wouldn't think he was merely coming up for sixteen, not anymore, he looked on the cusp of adulthood, which was seventeen-year-old in the Magical world.

None of the children of his Death Eaters knew about Harry's allegiance to him. Considering how hot-headed some of them could be, he did contemplate the idea of waiting until next year before introducing Harry to them. He didn't want to risk any stupidity on their behalf, that would have the light side becoming aware of Harry's place on the dark side. By the time they were seventeen they would be promised to him, marked, invisible to anyone not already a Death Eater, another ingenious idea by the boy at his side. The children would have observed a meeting and been made very aware of the real consequences of their actions if they did not do as directed by him. The Cruciatus curse had always been the perfect deterrent for most of his servants. It hadn't stopped Igor from betraying him though, or apparently Severus for a while, honestly, he was quite lucky he was a Potions Master – and sworn a vow of protection to Harry – or he would have dispatched of him quite easily and happily.

"You're growing fond of them, aren't you?" Voldemort asked with a knowing look, it was often inevitable if they had similar tastes and inclinations.

"That would require them actually talking to me, acknowledging me," Harry said dryly, "Like all the others they aren't sure whether they can fully trust me or not." Which made sense, they'd spent the last fifteen years believing he was an enemy only to have their world spun upside down and suddenly Harry was dark, it was a little bit too good to be true. Plus, he had pissed off a lot of them, like Lucius, Avery, and most recently Bellatrix. The only one he could honestly say trusted him was Barty…maybe Fenrir Greyback too. He didn't spend too much time in their presence either, in the beginning they hadn't known he was here, as he'd been locked in whichever room he'd been in when the meeting was called. Afterward the attack by Avery they'd become aware, and got used to seeing him around, but that wasn't spending time with him.

Voldemort didn't design to reply to him, because what Harry said was the truth. The only reason they were giving him the benefit of the doubt was the fact he was vouched by him. They all knew better than to doubt him after all. Not just vouched either, warned them all, that if they touched a single hair on his head he would torture and kill them.

"Sirius!" Harry called out, as he emerged through the Floo network, into Sirius and Remus' house, which by the way was really beautiful and airy. A lot of bright colours around the house. Which was fair, after staring at the same manky grey walls, colour would seem wonderful.

"Harry!" Sirius said, smiling at his godson, happy to see him despite the fact it was early and he was clearly exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, speaking of a long night passing without sleep. He smiled even more genuinely seeing how his godsons green eyes were sparkling with life and vitality. "Is everything okay?" knowing it was but asking regardless, he wanted to be a godfather, wanted to be the responsible one after all. He didn't want his godson feeling the need to take care of him as he had been doing in the past. Something that hadn't dawned on him until Harry pointed it out to him. The Potions to regain his mental health after Azkaban had also aided in his recovery and realizations.

"Yes," Harry said almost overexcitedly, he'd finally figured out the potion after pouring over all the available books. He could hardly believe it, but he'd done it. It was the fourth week of June, Hogwarts had been out for an entire week already, which meant he couldn't go to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade too much just in case he was spotted by any eagle eye classmates. He did have plans to visit Neville as well. He would retain his friendship as long as possible; Neville would never know the brothers had actually survived, but his switch to the dark side might not be forgiven anyway.

"What have you been up to?" Sirius asked, laughing happily at how excited his godson was, flicking his wand at the kettle, as he moved around bringing down two cups, one with a 'H' and 'S' emblazoned across a white cup.

"That's a question better asked to you, Sirius you promised!" Harry pointed out; he'd been trying to wheedle what Sirius was up to for the past week. So far, he wasn't having any luck whatsoever and it was slightly frustrating.

"I did promise," Sirius conceded, "I'm just not sure you're ready to handle something like this," picking up both cups, he moved over to the circular table in the kitchen, a bouquet of lilies situated in the middle. They smelt lovely, and that's why Sirius got them, well, Remus bought them, for Sirius. He liked the smell of nature in the house. After smelling nothing but staleness and mould in Grimmauld Place and worse, salty air in Azkaban, he loved nice smells.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked indignantly, swearing at the coldness that had been unwittingly spoken.

Sirius sighed, "I suspected…that Dumbledore caused someone's death," he admitted, watching his godson's face closely. There was no denial, no shouting, nothing except just a smidgen of surprise but he believed that had something to do with his words, not the fact he suspected Dumbledore of causing harm to someone.

"Where is Remus, by the way?" Harry asked, noticing he wasn't around. "He doesn't know what you've been doing? Does he? "

No," Sirius admitted, "I don't want him to know until I have found proof of his guilt or innocence." By his he meant Dumbledore's not Remus obviously.

Harry stood, and reached over and hugged Sirius, no wonder he looked haggard, was he even sleeping? He needed rest otherwise he was going to end up ill at this rate.

"Wow, you're gaining weight and strength!" Harry exclaimed, before reclaiming his seat.

"I am, would you like anything?" Sirius asked, he bought the majority of the food and drink from muggle stores.

"Pepsi Max if you have any," Harry said immediately, Voldemort did not have anything remotely Muggle in the manor. Which of course, nixed the delicious carbonated drink that he had found he very much liked during a visit. It was Remus' favourite drink, having spent the majority of the past decade in the Muggle world…he knew the Muggle world well and had his favourite drinks and foods. Sirius wasn't overly fond of it, too gassy for his taste and some were full off too much sugar. Harry had never been allowed anything other than water – and he was lucky to get that – for the majority of his life. He'd had milk at primary school, each day, but that was the extent of what he drank.

Sat down with a coffee and Harry with a can of juice which he set to the side to drink his coffee., Sirius began to explain gravely what he feared to be the truth. Revealing another side of the events that happened all those years ago. How the werewolf had reacted to the loss of his pack, how despite all precautions he took, which by the way were usually fool proof, inescapable. How Moony had succumbed to his predator instincts and killed the human encroaching on what he saw as his territory. How Dumbledore had been the only one aware of Remus' chosen location. Which had been his childhood home, the home they left barely a month after Remus had been bitten, moving continuously to avoid detection until Dumbledore invited him to Hogwarts. It had been under his mother's name, and left to him in her will. It was in utter disrepair, the land it was on was worth more than the delipidated two-bedroom property.

"What made you think Dumbledore did anything?" Harry asked diplomatically, even though his mind had immediately came up with possible ways to exploit this information. Not Remus, just more information against Dumbledore.

"Harry…Remus always makes sure he cannot get out, right up until the last second before the moon becomes full." Sirius said austerely, grey eyes gleaming with determination. "Even down in the trunk we're using during the moon now…he can't help but automatically check Moony can't suddenly find a way to climb out a trunk!" he was obsessive about it to a manic degree.

Harry pursed his lips at the image, "You know four legged creatures can climb!" he pointed out wryly.

"Only a hand can open the lid, a human hand," Sirius said dryly, shaking his head, "I made sure that everything was done right." And Remus had helped, so he knew how secure the damn trunk actually was.

"Okay, so you believe Dumbledore dismantled some of Remus' wards after the moon rose?" Harry mused thoughtfully, nudging his empty can back and forth. "I'm assuming it would be in order to make Remus want to disappear."

"Right afterwards, Dumbledore told Remus that he shouldn't visit you, that he wanted you to grow up unburned by the fame." Sirius sighed, rubbing his temples, "Remus was…inconsolable, he did as he was told, too terrified that he'd hurt someone else…you primarily."

"Then let me guess, coaxed him back by using me…" Harry grumbled in concern, "And I said such horrid things to him." feeling a smidgen of guilt for his words, Remus had apparently been going through his own private hell.

"He hasn't said anything about that," Sirius shook his head, "He's a teacher at heart though, so of course, he'd want to teach at Hogwarts. It's not an opportunity he'd pass up, the fact you would be there probably made it easier in the long run…and the potion," his lips twisting as he said it, he had poured every single vial of that damn potion down the sink. Keeping a perfect eye on him at all times of the day. He wasn't risking Remus giving in and sneakily taking it. He'd get used to life without it, the trunk had helped immensely, as well as the fact Moony and Padfoot had done nothing remotely dangerous, just ran around the trunk, which is bigger than the damn Amazon.

"He was one of the best teachers we ever had," Harry said in agreement, truthfully, he had enjoyed Moody's 'Barty's' classes. "Maybe one day he can teach at Hogwarts full time, without the law, fear and prejudice getting in the way." Glancing down at his rings, Sirius had thanked him for reinstating him as a Black, and he was happy to receive the monetary allowance, he already had plans to spend it on Harry, making up for the fifteen-year absence. The only thing he had absolutely no idea what to get him. He was thinking of getting him a Quidditch set, snitch, Bludgers, Quaffle and Beater sticks. So, he could play his own game with his friends, even though he didn't want to play professionally he could still have fun.

"You have plans to sit on the Wizengamot?" Sirius asked, shrewdly catching the glance at the rings adorned his godson fingers. "You do realize it might not change anything? The old farts are stuck in their ways." And most of them were prejudice against 'creatures' it had always been that way in the magical world.

"I've thought about it," Harry admitted, "I'm reading through the law books when I have the time, even if it is tedious," he wouldn't, couldn't, go in front of the Wizengamot completely ignorant.

Sirius snorted, nodding sagely in agreement, "It sucked," it made his childhood filled with boredom and a bored Black was a destructive one.

"You've read the law books?" Harry asked, speculatively.

"Merlin, no, I was taught stuff like that when I was younger though, I was brought up to be Lord Black, and with that became specific obligations according to my parents. Regulus was put through it after it became apparent, I was a disappointment and inevitably left the family behind." Sirius admitted distastefully.

"Back to our original topic, have you found anything?" Harry asked, having no desire to talk politics, he couldn't stand it, nor could Sirius actually come to that.

"Trails old, over a decade, and the property has a lot of land, I'd need to find the exact spot Dumbledore twisted the wards." Sirius explained, and even then, it would be different to ensure he had actually managed to check every possible spot.

"Why not ask Remus to do it? He could sniff out the exact location, you're just causing unnecessary work for yourself." Harry rolled his eyes, knowing exactly why Sirius wasn't doing it.

"I can't do that to him," Sirius retorted immediately.

"Alright," Harry conceded, pondering on whether to use Fenrir, without the Wolfsbane potion weakening him and with his ability to turn into a wolf at will, he would find the spot Dumbledore had stood at within seconds. "Is Remus' house private property?"

"Yes, I was only able to get in because I've been there before," Sirius said, a red flush appearing on his cheeks. He was allowed passed the wards Remus had put up all those years ago.

Harry laughed at the look Sirius was supporting, "Yeah, I don't want to know," he teased him, causing Sirius to flush some more and Harry just utterly lost it and roared in amusement.

A buzzing interrupted Sirius and Harry's hysterics, at the sound of it Harry sobered and cursed and glanced at the time, just as Remus apparated in with his hands laden with bags. "I have five minutes to get home and prep the ingredients for a potion I'm making…I have to go! Sorry Remus! It's good to see you! Bye!"

"Bye," was all the bemused partners could say to Harry as he called upon Dobby and disappeared home instead of using the Floo network again.

Dobby took him directly to the potions lab he was using to make the potion. The jar of ingredients was already in place for his usage, but it still needed to be prepared. It the way he knew would be. So, he squeezed the juices out of it and then placed the pod along with the juice and let it slide into the cauldron.

His hasty run hadn't even made him slightly out of breath, but he did let out one when the colour it turned, a pungent red. His only show of relief that so far, the potion was turning out just as he predicted. He had no idea how this would turn out in the long run; it was one of the craziest experiments he'd ever conducted but if it worked…it would change everything for the Death Eaters who were currently 'dead' due to the epidemic that hit Azkaban. "I fucking did it!" Harry murmured out his relief, before slowly counting the time then stirring the contents in the cauldron with the stirrer.

He relaxed his stance, that was it for another two hours and three minutes.

He didn't bother returning to Sirius' home, he also nixed the idea of interfering with Sirius' investigation. If he found out that Fenrir was anywhere near the area, he would claim it was a set up regardless of whether it was true or not – which it wouldn't be – but Sirius was irrational when it came to anything to do with the dark side.

He'd let Sirius do what he must, he'd get there in the end one way or another. Even after decades magic remained behind, traces of it. Even trying to get rid of any traces left certain residues behind, residues that could be found. Sabotaging wards though…there would be a sign on the building if nothing else. He needed to keep a close eye though, but luckily, the heir ring Sirius wears, would let him know if anything happened, and he could get to him quickly.

Perhaps sending him a copy of the book he'd read that from would give Sirius the idea to do it on his own.

June quickly turned into July, it was already the ninth, and today was the day he had finally know if his potion was viable. Luckily there were plenty of willing…ah, hem, fine, unwilling participants to help with that. So, they had been put under the Imperius Curse and imbibed the potion. He'd had to use a wizard, unfortunately Umbridge hadn't been possible, she was with Greyback currently, enjoying her experience as the pack Bitch. What that meant, Harry had no idea, and he honestly didn't wish to be regaled either. Sure, he hated her, but he didn't think his stomach could handle such…information if it was what he thought it was. It wasn't anything to do with pitying her either, there were just some things he'd rather remain ignorant on thank you.

Harry would only be alerted when she was close to death, due to their agreement, he was the one that got the pleasure of ending her pathetic life. Fenrir would keep his promise, Voldemort assured him, only extenuating circumstances would prevent it, and it would be things Fenrir couldn't change.

"How is your experimental stage going?" Voldemort asked, observing Harry entering the room, and claiming his seat, both of them more than ready for lunch. Wormtail never ate with them, instead electing to eat in his room. He had graciously allowed Harry to test his potion on one of his prisoners, pleased that Harry had actually asked. He would have been furious if he had gone along and done it without permission. Depending on whether it actually worked or not, if it did…then his Death Eaters would know a whole new freedom, he would too, he was very reluctant to alter his looks in order to fool Dumbledore until the old man was dead.

"I don't know yet," Harry said, his brow furrowed, "Dumbledore had decided that he 'made a mistake' with me and that it's Neville who is the real child the prophecy spoke of."

Voldemort blinked at him in utter bafflement, until it dawned on him, really dawned on him what Harry had just said before he burst out laughing. He was so surprised that it lasted only seconds, but it was more than anyone had been able to pull out of him in numerous decades. He was not by any means a cheerful wizard who ever lost his composure or Merlin forbid laughed at things.

"Tell me everything," Voldemort demanded, ignoring the look of sheer delight on Harry's face, presuming it to do with his lack of composure.

Harry was just about to hand over the letter he'd just finished reading - while waiting on the next stage of the potion - when they were interrupted.

"Master Longbottom is hurt, Master said to come to you if anything happens to Dowager Longbottom and him, please help, young master" the unknown House-elf was frantic, wringing its hands desperately. It may be unknown, but it was most definitely a Longbottom House-elf.

"You didn't think you'd be the only one to think of it did you?" Harry asked as the look of stunned disbelief on Voldemort's face.

"I have wards on my home preventing any access lest they are bound to me," Voldemort hissed out, fury distorting his face into a mask of anger.

A House-elf sent by Neville changed the game entirely.

"House-elves can get in and out of Gringotts for Merlin's sake, as well as Hogwarts! There is nothing they can't get around." Harry argued with Voldemort, as always ready to have a comeback. The others might be too afraid to argue with Voldemort but he wasn't. "The laws of magic don't seem to work on them." They were a different breed of magic altogether so it didn't surprise him.

The poor House-elf strained to remain silent, truly fearing for the lives of his Lady and young Master. "Please," she blurted out unable to keep quiet. They weren't moving quick enough, they had to help her Master!

"It could very well be a trap," Voldemort warned him. Eyeing the House-elf disdainfully, he had to find a way to keep the damnable things out, otherwise he was going to be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of his immortal life.

"Dobby?" Harry called out, as soon as he appeared Harry rushed to speak, "Go to Longbottom manor, ensure that only the Longbottom's are there, and return, make haste, Neville is hurt." He couldn't very well bring them here; Voldemort wouldn't allow it.

The two House-elves disappeared with pops.

The relief on the Longbottom house-elf spoke volumes to the veracity of its statement. It seemed perhaps; it was looking less likely to be a trap.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 42

As soon as it was undoubtfully confirmed that there was absolutely nobody in or around the grounds of the Longbottom estate Harry made his decision to go to Neville's aid. Harry blinked at the sight of the Dark Mark hovering over the property high in the sky. Had some of the Death Eaters gone out on their own and caused havoc? Merlin, help him, if he hadn't just seen the Lestrange's they would have been his primary suspects. Even Bellatrix did not do this, she was spending a lot of time in Malfoy Manor. Avoiding him whenever possible, she was still plotting something though, Harry wasn't naïve enough to think the likes of Bellatrix could be easily cowed.

"Go and inform Voldemort I require his presence," Harry informed Dobby, "Immediately," Voldemort wouldn't be difficult to find, he'd just left him moments prior.

Harry started casting spells of his own to ensure that nobody was hidden in the manor before he began to stalk up the beautiful estate, for a lone older woman and little boy, the estate looked magnificent, very well kept. The sound of animals could be heard in all directions, chickens, roosters, horses, the galloping of creatures and wings, it was a very busy estate. The House-elves were definitely kept busy, less so in summer he reckoned, when Neville took care of the gardens and greenhouses – he had revealed as much during their conversations – it was where Neville preferred to be.

Thankfully all these old estates seem to be made the same way, like old manor houses in Britain. Upon entering he found the House-elves living quarters to the front of the property on his right, to the left a large business room, lavatory, store room, all of which were empty of any occupants. Swiftly making his way out and down the corridor, he found the dining room, and by Merlin it was huge, filled with portraits of probably all previous Longbottom's.

"Down to the end of the property!" called a frantic portrait, her eyes wide and tearful.

Harry nodded grimly before running past an ante hall, vestibule, a room filled with plants and such. No surprise, Neville's love of Herbology knew no bounds whatsoever. Everyone knew just how good he was at the subject. At the end of the property, the first room he checked into, he gaped in amazement. This was like a massive Billiard's room, with pool tables, a table housed a large chess set, exploding snap, Pygmy Puff Pelmanism, Wizard Skittles, magical symbols game, Snitch Snatcher, Runes Riddles, Wizard checkers, even books with Spot the Snargluff.

Cursing he should have had the house-elf remain and guide them directly to the Longbottom's. They couldn't be taken directly to them unfortunately, not even the House-elves could bring people into manors without consequences. For both wizard and elf come to that, so he'd had to be dropped off and go the long way, which was stupid when it came to someone's life but security always came first.

He wrenched open the door to the last room, the drawing room. he didn't need to hunt far to find Augusta Longbottom was crumbled on the floor beside the doorway, he'd just narrowly avoided hitting her. The room was a mess, dozens of stained walls where spells had violently hit the walls, the chairs and portraits had been smashed to smithereens revealing just how nasty the duel had gotten. Her notoriously remembered hat, was lying a few feet from the scuffle, the large dead bird's beady eyes on him. Harry pursed his lips, refraining from ginning as he remembered what happened that day in Defence Against the Dark Arts and the Boggart turning into Severus. So, sue him for getting some amusement out of situations like this.

"Any signs of who really cast it?" Harry asked, sensing the near invisible footsteps at his back. He could sense Voldemort's presence, he wasn't afraid, he had no reason to be.

"No," Voldemort said his tone clipped and furious. Nearly everyone knew the damn incantation to that spell much to his consternation. After his defeat there had been many sightings of it scaring the population until the perpetrator was caught and sentenced to seven years in Azkaban. Despite the protests that he was only joking around, he hadn't hurt anyone. He certainly hadn't done it again, seven years in Azkaban would have taught him that at least.

"She's still alive, I can't find Neville, Elf!" Harry called sternly, she appeared indicating she was watching over the property carefully, "Where is Neville?" he didn't know where the hell to start, or who to go to. This place wasn't safe, obviously, they'd need to put it under the Fidelius Charm to protect them. He very much doubted Dumbledore had done this…not if he needed Neville…and if it wasn't Death Eaters…he was at a loss.

"Follow me," The House-elf said immediately, still wringing her hands nervously, she was terrified that she and the others would lose their good and kind Masters.

Neville was in the one place he hadn't thought to look, the room he was using to grow his plants. Even the Mimbulus Mimbletonia that Neville spoke about last year, how he had bred it and created something of his own, he honestly couldn't pronounce the words he'd written. Seeing him lying there, flat on his back, chest unmoving had Harry lurching towards him, pressing his fingers against his neck. The relief that flowed through him almost had him collapsing on top of Neville.

"Grant will see to both of them," Voldemort stated curtly as he made his sudden appearance, honestly, a year ago would have preferred that they died. It would have been two less opponents he'd have to endure trying to win this war. Now he held hope that they would become neutral at the very least, especially if this was an attack by their own side. His Death Eaters wouldn't do something so stupid, as to attack anyone and leave them alive. Most of them were 'dead' in the eyes of the magical world and that was the way he hoped to keep it. It allowed them to move more freely and do the things he needed done without everyone being on the defensive and expecting an attack. Whoever had done this, were invited in, accepted by the wards.

"This attack…whoever perpetrated it is a complete novice!" Harry declared, "Why leave someone…or rather two someone's alive and potentially have you caught? They panicked after the initial fight and ran with their tail between their legs." He wouldn't leave someone alive unless he was one hundred percent sure they were in a secure environment where he could control things, like the dungeons.

"Either that or they feared being interrupted, overthought a noise…. or had to be elsewhere, and used that as their alibi." Voldemort pointed out, government jobs were actually best for alibi's they knew down to the second in time when you entered and when you left. "They expected them to die as a result of their injuries. If we had not come…there would have been no hope for them."

Harry stood up, flicking his wand at Neville, placing the unconscious bloody heap upon the conjured stretcher. "Where's Grant setting up?" Harry asked, knowing they wouldn't be allowed anywhere near Voldemort's property, not even if they were begging on their knees for Voldemort to help them. Grant, he had learned, was one of the best Healers St. Mungo's had to offer. Not only that but he was one of the rare genuine good guys who helped everyone regardless of station. Even at the weekends he'd work in a place he'd opened a 'clinic' but the reality was it was more of a one room building that he used as a small hospital. For those who had absolutely no money and no means of getting the medical help they needed. Anyone that heard about Grant would never assume he was a Death Eater. It wasn't a front he put on to avoid suspicion either, Grant was truly goodhearted, would help anyone in a heartbeat. Made him feel a little guilty about how he'd treated the wizard to begin with, but it was who he was, and Grant had slowly gotten to know him enough not to be offended and knew when he was joking and being sarcastic.

"In the dining room!" came an amplified voice, indicating that Grant had been listening to their conversation. Not that it would take much, where they were in the room Neville was using as some sort of plant room was only across from the dining room. Only the ante hall was between them.

"Good, not far then," Harry murmured moving swiftly, keeping an eye out so he didn't smash the stretcher into the doorway, as he moved out. A quick jaunt towards the dining room he paused at the sight, two massive metal storage cupboards stood in the middle of the room along with two hospital beds, Grant was still taking items out of his trunk, as he moved expertly finding them effortlessly. Evidently, he knew exactly where everything was and was able to do so in a hurry.

"What happened?" Grant asked Harry, taking over the stretcher and getting Neville into the second bed, which had been unoccupied until then. Augusta lay just as still and quiet as before, hell she didn't even seem to be breathing, Neville either. He knew they were, barely, which couldn't be a good sign. "Put this on the clipboard over there, and add her name," he demanded of Harry, as he began to run a deep penetrative diagnosis on Neville. His chest heaving, he'd ran from his home, to the edge of the wards of Longbottom manor and all the way here, it was no easy feat, and he was breathless.

"I don't know what happened, I was just going about my day when a House-elf popped in, silently actually, scared the crap out of me when it stated talking." Harry revealed, glancing at Grant who was reading the results, pale face and grim. He wrote the Dowager Longbottom's name and what he knew which wasn't much this was something family should be writing down. "All it said was that they were injured and Neville told the Elf to come to me if anything happened."

"He suspected something like this may happen?" Grant asked, concerned, as he moved over to the cabinets and opened them. Taking the most important potions that was required to keep them in the land of the living, out and began by pouring them in Augusta's mouth, she was by far the worst off. For an older witch, she was strong, very strong, he'd seen less injured witches succumbing in less time.

"He must have done," Harry stated, grabbing the second diagnosis and writing Neville's name down before attaching it to a clipboard and placing it absently at the bottom of the bed. Staying out Grants way as he swiftly moved between both of them. Then again there was a war going on, so perhaps it was Neville just being prudent with their safety.

"Clean them up and change them," Grant added, as he began to insert a needle into their veins to ensure they didn't become dehydrated. Considering how badly they were off, Grant didn't see them wakening up for at least four or five days, judging by their own strength of character. Some people did surprise him now and again, although it had been a year since he'd been surprised and that was by the boy next to him. "It seems he had saved both their lives with his thinking."

"I didn't think wizards used those," Harry muttered, still slightly stunned by the appearance of needles and such.

"Only when required," Grant explained not even glancing at Harry to see if he was doing as Grant had demanded.

"She has an injury that's still bleeding quite harshly, Grant, it's her side," Harry commented, as the white bed clothes were immediately drenched blood red, he kept her modestly covered but gave her a proper once over, revealing everything that was wrong with her visibly anyway. He pressed a cloth against the blood, keeping a firm hold to stave off the bleeding.

"Give me a minute," Grant said, very cool and calm, even under pressure. Not surprising, he was a healer, he was used to dealing with stress at his job. Although he wasn't usually responsible for two people, solely responsible for them. He was grateful at least that Harry was here to make this easier on him. he wasn't sure how long he would be, no doubt his Lord would require his attention soon enough. He knew what their Lord was up to, securing the premises so nothing and nobody could get here in case it was a trap.

"I won't be needing those," Grant said as he stepped forward to see the injury himself the needle and stitching to close off wounds.

"Then why do you have them?" Harry grumbled under his breath, more used to patching himself up with Muggle stuff, so it was more familiar to him.

"Sometimes wounds refuse to heal, such as some animal bites, or spells that purposely prevent healing until the counter spell is uttered." Grant educated him, as his wand waved in an intrigue pattern, healing the wound easily. Able to non-verbally begin the healing progress of the injury while talking. "Which requires bandaging to try and prevent any infections, and also try and stop the flow being quite so harsh. Nine times out of ten, simply knowing the right spell prevents any need for bandages." He educated Harry, aware that he didn't know much about the magical healing side of things.

"Harry, I require your immediate presence at the entrance hall at once," the Dark Lord's voice echoed in every crevice of the house.

Grant almost stumbled, the 'require' not 'demand' catching him very much off-guard. He didn't let that deter him from his goal, as he continued to fix the worst of the injuries to both the Longbottom's. Frequently changing patients each time, in order of the severity of the wounds/injuries. Not having to look at the board at the bottom of their temporary beds. He was very good at memorising information; it came in handy during times like these.

"Excuse me," Harry said, as he exited the room.

Grant couldn't help but grin as he remembered the pureblood lessons Harry had undergone before returning to Hogwarts for his fifth year. He'd only seen the one lesson, but it had been amusing. It was near the beginning and Harry had looked set to kill someone. The Dark Lord hadn't been far off the mark either. Harry had to be the most stubborn wizard – bar the Dark Lord – he'd ever met. Then again, it was difficult to change when you were nearly an adult. Even if it was something like elocution lessons.

Shaking off his thoughts, he poured potions down his patients throats, removed hexes and curses at an alarming rate, he felt magic coursing through the manor around ten minutes after Harry left. Augusta was in really bad shape, thus the saline solution, to ensure she remained hydrated, especially given she'd lost a lot of blood. She was far worse off than Neville Longbottom.

It imbedded itself in the walls, and it most certainly wasn't the Dark Lord's magic, interesting, was Harry Potter successfully being taught to cast the Fidelius Charm on his first go? It was truthfully the only spell that would keep everyone safe until either Longbottom woke up to strengthen the wards and return them to their former glory. The damage, he later learned, that had been done to the wards was near catastrophic.

Pouring the last potion that he could give Augusta Longbottom down her throat, he sighed and stretched out, craning his head back and forth and rolling his shoulders. Breathing out evenly, he nodded to himself. glancing up at the vital stats above their beds, showing everything, including their BMI which wasn't really needed at the moment.

Sighing out, "It's going to be a long night," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes, he'd been on the nightshift at St. Mungo's last night, but at least he'd managed to get a few hours' sleep before he had been summoned to Longbottom manor. He really needed to find himself an apprentice, someone who was interested in healing, someone from the Dark Lord's forces, because this war was just beginning, he knew he'd need all the help he could get. He made a mental note to speak to the Dark Lord about his idea…when he was in a very, very, very good mood.

"What was that?" Harry asked, causing Grant to stand up straight at attention before relaxing as the sound penetrated his mind. It was not the Dark Lord.

"I don't suppose you'd like to apprentice yourself to be a healer?" Grant mused as he sat down, creating two more, before as if reading his mind a House-Elf – the same one – came through with two trays, one filled with water and five cups, and another with refreshments for them.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, staring at the House-Elf, there was no saying whether they were male or female. There was nothing that gave it away, at least not unless they were starkers. Which they weren't – thankfully – but considering they could mate he'd say they had to have some sort of sex organs.

"I is being called Rose, Lord Potter-Black," Rose said softly, delicately, as if she feared angering him. Which to be fair she probably did, all House-Elves were like that.

"Thank you, Rose, under no circumstances are you to leave the manor or it's grounds, until your Master's wake up, you take your orders from those in this room. Do you understand?" Harry commanded, but his voice wasn't harsh and angry, just very serious. The House-Elf could get around his orders, she did not belong to him, but he hoped she would do as he asked. He couldn't risk word getting back to Hogwarts or worse Dumbledore that he'd been seen with Voldemort. Although to be frank…he wasn't sure the House-Elf's knew that Voldemort was in fact Voldemort.

"I is be listening to Lord Potter-Black," Rose promised, bowing low showing her subservience to the wizard before her. "I is not to leave the manor or grounds." He echoed the words, intending on listening to them. Harry Potter-Black had saved her Masters so she would do as he bid until her true Masters woke up.

"Inform the others of their orders, you will be helping Grant take care of Heir Longbottom and Dowager Longbottom until they are well." Harry informed her, "You will all be taking shifts, so make a schedule and ensure some of you rest this afternoon."

"Rose will do as commanded," she said in awe, bowing once more before leaving with an almost silent pop.

"Why haven't you bothered with an apprentice before now?" Harry asked Grant absently, leaning back in the quite comfortable armchair as he observed the wizard. He was currently making himself a mug of strong black coffee.

"Time," Grant mused, stirring the brew which was definitely not at a temperature he could drink it without ending up scalded. "My work schedule makes it impossible really, even more so now."

"Daphne Greengrass has quite often commented on her desire to be a healer," Harry said thoughtfully, "With her still attending Hogwarts, she would be perfect…unless her family is neutral?"

"No, they're firmly a believer of the Dark Lord's causes," Grant replied immediately, giving in and pouring some milk into the cup, his desire to drink outweighing the fact he usually drank it dark. Using magic to make it cooler leaves an odd taste to it which he didn't like.

"But not Death Eaters themselves?" Harry pointed out, "I've never heard the name mentioned, then again I'm only really familiar with those in the inner circle." Which was the truth, they wore dark robes and masks, he wasn't familiar enough with any of the dark fraction to point them out on appearance alone. Hell, the only ones he'd be able to tell by appearance alone was definitely Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix rarely wore her Death Eater garb so her as well, the Lestrange's did, to an extent. He was only ever around the inner circle, even if only briefly, they were the ones who knew he was on Voldemort's side.

"Bowen Greengrass is indeed one of my own," Voldemort stated firmly, as he made his entrance. Barely glancing towards the two unconscious on the beds, he honestly didn't care much about them. He wasn't sure why the hell he was helping either, they'd sooner kill him than help him. "There is a dead body in the hallway."

"A house-elf?" Harry asked concerned.

"No, human, a wizard I presume." He did have a wand still clutched in his hand. He would be very surprised if he actually managed to fire off a single spell before he was taken care of.

"I wasn't aware there were any other Longbottom's," Grant commented, he would need to officially declare them dead and produce a death certificate. Then preserve the body up until they wake – if they wake – so that they could do as they wished for their fallen family member.

"Algie Longbottom," Harry said with a vicious satisfaction coating his voice. "He traumatised Neville in a bid to get him to show he was magical. He should be glad he never met me, for I'm not sure he would have survived it." Neville had told him nearly everything that piece of work had done to him over the years, each conversation had eased something within Neville, and encouraged his confidence and easement over the past.

Voldemort arched a brow before dismissing the situation entirely, he did not care one way or another if he was honest, except if the Longbottom family went neutral.

"I shall deal with him in a moment," Grant declared.

"How are they, anyway?" Harry asked Grant.

Voldemort despite his disinterest listened to Grant speak.

"It's going to be touch and go…for at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours," Grant revealed, his face blank, as it always was when handing over diagnosis' to loved ones or his Lord for that matter.

"Even with magic?!" Harry asked, gaping at the wizard, then recalling all the people in St. Mungo's magic wasn't, unfortunately, a cure all even in the magical world.

"Even with magic, it depends entirely on how long the spells have been on and whether I managed to de-hex them in time." Grant explained, "Then there's the blood that's been lost, easily restored I'll admit, but hopefully in time." Whoever had done this, had meant to end the Longbottom line, of this, he was sure.

"Speak to Greengrass, if she's serious about being a Healer, getting some apprenticeship time under her belt during her summer holidays…will only aid in her desires to become a Healer. Once she leaves, she can become apprenticed to you full time if it's something she still wants to do." Harry suggested to Grant, teenagers changed their minds regarding what they wanted to do. Like Hermione, she didn't have the same goals she'd had when she was eleven. Ron's had always been the same, Prefect, Quidditch player, Quidditch captain, Auror just as it had been in the mirror of Erised. He was lucky he was able to have what the mirror showed him. Harry's inner desires at eleven had been his own parents, he did ponder on what would meet his gaze this time, but brushed it off. It was a dangerous assumption to begin, that mirror had ensnared others after all. Dumbledore had risked his sanity/life just to see what he desired more than anything else in the world.

"Once I've got free time on my hands after this," Grant decided, he unlike many of the Death Eaters wasn't prejudice against the 'weaker' sex as they often though witches were. The magical world had come on leaps and bounds since witches were able to do things. The Floo network had been created by a witch. Honestly, there were too many to name, St. Mungo's had been co-founded by a witch, admittedly not many knew that outside the healer community.

Harry nodded his head curtly, agreeing with him.

"I assume you're going to remain here tonight?" Voldemort uttered lazily, already bored out of his mind, and wanted nothing more than to return to his own home. Although, one little piece of information had him curious.

"I am," Harry confirmed, not surprised Voldemort knew him well. If Neville was to die…then he should have at least someone beside him so he didn't pass over this world alone. Neville hadn't had too many friends in his life, and Harry refused to abandon him in his time of need. Plus, he wanted to be the first to know what the hell had happened, and who had hurt him.

Even if it was the last thing Neville was able to tell him, he'd get his revenge.

"I thought as much, return to the Manor when you have news," he instructed the young wizard.

"I will." Harry confirmed, while Grant stood and bowed his head to his Lord in respect.

It took three days for the Longbottom's to slip out of 'Critical care' and six more days before Neville opened his eyes for the first time since Harry had come to his aid nine days ago. Now the eighteenth of July, the summer holidays was now half over with.

When Harry heard what happened, he ensured Neville was given a Dreamless Sleep draught before returning to Slytherin Manor. His magic furiously ripping free, as his anger got the better of him.

Voldemort just observed him calmly, unafraid of his magical displays. As Harry paced back and forth in the meeting room, "I assume you now know who perpetrated the attack?" assuming it was one of his own due to the fact he had returned here with such anger in his system. He must confess he was rather curious himself, mostly because they'd dared to attempt to make it seem like it was them that had done the deed. The Dark Mark had shone brightly above the property.

"Pensive? You might as well see it," Harry suggested blankly, eyes twitching the only give away other than the intense look in his eyes.

"He gave you the memory?" Voldemort asked, eyes flashing in genuine surprise.

Harry nodded curtly; it was a sign of true loyalty to give your memories up in such a way. To ask was a grievous insult to wizards. Perhaps there was more Gryffindor than Hufflepuff to Neville Longbottom after all.

"Very well," Voldemort replied, with that both of them made their way to Voldemort's office, ready to see the attack for himself. If this was an elaborate scheme by his Death Eaters they would regret it. If it was a scheme to reveal the Death Eaters then they'd regret it too, since he would know his own people, right down to their wand movements and spell casting.

Voldemort was in for a surprise when he saw what occurred for himself.

R&R 

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 43

His conversation with Neville had been very short, he'd been quite groggy and confused, which was normal after wakening up after an attack. Very subdued when he finally had everything clicking into gear, by that he meant remembering everything that had happened. Fuck, Neville had looked broken, haunted, and Harry would have done anything to wipe it from his face. He had never seen Neville like that, sure he was shy and often avoided confrontation…but he was very brave, he'd even stood up to his friends for a cause he felt was obviously warranted. He'd just needed more confidence, and his last year at Hogwarts had produced that. He just hoped that this incident would not destroy the progress.

Pouring the memory into the pensive, Voldemort having left it void of anything so it didn't require emptying.

For once, especially when it was concerning the Longbottom's Voldemort wasn't bored. He would admit only to himself he was intrigued on this matter. He doubted very much that it was any of his followers, he knew Harry well, he would have tried to demand their presence and a duel of honour on Longbottom's behalf. The fact he wanted to show him indicated a disbelief perhaps in what truly happened. There weren't many people that could elicit that reaction from him.

"Ready?" Voldemort stated, his wand hovering over the pensive, the manor locking itself down, including the door to his study to keep them safe while they were in a vulnerable position. He refused to be a sitting duck when they re-emerged from the pensive.

Harry nodded grimly only wand out at the pensive.

"Now," Voldemort demanded, and both immediately jabbed the pensive with the tip of their wands in sync, and within seconds the room was empty and a blue hue glowed within the pensive as they viewed it.

They found themselves in the drawing room, a very neat and tidy one.

OO Pensive Memory OO

Augusta was clearly perturbated by the Headmaster's presence, it was obviously not a prearranged appointment. Yet she was still very courteous, and arranged for refreshments. The House-Elf Rose had made one for Augusta just the way she liked it, and handed it over to the elderly witch. Waving the House-Elf away with a delicate wave of her hand, without so much as a word.

"What can I do for you Albus?" Augusta asked, after impatiently waiting for Albus to finish making his own cup looking very happy and comfortable.

Only Harry was able to tell just how irascible the Headmaster truly was to be there.

"I wonder when this happened…" Harry mused, there was no sign of the date anywhere, so he had absolutely no idea.

Meanwhile Neville looked as though he just wanted to sink into the seat and disappear, nerves getting the better of him. As it would of anyone who suddenly found the Headmaster of their school in their home. Yet at the same time his jaw jutted, determination thrummed through Neville, he wouldn't give his friend up for anything. The Headmaster couldn't force him.

"I assume you know why Frank and Alice were targeted all those years ago?" Albus begun, blue eyes solemn, as he spoke of his two favourite Auror's. Neville had been a huge disappointment when compared to his powerful, loyal and extremely friendly parents.

"I do," Augusta stated curtly, still thinking of her son and daughter-in-law hurt even after all those years. To her they had been heroes, the best of the bunch graduating Hogwarts that year. What hurt the most was the fact the war had just ended; they'd stupidly thought they were safe. They'd been wrong. Everyone had been clamouring to find those responsible and see them punished, that was how popular and beloved her son and daughter-in-law had been.

Voldemort eyed Dumbledore speculatively, like a snake ready to strike, he wasn't about to tell someone the Prophecy, was he? Not after keeping it a secret all this time. He would have done anything for this memory if he hadn't already retrieved it. Something Dumbledore no doubt had expected of him.

"I believe I may have made a mistake regarding who the child of that said prophecy was," Albus said calmly, as Augusta sipped on her tea the saucer held aloft as she did so.

Neville was just confused by the entire conversation. What prophecy? What boy? What did it have to do with him? So, he wasn't in trouble after all? He so badly wanted to ask a lot of questions, but it was ingrained into him never to interrupt. He was expected to sit still and remain silent, children should be seen and not heard his Gran had said constantly as a child.

Augusta never once lost her composure, at least never outwardly, "Twaddle," she exclaimed lowering her cup back to its saucer, "You're never wrong Albus, at least in terms of the actions you take." For the most part, there were some she didn't agree with but that was nothing she could chance thus did not bother herself with. She was not going to let him draw her grandson into this nonsense. It was balderdash, utterly balderdash.

"It's true," Albus admitted, body tense and eyes blazing a little at being so thoroughly condescended. "I regret to say that it is true." He wasn't sure how much it would help, but it would give the Order purpose, renewed hope until he could find Potter and get him back under control. He would help him collect the Horcruxes and then die himself to end this contemptable war. It had gone on too long in his opinion, and the longer the public refused to believe they were in danger the greater his desire to show them what was happening right under their noses.

What Tom was up to actually scared him enough to require Harry's memory of that night in order to show the Wizengamot. They had to step up and take action, every death, even accidental made him extremely cautious, was it Tom up to something or truly an accident? They were not stopping any 'attacks' because there were none, just Order meetings, looking for clues, ways to bring Tom out into the open. Have the Auror's out there actively looking for him, stopping the Death Eaters…for all he knew, Tom may have already recruited dozens upon dozens of people for his cause. Severus was still being tested constantly to ensure he was loyal, but never given anything in the way of real information. He'd have asked Severus for one of the memories if he didn't believe Severus was too important to the war process.

"This has nothing to do with my grandson," Augusta pressed out sternly, she absolutely refused to see Frank's son end up dead because of this war. No, she wanted him to go on, to have a family, keep the Longbottom line alive, and to do that, he couldn't become a target of that depraved soul that was Voldemort. He could help the war efforts from a distance, but never directly involved if she had her say. Neville wasn't a fighter, and that had in the past disheartened her, but now…now she was grateful for it, that he wouldn't just not come home one day. She knew deep in her heart that Frank and Alice didn't want this for him. As much as it tore their hearts and made them feel so guilty, they'd been glad, so very glad, that the Prophecy had been about the Potters.

"Augusta, the weight of the world hangs in the balance," Albus cautioned her to think before she spoke. There was no heat behind his words, giving away the fact he didn't feel passionate about them buying it. He just needed the Order to believe it before it all falls apart.

Neville paled and violently bit his tongue to stop himself speaking, the urge growing stronger by the minute.

"I have no desire to speak of this further," Augusta stated firmly, her cup of unfinished tea floating back onto the silver refreshment tray. "We are done here,"

"Augusta, please listen to reason," Albus urged her, she'd always been an obstinate woman, one not many actually crossed.

"Rose?" Augusta called, eyes stern as they bored into Albus' seriously, "See to it that our guest is escorted to the gates," he was not getting to use Neville in his games.

Rose didn't speak, merely hooked her finger on a piece of Dumbledore's clothing, which happened to be a gold and red cloak today, and teleported them to the gates of Longbottom Manor. He was just regaining his bearings when the gates were closed and the House-Elf was gone, returning to Lady Longbottom and young Master.

"Gran, what was that all about?" Neville asked as he stood, with calmness he definitely didn't feel. He knew though, if he outright demanded answers he'd just be ignored. His Gran loathed uncouthness, and demanded respect even by him, and most definitely in her own home.

"Take a seat," Augusta said, suddenly looking her age, or ten years older as she observed her tense grandson. "Seventeen years ago, before you were even born," Neville blushed furiously at that, still very much an innocent. "There was a prophecy created by one Sybil Trelawney during a job interview at the end of the school year in nineteen-ninety-three and nineteen-ninety-four for the Divination post. She predicted that a child would be born with the power to vanquish V—You-Know-Who," refraining from saying his name out loud, she knew what happened to those who did, especially during the last war. It galled her having to say You-Know-Who in the privacy of her own home, but safety first before pride and all that.

Neville's eyebrows flew so high that Harry couldn't see them through his messy head of hair. "You're joking!" he choked out, "Harry?" he might not be one of the highest percentiles in school, but he was far from stupid. People did underestimate him, including his grandmother, judging by the jolt of surprise that coursed through her, it might have been mere seconds but it was enough. Although it didn't sink in yet, that Dumbledore was suddenly thinking it was him! After all the idea was so ludicrous that even Neville would never dare to dream such thing.

"You-Know-Who made plans to deal with who he thought those children were. There were clues, one of them was 'As the seventh month dies' I was never told the exact wording of this so-called prophecy." Augusta explained, placing a hand on her grandson in comfort. Something she wasn't very good at, but she tried her best. "According to rumour there were only two children who fitted that bill, yourself and Harry, yes,"

"But He chose Harry," Neville said, sadness and sympathy written across his face, he wouldn't wish his life on anyone, especially not Harry. Everyone thought it was bad knowing your parents were dead, but to him…the worst of it was visiting his comatose parents, speaking to them, hearing them breathing but knowing this was all they would know for the rest of their lives. The inside of a hospital on a bed, needing to be told to go to the toilet, to eat, to drink, it was horrific.

"That's correct, nobody knows quite why he chose Lord Potter," she hadn't been given permission to use his name after all. She doubted she ever would after the way he had looked at her. Nobody had spoken to her in such a way, or defended her grandson in such a passionate manner. It added to the guilt she already harboured around her heart. "Not that it matters anymore, he did choose him, I have no doubt whatever is in that prophecy is extremely bad if Lord Potter took his exams early and left." She believed Dumbledore when she said that Voldemort was back.

"He didn't leave for that reason," Neville shook his head, "He left because of Dumbledore and Umbridge,"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Augusta admonished, saying nothing about Umbridge, she detested the woman. "Now what on earth happened that he'd wish to get away from the Headmaster?" not one for gossip – or so she told herself anyway – but truly wishing to know what had gone on this past year.

"Dumbledore knew about Umbridge using a Blood Quill at Hogwarts, on the others," Neville told her, "But something happened…when the school year begun. I'm not sure what, but both of them were pis…angry." Knowing better than to swear.

So perhaps her thoughts were correct, it was too much for a teenager to bear. Who in their right mind informs a fifteen-year-old they're responsible for the entire magical world and expect them to stay? Even in her day if someone told her that she too would have wanted to vanish. Not having any family, it would be very easy for Lord Potter to pack up his belongings and leave. The fact Dumbledore knew about a Blood Quill being used was very concerning, if it had happened to Neville, she would have brought the entire wrath available to her from the House of Longbottom down on her revolting head.

"Wait, are you saying he thinks it's me?!" Neville cried out in surprise as it finally dawned on him that his Gran said two people fitted the prophecy, him or Harry.

"No, he definitely doesn't believe it was you," Augusta stated firmly. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow a mistake like that to happen. He's much too cautious about things such as these. No, he's up to something, and wants you for a reason I can't quite fathom yet, a decoy perhaps?" the thought left her feeling cold and furious. It was why she'd closed the wards around Dumbledore, letting him know without words he was not welcome. Ever again.

Nobody tried to manipulate her grandson. Especially not someone like Dumbledore. Someone her grandson would never be able to deny. Dumbledore was a revered figure; Neville wouldn't think twice about helping him unaware of the manipulation and intrigue by-plays that were happening in front of him. He wasn't that sort of boy and she refused to let it happen.

"Harry…Harry thought something like this could happen," Neville said staring at the floor, shame covering his entire face. "I thought he was just being…overly cautious and maybe too suspicious."

Augusta smirked, "Perhaps the boy knows him better than any of us believed," which could only be a good thing. Oh, Dumbledore was a good man, he would do what was best for the magical world on a whole, but not one person came before that whole. She'd only seen Harry Potter once, during Neville's first trip on the Hogwarts express. So innocent and overwhelmed, exuded the same as the Muggle-borns, an awe to the newness and there and then she knew he had only just realized he was a wizard and the magical world was real. She'd felt pity for him, perhaps she should have intervened, she knew Alice and Frank would have wanted it…but she was an old witch, looking after Neville – who was thankfully a quiet child – was enough for her without two eleven-year-olds. She heavily suspected that any attempts to get the child would have been soundly rejected. Dumbledore had plans for him after all that didn't include her.

"That's interesting," Harry muttered observing the woman from within the pensive.

Voldemort however didn't seem the slightest bit surprised, he had attended Hogwarts with this woman and knew how astute she was. It's why she had never joined the war, either side, remaining neutral, her son however, was too manipulated and beguiled by Dumbledore and did indeed join the war for the old man's side.

Augusta's lips turned into a thin line as she pursed them, every adult knew what Dumbledore was like. At least those who paid attention and observed everything. She did, hence why she knew Albus Dumbledore was quite the schemer, he had been since as far back as she could remember. An innocent like Harry, who looked up to Dumbledore…finding out what he truly wanted, what he was truly like…well, she wouldn't be surprised if Lord Potter didn't make a reappearance in the British Isles for as long as he lived.

"Go on, isn't it time to water your plants?" Augusta coached her grandson.

"Yeah," Neville muttered, clearly distracted but doing as he was told nonetheless.

Augusta watched him go, a pained look on her face, no Neville wouldn't stand a chance against Dumbledore. It was time she re-wrote her will, they had very distant relations in America, on her side of the family. If anything happened to her, Neville's life might be uprooted but he'd stay alive and that was the main thing. Oh, Dumbledore wouldn't do the deed, but his scheming could go severely wrong.

Voldemort watched her closely; it was obvious she thought that history was going to repeat itself judging by the look on her face.

With purpose and renewed determination Augusta approached her private desk just as Neville left the room.

The pensive swirled brightly indicating the end of the memory.

OO End Of Pensive Memory OO

The pensive didn't spit them out, quite yet, there was another memory to observe. It merely throwed both Voldemort and Harry into yet another viewing.

OO Pensive Memory OO

This time Neville wasn't in the scene, no, he was hidden from view behind one of the tapestries that led to a secret room. Watching the scene through a crack in the doorway, there was a piece of metal hooked on the door and the doorway, presumably preventing any accidental noises from happening if the door opened further.

The good thing though was that he and Voldemort could see everything, not just what Neville could see through the very thin slit in the doorway.

"I wonder if Augusta knows he's there," Harry pondered as he watched the scene, even before any duelling started you could see how tense both Augusta and Dumbledore were, Doge looked deeply uncomfortable.

"She most definitely does," Voldemort stated sharply, it was her manor she knew where everyone was.

She wanted him to see.

Wanted the boy to know Dumbledore's true nature.

"I'm not asking you to leave your home," Albus informed her, "I only ask that you and Mr. Longbottom refrain from going into public for a few weeks, that is all."

"What the hell?" Harry muttered, a frown twisting his features, Neville obviously hadn't heard the entire conversation.

"My answer will remain the same, Albus, I refuse to do this," Augusta informed him.

"Do you not understand? Without Harry you won't get your revenge for what happened to Frank and Alice!" Albus going for a low blow that would most assuredly get Augusta on his side.

"Do not bring them into this," Augusta retorted, angry beyond belief at Albus' blatant manipulations.

"It's for the greater good, Augusta, and it's not for long," Doge pointed out, trying to get rid of the tension that was currently swamping the room like a tidal wave. "Frank and Alice need you to do one thing for them, just one little thing."

"No, now you'll both leave my manor and never approach my doorstep again, otherwise I will get a restraining order against you, Albus," Augusta said in disgust, "I refuse to play your games, Neville will not let you use him in order to lure Lord Potter from hiding in order to try and manipulate him into fighting, again."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Fucking bastard!" Harry swore angrily, he was grateful at least that Augusta and Neville had not wanted any part in this. "It's a good job we put the Fidelius Charm on this place…" otherwise he might have just ended up back in Dumbledore's clutches. He had a feeling that this time, Dumbledore was through playing, he liked to think his rings would have protected him from any potion or spell Dumbledore could think up to control him…but he wasn't positive that was true.

"Something obviously went wrong, or Dumbledore decided to continue his plans without their approval," Voldemort stated, there was no way Augusta would have let her grandson be nearly killed in order to draw Harry out, no matter what Dumbledore suggested or tried to coerce out of her.

"Augusta this must happen for the greater good," Dumbledore said sternly, losing his patience, Harry Potter was the most important piece of the chessboard, anyone else…absolutely anyone else was expendable. In the end even Harry Potter was expendable, but only in the end.

"Leave!" Augusta countered furiously, standing up, uncaring for protocol, she wouldn't stand this for a moment more.

"I am sorry to do this, I truly am," Albus said, blue eyes gleaming with desperation, as he withdrew his wand, it must be done. Augusta and Neville were low on the totem pole on people he held important.

"Albus!" Doge cried out as he stood up too, worry warring with disbelief on what was going on.

Then the duel was on, Doge squeaked and ducked down, hiding behind the seat for protection as spells zoomed back and forth.

"GRAN!" Neville cried out in fear, fumbling with the latch to get to her.

"Neville! Leave now!" Augusta said in her sternest voice, knowing her grandson would do as she told him, the power exuding from her tripled, as she fought for her grandsons life.

Doge's eyes widened, glancing around as if hoping the answer was right in front of him on what on earth to do. In the end of the day though, his loyalty was to Albus Dumbledore and always had been since he was eleven years old. Grasping his own wand, he jumped in fright when the seat he was hiding behind splintered into a million jagged edges.

"Stop him!" Dumbledore demanded, and with that the fight continued on with Augusta, both of them very powerful in their own right.

However, the memory played from Neville's point of view, as he ran through the secret passageways, trying to get away from Doge. Ducking curses that were flung at his back, this being his home, he knew where to go best. If he could just outrun Doge, he would end up lost. Unfortunately, for an old man he was spry and managed to keep up with Neville the entire time. In the end of the passageway, he had to force himself out of the plant room, all the while being hit by curses and spells to slow him down by Doge, who had no idea if his spells were hitting his target or not.

When Neville slumped on the floor bleeding after a particularly nasty curse, Doge emerged from the passageway. He paled, looking sick to his stomach, "Hold on, just hold on," he muttered desperately, shaking to the core, "What the hell have I just done?" so ashamed of himself, he'd just attacked an underage school boy.

Suddenly Albus came up behind Doge, wand at his temple, "Obliviate," he uttered in a calm steady voice, even if his face gave away how shaken he was. He couldn't let him remember what happened. By then the memory went black, as Neville lost consciousness.

This time they were expelled from the pensive.

OO End Of Pensive Memory OO

Landing on their feet, expertly both just stared at one another, comprehending everything they'd seen in the memory. Voldemort was calm and composed, more interested in Harry's reaction than processing his own. Harry was endlessly fascinating to him, especially his reaction to things. He was constantly surprised by Harry's response to things. He reacted strongly to things he wouldn't expect, and was bland regarding others he had been positive would give the biggest respond.

"Why did the spells fail?" Harry asked, as he stalked back and forth, brow once again furrowed.

"Dumbledore did not use the Obliviate on Augusta or Neville," Voldemort pointed out, "He changed their memories, or attempted to do so." According to the deep scan they'd used at any rate.

"Yes, but why did it fail?" Harry nodded, he already knew this, he'd been there when the results of the scans had been shared. "I mean come on; Dumbledore isn't a bloody slouch when it comes to magical powers!" of that neither of them could deny.

"Severe shock has been known to remove even Obliviates," Voldemort stated confidently. "That and enduring exposure to repeated Cruciatus Curses."

"Yeah, Jorkins I know." Harry nodded; Barty had told him. "So, you're saying that what…it didn't work because of how much shock they were in?" it sounded unbelievable as hell. When the spells were put on the recipients were usually in a state of shock anyway.

"Unless…Augusta had something up her sleeve to protect both herself and her grandson," Voldemort said, eyes gleaming thoughtfully.

"Well considering how against she was regarding Dumbledore and any plans he had…that actually wouldn't surprise me." Harry admitted, "I should have thought of that."

"Do you remember seeing runes of any kind fading on him? or perhaps seen any pendant or band that could have protected him, or an heirship ring?" Voldemort asked. He hadn't gone too near them, instead mostly lingered in the background before returning to his home, if there was going to be anywhere, he'd be bored, then it would be home, here where he could sate his boredom.

"If they do have something on them…then it means they're lucky…that it protected them too, that is how they may have survived such a harsh attack." Harry mused, "I'll find out tomorrow, for all we know it might have just been Neville…Augusta Longbottom may have a different set of events in her mind."

"That is true," Voldemort conceded, and evidently the witch hadn't woken up to confirm or deny anything.

"Dumbledore just took a huge risk," Harry said, slumping down, completely stunned by what he'd done. "He risked them both dying just to draw me out, on the likelihood that I would actually fucking showed."

"Like Severus has often commented, he's capable of more than you can fathom and would go to any lengths to achieve his goals." Voldemort stated, "I am unsure of why this is a huge surprise to you…" Harry knew just as well as him just what the old fool was capable of.

"No, I'm used to him taking calculated risks, ones that will definitely pay off, there was no guarantee that this stupidity would." Harry countered immediately. "He has no idea where I am, I might never have heard what happened…even if I did there was no guarantee I would have returned."

"He is desperate," Voldemort returned, "Desperate enough that he's screwing up, desperate men are dangerous men," he should know, he had done so himself many times. Ironic really, he'd never thought he'd see the day where he was the one watching Dumbledore fall apart.

"But is he desperate enough to go after someone else?" Harry questioned darkly. "I mean he killed Algie Longbottom, either that or Doge did, it's too bad we didn't get proof, getting him put in Azkaban would be poetic justice." after what had happened to his godfather, it truly would be.

Green eyes gleaming with a vengeance Voldemort hadn't seen since Umbridge ended up in their cell. It caused a shiver of delight to run up his back, watching Harry at work was truly a wonderous thing. Honestly, he was surprised the boy hadn't tried someone with him during the whole graveyard debacle. Still playing the part in hopes he would get away, but the fact he didn't care about his own death perhaps enabled him to continue that path. He used to think Bellatrix was creative in her torture, but she was nothing on Harry, he left her in the dirt.

"Someone else, by that I assume you mean your 'friends' Granger and the Weasley boy?" Voldemort sneered the word friends knowing that Harry had only used them as a smokescreen, "Weasley he wouldn't risk as useless as he is, the entire family would never stop looking for answers…as for Granger it's a possibility, as are the Muggles she lives with." He was never going to like Muggles, no matter what Harry said or proved.

Harry's lips twitched at the fact Voldemort couldn't even say the word parents. "That's the problem though, he only ever saw my persona. To Hogwarts you could say what you liked about me, but everyone knew better than to mess with my friends. Neville was targeted first because I had a genuine friendship with him at the end, more than I ever had Granger and Weasley, he potentially could go after Granger and Weasley but…I doubt it…then again, I wouldn't have thought he could do what he just did." Scowling darkly, he did not like an unpredictable Dumbledore. "Light or not, Neville has never done anything to anyone, he doesn't have a genuine bad bone in his body, he didn't deserve it." He was furious and frustrated at Dumbledore. "It's time we threw in a few distractions, now's the time to begin messing with Dumbledore." He declared seriously.

"What makes you think there's absolutely anything available?" Voldemort asked, his tone and face blank.

Harry grinned savagely, "If I managed to find a few things then you're bound to have,"

"Very well, let me hear what you've collected so far," pleasantly surprised by the fact Harry had the time to search out anything between training, reading, and his extracurricular activities that include creating potions and spells. It was very rare these days for him to be surprised by Harry, so to be surprised twice in one day was something.

"It's not much," Harry warned him, standing up, he moved out of the office and made his way to his bedroom. Even after all this time, it was such a strange thing for him to think or utter. All his life, it had been either the cupboard, Dudley's second bedroom, the Dorm, this was the one place he'd actually had somewhere to call his own.

He stood there in the doorway, relishing in this existence. For so long life had been about flying under the radar until he could get away. Truly not expecting to, he'd assumed he'd die at Voldemort's hands. The way things were going through…it looked as though Dumbledore was more liable to kill him than Voldemort.

Now wasn't that mind-blowing.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 44

"We might not have long to run with this," Harry said from where he sat, gesturing towards everything surrounding them, which was a great deal more than Harry could have anticipated or hoped. Between both of them, they could quite literally write a book the size of a doorstep on the old fool. Gathering the information hadn't been easy either, half it was through sheer persistence and bribery. They sort of knew it wouldn't be easy, otherwise some reporter would have already spilled the beans on Dumbledore, whether it was just after he defeated Grindelwald and was just a professor, or last year after his reputation took a serious knock. It still hadn't recovered fully, but Dumbledore was nothing if not persistent himself, and didn't give in easily. He also knew how to keep his reputation and name near enough completely clean. "There are outside forces doing what they can to bring him to justice,"

Voldemort glanced over at Harry, who had a thoughtful look on his face, the information he had brought him had coincided with his own. Solidify them if you will, with a few bits and pieces from places he hadn't thought to look. Including the contracts department, which housed over a dozen NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreements) which differed from the Muggle ones, these were magically binding, holding the swearer to his word, given in blood and thus magic. What those agreements actually were, they didn't know, they weren't written down, it was a word-of-mouth agreement to remain silent between two parties. "I'm going to assume you aren't talking about Augusta Longbottom?" at least not yet. Given time once she's recovered she would be at the forefront.

"You'd be right," Harry admitted grimly, "And I'm not really all that into stopping him." not because he didn't 'care' or anything like that. But if Sirius was right…he deserved answers, they both deserved answers.

"Are you keeping secrets from me?" Voldemort hissed out through gritted teeth, sounding more like his older self. Eyes flashing suspiciously, as he glared angrily at Harry, disappointed despite himself.

Harry smirked, unperturbed by Voldemort's mood, it would happen, always, Voldemort was suspicious by nature. Nothing was going to change that, not even him being a Horcrux would stow that suspicious mind. Although it did irk him that Voldemort suspected him of something. Hadn't be proved his loyalty? Well, not really, just stopped messing up his plans…and help him enact new ones. "Is this how you're going to be today?" Harry asked blankly smirk fading, staring at Voldemort without an ounce of feeling showing on his face or in his eyes.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Harry's impudence, if not for the threat of secrets hanging in the air between them, he would as always been extremely awed by the extent that Harry stood up to him. Yet, secrets, he continued to eye Harry, refusing to be drawn into a debate. "Explain. Now." He uttered two words, demanding an explanation to his earlier words.

Harry sighed, he could do without the threats, not that they scared him or Voldemort going into a huff. Honestly, the guy was like a toddler when he didn't get his way. He wouldn't just take it out on him either but everyone around him. He decided to take pity on everyone who would be around Voldemort today and just tell him, stave off his petulance. He'd probably be away again in seven hours; he was going to go back to Neville's.

"Alright," Harry said, sitting up tapping the table as he thought of the best way to explain, Sirius hadn't made the most sense after all. "The first full moon after you were temporarily defeated, Remus was alone for the full moon. He wasn't aware he'd just lost his entire pack, not until Dumbledore told him. Conveniently the very next night, Remus got free, no, his wolf side did, hunted down a muggle and killed him. Dumbledore returned again, informing Remus that he wanted me raised away from the fame I'd surely have and it was best if he didn't visit."

Voldemort frowned, well, this wasn't going where he'd expected it to. "They do not remember the full moon." He pointed out an obvious flaw in that belief. Except in flashes that were indecipherable really. It took Fenrir becoming one with his wolf to gain more clarity during the full moon.

"Yeah, I've been thinking that, but there must have been some sort of evidence either that or Remus has had his memories tampered with…" Harry sighed, "That's why he is so rigorous about taking the Wolfsbane potion each month despite the…damage it was doing."

Voldemort rolled his eyes, only Lupin would care about such an insipid thing, and it's not like he would have felt much for long, after the first few bites he was probably dead. Werewolves were insatiable creatures when they detected weakness, and would have killed the muggle quickly. It took extraordinarily good luck to manage to survive a werewolf, well, depending on your definition of luck.

"Having just killed someone, Remus agreed, too terrified he'd end up hurting someone or ending up executed so he basically drifted around the Muggle world for near enough twelve years." Harry's mouth curled in disgust, Dumbledore it seems interfered in every single angle of his life and he wanted him dead.

"Very unlike Black to suspect Dumbledore," Voldemort said astutely.

"Hardly," Harry said wryly, "He knows Dumbledore knew he was innocent, knew he was kept in Azkaban to keep him out of my life. Well, not until I told him my suspicions, but I believe I only helped the seed of suspicion grow otherwise I believe he would have ignored the implication and continued on for my benefit." The belief was held true by the fact Sirius had wanted to stay in Grimmauld Place and allow the Order to use his home as a base of operations.

"It's one thing to know he was capable of keeping him in Azkaban, but murder?" Voldemort pointed out. He knew that Sirius Black and the ilk that surrounded him those in his 'Order' all revered the ground Dumbledore walked on and would never believe him capable of anything unless there was irrefutable proof. Then they would abandon him like rats did a sinking ship.

"Dumbledore was the only one who knew where Remus was apparently, and Sirius believes Remus, who probably hasn't thought for a second that Dumbledore is capable of such duplicity." Harry shrugged, "He's been searching through Remus' childhood home and the surrounding land looking for clues to where the wards had been twisted."

"How long?" Voldemort asked, arching an eyebrow in disbelief, surely it didn't take that long to find the breech in the wards.

"Been weeks," Harry admitted, "I sent him a book that would help him pinpoint it quicker, but I haven't really spoken to him in a while, just quick reassurances that I'm fine in the mirror."

"It has been long enough that finding the breech would be next to impossible," Voldemort conceded his mind contemplating everything he'd just learned. The suspicion had already fled him, but he was annoyed that Harry had not informed him of this latest development.

"Not impossible, just difficult," Harry argued mildly, "More so for someone who isn't an expert, I did contemplate informing Fenrir, he would be able to find the vicinity in which Dumbledore had stood, feel the essence of Dumbledore's magic." Remus definitely wouldn't his senses were all fucked up due to the damn Wolfsbane potion he had taken for years.

"You understand that distributing all this information will not only endanger the reporter who chooses to publish the findings…but his desperation will grow worse each given article." Voldemort warned him blasely. He didn't much care for the Longbottom's or anyone who trusted Dumbledore. In his book they only got what they deserved, but Harry despite all his procrastinations' on the subject…cared, even if it was only a little. "Anyone he believes might have information on YOU will become a likely target I suspect." With his reputation in tatters, he would be even more desperate to end the war, to become a hero again in order to elevate himself in the eyes of the public once more.

Harry's green eyes gleamed otherworldly at the suggestion of Dumbledore being desperate. He relished in the fact he had screwed up Dumbledore's plans. For too long he'd been complacent in his role as the Saviour of the magical world. For too long had he allowed Dumbledore to lord over the fact he had the perfect weapon. For too long had he put his life on the line for a cause not his own. He wasn't responsible for Dumbledore's actions; he refused to be or feel guilty over what happened to the Longbottom's. It wasn't as if it had been him under the Imperius curse that hurt them or anything like that. Alright, he did feel a little bit responsible, Neville wouldn't have been targeted if he hadn't befriended him. But bloody hell, he couldn't go around feeling guilty over every move he made.

Gritting his teeth, "Looks like I'm going to have to call in a few favours," he grumbled under his breath in annoyance. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to use his favours on but needs a must. He needed to keep Luna and Neville safe, the Longbottom's were still under the Fidelius charm, so they were safe for now.

"Oh?" Voldemort eyed him in amusement, already suspecting what Harry was about to do.

Harry just huffed, the urge to stomp his foot in frustration was extreme.

Well, he best get to work, so he could return to Neville's soon.

Seven hours later

"Any news on Dowager Longbottom?" Harry asked Grant as the healer entered the room.

Grant had been in contact with the Greengrass' and actually had some success with Daphne Greengrass. Her father had also been in on the meetings, due to her underage status her father also had to sign the apprenticeship contract with her. Harry always felt a sense of satisfaction when his ideas were put to use, since they were so often – always actually – discarded as if he was a silly little boy coming up with childish ideas.

"Her vitals all look good," Grant said, not even pausing his perusal of his scans as he moved over to Neville to scan him to see how his body was doing. "Hmm…no changes, that's disappointing."

"You can head out, I'll call you if I need you," Harry informed Grant, he knew the healer had been working ungodly hours, he was surprised the wizard was even standing.

"You sure?" Grant asked, already wheeling the vials of potions over to him, they were all clearly labelled, Harry would know what to do. He'd picked up some basic healing spells and potion knowledge. Not enough to desire to become a healer unfortunately, but he did think Heiress Greengrass might just be what he was looking for. Bright ambitious and willing to get her hands dirty, which was rare in heiresses of her standing.

"Yeah, get some rest," Harry encouraged him, and it didn't take long for Grant to actually leave.

Harry frowned, eyes vacant as he thought on everything that had happened since he'd been summoned to help from Rose, one of the Longbottom house-elves. Did anyone even know there was something wrong? He had no clue as to their jobs, or whether they had one. If they did, surely, they'd expressed their concern over their silent and glaring absence. With the Fidelius charm up, nobody could visit anyways to see them, nor could. They write to them; the letters would continue to return unopened. It would be idiotic to be untraceable with owls still able to find you after all.

Then a soft sound that Harry almost dismissed met his ears.

"Wa…appened," Neville murmured his eyelids fluttering before opening.

"Easy, you're alright, it's just me, your house is under the Fidelius charm, you're safe from any attack, here, drink this," Harry said in a low soothing voice pressing a straw between Neville's lips silently encouraging him to drink the water from the goblet. "Go on," he added, as Neville's bleary eyes latched onto him. The stark relief on his face spoke volumes, and also indicated he had forgotten what happened, but Harry knew it wouldn't be for long.

Neville drank deeply from the goblet, sucking as much water as he physically could, greedily accepting the ice-cold water. Quenching his thirst, until there was nothing left in it, which left him nigh on already exhausted despite doing nothing. He was very grateful Harry was here, he could relax and try to process what had happened. "Was it…real?" he whispered, eyes taking a haunted broken quality.

Harry didn't answer straight away, instead he helped Neville into a sitting position.

"Need more water?" Harry asked, his face revealing nothing.

Neville shook his head, his stomach sinking at the fact Harry wasn't telling him what he wanted to know. This was going to be bad, very, very bad.

"What about food?" Harry questioned, knowing he was probably adding to Neville's anxiety but food and water was essential for his recovery.

Neville's stomach grumbled, loudly much to Neville's embarrassment judging by the flush that crept upon his cheeks.

"I'll take that as a yes," Harry said grinning in genuine amusement, it was nice to see some things with Neville wouldn't change. "Rose?" he called out, knowing their schedule.

A pop sounded immediately afterwards, "Young Master! You is awake!" Rose looked at Neville with tears of happiness running down her face, so glad to see him recovered.

"I'm fine, Rose," Neville's voice was quiet and he wore a small smile on his face, lying blatantly to make the House-Elf feel better.

"Go and get Neville something to eat, chicken soup and maybe a sandwich," Harry suggested, not wishing to be nasty, but he had a lot of information to share with Neville, who wasn't going to like what he heard.

"I will be doing that now Lord Potter-Black," Rose said, bowing low before once more disappearing with a pop.

Neville shot him a look of gratitude, perhaps for the way he spoke to the House-Elf. "Potter-Black?" he murmured quietly, licking his dry lips.

"Yeah, I didn't get a chance to tell you, I took on the Black Lordship," Harry showed off the two rings on his hand, watching Neville's eyes go wide in astonishment.

"Wow, I…didn't expect that," Neville admitted, he knew Sirius was innocent obviously, had before the newspapers published the news. So why hadn't Sirius taken on the mantle of the Lord of the Black estate? He would take on the Longbottom estate when he turned seventeen in just over a year. He knew everything that came with it, his Gran had ensured that.

Harry just grinned wryly; it was a bit much lording over two estates but he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Why are you avoiding my question?" Neville asked, unable to look Harry in the eye, as doubts and questions began to swim around his head, causing it to pound relentlessly. Also, it was very odd having a bed in the dining room, with his grandmother just a few feet from him.

"I will answer, I swear," Harry said right away, "Just eat first."

"Alright," Neville agreed, not wishing to upset Harry, he went rather tense every time he brought it up.

Speaking of food, the House-Elf reappeared with a steaming goblet of soup and a plate of sandwiches.

"I'll take it," Harry stated immediately, "Thank you, Rose," he said dismissing her.

Rose bowed before leaving looking much more relaxed than Harry had ever seen her. The news that Neville was going to be alright had eased her worries considerably. Harry had to wonder if she had been with the family long enough to have helped raise Neville.

"Think you can drink it on your own?" Harry asked, the plate of sandwiches went on Neville's lap. Harry then began pressing the goblet into Neville's hand, keeping the other hand on the rim while he ensured that it wouldn't be spilled everywhere.

"I'll be fine," Neville nodded, the warmth of the goblet helped him feel less cold inside. Merlin, his stomach felt as though it was going to jump out from his stomach and devour anything it could find. He was also anxious as hell; he knew what the answer was going to be but his mind couldn't come to terms with the fact.

Harry sat down again, mulling over everything he'd learned, pondering on how Neville would deal with it. He doubted very much Neville would ever join the Dark side. Not after what happened to his parents, he and Neville may have a few things in common, but their personalities were completely different. Neville couldn't, wouldn't, ever be able to hurt another soul whether they deserved it or not. The best he could hope for is Neville turning neutral, refusing to take part in the war. It might be a bit too much to hope for, he could just decide not to side with Dumbledore but remain loyal to the light side. Dumbledore may be the 'epitome' of all things light according to the magical world, but it simply wasn't true, just a belief most people clung on to.

"Do you need a pain reliver?" Harry asked him, eyes filled with sympathy, watching him devour the food like a dying man.

Neville paused, he was in pain, nothing intolerable at the moment, he suspected he still had a pain reliever running through his system. He didn't want to take anything, not unless he had to, he wanted to be one hundred percent cognizant for this conversation. "Not yet," he whispered before eating the remaining sandwich, eating slower, not only to delay the conversation suddenly, but because his stomach was fluttering with nerves and the feeling of fullness. "How…how is my Gran?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Her vitals all look good," Harry revealed calmly, pleased, it meant Neville remembered more, "She's recovering, slowly but surely, even though she hasn't woken yet, give it time she's not as young as she used to be."

Neville nodded as he swallowed the crusts of his sandwich, smiling a little in gratitude when Harry took the goblet and plate and put it aside for him. Sighing softly, as he relaxed back, although how long he'd feel even remotely 'relaxed' remained to be seen.

"Straight up or soften the blow?" Harry asked, turning back to face Neville, tone grim, his fingers pressed together under his chin, elbows on his needs as he observed the boy.

Neville once again licked his lips nervously, "Straight up,"

"What happened to you…did," Harry revealed, despite the fact Neville already suspected this a shocked, horrified gasp left his mouth regardless. "I watched the memories myself; they have not been tampered with, in fact…your Gran must have suspected something like this may occur, she had her Longbottom Consort ring concealed upon her hand, and this…you received this recently, didn't you?" his fingers brushing against the chain that was still around Neville's neck.

"Just a week ago, Gran said she wanted to give it to me for my birthday, but she wanted me to have it now." Neville whispered, eyes filling with tears. Both at the thought of losing his Gran and the perpetrator behind it. Well, a week ago in his mind, failing to realize it was a fortnight ago, he had been unconscious for a week.

"This has spells and very tiny runes etched on it, it would give you the same protection as you would have had wearing your Lordship ring…probably stronger actually, she's extremely smart, it's so intricately done that it took me ages to get through all the layers of protection. Don't worry I didn't disable it, I wouldn't want to, its…amazing qualify and superb work." Harry explained his awe evident, "Dumbledore tried to plant memories on you, so that you wouldn't know who really attacked you. The same with your Gran, he never even realized that they failed in his panic and haste to get away after his recklessness." Harry would have rather liked to know what sort of memory he'd planted, who he'd had attacking Neville to be frank.

Neville flinched, "Recklessness?" he rasped, "That's what you'd call his attack on us?" his mouth already bone dry.

"You know that's not how I meant it," Harry retorted calmly, giving Neville a pointed look, "But I probably should have used a different word." Of course, Neville would be offended by his words, the attack was brutal in his eyes, not just reckless.

Neville just felt his entire world was about to collapse, he was unable to stop the flow of tears. A wizard he had trusted once upon a time, looked up to had attacked his Gran for no reason then proceeded to make sure he was hurt maybe even killed. How could he truly ever trust again? He just didn't understand what the cause behind it was…but his Gran…she must have suspected something he thought, as he grasped the pendant she'd given him with his fist. Unable to feel shame as he cried, just too beyond caring at this point. The pain had flared up as well, adding to his compounding misery.

"I'm sorry for what you're going through, Neville," Harry said quietly, patting him on the shoulder, giving it an absent squeeze. "I get it," he had been through something similar.

"You get it?" Neville turned to face Harry, despite his red blotchy face. "How? What did he do to you that made you run?" feeling sceptical as he began wiping his tears with the back of his hand, knowing his Gran would have his head if she'd been awake to see him doing so. Harry had never, ever, explained why he'd left Hogwarts, not really, just said he couldn't take Umbridge anymore and gave him some really great advice. So much so that he'd gathered all information on an herbology apprenticeship.

He was going to do what he wanted to do, end of story.

His Gran surprised him by accepting his decision and suggesting he use a room in the manor – which got a lot of light – to take care of his plants. It was her way of showing her approval and pride, she so rarely said the words, but Neville knew she was proud of him. Same with when he got Trevor, although truthfully, that had been one of the rare times when he'd received gifts and words of loving praise. He had done accidental magic, proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he was a wizard. They'd still been worried…worried that he didn't have enough magic to attend Hogwarts.

Harry pursed his lips, scooting forward, "Let me tell you everything that happened in Hogwarts in the past five years from my point of view." Harry suggested, and then proceeded to do so. Telling him about the letters, his cupboard, the second bedroom, the cabin in the middle of the sea, Hagrid's entrance, visiting Diagon Alley for the first time, being told about his family, the truth about it. How Hagrid conveniently had to pick something up that very same day. Harry left nothing out, laying it all bare for Neville.

Including the fact he had been actively encouraged to seek out his parents killer at the age of eleven. Pointing out all the obvious manipulations he'd observed.

Being left to fight a basilisk on his own, Dumbledore had known obviously, if he sent his pet bird to help. How he was rewarded for nearly getting himself killed instead of reprimanded. Leaving out information on a lot of things, especially the Horcruxes obviously, now that's information he'd never, ever, trust another person with. Not even Barty who he thought of as his very best of friends.

How angry Harry felt on finding out more about his own history from the newspapers and general public. How Dumbledore had accepted Sirius' innocence on the word of two thirteen-year-old's, how Pettigrew got away, and how they found out years later that Dumbledore had in fact truly known Sirius was innocent, that his parents wills had stated as such just this year, when they should have been read after his parents death.

The look of horror on Neville's face would forever be imprinted on his mind.

Fourth year wasn't quite so easily explained, for that year felt like it would never end and he had to edit a few bits of information. He did confirm that Dumbledore could have gotten him out of the contract, but didn't do so. Not that it mattered, Harry said, he had been grateful for the freedom being entered into it had given him. Since he had been legally an adult since his name had been entered into the tournament. It wasn't just that either…it had also led him to his true home. Laying bare all of Dumbledore's true crimes in the process.

"He knew how illegal such an item was, his reputation in tatters or not…he could have gone to the Ministry or the public even, and they would have had to arrest Umbridge." Harry said grimly, as he finished his tale. "Instead, he forced many of us to endure the feel of her blood quill sinking into our hands over and over again. She picked on those who didn't have a family…or one who wasn't of great importance."

"But why attack us?" Neville knew Harry was working him up to something, perhaps trying to get him to realize why on his own? That was what he just did not understand at all. He didn't really want to, nothing, and he meant nothing could be acceptable when it came to other people's lives.

"Oh, Nev, can't you think of why?" Harry asked, green eyes glimmering, "You're smart, you don't need told the answer, although I think it's more along the lines of not wanting to accept it." Denial, it was going to be a common theme in the magical world soon enough.

Neville closed his eyes and slumped on himself, the sour tang of defeat and unwilling acceptance coursing through the Longbottom heir. "Dumbledore believes like everyone else that you'll be the one to defeat You-Know-Who, just because of a stupid prophecy." Licking his lips, unable to continue, feeling sick to his stomach, yet he knew he had to. "He was willing to attack us for real just to draw you out."

"Yes," Harry said quietly, "I'm sorry he attacked you, I'm so sorry that I put you in danger by befriending you…" scoffing derisively, "Never thought I'd see the day where I worried about Dumbledore's actions not Voldemort's." ignoring Neville's squeak of terror at his words.

"No," Neville retorted sharply, spine straightening so suddenly that Harry nearly got whiplash. "No, this is not your fault, NEVER take back our friendship, not ever." Neville couldn't stand the thought of Harry saying as such, he would do it all again, Harry was…basically his best friend, the only real friend he had outside of Luna.

Harry swallowed thickly; would Neville think that when the inevitable truth came out? He didn't know, but he would relish and enjoy in the friendship he had with Neville now. If it didn't last the revelation then that was fine, he understood he would lose a lot of people in his life…but he couldn't fight for a cause not his own. Not when he would have to die for that damn cause in the end. "Thank you," Harry managed to choke out, feeling rather overwhelmed that Neville wouldn't deny their friendship even in the event of his Gran potentially dying…him potentially dying too.

"LUNA!" Neville cried out, already trying to get out of the covers, eyes filled with nothing but fear.

Harry however, pressed him back into the bed before he could get far, "Calm down, listen to me, Neville, are you going to listen?" as Neville continued to struggle against him.

"Don't you see? Luna might be in danger too…" Neville wanted to lash out at how calm and composed Harry was, and would have done so if Harry hadn't been one endless loop of calm since he woke up what felt like hours ago. He was so Zen despite the conversation that Neville was frankly worried, Harry was always overly emotional, easy to anger, at least he was until last year, he had calmed considerably their fifth year.

"I have eyes and ears on her," Harry promised him, and it had cost him his damn boons and favours to ensure they were all safe. "Believe me, they won't be seen and if Dumbledore makes an appearance he will get them to safety." The Lestrange's were on Luna, well Corvus was right now, he had used what he'd done for them with Bellatrix to get them to help him keep Luna safe for now. It couldn't be continued forever though, something had to be done.

"Why are you leaving them vulnerable to attack?" Neville's brow furrowed not comprehending the bigger picture, yet he had relaxed considerably since Harry spoke. He had no reason to doubt Harry's word, since he had never told him a lie.

"Tell me, Neville, would you have believed me if I say…came to you, having used a time-turner to forewarn you about Dumbledore's attack on you. Would you have in all honesty…been able to say you'd have believed me?" Harry asked, "I trust these people with my life. It's the best I can do, I don't think Mr. Lovegood would believe Dumbledore wanted to attack him and his daughter. Do you?"

"We can just tell them!" Neville blurted it out, "We have our memories! They can stay here; my Gran will understand! She will!" she'd be grumpy over having a girl (young enough to be his betrothed) staying, but she'd definitely understand after Dumbledore attacking them.

Harry just smiled sadly, giving him a look, it wouldn't work and Neville knew it.

"Are you sure she's going to be, okay?" Neville asked, still worried.

"Most definitely," Harry stated firmly. "Those looking out for them know what to look out for, and will do everything they can in their powers to get them to safety and they are quite powerful."

"Okay," Neville agreed, slumping back down, the fight finally leaving him. He was grateful that the property was under the Fidelius charm, that Harry had kindly thought to do it. Otherwise, he honestly didn't think he'd feel comfortable being here, especially while his Gran was so vulnerable. After all he had gotten in twice since the holiday's started…who would be there to stop him a third time?

"What you need is rest, your body needs to recuperate, so relax and know everyone is going to be okay." Harry said to Neville who was still a little frantic. "Okay, you're getting a little too overly worked up their mate," Harry said, patting his arm, part of him wanted to laugh, but the truth of the matter was…it hurt to see Neville so suspicious, so on guard. He had always been a carefree soul, would never hurt or suspect anyone. There were changes already appearing in Neville and Harry wasn't sure he liked them. "What he did to you and your Gran was very, very impulsive, on his behalf, he was desperate, I doubt he'd attack again even if he could."

Hopefully that would ease some of the worry Neville was feeling, as if the Fidelius Charm wasn't enough.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 45

"Hey, how you doing?" Harry asked Barty as the wizard caught up with him, he was currently walking down Diagon Alley, planning to head to Muggle London afterwards. He was going to return to the bookshop and find more books to aid him. The metamorphmagus potion wasn't perfect as he'd hoped, oh, it worked to an extent, but not the way he wanted it to. He was a perfectionist so he would keep it up until he did so. He wasn't desperate enough to ask for Severus' input yet. He was just being stubborn; he reckoned a few minutes with it Severus would be able to work out what exactly was missing from the potion if they brainstormed. So, stubbornness it was.

He preferred the bookstore hidden within the muggle world, it was much roomier and had a bigger selection than Flourish and Blotts. They were frequently there that the employees knew them by name. Barty had been aghast when a muggle first spoke to him, but Harry had managed to smooth it over, shy until he got to know someone. Barty was actually waving to them now. If he kept this up, he'd be pro-muggle in no time, and Voldemort would be decidedly less impressed.

"I'm good," Barty reassured Harry, "Hey, I've got tickets to see a few fights when the duelling matches pass through the UK, would you like to come with me?" he loved the duelling circuit, it was…exhilarating, there truly was nothing like it. The only thing was you didn't know who you'd get, since the matches couldn't be prescheduled, with no way of anticipating who'd win. Cursing as he stubbed his toe on one of the barrels outside of the pet shop. "Stupid bloody..." he grumbled under his breath.

"What's it like?" Harry perked up, asking as he entered the apothecary, Barty followed him. Grabbing a basket, Harry begun to gather the necessary materials he required. Both equipment – new things he wished to try and the normal items such as cauldrons and the like – as well as potion ingredients. "Have you seen today's paper?" they had been slowly edging towards broad strokes when it came to the Dumbledore article. They'd had the reporter gain trust by reporting good and very truthful reports, his articles were very good so far but they'd see how it played out when Dumbledore was really attached to one. They were just dipping their toe in so to speak.

They'd thought of getting Skeeters onside, but in the end decided against working with her. One she was all for sensationalism, two she lied and obfuscated too many times, they didn't want to risk people not believing what was being written. So, for the past month they'd had a reporter on their side go in and slowly gain readership views and build trust within the community.

"Nope, that's why I'm here," Barty grinned in his usual manner. Normally he'd read the paper that was lying around their Lord's manor. He wanted to buy the ones that mentioned Dumbledore – even if it was nothing awful yet – and put the articles in a scrap book. He honestly couldn't wait until they – Harry and the Dark Lord – went for the jugular. "And it's brilliant, it can last all day there's no knowing really, but it's a lot of fun."

"So can quidditch," Harry smirked, but a thoughtfully look adorned his face, he did like the sound of it, but he wasn't sure he'd have enough time with everything he had going on. He wanted to get a few of his potions finished, a few spells perfected, and with his lordships and everything, how on earth did people actually have families? Where did they find the time? He missed being able to spend a lot of time with Voldemort though, and their conversations in the evening.

"Quidditch has nothing on the duelling circuit, seriously, it's bloody amazing," Barty confessed, enthused, he hadn't seen or attended one in ages. Sure, he was a little leery of attending just in case anything happened and he was caught out…but the allure was just too tantalising. It had been so long since he got to do anything he wanted just for the sake of it. The worry of being caught was just too much, and naturally the Dark Lord ordered no risks to be taken.

"Of course," Harry said wryly, "Should have guessed,"

"You should have," Barty said with self-assurance, chin tilted up in mock defiance before another grin broke out on his face.

Harry pursed his lips as he handed over the basket to the apothecary worker, "You know what, yeah, I'll go, do you have any information about the duelling tournament?" his intrigue obvious, as he headed to the checkout to purchase his items. Handing over the requested amount, the cashier not the least bit upset that they were having a conversation and pretty much ignoring him.

Barty commented, "Sure, there's a brochure it tells you everywhere, everywhere they're going, the locations, they're worldwide, people follow these circuits all over the entire time they're on." eyeing the worker and the door absently, ensuring they wouldnt be ambushed.

Harry stared at Barty nonplussed, they treated duelling like they did Quidditch and going on the road and following musicians? It must be good if they had people literally following them wherever they went. "That's…something else," he admitted, definitely more intrigued than before. He was going to guess there was a lot of betting involved as well. Some things really didn't change, did it? Magic or not, people were so similar.

Accepting the bound package with his items in them, he thanked the guy before shifting out of the way of the people lining up behind them. There truly wasn't much room to move around in these shops.

Barty guided Harry back out and down a few shops in the opposite direction he'd been going in, "I'll be a second," nipping into Honeydukes, which had a stand for newspapers, and todays was still available. Harry actually nipped in and joined him, and buying a few of his favourite sweets, it was empty of anyone except the assistant and him and Barty, in fact, it had just opened. It was too early even for children to be up and grabbing sweets from the shop yet, especially seeing as it was summer holidays. He did keep an eagle eye out for anyone, he didn't want Dumbledore getting a hold of him.

"I'm done," Barty said, newspaper in hand, this wasn't Barty's first bout of collecting newspaper clippings, and it likely wouldn't be the last. He had his entire album in his rooms where he'd liberated it from Crouch manor before it was locked down upon his father's death.

Barty waited on Harry finishing up, they'd be going to the bookstore again, the muggle had said that he might as well just move in at least. Harry said she was just kidding with him, but the familiarity they use in the muggle world was rather strange. She was always kind though, so he let her off with it. Although, Harry had told him repeatedly that she wasn't being forward, it's just how the world was in the muggle world. They weren't as formal, and didn't need to be introduced into someone's social circles. "let's get going to the bookstore I have a few others things I need to do today." Never naming names, if anything happened to Harry, he wouldn't survive whatever the Dark Lord did to him. He was cautious when outdoors, not just for him but Harry too.

Harry grinned wryly, "True," Barty had become a confidant, his best friend. For the first time in his life, he understood the meaning of a true friend. Ron didn't come close…but that may have something to do with them just being kids at the time and the fact Harry's heart hadn't been in it after a while. Same could be said for Hermione…they'd just been so different from him.

They apparated into the muggle world, something that was fast becoming familiar to Barty, the alleyway had been cleaned up though, no duvets, needles or anything of the sort but still suitable for apparating blindly to. It took barely two minutes to walk from the blind spot to the bookshop.

They were literally just about to open the doors to Waterstones book store when his name was called out incessantly, "Harry! HARRY! Harry! Please wait!" persistently.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered in disbelief, as he turned around for his thoughts to be confirmed as he watched Hermione Granger run towards him at top speed. A look of disbelief and hope adorned her face as she skidded to a halt beside him, breathing heavily, glancing at Barty – who she did not recognise obviously – with wariness not knowing whether he was a wizard or not and not sure what to say or do now she was here. He couldn't believe she was here; he couldn't believe the shop was now compromised.

"Harry," she whispered with reverence, breathing out trying to regain her equilibrium.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said politely, not even glancing in Barty's direction.

Hermione looked stunned by the polite response, not expecting it given how they'd parted. "Can we talk?" she begged, once again glancing at the boy beside her once best friend.

"I'm not sure we have anything to say to each other, do you?" Harry asked curtly, he couldn't risk her having informed the Order that he was here. Which sucked, he actually really liked this bookstore, he'd have to find somewhere else. He couldn't risk coming back here into a waiting ambush by Dumbledore.

"Yes," Hermione said firmly, with absolution. "I'll go anywhere you want, I promise, anywhere, just…we need to talk? Please?" her statement came out more of a question.

Harry narrowed his eyes, staring at Hermione intently, reading her mind.

"Please?" she begged again, brushing her bushy hair from her face, grateful at least she now had her breathing under control.

Harry was disappointed to see that she was still beholden to Dumbledore.

"Can't we at least try to build bridges?" she asked, pursing her lips yet again, "I know I wasn't the best friend you could have asked for…but surely I wasn't that bad?" a vulnerable note crept into her voice, as if she was terrified every single vulnerability, she had would be laid bare.

"Actually, for the longest time you were exactly what I needed in a friend," Harry said in a rare move of sincerity, "But I was wary from the beginning especially the way you thought the sun shone out of Dumbledore's arse."

Barty coughed and spluttered glancing away, coughing as he tried to get his throat rightened. He knew he should go into the bookstore and get all the books they'd planned, who knows now if they'd ever be back. Harry wouldn't at least not as himself, under a glamour, perhaps, but Dumbledore and his ilk knew what to look for underneath it. Which left both of them unable to do a damn thing or come here again.

"The beginning?" Hermione was bewildered, "What did I do from the beginning to make you be wary?" she was eleven for Merlin's sake.

"Besides the fact you begged the hat to put you into Gryffindor because Dumbledore had been in that house?" Harry drawled out sarcastically, Hermione nodded once, brown eyes pleading for nothing but the truth between them. "Tell me, if I went to your parents and told them that Dumbledore had suddenly led you to a killer at eleven years of age…left you alone with your friends to deal with him…that you ended up having to kill in order to survive…what would they have done? What would they have said?"

Realization began to dawn on Hermione along with horror, he'd been so wary of her even back then? "I was eleven!" she squeaked out, eyes exceedingly round as she stared at her one-time best friend.

"What. Would. They. Have. Done?" Harry enunciated each word.

Slumping in defeat, she resignedly stated, "They would have taken me out of Hogwarts, possibly pressed charges against Dumbledore for child endangerment, child abuse, attempted murder, and anything else they could think of."

Barty's eyes widened as he stared in shocked surprise.

"Exactly," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Dumbledore led me to Voldemort, Hermione, led me to him, like a lamb to the slaughter, what kind of wizard does that make him?"

Swallowing thickly, "Not a very good one," she croaked, and she'd helped him, she bore the bitter understanding of the fact she'd do it again. without Dumbledore muggle-borns like her were extremely endangered. They needed him to fight for them, so that they weren't killed off if Voldemort managed to take over the magical world. They needed help and Dumbledore would give them that help.

"Do you honestly think he didn't know exactly where the chamber was? who was doing it? How many children's lives he risked by his inactions? If a twelve-year-old could figure out the answer…, do you truly believe he didn't know? I'm not saying you're not smart…but come on…" Harry asked her, watching her crumble in front of him. "Do you even realize how lucky everyone was that they didn't end up killed? That you didn't end up dead? How much danger he put Ginny in?"

Hermione blinked owlishly, trying to come up with something to argue the point.

"Let's not forget our third year, Dumbledore could have took that time-turner from you, instead he risked both our lives for what? To save a fucking animal? He asked us to risk our bloody life for an animal!" Harry wanted to bellow at the top of his voice, instead he whisper-shouted.

"Not just Buckbeak, Sirius too," Hermione's protest was weak and half-hearted at best.

"I'm sure that would have been a relief to your parents if they were told you went insane trying to help my godfather, who he could have just gone up and released," Harry said derisively. "But no, Merlin forbid that he get his hands dirty."

"I did it to help you, to help Sirius, you were my best friend," Hermione said softly, a pained look on her face.

Harry smiled bitterly, "Yeah, without a doubt, but let me ask you this…if Dumbledore hadn't asked it of you…and I did…would you still have done it? Broken the school rules? Broken the Ministry's rules to help?"

"Yes," Hermione insisted adamantly, "I would have done anything for you," the lie shrieking loud and clear with Harry's Legilimency abilities.

"So why did you leave me alone to deal with Voldemort's rebirth and Cedric's death?" Harry asked, leaving her to think she'd gotten away with that lie. "It's rhetorical, we already know why you did."

"But Harry…it was dangerous, if he found out where you lived…he could have hurt you." Hermione pointed out with a pleading expression for him to believe her.

"You know about the blood wards, right?" Harry suddenly went in a different direction.

"Well, yes, you told me," Hermione nodded, explained why he had to go back to the Muggles every summer, another test she'd failed actually.

"You know Voldemort has spies everywhere and my address is probably in both the Ministry and Hogwarts?" Harry continued on relentlessly.

Hermione's heart sank as she realized the truth of it, "Yes…"

"You still think he didn't know where I lived by that point? Even if he had…the blood wards were supposed to keep him out." Harry stated, "He couldn't have followed your letters even if he wanted to. But Hermione…you did know where I lived, you could have sent it through Muggle post. One letter…one little bit of defiance would have been all it took. ONE BLOODY LETTER!"

Hermione swallowed thickly, glancing around self-consciously over all the muggles watching the fight with curious eyes.

"I have to go, I've got potions brewing, it was good to see you, Hermione, take care of yourself," Harry said, dismissing her entirely, blatantly lying, there was no stopping her belief in Dumbledore. It didn't matter what happened, what he said, it wouldn't change anything. He moved towards the store again, Barty going in and he was just inside when she spoke again.

"Can I see you again?" Hermione asked, as she quickly stepped up beside Harry again. "Or write?"

"Why? Look I don't want a friend who puts what a damn Headmaster wants before their friends, and don't try and lie and indicate that you'd give me any loyalty." Harry said tiredly, he didn't want to put up with her at all. She would never regret what she'd done, well, maybe a little, but never enough to take it back. She would never change, and he didn't want half-hearted loyalty. He already knew what real loyalty looked like thank you very much. It's for that reason he didn't get that angry, he was over it, he was living his life the way he wanted to. "I already know what real loyalty looks like, I'd never go back to what scraps you and Ron offered."

Hermione watched him leave, eyes shimmering with tears, hating that once again she'd failed.

"Should we head home?" Barty asked as they went deeper into the store, leaving Granger standing there.

Blink and she was gone.

"We've got at least fifteen to twenty minutes before anyone is alerted, half an hour at least before anything can be mounted," Harry mused thoughtfully, "Best get to it, who knows when we will get back here." Genuinely mournful over the idea he couldn't return, Barty had pretty much the same reaction.

They ended up with a massive haul that outdid their previous expenditure.

Auror Alastor Moody and Tonks did venture into the store forty-five minutes later, and nobody said a word, refusing to give them anything on their two favourite patrons.

Following that, they weren't surprised they didn't see the two for some time after.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 46

Harry and Voldemort waited patiently for Elsmere to disappear, the reporter met them at the Cereal Killer Café in London, what could Harry say? He had an odd sense of humour to say the least. The red painted building stood out amongst its neighbours without its quirky name. The walls were lined with cereal boxes, and Voldemort had never been more uncomfortable in his life. It barely showed, but Harry could sense it through their connection. Harry knew more about London by exploring when he had a chance now that he was actually free and able to come and go as he pleased. It was fun being able to investigate places he should have – could have – known growing up.

Both of them had glamour's up the wazoo upon their person, Elsmere knew what they looked like, well, Harry anyway, he didn't know about Tom's true features, only the inner circle knew that. Elsmere spent most of his time actually doing the work of a Private Investigator, trying to dig up any and all information he could. He wanted to find some information that Harry and the Dark Lord hadn't gotten their hands on it. Plus, when the Dark Lord gave you a task, you succeeded, nobody liked failing him. Most of them desired nothing more than to get into the inner circle, to be with the best of the best. So, yes, he would do his very best, and hopes of being rewarded.

"We will be going on lockdown before that article is published," Voldemort declared staring at the door the reporter had just exited. Just in case Dumbledore's Order or the Aurors decide to try and pick on any random family that supported the dark side in a bid to get information. The light side like to pretend they were better in every way, but the truth is they played just as dirty as the other side.

"Lockdown?" Harry arched an eyebrow as he glanced swiftly at Voldemort, surprise splashed across his face, "As in what it sounds like? That sort of lockdown?" absently pushing his empty cup and saucer away with his fingers, the café was practically empty they didn't need to worry about being overheard. It's why he'd chosen this particular one, at this specific time, this was it's quiet time. Wondering if that had been done before, "You do that often?" he had to ask. He hadn't heard it even remotely mentioned at all in the time he'd been at Slytherin estate.

"Been decades since I did it last," Voldemort admitted shrewdly. "My Knights and their families were brought to a safe location." He was still gaining his powers and finding his place within the wider magical community after leaving Hogwarts. The safe location wasn't his estate, but one Abraxas had assured him was completely safe.

"Now I'm curious…what did you do to cause you of all people to back down?" Harry asked, green eyes gleaming wickedly.

Voldemort shifted at the look, a spasm of discomfort disclosing on his face, "Abraxas Malfoy may have had something to do with the Death of the Minister of magic…in an overzealous attempt to impress," His voice barely audible as he revealed this titbit of information. "Nobby Leach was the first Muggle-Born Minister of Magic," confirming Harry's suspicions than the Minister of magic must have been either a threat or lesser blood.

"Of course," Harry murmured, slightly exasperated, what a waste of magical blood, at least Voldemort had conceded the errors of his ways. "So…lockdown?"

"Not here," Voldemort stated suddenly, as always, his paranoia and suspicion forcing him to ensure safety above all things. Sitting vulnerable in Muggle London wasn't his idea of safe, you just didn't know what or who was watching you or listening to you. There were a whole host of magical devises that could be used in the vicinity. He would not risk Dumbledore getting what he wanted – which was him proven to be back – no, he wouldn't let anything get in the way of Dumbledore's comeuppance, his due punishment.

"What exactly happened to him anyway?" Harry queried as he easily and swiftly caught up with Voldemort's long strides as they walked out of the café, the money had jerkily been left under the saucer he'd used and a hell of a tip too.

"Dragon Pox," Voldemort informed him, knowing Harry well enough to know he definitely wasn't asking about how the Minister of Magic had died. "Before the vaccine was created, at his age…he didn't stand a chance." Turning into a side street, he grasped a hold of Harry and apparated them both to a field, checking themselves to ensure they hadn't been tracked before Apparating home.

"When the hell did, he die if it was before the vaccine?" Harry gawped in surprise, "Just how new is the Dragon Pox vaccine?" he muttered under his breath, making a mental note to find out. A better question is, was he actually vaccinated? Or was he abandoned at the Dursley's before he was old enough to receive it?

"Relatively new, the older generation did not inoculate against it, due to the fact it was barely passed its experimental stages," Voldemort confessed, finally relaxing for the first time since they'd gone out. Trusting his own wards completely to be able to let his guard down at least slightly. "Many chose to inoculate their children, saving their lives in the progress. Dragon Pox was a horrid disease and even more horrific way to die. Your magical core slowly drained, as you were unable to keep much of anything down, dizziness, weakness, spasms, until there was nothing left of the person you once knew. Abraxas was one of those people, he wasn't one for caring about potions, or anything medical related. He stopped all donations that his father, Brutus, had made to St. Mungo's upon his father's death."

Harry didn't bother to question how Voldemort knew all this. Since he knew Voldemort's penchant for listening to absolutely everything, and then storing it away just in case it ever came in handy. "An epidemic? There aren't many older generation wizards or witches left…or did you get rid of them all?" being more sarcastic than serious at this point. He slid into his usual seat that he had silently reserved for himself when he was in Voldemort's office. It was right next to the fireplace, which was always lit up keeping the room comfortably warm.

"It did wipe out many wizards," Voldemort conceded, "And there are many more than you realize, most are just retired and living their lives, when exactly do you expect to see them? Waving off their grandchildren or Great-Grandchildren at Hogwarts? Or actually attending the school at an advanced age?" retorting with sarcasm of his own, as he sat down with a wry look on his face.

"Good point," Harry conceded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I've only ever seen maybe two or three wizards who could be classed as the elder generation, which doesn't include you." Dumbledore, of course, Filch, Sprout although they might be a bit too young to be considered truly elderly. There was Dumbledore's brother, Neville's Gran, he had been wondering at the lack of grandparents that he'd seen. They were using the term 'wizards' in a unisex way, for both wizards and witches.

Voldemort nodded curtly, seeing it from Harry's point of view, it certainly would seem that there weren't many wizards of an advanced age around. However, he expected better of Harry, yet he shouldn't have, after all he wasn't all knowing, clearly some areas were still in desperate need of covering. He would find that out himself once he realized how many people were going to be around during his lockdown. He'd probably be sick of the sight of them within a few hours and wanting to escape. The thought certainly amused him so, as his lips unconsciously twitched in a rare show of his genuine emotions.

"You seriously think you need to have us going on a lockdown?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed, "Do you foresee the Order retaliating by what…hunting every single one of us down?" leaning back against the chair his arms crossed as he tapped his foot in quiet contemplation. "While the Order don't seem to care for the law…and are all too happy to break it…it's a trite different to think they'd start hunting people down in small gangs to get back at us," the idea did amuse him so.

"You truly don't realize the anarchy that follows home truth's, do you?" Voldemort said wryly, "Do you believe the Aurors merely hunted down Barty, Rabastan, Rodolphus and Bellatrix and handed them into the Ministry?"

Harry froze, "Well, I…I hadn't really thought about it." It did seem stupid when it was put like that.

"Oh, no, they weren't just heavy handed with them, they got their own retribution," Voldemort said icily, "But of course, nobody cared, they were just filthy 'Death Eaters' after all. Nor did anyone care about the innocent witches and children who died in the Auror's path to getting their revenge as they scoured the countryside looking for them."

After a few moments of stiff silence, Voldemort spoke again, "It isn't the first time the Aurors had been 'overzealous' in the pursuit of justice that caused the death of people." Thinking of his good friend who had lost a wife, the Lestrange brothers who had lost a little sister a family almost broken by their grief. Nobody was innocent, neither his Death Eaters nor the Auror's but the Auror's were supposed to be after all. They were there to police the magical world, to set an example.

Leaning forward, "Do you know if any of the Auror's are guilty of something like that? I mean this batch," Harry asked, a thoughtful look on his face, showing the things the Auror's have done…dragging them down to the Death Eaters' level…it would be devasting for the general public. It would make them question if they were any better…which of course, they weren't actually at the end of the day. Less and less people were becoming Aurors' according to his information Tonks was the only one in the past decade to get through the training. The only reason she actually got through was because of her abilities far outweighed the negatives of having the witch as part of their Auror team. She'd actually failed quite a few of the 'courses' the fact she got in just because she was a Metamorphmagus was damning. Hell, they even used her family against her, as if there was something diseased about being a Black! He had been quite incensed when he read the classified information by Moody and the Minister of Magic – Cornelius Fudge – not so classified if he'd gotten his hands on it but he had contacts now who could get him whatever he needed. He didn't always have to rely on Voldemort to help.

"Moody and Kenyon with one hundred percent certainty, they're old school," Voldemort said, steeping his fingers together as he observed Harry curiously. He knew the boy well enough to know he was already planning something in that beautiful mind of his. He'd never had anyone who could think the way he did, or so quickly until now. "The Aurors in the Order have most certainly done the same…but will have better covered their tracks." They couldn't have vigilante justice signs waving around after all, the Ministry didn't approve of that.

"How many are in the Order again?" Harry asked, scribbling names on a spare piece of parchment.

"Three, two on active duty, one retired, Doge was a recruit for the force before he became a member of the Wizengamot and never formally completed his training, but he could be considered an honorary one, but that was even before my time." Voldemort stated dryly, Harry was already aware of this. "Get everything done by the end of tonight, we go on lockdown for at least a week."

"I don't know If I'll get away with that, Sirius will want to see me on my birthday," Harry said thoughtfully. Already thinking up ideas on what to tell his godfather. Hmm, his friends were throwing him a party, no doubt that would make Sirius very happy.

"Then visit today," Voldemort warned him, he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You may also want to get yourself new dress robes," the ones he had probably no longer fitted.

Harry stiffened, eyeing Voldemort cautiously, "Why?" not liking the sound of that, he was positive he heard an underlying sound of glee in Voldemort's tone.

"At least four, you will be attending the parties that are hosted by our own, it's not only a boost for moral but it allows those of us who don't interact actually get to know the other." Voldemort stated. Yes, he listened to Harry, and he was quite correct, it would build loyalty and rapport. His way of doing things worked fine enough, but he didn't want fine he wanted the best. Having them competing with each other he was beginning to find out wasn't conductive or conducive to a cohesive unit. His obsessions with the Prophecy and declining mental state back then so embarrassed him still. He was still trying to correct his many mistakes, but he'd get there. He made sure to do it his way though, the pureblood way. No holiday was more important than Samhain, all hallows eve, regretfully he doubted the boy would ever wish to celebrate that holiday.

He may just be surprised.

Harry's lip curled, his distaste evident, he made no secret to his aversion to such a plan. "Hell no," Harry proclaimed.

Voldemort just stared right back, he wasn't going to take no for an answer, "You will attend them," he warned the teenager, "You will also attend a party in your name, think of it as a coming out party, where I introduce you to all the Death Eaters and those who support our cause." He didn't let just anyone become a Death Eater, and he also didn't force the issue contrary to popular belief. He left those alone who did not fight him, those who were neutral or dark families who had no actual interest in war.

"Getting a little ahead of yourself there, aren't you?" Harry muttered dryly.

"Are we going to pretend you're not as dark as the families who support my cause? Pretend you don't want me to win this war?" Voldemort asked icily. He loathed the games Harry liked to play, especially regarding his allegiance.

Harry sobered up a little, "I do not like being in the public eye, Voldemort," Harry said seriously, "I never will, I loathe the very idea of it." Revealing what was really bothering him about what Voldemort was saying.

"And that is why you should do it, embrace your fame, use it for your ends, at the end of the day…you have power at your fingertips that could change the world…power that most people could only dream out in their deepest darkest desires." Voldemort said, his voice seductive.

Harry just grinned wryly, very much aware of Voldemort's tactics and not buying into them even though it was tempting. Voldemort just had the ability to get under your skin, make you believe the ideas were your own. He'd seen it and quite frankly it was breath-taking to observe and annoying when he tries to pull it over him.

"Why are you so adverse to using your fame for your own ends?" Voldemort groused, although he'd deny it to his dying breath. "It's nothing different from using others to hide your own inclinations,"

"Now you're making me sound perverted," Harry said huffing out an amused chuckle as he stood up, opening the window to let Hedwig in.

He moved to sit back down, and opened the missive, "Ooo, she's awake and extremely pissed," Harry muttered, green eyes gleaming victoriously, "Whatever Dumbledore did…didn't work on her either." She remembered everything according to Neville. If Voldemort was going on lockdown…then Harry was going to have to meet everyone and let them know he'd be absent for a few days. He presumed letters would also not be able to be sent off whilst in lockdown. He would need a good way to spin it, especially for Sirius, it was his birthday after all.

"Does it say what she intends to do?" Voldemort asked, too many outside influences made him extremely leery. Especially when it came to Dumbledore and their plans.

"No, I'll find out soon enough," Harry declared. "I'm going to assume you aren't coming?" Augusta Longbottom had attended Hogwarts with 'Tom Riddle' and no doubt was aware of whom he became. One look and she'd either assume it was a son or the wizard himself. Neither would be a good thing right now, not in the light of her attack, she might try to persuade herself that her memories had been tampered with after all. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would believe in such delusions and trusted her own mind but still, better be safe than sorry.

"No, I must get everyone here before first light tomorrow morning," Voldemort stated, and that would be time consuming. Thankfully not much of a requirement where time was concerned on himself, it would be the families who were to come here that would be busy this afternoon.

Harry nodded; he'd suspected as much. "Alright, I'll see you later,". It was suddenly dawning on him that it was going to be a very long day. Between visiting Neville, getting robes then visiting Sirius and Remus…he'd be lucky to get back until late evening. The tailoring of the robes would take a while, maybe he should tend to that first, pick them up once he was done for the night.

One thing living under really strong wards, he'd never become unfit, as he moved swiftly through the manor to get to the end of the wards so he could apparate.

An hour after leaving the manor, he'd gotten the required fancy robes, with differences so that it didn't look like he was wearing the same robes over and over again. which had been emphasised by the tailor a dozen times. Harry gratefully escaped the clutches of them, pretty sure they were determined to make him buy more than the four robes he'd originally wanted. Which they'd actually succeeded at, here he was able to stare down Voldemort but couldn't withstand merciless tailors trying to get him to spend his money worth. They must have seen him coming. Then apparated to Longbottom manor, he couldn't access the house, just to the edge like before, and yes, the Fidelius charm was still up, he was no longer the keeper of secrets. He had been told where the manor was thanks to Neville.

"You look really well, Nev, how are you really doing?" Harry asked, as he made his way up the steps smiling at his friend.

"Harry!" Neville called out happily, "Come on in, can I get you something?"

Harry laughed a little, "I wouldn't mind a coffee," he said pleased, Neville had lost a significant amount of weight, Grant had suggested a work out and it had definitely worked wonders for the teenager. Grant hadn't said what had gone down between the two of them, what had been said, and that was fair enough.

"How's your Gran?" Harry asked as he followed Neville through the now familiar home, bypassing the games room and making his way into one of the sitting rooms.

Neville laughed humourlessly, "Bloody pissed, it's a good job she can't get up yet otherwise she'd already be at the Ministry. I left her reading all the news clippings I saved of the Daily Prophet since we…well we were attacked." He was just glad she had actually begun recovering, even if it was taking longer than it should. "Almost like we deserved it for being…" he paused here, not able to think up a good enough way to word it.

"Too fond of Dumbledore?" Harry finished for him simplifying it.

"Let's go with that," Neville agreed, a worn-out look appearing on his face. Rubbing at his face tiredly. The betrayal he still felt dragged him down and made him feel so much doubt and self-disgust. Dumbledore could have killed him and his Gran…they'd nearly died and not at the hands of Death Eaters or anything like that but a wizard he'd respected…a wizard his Gran knew and sort of respected. The attack hadn't been much of a shock to her as it had been to him. She never questioned her memories; she didn't go into denial she'd just gone straight to pissed off.

Harry said nothing, feeling a smidgen of guilt…how would Neville feel when and if he found out about his loyalties? Dumbledore had already changed Neville from his trusting happy bubbly self. What would his perceived betrayal do to Neville? Should he back away now so that it didn't hurt so much? Yet, as much as he thought about it…he couldn't force himself to. Just like he couldn't do it to Remus and Sirius. He was fond of them all, and wanted them in his life…for as long as he was able to have them.

"Be right back," Neville said, before leaving the sitting room.

Harry just waved him off, staring out at the distance. He had no idea how long his allegiance would be safe from discovery. He wasn't ashamed, far from it, he was just…he had people he cared about on the opposite side. Or had been, Neville and he hadn't spoken about it, but Neville would never go dark, or neutral, not after what happened to his parents. He understood really, he reckoned he'd lose Sirius and Remus too, but again, he wanted them in his life as long as possible.

By the time Neville returned, Rose had brought some refreshments in, and Harry was quietly chatting away to her. Neville smiled; he had a closer relationship than his gran approved of with the house-elves too. Mostly due to the fact he was an only child, he'd cherished them in a way the likes of Malfoy would never. It was nice to see that it wasn't only him that treated them with care and respect. "Thank you, Rose."

"Everything okay?" Neville asked, frowning.

"I'm going to be out of the country for a few days, which includes my birthday, so don't send your owl, the poor thing will expire before he gets there." Harry teased him, well, not exactly Neville's owl, his grandmothers, but he still used it. The owl was unfortunately, rather old now, but only just younger than Errol, the Weasley's owl. "I've also brought yours." Handing over the brightly coloured present over, it was covered in a magical plant, not one Harry himself recognized but he knew Neville would like it.

"Oh," Neville said, eyes wide.

"Listen if you don't have anything don't worry about it, I know how things have been, I know you've been through hell lately." Squeezing Neville's hand in reassurance and he meant every word. He was used to not getting anything out of spite, not getting anything due to circumstances beyond Neville's control was different.

"No, I actually got Rose to go get a bunch of stuff we needed, literally just this morning," Neville said with a laugh, "Very lucky timing, Rose!"

The house-elf in question popped in, gazing adoringly at her human.

"Can you get the gift that's on my table in my bedroom for me please? It's Harry's birthday gift, can you wrap it for me, there should be a card there too." Neville told her, really grateful he'd had Rose go for it earlier.

"Are you going back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked Neville quietly, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if Neville didn't want to. It was a hell of a thing to be away from his gran alone with the wizard who had attacked them.

Neville paled, "I don't think so." He confessed, "Not…not unless Dumbledore…is, well, is gone." Shaking his head, looking rather sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

Harry nodded, "I get it, mate it's not something I wished we had in common,"

"I'm the first Longbottom to never take their NEWTS or graduate from Hogwarts." Neville said, lips twisting in displeasure.

"You can still take your NETWS, self-study, Nev." Harry straightened staring him in the eye, drinking his coffee. "It will probably help you more than you realize to go at your own pace. Hell, start an apprenticeship and gain your Masters in herbology sooner. Become the youngest Herbologist in the magical world. Stop listening to anyone that wants to bring you down, just be yourself, mate, you're awesome."

Neville flushed red at the compliments, most definitely not used to them. "I can't risk going anywhere in public."

"You've got some of the rarest plants in the world in your greenhouses, right? Entice a Herbology Master to come and live in the estate while you gain your qualifications. Explain what's going on after making them sign a non-disclosure agreement." Harry suggested, honestly, perhaps Hermione had been right, logic wasn't magical people strong suit.

Rose popped in, handing over the gift, and Harry reciprocated in kind.

"You didn't have to," Neville said, warmth pooling in his stomach, he didn't receive many birthday gifts, he didn't have many friends. This was…unexpected but very, very appreciated. "Thank you, Harry," he murmured unconsciously stroking the package reverently. The paper had even been bought with him in mind, there was no other reason Harry would have plant birthday paper.

"Course I did," Harry said, "Just think about it, alright? You'll probably be finished your apprenticeship before you'd have graduated Hogwarts."

"I will," Neville promised with a smile, he glanced at the biscuits but told himself no, sternly. He'd already had a biscuit today; he didn't need so many. He had to come out excess food if he wanted to remain fit and healthy. Grant had been amazing, professional and really kind to him when he'd asked. He'd always been on the chubby side, and he wanted to get a girlfriend and have a family. Merlin, he didn't want his gran setting up a betrothal for him because he couldn't get a girlfriend.

"Where's your Gran?" Harry asked, as he sat back down.

"Um…she was in the drawing room," Neville explained, "She may be in the business room though," she had a lot of paperwork to catch up on in the time she'd taken to recuperate. She still hadn't fully recovered from the attack; she shouldn't be up and about but his gran was so stubborn.

"Is it alright if I go talk to your Gran," Harry suggested.

"Sure, would you prefer it be a private meeting?" Neville asked, not even slightly confused as to why he'd want to speak to his gran. He was Lord Potter and Lord Black, it could be business or anything and until he became Lord Longbottom, it was nothing to do with him. He'd long since gotten used to people coming and going to see his grandmother about things.

"Yeah, I'll come find you after I'm done," Harry said, he made his way to the drawing room to see Lady Augusta Longbottom. The last time he'd seen her…well, he wouldn't be surprised she didn't want him here.

He was about to find out regardless.

"I'll be in the library," Neville called out to him, waiting on Harry's nod before he left for the library, his gift still clutched in his hands gratitude and sheer happiness. It could be the shittiest gift in the world, but Neville wouldn't care, right now the thought mattered more than all the gold in the world.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 47

Harry made his way towards the first room that Neville suggested his Gran might be occupying. A few moments later, he could hear the sounds of shuffling and a House-elves squeaky voice, considering House-elves didn't generally talk to themselves, with the obvious exception being Kreacher of course, he knew that Augusta was within the confines in the room. He stood at the doorway, silently, for a few brief moments before knocking and opening the door. He only belated realised just how rude he'd been. You didn't just go entering rooms until you've been given leave to do so. Ugh, the elocution lessons he'd had sucked, but he was glad he was prepared for the world on a whole.

Harry purposely moved a little louder to gain Lady Longbottom's attention, she might be old, may be injured but there was definitely nothing wrong with her hearing or instincts he realised. She had gone for her wand, which was right next to her on the writing board she had in front of her. Her gaze turned shrewd and calculating and quite frankly it made Harry feel rather exposed.

Exposed in ways that he hadn't felt in the longest of times.

"Lord Potter-Black," Augusta said her tone clipped. Smoothing out the covers, feeling rather underdressed in front of the young man who had saved her and her grandsons life. She had made the mistake of underestimating him once before, and she most definitely would not allow it to happen again. She'd underestimated him because she thought she knew him due to the fact her grandson wrote about him, more so in the last year than before. It had started off as an awe, having met someone so famous but it turned into something deeper, after she met the wizard herself at the will, turning their friendship into a long-lasting kinship and brotherhood. It shouldn't have surprised her really, both boys had suffered so much and in a similar way, if what Neville had said…perhaps they had suffered in an even more similar way than she relished. "I apologise for my state of undress and positioning. If I had known I would have company…" she trailed off, she would have dressed for it, as well as made sure she was seated as someone respectful for the house of Longbottom. This wasn't the way her house acted, they were always poised, elegant and respectful.

"Lady Longbottom, I do hope you're recovering well after the horrendous attack," Harry stated, his brow furrowed slightly, "And please, no apologies are required, at least not from you," his eyes gleaming sharply, oh, no, this was all on Dumbledore.

Augusta was surprised by the genuine worry that crossed Harry's face, perhaps not fully aimed at her but Neville instead? Or perhaps the thought of Neville losing the last of his family? It wouldn't surprise her if that was the case. There was something different about the Lord, he had a sharpness to him that hadn't been present during his parents will reading. A sharpness and a darkness, Neville was probably blind to how dangerous Lord Potter could be, but Augusta was beginning to realize just how dangerous. "Thank you, Lord Potter for your kindness and generosity, and may I say, the House of Longbottom owe you our lives, we will do what we can to repay our debts." A flash of magic bound Augusta to her word.

"Truthfully you do not owe me anything," Harry said darkly, a scowl on his face, "Dumbledore attacked you in order to draw me out."

Surprised flittered over Augusta's features, "This is true," she agreed, not even attempting to lie to him, she saw no need. "However, you cannot allow yourself to be responsible for one man's insane actions."

"Not just one," Harry added icily, Doge had been in on it after all.

"Indeed," Augusta said, gazing at Harry speculatively, the way he was speaking, his mannerisms vividly reminded her of someone. Her mind couldn't quite pinpoint whom it reminded her off, but she would not rest until she figured it out. "I'm sure you didn't just come to ensure an old woman's wellbeing considering Neville has no doubt kept you informed."

"He has," Harry stated immediately, remaining at the doorway, he had no wish to make the woman feel uncomfortable. Or more uncomfortable, it was obvious she wasn't used to entertaining anyone while weakened and with only a nighty on and in bed to boot. "Tell me…what do you plan to do regarding Dumbledore, Lady Longbottom?" he asked seriously.

"Come, sit by me, let us drink and converse," Lady Longbottom suggested, her frail hands pressing upon the beautiful China coffee pot with a sprinkle of triumph in her eyes. Apparently talking about Dumbledore made her less self-conscious about her current state. "And also, I would like it if you call me Augusta, you are a friend of the family, and allied with us in our debt to you," she added as she poured them both cups of coffee, which was housed in China cups that were identical to the coffee pot. Truth was, she wanted to kill Doge more than Dumbledore, it was Doge who had nearly killed her grandson. Hurt Neville to a despicable degree.

Harry stared at Augusta pensively, the way she was looking at him…quite honestly, it was beyond probing. It was almost as if she had realized who he was deep inside and who he was allied with. If that was true…was Augusta pushing Neville towards what she thought was the safe side? The winning side? Or was he reading too much into it? Surely, Augusta wouldn't contemplate the idea of letting her grandson join the dark side? No, he couldn't let his imagination run away with him. Either way, it changed nothing, it's not as though he could force Neville to be friends with him when the news broke that he was on the 'dark side' now. He knew it would happen, especially with Voldemort bloody announcing it to every single Death Eater and ally. "Then you must call me Harry, Lord Potter-Black…makes me feel decades older than I am," he said wryly, it wasn't as if he could say 'reminds me of his dad' the truth was he had never known him and never would. He had died for a cause he believed in, and Harry would do the same at the end of the day.

Making their coffee's as they liked them, both of them began to drink their brews in silence. Augusta thinking on what she wanted to say and Harry waiting patiently to hear what she had to say.

"The way you asked me that question…belays a sense of…invasive probing, you have something planned," Augusta stated sharply, "You are behind the news article this morning, aren't you, Harry?" an acerbic smirk hidden behind her cup, but Harry saw in nonetheless.

Harry blinked at her, green eyes wide and innocent, "Why would you think that?"

Augusta snorted in amusement, very unladylike of her, but she was just unable to contain herself, "You are good, Lord Potter-Black, very good, but I can see right through you, it's much too much innocence for a soon to be sixteen-year-old."

Harry smirked wryly, conceding her point, "I shall neither deny or confirm that,"

"There is no need, not many have the information you do, Harry," Augusta pointed out, "You messed up if you didn't want Dumbledore to know."

"Oh?" Harry asked, sitting up a little straighter, more alert, eyes narrowed in on the woman cautiously. Not that it really mattered, Dumbledore would know he was the one behind it all, but still…the thought of Dumbledore already knowing was rather alarming to him.

"The article about the chamber of secrets," Augusta explained, before placing her cup on its saucer, "Only someone who has read it more than once would find it. It's in there, only one who has actually seen the chamber would have known about those particular details." According to her grandson only three people had seen it, and she knew the Weasley's were too entranced and entrenched in Dumbledore to even contemplate such an idea. This left only one other potential candidate and the most likely one too.

Harry closed his eyes and cursed when it dawned on him what she was talking about, "The damn statue of Salazar Slytherin," and here he was thinking he was being so bloody careful. Even Voldemort had read over his work and made sure he hadn't missed anything and they'd both apparently missed something quite significant. Since Dumbledore didn't have a massive part to play in that particular incident, Harry had gone with that being revealed in the first article and was content to keep the articles going as Dumbledore's involvement would be unmistakable.

Augusta's lips twitched, "You still have far to go, but for your age and the length of time within our world…you are doing magnificently." She was oddly proud of him for his actions, spreading awareness of Dumbledore in such a manner, it was…astounding really. Neville was very…insecure and innocent in ways that pureblood teens did not retain, and Neville wouldn't know how to manipulate someone let alone do it. He couldn't even keep his emotions in check, he was just too genuine. Some people had what it took, which Lord Potter-Black definitely did, and some did not, like her grandson. At least he would have someone there to look out for him and give him the best chance of survival and prevent Neville from being eaten by the sharks so to speak.

Harry just wordless huffed in annoyance, still pissed off with himself for failing to realize that he'd been potentially outed so quickly. If Augusta knew, Neville suspected, Hermione definitely had to have worked it out too and would likely waste no time in lording her knowledge in everyone's face whether they wanted to know or not. He idly wondered if Dumbledore had caught that, or if he had been too pissed to properly peruse the article. Regardless if they knew, Dumbledore likely had cottoned on. It really was a good job for lockdown.

"I do hope you enjoy tomorrows edition," Harry stated smugly, unable to help himself really. He placed the cup down when he heard footsteps and quiet murmuring that sounded like Neville. "If you'll excuse me, I have other engagements that require my time today," he sighed, mostly to himself, today was going to be a long, long day. He'd need to come up with one hell of an excuse to Sirius and Remus as to why he was suddenly not going to be visiting them on his birthday. Something he'd already agreed to prior.

"Ah, yes, I do remember such days, where you weren't sure you'd fit everything in your social calendar," Augusta stated, her face was inscrutable but the gleam told her she was remembering the good times.

"I'm sure," Harry said dryly, just as Neville peeked his head in, giving Harry a smile. "Good luck with your continued recovery, may it be swift," with that Harry stood up and made his way towards the door again, leaving Augusta behind.

Augusta watched Harry leaving, despite the fact she was no longer attending Wizengamot sessions – she was training Neville to take his rightful place one day – she still had those who were willing to impart her with information. Not that they were doing wrong per se, she was still a member, albeit nearly retired. They thought her dead, but whatever she needed to do in order to save Neville. He was very important, the last of a long-distinguished line of Longbottom's, they'd never been in such short numbers before, and now Algie was gone, leaving no children with his wife, Neville truly was all that was left of the main branch. She had distant relatives in America, where Neville could go if need be. They had said they'd be happy to take him in any time, even provided a portkey.

The latest laws though were surprising to say the least, she hadn't seen politic manoeuvring like this for decades. Or policies, there had been rumours of a group called the Knights of the Walpurgis back in the day. There were no such rumours now, but the policies were almost identical to those who looked close enough. There had been a suggestion that Tom Riddle was the mastermind behind it. The wizard must be in his seventies now, he hadn't seen him since he was twenty-ish usually around Diagon Alley, last rumoured to be going abroad to continue his magical education. She presumed he'd died during the war, with Grindelwald since there hadn't been a peep since.

Harry's mannerisms, had been strikingly like Tom Riddle. Could it be possible? Had Harry sought him out and asked for aid? He certainly wasn't that young child that knew nothing of their world. Was it someone continuing his legacy? Or the wizard himself? Harry hadn't written his name as Harry Riddle-Potter-Black so perhaps he was just a ward of Tom Riddle's.

"Remus, is that you?" Harry gaped, staring at the man he could barely recognize at all, as he absently wiped away the ashes from the floo that got caught on his clothes during the travel.

Sirius laughed, standing up, bringing his godson into a hug, relishing in the fact he could do so. "How are you doing? Everything okay?"

"Nothing's happened since last night," Harry said, it was a familiar banter between them, since Harry had kept his promise, even if he could only chat for like three minutes, he got in touch with his godfather every evening without fail. "I'm good." Still shocked by the difference in him, he was…like a whole new person, and well, Sirius looked really happy with that.

"Harry!" Remus said, standing as well to receive a hug, "It's been too long." Which was true, Remus hadn't seen Harry in roughly a month, he seemed to always miss the conversation Sirius had with his godson before coming to bed. He blamed all the literature there was to read. He loved reading, nothing could compare, and he spent a lot of his time doing so. He missed teaching, he would do anything to be able to teach.

"Clearly, I can't believe not taking that swill has such a drastic change like this," Harry said, stepping back and just staring amazed. "Are you on a special diet to help you bulk up as well?" Remus had always been very lean, too thin and just gaunt really. To see him putting on weight, muscle with actual tan to his skin, he also seemed so much happier now.

"I'm following one that the healer suggested," Remus said, smiling at Harry's attention to detail. "I owe it all to you," he murmured, bringing him into another hug. He'd refrained when he initially met Harry when he was thirteen. Harry hadn't known him, and he was too much of a coward to reveal he'd known him young and been best friends with his parents. Knowing ultimately the question of where he'd been would crop up. How could he tell a child he feared for his safety and he was actually a coward and ran instead of facing his fears. It's how he'd been raised, any suspicion then they ran, no exception. The only ones he'd ever told (until Severus revealed everything with his complete understanding, he'd almost bitten Harry, Hermione and Ron, the bitterness he felt over it was nothing compared to the horror of what he'd almost visited on Prongs son) had been Sirius, Peter and James, although, it had only been confirming what they knew, his intelligent friends had figured it out on their own.

Harry shrugged, dismissing his contribution entirely, it wasn't that difficult a thought, he'd barely considered the idea for a few seconds before telling Sirius. "It was nothing."

"It is, to me." Remus declared firmly, as Sirius got them all something to drink, or rather topped up his and Remus' and got Harry his favoured Pepsi Max which he made sure was always well stocked. Reminding Remus, when they weren't shopping together, to buy it.

Harry nodded seriously, "I don't get how none of you guys considered it." He admitted, they'd made a map of Hogwarts that recorded where everyone was in real time, even if they were under Polyjuice potion. It was absolutely the most amazing work of art he'd ever seen. Then his father and godfather became animagus' when they were still at Hogwarts which was less impressive – to him – but still good. He'd cast a fully-fledged Patronus, so of course, becoming an animagus didn't seem all that awesome but it likely was.

Sirius conceded the point with a tilt of his head, agreeing with him, they really should have considered it. It's not like expanding trunks was a new concept to him, heck, his first trunk had been expanded inside so everything he had could come with him to Hogwarts. Whether he liked his family or not, they never skimped on anything. He hadn't realized that until he was sixteen and the reality had been slapped in his face. "You normally let us know you'll be coming, not that I'm not happy to see you, but what's up?"

Remus cupped his hand around his coffee, staring enquiringly, a tiny hint of concern, but Harry looked well enough, it obviously wasn't something awful.

Harry joined them at the table, feeling awful for what he was going to have to do, but he did not want to miss seeing everyone that was going to be there. Voldemort basically said all of his side would be there, supporters and all anyone that could be a danger to Dumbledore and his order. "Two things actually, just to let you know despite the paper that Augusta and Neville are still alive, Algie is the only one who died the newspapers have been misinformed, by Dumbledore."

Sirius froze, relieved to hear that they were alive, but at the same time confused, "Why would Dumbledore be under that impression?"

Remus straightened, "Come now, Sirius…Dumbledore wouldn't…" and before he could answer, Harry spoke again.

"Dumbledore and Doge were the ones that attacked them, for one simple reason, to draw me out." Harry confessed, opening his can of Pepsi max stunning the two of them. "Algie was killed in the attack. Of course, I didn't know when it happened, what had happened, but Neville and Augusta came around and everything was revealed. They tried to tamper with their memories, put visions of a Death Eater attack in its place. It didn't work. She's bloody amazing for an older witch, man she can fight." His admiration clear for the witch.

"That makes a difference from how you treated her at the will reading," Remus commented, reeling over what Harry had said.

"Oh, she wasn't the best of grandmothers to Neville, and I'll always hold a grudge for that, she should have protected him. It was just a level above how the Dursley's treated me, I might be projecting a bit but someone had to defend him." Harry said defensively.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Remus pressed his hand against Harry's in reassurance, "I'm glad you helped Neville, he's such a shy and reserved little boy." He didn't even want to press on how the Dursley's had treated Harry, he felt nothing but immense guilt over it. If he had just got his nerve together once…just once and he would have seen how they were with him. Maybe then Harry would have grown up in the magical world where he should have been all along.

"What's this about Augusta?" Sirius asked, staring between them curiously, he didn't know anything about it.

"I'll tell you later," Remus promised him, "Are you sure their memories weren't tampered with the other way? Because it can be easily done…and the article did say the dark mark had been in the sky…" he hadn't told Sirius about the little argument between Harry and Augusta, still reeling over Dumbledore knowing about Sirius not being the secret keeper. He'd nearly ripped and tore Dumbledore to shreds; he had been so furious.

"Their memories weren't tampered with." Harry said firmly, Sirius was just staring at him horrified, not because of what happened in particular, but because his own worst fears were being confirmed. That Dumbledore might actually behind what had happened to Remus, if he could attack to kill the Longbottom's in a bid to draw Harry out…he was capable of anything. He didn't doubt his godson for a second, not even if Dumbledore declared it a lie under Veritaserum. He knew deep in his bones that Dumbledore had orchestrate Remus' incident near fifteen years ago.

Remus as always so quick to try and see the good in people, despite what happened to him.

"Sirius, you're being very quiet," Remus noted, narrowing his gaze on his partner, knowing him well enough to realize that it wasn't a good thing, his silence.

"Just trying to make sense of everything," Sirius confessed, shaking his head almost bewildered, to think they'd worked with Dumbledore for years and nary a clue on his true character. Remembering how pleased he was when he was hand-picked to be an order member, strutting his stuff because the leader of the light saw he wasn't a true Black, wasn't a member of his family. "What the hell happened? Were we blind to it? What screwed up shit have we done thinking we were in the right, Remy?" feeling sick to his stomach, what if all those 'missions' they'd been on hadn't been what they thought? What if their memories had been tampered with? Everything they knew was being turned on its head, as if it wasn't already bad enough that Dumbledore had left his godson defenceless at the Dursley's, while leaving him to rot in Azkaban knowingly. Now attacking the Longbottom's in a bid to what? Somehow draw Harry out of hiding? Oh, he knew they were still looking for him, he got random letters and if any of the Order members saw him, they'd ask after him – like he'd tell them – honestly, he wasn't a fool.

"Don't dwell on it too much, there's no point in torturing yourself," Harry told them, grimacing a little, "Just stay away from them all, everyone in that bloody cult of Dumbledore."

Remus swallowed down the words of protest, but had to concede, yes, yes, they'd practically been a cult. Who knows, they might be just as bad as the Death Eaters if their thinking might be right. He couldn't bear to think of those missions he'd gone on being wrong…a set up by Dumbledore. Harry's right, it was best not to think of it.

Regretfully, it wasn't as easily applied.

"I'm also here to let you know that I'm going to be away for my birthday," Harry said apologetically, "As in out of the country."

Sirius perked up, "On holiday? Where are we going?"

"We are not going anywhere," Harry said immediately, emphatically shaking his head so that Sirius didn't get to linger long under the wrong idea. "Where I'm going you two are not getting to get anywhere near."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, "Oh, you've got a boyfriend," he said, coming up with a plausible excuse, even if it was completely wrong.

Harry also just picked the very worst of times to blush red at the idea, his mind filling with images from his dream.

"Ha! Who is it? Where are you going?" Sirius was almost squealing in delight for his godson, "When do I get to talk to him?" he added with vicious delight, almost rubbing his hands together, laughing manically in a playful way, but also, you know, seriously. It was his duty now since James couldn't do anything and it would be beyond irresponsible if he didn't threaten him. James would never forgive him, hell he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't threaten a tiny bit. Hopefully it was someone that didn't give one hoot about his fame.

"Uh, is that the time…I have to go, bye!" Harry said, taking his opportunity and diving for the Floo network, and making his way home.

Sirius, just laughed, it was good they'd finished off on a good note instead of souring it later.

"Our little Prongslet is all grown up, now, Remy," Sirius said howling with delight.

"It would seem so," Remus said, more composed than Sirius, as always, but deeply amused by the conversation that had just taken place. "However, if we wish for Harry to have his gifts for his birthday, best get them sent now before he leaves, if we're lucky enough to catch him in time before the Portkey activates."

Sirius chortled, "Bold of you to assume he's going by Portkey, could be a muggle he's dating," Sirius pointed out. "We should send them though; I don't want to miss him any other birthdays than he already has missed being in Azkaban. As depressing as it was, he'd only gifted him with two presents, although the firebolt was to make up for the rest of them and to show Harry he cared. This would be the third year of gifting him something. Each gift more extravagant than the last, but something Harry would love.

Standing up, Sirius muttered, "I sort of wish he had stayed, so I could give it in person, it's a pricy item, I'd hate for him not to get it."

"Shouldn't have teased him so much then," Remus teased his partner, "Come on, let's get them wrapped and sent off." making his way to their bedroom with haste to retrieve both gifts to send them off. 

R&R

A/N – Augusta Longbottom won't be aware of who Tom Riddle really was, it wasn't even information Dumbledore released to the Order members at least it was never mentioned anyway so that's the reason she doesn't know anything other than the façade he had at school.

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 48

"Have you seen the late edition of the Daily Prophet?" Voldemort enquired, as he interrupted Harry's reading, the table he was at was surrounded by packages. Some of them brightly coloured, a very good indication that his birthday was soon. He did eye the books Harry had been perusing but he shook it off, he wanted an answer.

Harry stared blankly up at Voldemort, blinking a few times before he realized exactly what Voldemort had said. "Um, no, I haven't, why? What's been said?" Elsmere wouldn't have gone and used the later edition – not everyone bothers with it, it's just extra and mostly to print of the match results, when it comes to quidditch as well as the duelling results and everything in between.

"You were heard in Honeydukes with the intention of going to the duelling matches," Voldemort told him, placing the newspaper in front of him.

Harry shook his head utterly vexed, he couldn't get a seconds peace or bloody privacy. "There was only the shop assistant that could have heard that." Lips pursing, he knew there had been no reporters nearby or anything of the sort. Only they could have heard them, only they could have revealed that piece of information to the press, "I mean seriously? How much did they get that it was worth it?" scoffing as he leaned back in sheer annoyance.

"You'd be surprised," Voldemort said dryly, "They were deprived of their ability to write everything about you for over a decade. Like or not, you were safe from exposure while at Hogwarts, for the most part." Well aware of Skeeter but if he hadn't deliberately put Harry out there in the tournament, he would have continued to have safety from the press he will admit that. "They are going to continue trying to make you larger than life, it will help boost the ratings, increase readership and quite frankly raise their status."

"Is Barty safe?" Harry asked, straightening up, his back protesting his abruptness, worry suffusing him, he didn't want his best friend exposed because of something stupid.

"He wasn't mentioned," Voldemort reassured him, "Do you wish to do something about them?"

Harry paused, glancing at the paper thoughtfully, truth was there was nothing bad about it, it was just a reporter reporting the truth. They hadn't lied or anything, so there was nothing for him to complain about. "No, let them do as they please, for the times they'll actually see me. If they cross the line, even just the once, then yes, something must be done. I am not going to give them enough rope to hang me, give them an inch they'd take a bloody mile." Parroting the words that he'd heard his aunt use a million times without thought.

"Very well," Voldemort agreed, "However, you cannot attend the matches now." everyone would be expecting it, which happened to include the Order, and if they found him, there was no telling what would happen to Harry. He didn't know how far Dumbledore would go to get Harry to become the little hero he'd wasted fourteen years on trying to produce. He'd attacked the Longbottom's and left them for dead, just to try and get Harry when the newspaper has just given him the first real lead, they'd likely had all year.

"That actually explains this," Harry said, picking up the large square missive he had and slid it across the library desk.

Voldemort's gaze flicked towards it, with a nod from Harry, he picked it up curiously, arching a brow in shock at the contents within. "This is unprecedented." He confessed; not yet sixteen-years-old he'd been invited to participate in the duelling.

"Hardly, they're likely doing it to up the number of attendees." Harry commented, "Thing is…I actually like the sound of it." He confessed sheepishly; it was true enough he did like the sound of attending to see how well he could do.

"They would never do the competitors the disservice of bringing in someone 'famous'," The Dark Lord retorted immediately, refusing to let Harry believe even for a moment that it was his fame enticing them to ask him to attend. "They must believe you capable, the question is who suggested you in the first place? The newspaper could have been the kick they needed to ask you to participate or it's a coincidence."

"You don't believe in coincidences," Harry said with a laugh, but warmth suffused him at his defence.

"I do not." Voldemort agreed, "You understand the rigorness of the training you'd be undertaking should you agree? And how long you'd be gone touring as long as you win your matches?" Harry had very little say in his life, with Dumbledore pulling the strings in the background, as much as he'd love to keep Harry near, he had to let him do as he wished.

"Wait, you'd actually let me go?" Harry gaped at Voldemort as if he'd just spouted a second and third head.

"You don't need anyone's permission," Voldemort retorted, noticing the subtle relaxing of Harry's shoulders, and suddenly he felt like he'd passed some sort of test.

"But?" Harry asked, shrewd as always. There was definitely a but in there somewhere.

"Not a but, however," ignoring Harry's laughter, "I would like it if you chose two others to be your bodyguard to see to your safety…and a third that remains in the background to keep an eye out on everyone whereas the bodyguards can keep an eye for a frontal attack." And this was going to be a long-term thing, Harry wasn't going to be out the first match, he would be there until near enough or for the semi-finals, and emerge victorious as a champion of at least bronze but wouldn't be surprised if he got either silver or gold.

"There's no way I'm good enough to become a duelling champion, there's no point to sending everyone with me, or going," Harry said, shaking his head, deciding against going, every single bad thing he'd been told all his life momentarily overwhelming him. He felt in that moment like he would never be good enough for anything or anyone.

"Get them out of your head, if I thought it would help, I'd Obliviate the memories from you, but they make us who we are, do they not? For good or ill." Voldemort curtly stated, Severus was far better when Harry was feeling rather melancholiac truth be told. "Don't make me have to get Severus to help you." He added.

This seemed to stir Harry out of his stupor but caused confusion, "Is he not coming here for lockdown?"

"No," Voldemort declared, his position as spy was far more important, he didn't want to risk Severus being caught. However, judging by the look on Harry's face he definitely wasn't happy with Severus being left out/behind. Who would have seen the day where they two got on enough that Harry wished for his company and spoke of Severus fondly. Perhaps the knowledge that he could have grown up with the wizard as a father figure. Lily had decreed Severus a suitable guardian after all, and without Dumbledore's interference.

Sitting up straighter, "Where have the meetings been held?"

"Dumbledore alternates between his office and the Burrow," Voldemort stated eyeing Harry speculatively. Wondering what the teen was up to now, when he got that look on his face it was obvious he was scheming. Usually quite fortunate, his scheming, worked well for him and his side.

"Well, there was a Slytherin Headmaster…a Black right?" Harry said pensively.

"Indeed," Voldemort drawled still not seeing it, "His name was Phineas Nigellas Black." He pointed out as always, a host of information.

"Portraits aren't spelled to remain loyal to its current Headmaster…are they?" Harry mused thoughtfully, mind whirling away on how to get Severus out of there but give Voldemort the spy he clearly wants.

"Spells do not work on paintings, but they do work around them," Voldemort informed him smugly. Most were even impervious to being burnt or otherwise tampered with even after death. Those sorts of spells were permanent, not all spells were naturally.

"Well Phineas has bound to have a portrait in the Black townhouse, he has one at Hogwarts…not only would he be able to spy on the Order meetings…he'd be able to tell you everything that goes on within Hogwarts at any given time." Harry pointed out; green eyes gleaming with vicious victory. He knew this because Sirius had mentioned it in passing once.

Voldemort's mouth opened very temporarily, before he closed it with a snap. Why was it with this boy he could feel so utterly stupid despite the fact he had a very high IQ? It was contemptuous really, and also made him incredibly grateful he had that wonderful outside the box thinking boy within his grasp. Thank Merlin he had his own moment of epiphany in ordering his House-elves to get the boy from his relatives home.

"Do you have access to Grimmauld Place? Didn't Black sell it?" Voldemort enquired deceptively mild, as if he wasn't impressed with the boys ingenuity. He didn't need to tell the blasted brat; he was sitting there with a smug upturn of his lips that stated he knew fine well he had impressed him. he was nonetheless grateful that his little bout of doubts was done with.

"Sirius didn't sell it, and it belongs to the Black estate, it reverted back upon Walburga's death, Sirius was technically squatting and allowing others to illegally squat in Grimmauld Place before I had him shut up shop and leave." Harry informed him, Voldemort didn't know much about the Black estate after Orion's time, and Harry didn't spend too much time in talking about it.

"Perhaps," Voldemort mused thoughtfully, but there was no guarantee there were any portraits left, surely Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed a family of dark practitioners to remain within hearing distance of the meetings. It was straining credulity that Dumbledore would be so idiotic.

In the end Voldemort expressed his thoughts to Harry. "The portraits likely were removed, Dumbledore wouldn't have trusted them, and without knowing how many other frames were connected…and who owned them it was a precarious thing to do." And as much as he detested it, Dumbledore wasn't entirely foolish.

"True, but getting rid of them seems…kind of sacrilegious," Harry pointed out, "They're more than likely somewhere in the building. We know Dumbledore used silencing spells anyway when conducting the meetings. It cannot hurt to have a look."

"How do you propose that would work?" Voldemort interjected.

"By shrinking the portrait down to a stamp size, and sticking it to the underside of the table in the Headmaster's office…without being seen." Harry replied immediately. "No magic could detect a portrait; it isn't a listening device…not really so nothing would come up. If he had two…we could have inserted one into the Weasley's as well," since Severus was an Order member and had the ability to come and go as he pleased. "Maybe even etch a chameleon rune into it. I'd need to test it to see if it would show up on all the spells Dumbledore uses before meetings."

Voldemort's eyes begun to gleam with wickedness, "Then I suggest you get testing them, I have someone to call back before lockdown is activated." And he couldn't use Harry unfortunately, for he did not bear his mark. Oh, but he was exceedingly excited at the prospect of actually helping him with the portrait and testing its validity, with that the Dark Lord moved swiftly, one might even call it running, but Dark Lord's don't run of course, they might hasten at most.

What people didn't see wouldn't hurt them.

"You do realize you have rooms of your own?" Voldemort drawled seeing dozens of more books spread out on the table. Harry looked like he was ready to stay the night here in the library. Not just books either, but surprisingly, with pieces of wood – where he got it Voldemort wasn't entirely sure – wedged between his thighs. Presumably to test his theory on whether the rune would work. Thankfully both of them were very much aware of all the spells Dumbledore went through courtesy of Severus.

"I do?" Harry asked blankly, visibly refraining from rolling his eyes at the wizard's statement. He was here pretty much eighty percent of his time, the rest of it was outside or in his bedroom. As much as he loved having his own room, it didn't have everything he wanted. There were always new books to devour, not always new books just out but old, brittle and priceless books that were really artefacts.

Voldemort sighed heavily, and over dramatically before reclaiming his seat. "Severus will be here soon, so we must be quick." He would have preferred Harry be hidden with so many of his Death Eaters children gathered in the manor for a brief time. At least until lockdown officially happened, and they were made very aware never to upset him lest they wish his ire upon them.

While watching the teen at work, he asked, "How did it go with Black and Lupin?" not truly interested in either wizard, but Harry's machinations in having both wizards under his thumb. So, the fact they abandoned the Order…it had saved their lives, and likely allowed Harry to retain his position on the dark side and not truly go neutral.

Harry flushed red, "Ugh, they think I'm going on holiday, with a boyfriend," he shook his head in disbelief, honestly the things Sirius came up with.

"There," he sighed in satisfaction, passing over the piece of oak wood, letting Voldemort test his hard work. The runes were tiny etching things in the corner of the empty 'frame' they were using to test the past. "Ah, wait!" he said, using a non-permanent sticking charm – it was an antique table – and stuck the frame to it. "Probably should use an actual portrait though, but this is just to see if the Chamaeleon rune will hide it with any detection spells."

Harry observed Voldemort working, the delicate intricate dance of his wand as he murmured spell after spell. His mouth moving but no sound really emerged, non-verbal magic really. Swallowing thickly, glancing immediately at the bookcases, cursing his wandering mind with vehemence. Damn it, why the hell did it have to be him of all people? He'd begun to think there was something seriously wrong with him, he unlike the rest of his peers at Hogwarts had never truly felt anything for anyone. No arousal, no wet dreams, nothing at all. It was almost like he was a late bloomer…either that or he hadn't been interested in them because he didn't find them stimulating…and Voldemort was stimulating…and very, very fucking good looking that it should be illegal.

"Will I be able to get to my bedroom without being accosted by the idiots I used to have to call classmates?" Harry then asked, letting out a breath when Voldemort finally finished the damn procedure in checking the wood to see if the rune was detected. "Is it detected?" it shouldn't be, he'd been the one to create it, it was new therefore it shouldn't be able to be found. At least that was the way he was seeing it.

"You'll be pleased to know that it is imperceptible." Voldemort stated, sitting back in his chair, placing the piece of wood on his desk, his wand returning to its holster. "As for your ex-classmates, yes, you'll probably see them at some point, most of them are around. Should you wish to avoid them, remain on the family wing, nobody but you or I and a select others can venture there."

Harry let out a breath, grateful for the reprieve, but the time would come. If they didn't already know about him…and learned when they saw him…the looks on their faces were going to be utterly bloody priceless. Considering each year that passed, he noticed the 'Slytherins' sort of masked their looks, became guarded, presumably something to do with learning Occlumency if they could? Or just learning to hide their thoughts and feelings as heirs and would be Lord's. "Do they know?" he queried.

Voldemort glanced at Harry, arching a brow at the gleam he could see in those eyes. A gleam he was very familiar with, for when he used to get very vindictively mischievous that look too would appear on his face. "Do refrain from causing too much trouble," he told Harry firmly, knowing it wouldn't work. All piled in together, there would be fights, arguments and general unpleasantness behind his back. The last thing he needed was Harry cursing his followers children and causing even further wretchedness. He thrived on it, yes, but not to the extent that Harry would no doubt immerse himself in it.

"I have no idea what you mean," Harry replied.

Voldemort just gave him another incredulous look; the teen didn't even bother with an 'innocent' façade. He just stared blankly at him; his green eyes gleaming in a way that suggested he was contemplating the best way to achieve maximum chaos. "Tomorrow you're be formally introduced to everyone at the party, at least wait until after then,"

Harry's lips curled, a true look of disgust on his face. He loathed the very thought of it, even though he knew he'd be able to find some amusement while at it. "You have no idea what I've had to endure silently from those…" there wasn't a word to truly describe them, he actually struggled to find a word nasty enough, "Despicable pathetic idiots." He decided upon, wasn't good enough but it would just have to do.

Staring straight at Voldemort, "Don't blame me for what happens next…you can't expect a snake to shed its skin then wander back into it."

"Very aptly put," Voldemort replied, his own voice serious. It was true, he had unleashed the potential within Harry, given him the means to be who he truly wanted to be – who he was meant to be – and asking him for a moment to endure what he had at Hogwarts – the same way he'd been forced to endure as the perfect golden boy – from the students would indeed be wrong. No, the boy couldn't and wouldn't be able to return back to the boy he'd once pretended to be, he'd had his freedom for far too long.

"I do mean it, if they start anything…I'll finish it," he declared strongly.

Voldemort nodded curtly, giving Harry his permission and understanding to deal with them in any way he saw fit. He'd rather have this smart ruthless boy on his side than a couple of stupid idiotic boys who thought they knew better. Boys who couldn't look past their own noses to see the danger that Harry Potter represented to them all.

A sharp rap at the library door stole his attention, "Enter!" he commanded, already sitting straighter, he knew who was there, Severus.

Harry glanced at the time, everything was being cut short, it was nearing nine o'clock, by twelve the entire estate would be going on lockdown. The only death eater that wouldn't be there was Elsmere who would be hiding in plain sight, and starting in earnest to release the articles having built up his reputation as a good and honourable reporter.

It was time to begin Dumbledore's fall from grace.

And it was going to be glorious.

"If I go...I want him to be one of my guards." Harry told him, just before the door actually opened, he gave Severus a bright smile, before darting around him. He only had so long to get those portraits and the plan put together for Severus to get here for lockdown and hopefully end his duties as a spy.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 49

"You called, My Lord?" Severus queried once he had a firm grip of himself, sliding the greeting he'd received from Harry to the back of his mind to think on later. While he knew Harry had come to appreciate his company, especially when they were brainstorming or brewing potions. This was the first real beaming smile he'd received from the teenager. Then again, it had been months since he saw the teen. Perhaps the saying that absence does make the heart grow fonder was actually

"Harry has come up with quite an ingenious idea…it would give us the means to spy on the Order without you being at Hogwarts." Voldemort informed his spy, gauging his reaction. "Or more specifically, actually in the Order and having to pander to Dumbledore for the cause." He knew Severus hated it, even while he'd been loyal to that particular side, he detested everyone in the order.

Disbelief, shock, immense surprise, hope, satisfaction, happiness, and elation these were the feelings that immediately stamped all over Severus the moment the Dark Lord spoke. Clearing his throat, "I will be implementing it then?" Severus assumed. The thought of actually getting to leave for good…to quit, well, he would do anything, he didn't care. One last thing was alright by him.

"You will," The Dark Lord informed him, "Harry is going to retrieve Phineas Black's portraits and one will be shrunk down to a postage stamp size. With a chameleon rune, which successfully evades exposure from spells you know Dumbledore uses for detection. You must stick it to Dumbledore's desk in his office if you can undetected. Once that is done, you may leave Hogwarts and return here. You will join us in the lockdown." He wasn't sure what they would be doing regarding the Weasley home.

Severus could have smiled, the thought of finally, finally leaving those insipid children who had no desire to learn the art of Potions Making made his year. He would be able to create and brew to his hearts content without having to toe the line with Dumbledore, spy and teach. It freed up his time considerably, and he so desperately wanted to create again. Harry had revived his desire to do more with potions than just brew ones he knows from heart. No, he wanted to create his own, and this was his opportunity. Merlin, he honestly thought he'd be stuck with the Order until he died for the cause or until the war was over, with every chance he'd need to return every time the Order was revived in rebellion.

"How long do I have to accomplish the task?" Severus asked, hiding every ounce of his eagerness.

"If you can accomplish it before midnight, then you come here. If you do not, it will be a few days before you can get in contact with anyone." Even him, but he could technically leave if he wished, they were his wards after all, it was only everyone else who couldn't leave. "Do get here in time, Harry will be most displeased otherwise."

"That doesn't leave much time to act," Severus frowned, then again, he'd very much rather have it over with as soon as possible. He didn't want to wait until after the lockdown was over. Having the knowledge that it was over, well, who can blame him for wanting it completed as soon as humanly possible?

"No, it does not." Voldemort agreed, but if anyone could pull it off it was Severus. He was very crafty just like a certain someone who had just been here. "Harry will be back momentarily, no doubt which gives you a few hours at most." All he was doing was going to Grimmauld Place to retrieve the portrait should it exist, otherwise the plan was off, at least until they came up with another alternative.

"Understood," Severus nodded, his mind working overtime, well, Dumbledore knew he had been called, it should be easy to get into the office. It was placing the damn portrait without anyone realizing something was wrong. Non-verbal levitating charm? "It will be tricky with the portraits watching someone invisible coming in might cause more concern and he might find it…" he didn't wonder why another portrait was going into the old man's office, he put silencing spells around them to stop them hearing when they got down to business. He'd have no reason to add one to his desk, it was truly quite an ingenious plan.

"Use a House-elf to do it, Dobby can get it done they're invisible and he can get in and out without any alarms being raised?" Harry stated as he came back in, having three large frames levitating behind him. "Silent, invisible, small, can't get better than that," he'd already thought it through. Shaking his head trying to get rid of the cobwebs that were all over him. Grimacing as he tried to get the sticky things out of his hair, Grimmauld Place was just disgusting. It truly lived up to its name let's put it that way.

"Why three?" before realizing and wishing nothing more than to slap his head, "Never mind," he added quickly, of course they'd need one as well to hear the reports on their end, the other two must be for Dumbledore's office and the Burrow.

Harry just smirked at him, as if he knew what the Potions Master was thinking.

"Dobby could get in and out unseen and undetected so why not?" Voldemort agreed with the new slightly altered plan.

"Dobby?" Harry called out as he claimed his seat, the unused frame floating in mid-air, as his wand once again became needle like and pointy, the rune was easier and much quicker to draw this time around.

"Yes Master Harry?" Dobby asked, remaining still at the sight of Voldemort and Snape. He wasn't comfortable around a lot of the people his Master Harry associated with, but Harry was his Master and he was a good one, he knew that, so he would do anything for him. Waiting patiently for his Master to finish what he was doing. Sometimes that happened, he was called when Master Harry was in the middle of his magic and he had to wait.

"In a few minutes I'm going to ask you to take this to Dumbledore's office and stick it underneath his desk." Harry stated firmly, pointing to the large portrait which he shrunk down until it fitted very easily in the palm of his hand. Taking up only a little space as small as it was. "You might as well take Severus with you and help him pack his belongings and bring them here. Once he's returned, and if you have the time, put the second one under the Weasley's kitchen table. Get back before midnight even if it means you abandon packing Severus' stuff or before you can get these put into position."

Dobby nodded his understanding, but he was sure they could get it done well before midnight. He knew through the grapevine (the other House-elves) that the place was going on lockdown. He wasn't being closed out away from his Master for as long as they were under lockdown.

"This side is very sticky, it's a permanent sticking charm," Harry added.

"Just put it under the desk, like the muggle-born like to do with chewing gum they bring in." his lip curling in disgust, it was horrendous having to remove the stuff from under his desks at the end of the year. Without a doubt, the House-elves likely had to endure similarly when cleaning the Great Hall's students tables, well, the Slytherin one was always immaculate, they know better.

"I get why Sirius didn't like Grimmauld Place now, it's positively filthy." Harry decreed, he did not wish to visit again, not until it was thoroughly cleaned and likely had various exterminators for all the accumulation of pests the place had acquired since Walburga Black's death. At least he hoped it was her death and she hadn't been living with wizarding vermin during her last years. Not that he really cared one way or another.

"I'm guessing you didn't see the library then?" Severus smirked, "Let's go Dobby, my rooms first," with that the House-elf hooked his finger through Severus' cloak and both of them disappeared with a miniaturized stamp looking portrait.

"This better work," Voldemort muttered to himself, otherwise he was going to be losing a very good asset and someone who gave him a lot of useful information.

"You saw it work yourself," Harry said, he was glad that Severus wasn't going to be spying anymore. "Now excuse me, I need a shower." Shuddering anew as he tried valiantly scratched at his head like there were critters moving around in his hair. It was likely his imagination, but Harry didn't think so. He needed to get himself cleaned up. "Don't let anyone mess up my stuff!" or nose through it, he really should just transfer it to his bedroom but he was only going to shower before going back to his next project, he was determined to see it through if he was going to be going on the duelling circuit.

He couldn't wait to tell Barty! He wondered how his best friend was going to act to the news!

Harry felt it the moment the wards went on lockdown at midnight, it jerked him out of his sleep, which was rather light compared to his heavy sleeping as of late. Just knowing there were so many people in the manor was causing him to feel anxious, he knew he was safe, that Voldemort wouldn't let anyone, not even Bellatrix in this side of the wing. The only exceptions thus far, were Severus and Barty, and they both sought permission before even going near, they knew the Dark Lord could feel if anyone made an attempt to get there.

Grumbling, Harry slid out of his cosy bed, wrapping his robe about his body, he padded out, noticing that Voldemort's private library was in use. The glow under the door was a dead giveaway. It wasn't the first time Voldemort had been up late, and likely wouldn't be the last. He padded over, glancing at his bed, before shaking his head, no he wouldn't bothering going back for his slippers. There were enough rugs to make it tolerable.

Knocking on the door, he waited, but didn't have to wait long. "Enter!"

Harry opened the door and found Severus in with Voldemort, by the looks of it they were going over some sort of plan.

"You got here in time then," Harry said, shuffling over to the fireplace that was lit and roaring loudly, sighing softly when the fire warmed him immensely.

"I did," Severus replied, watching Harry closely, seeing all the changes that had come of him in the time they'd been apart. He was beginning to get taller, not a massive amount – it's unlikely he ever would be as tall as he should even with the potions – nice amount of weight on his bones, and he wasn't as pale. He honestly looked so much better, the glow he had, not to mention he seemed very happy. "How have you been?"

"Good," Harry said, smiling at him, "I've missed you."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes from the documents he was observing displeased by what he was hearing. Once the surge of rage, possessive, mine, tapered a little, he felt through the bond he still had with the wizard. Then and only then, did he relax and untense, it was not the kind of miss you he had to fear. It was close to mentor/mentee sort of miss, not quite a friend, but a distant relative you'd just grown close to.

"Surprisingly, I missed you as well," Severus replied, with a grimace, who would have thought they'd see the day where he missed a Potter.

Harry was far from offended, he merely laughed, finding it comical.

Dear Merlin…he owed Harry one, he was no longer having to spy thanks to the boys ingenuity. "And thank you." He owed him, Albus, had been getting increasingly unpredictable as of late. Not being able to find Harry had really set him on edge, the newspaper article about the chamber of secrets had opened a whole new other can of worms.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and judging by the smirk on Harry's face…he was going to collect on that debt.

Damn it. The boy was entirely too sneaky and Slytherin for his own good.

But hell, it felt damn good being able to be on the side he was meant to and keep his vow he'd made in Lily's name. This was all without his influence, Merlin what would he have been like if he had been raised by him like he'd supposed to have? Like Lily had wanted.

Terrifying, he thought, absolutely terrifying he thought with smug satisfaction.

Voldemort rolled his eyes at the pair of smug wizards sitting in his private library, it didn't surprise him the slightest when they began to talk shop. Harry had commanded Severus as his bodyguard – which pleased Voldemort, he's expected a struggle of some sorts – he just needed two others who would be best served watching over Harry, someone who could get the best of anyone the Order could throw at them but also people he could miss. His first instincts were the Carrows or perhaps the Lestrange's they were the most powerful, the most confident of his followers.

He was leaning towards the Carrows due to the advantage they had of having not been in Azkaban for well over a decade. They were loyal but smart enough to avoid the mass arrests. However, he knew he'd upset the Lestrange's if he did let the Carrows go. Harry was family, however, distantly it was, he was family and that came with the expectations that they would be the one to help him whenever he needed it.

Perhaps he could spin it in a way that they duel, the winners get to be Harry's bodyguard. It would give the advantage of the best going, and lessen the blow should Rodolphus and Rabastan lose the duels. Then again, there was every chance they'd win, they were very determined, right from the offset, they'd buckled down and worked very hard. The healer had been quick to tell him, although Rodolphus had taken a few steps back a few times, especially in the beginning of their convalescence. Yes, he actually rather liked that idea, it was decided then.

The three of them ended up in heated debates until yawns began to interrupt their conversations. One glance at the clock, the Dark Lord ordered them to get some rest that it would going to be busy the next few days. More so for Harry and Severus, who both were surprisingly, antisocial. Well, they did socialise but never for long periods of time without losing their tempers. He wouldn't be surprised if they stowed away in the potions lab the entire time, except when he forced their presence, and they would be forced.

They needed to portray a united front. Especially when they learn about Harry, and Harry couldn't hide away lest people get the wrong impression. He did not desire anyone to believe Harry was there unwillingly, no matter how his origin story began.

"Good evening, My Lord," Severus murmured, already mentally trying to remember everything to write it down.

NEXT DAY - DAY 1 OF LOCKDOWN

Barty and Harry had watched from the shadows the entire day leading up to the night of the celebration the dark side was hosting. Making sardonic comments to each other, amusing one another, gaining points if the other laughed at the sarcasm. For hours that was all they did watching the women flail around desperately, and the men flee their significant others until they were dragged back by the back of their cloaks.

"You are going to get dressed, right?" Barty asked him as he sobered up, his roguish grin fading as he glanced at Harry, who was balancing on a chair in his bedroom.

Harry screwed up his nose in a similar manner that he had in the Dark Lord's office yesterday. "Do I have a choice?" he grumbled unhappily. He had successfully managed to avoid absolutely everyone, the upside of having an invisibility cloak and having created his own runes and spells to conceal himself from others. He and Barty had remained undetected all day today.

"No, not really," Barty grinned in amusement at Harry's predicament. Honestly, Harry was unpredictable, he never really knew how he was going to react to certain things. He had made it clear he did not wish to attend this gathering tonight. Which of course, the Dark Lord wouldn't allow, it was in his honour after all, since he was coming out to all the dark supporters and Death Eaters. Only the inner circle knew about Harry's allegiance, they weren't even allowed to tell their wife of kids on pain of death. For their family. The Dark Lord would have let the culprit that went against his orders, live with the agony of what they'd done if they dared to discard his orders. It was a fool proof way of ensuring they kept their mouth shut. It was more difficult to act out when you know who'd be hurt and it wouldn't be you. "Just don't turn up in that Muggle stuff you liked to wear,"

Harry scoffed, honestly, he hadn't worn that 'muggle stuff' he had in his possession since his last birthday – except if they were going in the muggle world which fair, they did do a lot – after Voldemort got him a lot of clothes, more than he'd ever had at one point in his life.

"Come on, it's going to be fun!" Barty said exasperated, "Honestly, do you not know how to have fun?"

"No, Barty, I don't." Harry stated, green eyes meeting brown, "I grew up isolated, kept in a fucking cupboard, and I knew next to nothing about friends, dancing or talking out of my ass to people who wanted to have a conversation."

That took the wind out of Barty's sails, "Never too late to learn?" it came out a question instead of a statement.

"And I'm going to learn from those who probably secretly still want to see me dead?" Harry interjected, he wasn't naïve to believe otherwise. They wouldn't all trust him, there was no way, it was too ingrained in their fucking minds. It had nothing to do with him either, it was all Dumbledore's doing, he'd made sure the world knew who he was, and everything that had transpired that night. Well, most of it, making it out to be a miracle, not the Horcrux which Dumbledore knew about. "We all know how this is going to go, and I can't believe nobody can see it."

"They won't touch you," Barty stated seriously, his face going grim, the Dark Lord would make sure of that. Hell, he would make sure of it. It would take a while for them to trust Harry on their own terms, and not the Dark Lord's. Even he had been sceptical himself when he learned Harry was on their side. After seeing him in action though and the feel of his magic and just his general attitude…he belonged on the dark side. Even if he did have some odd…quirks and belief's. Belief's that had been proven according to the Dark Lord which had changed things, changed many plans.

Arching an eyebrow, staring in disbelief, "We'll see," Harry's tone was ponderous.

"We will, his announcement is going to be…" Barty paused looking for the right word, "Glorious!" he declared, admiration and awe clearly written across his face.

Harry cocked his head to the side, a half-smile appearing on his face, before he nodded in agreement. He would freely admit he was rather looking forward to that. "I just hope I'm in a position to see everyone's faces," Harry admitted green eyes positively gleamed with wily merriment. His earlier mood evaporating completely.

"Oh, you will be," Barty exclaimed, complete ardour taking over his features, as it often did when talking about the Dark Lord. "You'll probably be beside him, covered so nobody can see you until he wants them to, he loves to get reactions out of everyone."

He was a drama queen in other words, Harry through wryly, but he already knew that. He'd thought it so many times. He relished in it, terrifying his followers, almost to the point of them wetting themselves. Then again, he had been extremely pissed, having just been reborn to find that hardly anybody had looked for him. To this day, Harry was still convinced Voldemort had been upset that they hadn't searched for him. Regretful over Quirrell's death, it was just odd to think Voldemort capable of those feelings…at least until he got to know him better. He had emotion, he just didn't let it lead him, although whether he had emotion like everyone else remained to be seen.

"Bartemius Crouch! Get moving!" came the magically enhanced voice of a female Harry couldn't identify but Barty seemed to know who it was. For he paled and swallowed thickly as if he was terrified of the woman which roused Harry's curiosity.

"Who's she?" Harry asked, who was scary enough to intimidate Bartemius Crouch Junior and actually call him that? Harry knew just how much Barty detested his full name, a constant reminder of his father, a father he loathed beyond all reason and measure.

"Adelaide Crabbe, she's the Matriarch of the Crabbe family, her son and grandson live with her," Barty explained, rolling his eyes, "She has a very pushy personality and likes to make sure everyone's dressed appropriately." She was only fifty-three and still looked young for her age.

"And everyone lets her?" he asked dubiously, they just didn't seem like the characters to allow it if he was honest with himself.

"Are you kidding? Everyone loves her, she's amazing, she's sort of like everyone's grandmother you know? Well to our generation…the older ones are just plain terrified of getting on her wrong side. She's extremely powerful and isn't afraid to use her wand when the occasion rises." The stories he'd heard from the others even made him wary about getting on her bad side. Plus, she made the best cookies ever.

Harry's mouth moved a little as he contemplated that, she sounded like Augusta Longbottom to be honest. A more grandmotherly one to be sure. He wondered what happened to her husband and her daughter in law. He didn't know a great deal about the dark families. "Powerful huh? Not so much anymore." The line had seriously declined to dangerous squib levels. "Chances are Vincent could end up having a squib child, his best bet would be having a Muggle-born wife."

Barty cringed, "Don't tell Adelaide that," just imagining her reaction to that statement…she'd probably have a heart attack.

"Aren't you related to the Crabbe's?" Harry asked suddenly, remembering Barty talking about his lineage one point.

"I'm related to quite a few pureblood families, as is everyone else," Barty stated, "My mothers grandmother was a Crabbe."

Harry nodded, he'd thought as much, a wicked grin settling on his face as Adelaide called out again. This time she didn't sound the slightest bit impressed or happy. Barty jumped from the bed where he'd been lounging reading a book before being drawn into a conversation – or watching people running around after making the wall completely see through – it had been a good read too.

"See you later!" was the last thing Barty said before he was bolting from the room, presumably making his way towards his own room.

Harry merely rolled his eyes, more out of fondness and exasperation than any true annoyance. The fact Barty described her as 'a grandmother to everyone' sort of way showed that Barty actually cared about her a great deal in a motherly way. Or rather grandmotherly way. Nobody would be able to take the place of Mrs. Crouch, not in Barty's eyes, she had done the ultimate sacrifice to see her son safe from harm. Both physically and mentally, probably using Crouch Seniors guilt at having spent so much time at the Ministry instead of home with her when she was dying. Barty barely spoke about her, but it was obvious by the reverence he used when he did talk about her that he loved her.

With a resigned sigh, Harry smoothly stood up from the chair he'd been using and made his way through to the bathroom. It was time to get ready for this thing, with a little luck it would be fun.

Half an hour later, Harry had dried himself off and stepped into a pair of boxers when an abrupt knock on the door surprised him. "Who is it?" Harry called as he unhooked the new dress robes he had bought for this occasion from inside the wardrobe.

"It's me," came the curt unamused voice of Severus Snape.

"Come in," Harry said, refraining from yet another sigh. "Tell me you need my help with a very, very delicate potion and I'll miss this?" his tone more than just a little hopeful.

Severus scoffed, lips twitching in genuine amusement, "I don't think so," he drawled out bemused, closing the door and leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Did you want something?" he added, slightly confused by Severus' silence. He wasn't one for just desiring someone's company, so he obviously wanted something, Harry just didn't know what.

Severus shifted awkwardly, almost wishing he had just written a note and given the gift to a House-elf. Steeling himself, he removed the small square package from his robe pocket and handed it over wordlessly. Almost contemplating the idea of just stalking out there and let the boy finish getting ready.

Harry blinked in surprise, well that explained Severus' weirdness, he had less social grace than him and that was saying something. He'd faked it until he made it, while Severus hadn't bothered at all content to be who he was and screw anyone else who disapproved of him. Accepting the gift, he opened it up and found a gold pendant with two coat of arms stamped just so in what could only be likened to a cartouche.

"If your parents had survived they would have given you something like this on your seventeenth birthday, when you would have become the Lord of the Potter estate." Severus explained, refraining from mentioning that James had his on at his time of death. His own mother had given him the Prince coat of arms, but the pendant had been silver, she must have saved up every penny she had for a long time to afford it. He still had it, and only wore it on special occasions, it was the only thing he had left of his mother that she had given him. Except her old school books which had been his from the age of eleven anyway. "Since you are already the Lord…I had this commissioned for you. It is both the Potter and Black coat of arms." He added awkwardly, "Happy sixteenth birthday, Harry."

Harry stared down at the pendant, it was quite large and a bit chunky, like a lot of the jewellery you saw in the magical world. Much like it used to be in the Muggle world back in the day, but as always the magical world was backwards where a lot was concerned. Chunky it may be, but it was smooth as he touched it, even around the coat of arms was even. "Somehow I doubt my father would have given me this if he'd been alive," Harry said dryly, although his situation would have been different and he probably wouldn't have joined this side.

"Probably not," Severus wasn't one for sugar-coating anything, although he may have hesitated if he'd noticed any sort of emotion other than simple statement from the teen. He didn't feel anything for them, which contradicted so heavily everything he used to think he knew. Harry used to blow the lid whenever his parents were mentioned, perhaps he had been too over the top.

Harry laughed a genuine smile crossing his face. "Thank you, Severus, I really like it." he placed the large chain around his neck, the cartouche settled in the middle of his chest, as if to bring attention to it.

"You look stunning," Severus added, looking physically pained to be saying it, "It's a look worthy of the Lord that you are."

"And you look constipated," Harry interjected, green eyes gleaming with mischief. "Have you been drinking already?"

"Hilarious," Severus murmured dryly, rolling his eyes at the teenager. He turned to move, taking a few steps before he turned back, "Just know…I would have been proud to have raised you and called you my son," with that Severus did make a hasty retreat.

Harry's breathing hitched, that was the last thing he'd ever expected to hear out of Severus' mouth. Like ever. Swallowing thickly, licking his dry lips, he stared down at the pendant on his chest, his heart pounding away like a drum. He couldn't deny he had thought of what it would be like to be raised by Severus. He knew one thing, he probably wouldn't have gotten upon all the shit he had at Hogwarts. Manipulated or not, he doubted he would have disobeyed Severus, even if he had been raised by him. The wizard was a no-nonsense sort, always had been, but he was sure deep in his heart that he would never have been abused, but also not spoiled, but very, very magically competent by the time he turned eleven just his Severus himself had been.

Blinking dumbly, his fingers traced the wetness on his cheek, stunned disbelief enveloping him. Harry hadn't cried for years. Long before he had appeared at Hogwarts, crying had been beaten out of him along with near enough all other positive emotions. Hastily wiping them away, he finished getting dressed, refusing to dwell on his near slip of composure or Severus' words.

Not until this night was over anyway.

Barty had been quite correct that Voldemort would want him covered, he found out when Dobby had popped in with a still packaged cloak. The 'cloak' made Harry feel as if he was playing dress up as a Dementor, it was so big upon him with a hood that obscured him completely. Thankfully it wasn't too long in the leg, and didn't result in him tripping up – now that would have been humiliating – while he stood directly behind Voldemort who was about to talk.

Right at this moment, he was just relishing in the wide-eyed wonder and shock associated with his…looks. He was no longer using his glamour, which he had kept up with the lower Death Eaters. The Inner Circle weren't affected, just avidly waiting for their 'Dark Lord' to announce why they were having his celebration in the first place. Or better yet, why they had gone into lockdown.

And Merlin help him, Harry found himself unable to take his eyes away from the vision Voldemort made. It was exceedingly unfair just how attractive he was. To think it was the same person who had returned with a snake like visage? It was unfathomable. Then again Nagini's scales had been part of the potion, along with her venom, so the looks he'd ended up with were self-explanatory. In fact, from what he'd read…it could have actually been ten times worse. Shaking off his thoughts, he listened to Voldemort.

"Tonight we celebrate not only the downfall of 'the great Albus Dumbledore' and the inevitable ending of the war in our favour," Voldemort stated smoothly, never having to raise his voice. Eyeing everyone from where he stood on the platform, the attention of every single Death Eater and dark sympathiser was in the room. Over a hundred people, and more than half were Death Eaters. The cheering and round of applause immediately begun, all of them in buoyant spirits.

Harry's sharp eyes kept an eye on everyone, from Barty, who by the way was dressed impeccably in blue robes, his hair up looking very respectful, who was watching everyone in turn almost vibrating with excitement. It was clear to Harry that he couldn't wait until the announcement. The inner circle were all encouraging their wives to listen, no doubt explaining that they'd had to remain silent for their Lord demanded it. Harry couldn't help but chuff in amusement seeing the look on Narcissa's face and the pale panicked look on Lucius'. Whatever they were talking about probably wasn't good for the blonde Lord.

Voldemort glanced very briefly – blink and you'd miss it way – at Harry, at his snort, finding his amusement through the bond. It combined with his own making them feel much more…joy than either normally would experience, almost amplifying it.

"Tonight, you will be introduced to the wizard who helped sway the war in our favour," Voldemort continued, almost immediately after he begun, speaking it quietened immediately. Everyone holding their breaths to hear what he had to say next. "You will treat him as you treat me, and if I find anyone disobeying that order you will be punished most severely."

Incomprehension filled nearly everyone's face's, they'd never heard of such an order before in their lives. He was the Dark Lord, he was above them all, to have someone being demanded to be shown the same respect was scandalous. They would have been outraged if they didn't think they'd end up being cursed, and it was the last thing they wanted, especially tonight with their Lord's mood being so good. A happy Dark Lord was a good one, and they were not going to endanger that.

Draco Malfoy stood watching the scene in front of him breathlessly, almost wishing for time to go quicker so the announcement would be complete. He couldn't wait until he finished his Hogwarts education, if his mother hadn't protested heavily, he would have left already. When the Dark Lord took over what good were your N.E.W.T's? No, he'd be doing bigger and better things, he would take over his father's place become the Dark Lord's most important Death Eater. His left hand so to speak, he would do everything and anything to ensure that.

This was where he belonged, he'd show all the pathetic Muggles and Mudbloods they were nothing. Would never amount to anything. His future looked magnificent, and he couldn't wait, he just wished he could get there already and be done with his education. He wasn't going to risk his inheritance though by disobeying his parents.

It was just like his father said all those years. The excitement, the camaraderie, and knowing he was on the right side.

Glorious.

"He's handsome," Pansy whispered reverentially. Avarice gleamed within her eyes, licking her lips, he barely looked a day over twenty-five. It was hard to believe that he was so much older than that which she knew he was. She wasn't sure of his actual age, but she was sure he had gone to school with her grandfather who had passed away at the same time as Draco's grandfather both of Dragon Pox.

Draco threw her a derisive look, "You're obligated to marry your cousin," he sneered, knowing about her marriage contract. Not that someone so powerful and charismatic like the Dark Lord would even glance Pansy's way. She had the face of a pug, extremely unattractive and while she had magic it wasn't all that powerful, not like his.

"At least I gained a marriage contract," Pansy retorted, her fingers tightening on the gold gilded plate in her hand, that was filled with food. Only her and her class mates from Hogwarts had been impatient enough to fill plates of food up while they waited. Everyone else had yet to touch the buffet.

Draco rolled his eyes, only Pansy would think a marriage contract was a good thing. He didn't want to be tied down by the time he was eighteen years old. No, he had other things he would be doing, serving the Dark Lord like his father. Beginning to learn the ins and outs of being Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the Malfoy estate. He puffed up proudly just thinking about it.

"Quiet both of you!" Nott ordered, "Unless you want attention drawn to yourself!" he hissed under his breath, his father glancing his way with an annoyed look when he wasn't even involved. He hadn't even picked up a plate either, despite the fact his fellow Slytherin's had. He was doing exactly as his father had ordered and prepared him for. He'd been preparing him relentlessly for over a fortnight, making sure he knew everyone of importance. His father was best friends with the Dark Lord, had been since school, so of course he would want his son on his best behaviour and not to embarrass him.

Draco just threw Theodore a haughty look, very sure of his place within the ranks of the Death Eaters. His father was the Dark Lord's right hand, his godfather was also very high up in the ranks. He too would be, of that, he was certain, after all how could the Dark Lord not want Draco Malfoy? Theodore better respect him, annoy him and he'd ensure Theodore never raised up in the ranks.

Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose after Draco turned away from him, glancing a Blaise in exasperation. The boy in turn just shrugged his shoulders resignedly. Draco had an inflated sense of self-worth, saw himself greater than he actually was. He'd been that way for as long as Theo had known him. It was primarily why he didn't spend too much time with the boy regardless of what his father said. When all was said and done Draco was an acquaintance, Blaise though, he was definitely his best friend, one he could actually talk to.

There was no constant 'wait until I tell my father' if the Gryffindors though he was bad…they were wrong, he was worse especially in the common room. Especially after the Hippogriff incident and worse when Moody transfigured him into a Ferret. He'd almost bust a gut suppressing his laughter.

Blaise turned his attention back to the Dark Lord, after one glance to the side, his mother was sitting talking to Theodore's father. She'd long ago dropped her 'predator' looks when talking with him, and had been content to be friends with him. She actually liked him enough to drop all pretences and show him her true self. She was a believer in the Dark Lord, but had never joined the ranks and probably wouldn't. Blaise himself still wasn't a hundred percent sure either, his mum always told him to be sure before picking any side, because you always wanted to be on the winning side.

Blaise couldn't help but ponder on whether tonight truly was going to change the sway the light held on the war against darkness or if it was just a boost for morale. Although from what he had heard…he didn't believe it to be, there were whispers of this being the first celebration in decades. Decades. Theo thought it was something extremely big for them to boast.

There were people who already knew, Blaise observed, sure most were good at keeping their emotions to themselves. Yet nobody here was making an attempt tonight, those like Theo's father, Lucius Malfoy, even their Potions Master was oddly complacent as they listened to the Dark Lord speak.

Curious…very curious. Clearly, they knew what was coming, and were prepared for it.

Both Theo and Blaise glanced at each other, the wordless communication speaking louder than words. It also didn't beat their notice that Draco didn't know despite his father knowing. It must be extremely private, it made them ponder on just what it could mean. Was it truly someone who could help them win this war once and for all? To allow them to practice all magic freely without fear of persecution by the Ministry of magic? With classes on subjects long since banned starting back up again? They'd been so close during the last war, but they'd failed at the last hurdle.

Meanwhile Pansy and Draco continued to watch as they ate the food the House-Elves had spent the day preparing for the big do. Not really expecting a huge announcement, nothing life altering anyway, so they weren't giving him the attention they likely should have. They were perfect pureblood's in nearly every other way, including eating their hand foods with delicate care.

"So, I would like to introduce you to my apprentice…" pausing for maximum effect, blatantly ignoring the jerk of Harry's body as he reacted to the title. There wasn't one better he could give him, he didn't consider Harry his heir after all, so that was out of the question. "Harry Potter."

Harry still staring stock still at Voldemort, removed the cloak somehow making it a dramatic flourish without meaning to.

The sound of shattering plates and "NO!" called out in horrified shock, Draco couldn't believe his eyes or his ears, as he gawped at the Dark Lord, it couldn't be.

The room in its entirety seemed to hold its breath in dazed silence.

Severus closed his eyes in a rare show of exasperation and dread.

Lucius' heart sank, knowing that if he turned around, that his son would be gaping like some sort of pathetic Mudblood. Had he not understood all the clues he had given him for the past year or so? He'd warned him repeatedly not to start anything with Gryffindors. Since he only ever butted heads with Potter, he'd assumed his son had been smart enough to put the pieces together. Perhaps he'd given his son too much credit. Meanwhile he prayed that his son remained silent, Narcissa had a painful grip on his upper arm, making him wince, but it helped grounding him.

Turning to face his son, his icy cold eyes bore into his son's demanding obedience, looking ready to rage when he saw his son wordlessly opening and closing his mouth.

Draco saw the look on his father's face and automatically straightened up, his mouth snapping closed. It didn't cease the urge for him to shout and scream over what he'd just heard. His apprentice? Harry Potter didn't deserve that honour! In fact, he deserved nothing more than death! It was his fault the Dark Lord had been vanquished! His fault the dark side had to go into hiding essentially. Face flushing red in furious anger, his grey eyes bore into Potter's with a promise of retribution. He wasn't supposed to have to compete with Potter here.

Harry meanwhile had turned to face the Death Eaters, a devious smirk on his face and a wicked look on his eye. Arms crossed he stared them all down without an ounce of fear or apprehension on his face.

As for Voldemort, his gaze hadn't left Harry Potters since he unveiled himself. A blooming spark of interest slithered down his spine, mine, was all that was going through his mind. It was almost as if Voldemort was seeing Harry for the first time. He didn't see a child standing there, no, he saw a man, the man he was one day going to become.

To make Draco's ire worse, Harry didn't even give him one ounce of attention, no, he just stood there with a smug look on his face.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 50

Voldemort had to admit he was eagerly anticipating tonight. He absolutely loved tormenting his followers and tilting their words on its axis. Which was what he knew was going to happen when he introduced Harry to them. There was no doubt his inner circle had adhered to his wishes; he knew how best to ensure their silence when required. As always, threating their families worked wonders. Especially considering they knew he wasn't kidding, if word had spread, he would have killed the entire family of the one responsible then left them alive to live with the consequences of their actions. Closely watched and observed though, they wouldn't have anything left to lose and might be foolishly enough to attempt something…unwise.

However, what he hadn't anticipated was his own reaction to Harry dressed to the nines in resplendent robes fit for a king. Sure, he had seen Harry dressed in wizard robes, but he had been but fourteen years of age, thin and malnourished, hair brittle and quite frankly an untamed mess. He was just a boy, not even coming into his own yet.

Now, oh now he was a man, confident and had come into his own and he was magnificent. Gloriously dressed in green robes that fitted him perfectly, showing off his fit toned body. There was nothing that screamed he was a sixteen-year-old boy, underage, Voldemort's mind uttered unhelpfully, but he had never been a law-abiding citizen, and wasn't about to start now. He wanted, oh, how he wanted the wizard unlike he'd ever wanted anyone before.

He wanted to take him, possess him, cherish him, lavish him with everything he could ever want or need. His eyes were alight with avarice, the urge to hide him most prominently at the forefront of his mind. Hide him away from the gaze of any others who might show the slightest bit interest in him.

Merlin help anyone who did for a second have his or hers gaze linger on Harry Potter for they'd only be bringing on their own demise.

"You're apprentice? Really?" Harry asked, his tone quiet but amused showing he wasn't all that upset by the announcement. Blinking in confused surprise when he noticed the look on Voldemort's face. He looked seconds away from rendering him limb from limb. The last time he'd seen him that pissed was when he'd mentioned his likeness to Dumbledore character wise of course. The urge to step back cautiously was screaming at him from the lizard brain which the limbic system was responsible for the 'flight or fight' instinct. Something Barty had just learned about in the science books he'd been buying for him.

It took all of Voldemort iron clad will power to stop himself reacting viscerally like he so badly wished to do. If he hadn't been surrounded by his elite and the entire fraction of the dark side, perhaps things would have gone differently. It may have been a good thing they were here and now to prevent such an impudent display on his part. He was a Slytherin after all not a Gryffindor. He had more decorum than that. Plans immediately began to circle his mind, desire flaring to life inside of him.

Stepping forward until he was face to face with Harry, before leaning further into his personal space, "Disappointed?" he drawled, eyes gleaming, having to refrain from reaching out and touching what he had declared his. Harry was his. Mine. He always took what he deserved and desired.

Harry shivered at the warm breath against his neck and ear, trying desperately to ignore the affect Voldemort was having on him. His breath hitching when those lips and nose just touched his ear and neck before withdrawing. "Hardly," he whispered, sounding far too breathless for his liking. Damn him. He could feel his cheeks heating up as if his reaction hadn't been bad enough.

Harry could have sworn he heard an amused dark chuckle coming from Voldemort when he stepped back. Surely, he must have been imagining it, "You're missing the best part," Harry pointed out, successfully getting himself under control, regretfully not before the damage was done. He just prayed Voldemort hadn't noticed…but he knew he had; he was too damn watchful to not have.

"That, my dear Harry, are what Pensieve's were invented for," Voldemort stated, his tone fond.

Harry gulped, he wasn't anyone's dear anything, but the words and the way Voldemort was behaving had his stomach twisting like he had a million butterflies inside of it. He felt extremely odd, his body felt as if someone had lit a furnace under it, now he'd experienced many things, childish attraction when he was twelve, to raw overpowering hated and anger…but these feelings? They were new, they made him leery, cautious and damn it he felt like a spooked Hippogriff. This didn't sit well with him at all, he forced himself to focus on something…anything else. "Don't use 'my dear' it's too close to something he would say," a shudder wracking his frame, and all of a sudden, he felt normal again. He didn't need to say who the 'he' was since the way he said it spoke all the volume he needed. All that was missing was 'boy' in that sentence.

Now that definitely changed both their moods.

"Very well," Voldemort's tone was curt and clipped, but his eyes did not diminish the slightest. They still shone with light and greedy desire, one that could easily be mistaken for something else.

"But apprentice?" Harry queried, completely ignoring the talking and heated whispering taking place all over the room. His lips twitched just thinking of all their reactions, it did amuse him to see them all so stunned. Then again, they probably hadn't expected anything like this tonight, to have Harry Potter announced in with the enforced image of him being almost equal to Voldemort. He hadn't explicitly stated as such, but his words spoke volumes. He had no doubt a lot of the Death Eaters had caught on too. They were to show him the same respect as Voldemort, that was telling them he considered Harry better, no greater than them, even the inner circle. "I doubt there's much else I could learn," there had to be another motive for his words.

"And that is why I chose the term," Voldemort stated smugly, especially if word got out, they would heavily underestimate the 'hold' he had on Harry and his abilities. He said hold because he knew they would not give up on the wizard, they couldn't, if they did, they might as well just roll over and let him do as he pleased. They knew they needed Harry when it came to the war, unless Dumbledore actually gained the courage to come after him. Which was doubtful, Dumbledore disliked acting unless he was pressured or forced into it.

Harry huffed out a chuckle, "You do realize that it's not just Dumbledore and the Order who will underestimate me but the Death Eaters too," he pointed out annoyance splayed out on his face, before he rolled his eyes, "Which is what you want." He wanted him to prove himself to them, for them to realize just how much of a threat he actually was. It would have pissed him off if he wasn't so amused by his deductions on Voldemort's character and understanding what he was up to.

Not that it was ever hard to understand Voldemort and his plans, he liked to think himself so smart and subtle but oftentimes it wasn't the case. It was either that or they were just that similar in nature to understand the subtle nuances.

Voldemort's lips just twitched in smug satisfaction, and declined to answer, not that he'd technically asked any questions mere statements.

"How long will this go on for?" Harry asked, glancing around the room, blinking slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy's eyes boring into his own with a feral intensity that he hadn't quite known the boy was capable of.

"If the past is any indication well past midnight," Voldemort said amused, noticing that Harry's attention was elsewhere, which made a pang of jealously surge through him. His eyes narrowed in on the blatant challenge on Harry's face and the anger clearly on the young Malfoy. Tonight was definitely going to be interesting; the young Malfoy had never clicked on his radar. He was merely the son of two of his most faithful, a powerful boy if Lucius' boasting was true, one day he would test the boy, but that was a few years away yet.

Despite Draco Malfoy being only a few months older than Harry Potter, he did not consider them equals or the same. One was in his orbit constantly…the other was barely a blip on his radar.

"Lovely," Harry drawled, still eyeing Draco like a panther waiting for the best time to strike. He had already received permission to deal with any altercation any way he pleased. He would wait though, for anyone to start with him so he couldn't be blamed, and waiting on them snapping would give him a great deal of pleasure. Giving Draco a dismissive look, as if he found him lacking – which he did – and turned back to Voldemort. He was dying to look back to see how he reacted to being so casually dismissed but he refrained, barely. "I'm glad more than ever that my rooms are warded, to the nines," he added, before wandering away from Voldemort, he'd rather not be killed in his sleep by jealous idiots thank you very much.

Corvus Lestrange, stood with his sons Rodolphus and Rabastan, all of them dressed similarly with their coat of arms proudly displayed like many of the others who were partying tonight. He had as always, automatically searched for Bellatrix out of habit. To make sure she wasn't causing trouble, before remembering it was no longer his concern, what she did…she wouldn't be embarrassing his family name anymore. It was a weight off, if he was honest, even now he could still scarcely believe she wasn't his problem or his sons responsibility. The both had struggled enormously to contain the madness that consumed Bellatrix Lestrange, which had consumed her for most of her life.

"An apprentice? Why so?" Corvus pondered, ignoring everything around him as he tried to figure out this latest…puzzle. Unsurprisingly it revolved around Harry Potter, something very normal as of late. Which he wanted to find very disconcerting but he hadn't seen his friend so happy – less Crucio happy – which spoke a great deal about his mental health. Having Harry Potter on his side had brought back the wizard he knew and he was so very grateful for it. Quite honestly, he felt like worshiping the ground the boy walked on. He had never seen anyone quite so willing to look his Lord in the eye, or fight him so lethally, he was mesmerising and terrifying in equal measure. To think he was standing there like butter wouldn't melt, all respectful when he knew what the boy was capable and how strong his magic truly was.

"I rather think it's obvious," Severus replied dryly, answering Corvus and relaxing slightly when he noticed Lucius approaching his son.

"How so? He's so much more capable than a mere apprentice, in fact he could pass his mastery with one single instance," Corvus interjected, his sons nodded once in complete agreement. When turning to face Severus, he noticed Bellatrix again, her face was twisted unpleasantly, upset and angry for some reason…perhaps the announcement? Had Bellatrix even seen what Harry was truly capable of? Shaking his thoughts off, Bellatrix's emotions changed like the weather, with ferociousness. One minute she could be happy, talking normally then out of the blue it's like the madness just envelopes her and she changes, becomes a feral animal. Last she spoke with them; she'd been in awe of Harry's bloodthirst.

"Exactly," Severus said smugly, "We've seen him in action not many others have," it was such an underhand devious thing to do that he would have been in awe if he wasn't already very familiar with just how devious both his Lord and Harry actually were. Before he knew everything, he would have definitely assumed it was his Lord's idea and that Harry couldn't have come up with it. He now knew better.

"Who is he testing? Us or Harry?" Rodolphus chuffed out a quiet laugh of amusement, dark eyes gleaming as he watched Barty and Harry talk, drinking his fire whiskey.

"Both," Corvus guessed, "Our Lord surely doesn't think anyone is going to risk attacking him so soon and with his presence?"

"I think I'm going to need a drink," thankfully there was more than enough drink to fill a bottomless trunk.

"Remember what Our lord said, we're to keep an eye out," Rabastan warned his brother against getting too drunk, that and the healer had just given them the full clean bill of health, meaning they could eat and drink whatever they pleased.

"I know," Rodolphus replied sincerely, his mind was in a much better state than it had been when he'd gotten free of Azkaban. He may have still been recovering if it wasn't for the potion Harry had created. Speaking of that, they hadn't been drinking a lot since they were given the all clear, so they would need to be careful lest they end up completely hammered after only one or two drinks. In fact, his mind had been primarily on someone else…someone he could never have.

"I am surprised you're here, Severus, how are you going to explain it to the old fool?" Rabastan drew the attention back to himself and Severus.

The music started up, presumably after the Dark Lord gave them the heads up, it was not loud enough to disrupt their conversation. A variety of instruments began to play, from the corner of the room, with a simple spell. There was no band or anything of the sort, but the music was soothing nonetheless and not overwhelming that they felt the need to step out to converse.

"My tenure at Hogwarts has come to an end, I am no longer requested to spy," Severus said, his lips curling into a satisfied smug smirk. He'd never had more satisfaction than writing his resignation letter to Dumbledore. He had been trembling in glee, it took a while to calm him down in order to write in his usual scrawl.

"Well, you're obviously pleased about that," Rabastan said, with a grin of his own, it was quite evident how he felt, really happy for him.

"Indeed," Severus replied black eyes gleaming vindictively. He said nothing about his last mission or the fact they had another way to spy. In the inner circle or not, they didn't make a habit of discussing any 'private' missions they were sent on. If something was requested of them in a meeting that was as though they had permission to discuss everything but when asked something after being requested to attend a meeting alone it was best to keep quiet.

Barty approached his old friends, "I come bearing gifts," he added letting the tumblers float towards the others, who immediately grabbed one each, looking extremely pleased by his offer.

"Yes, because it was your idea, wasn't it," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes giving the others an 'can you believe him' look, technically he wasn't legally off age to drink fire whiskey, at least in the wizarding world. In the muggle world though? He was able to drink in any pub or establishment he desired.

"I see you've met Adelaide Crabbe," Rabastan said, eyes gleaming with amusement, "What did you think of her?" she was definitely an acquired taste for his generation but the younger ones seem to indulge her. Unfortunately, many of them didn't have grandmothers, or grandparents at all.

Harry's eyes darkened, "She's annoying," his nostrils were flaring show he was actually pissed off not just annoyed by the woman.

Severus' eyes gleamed with sympathy and sadness, "That she may be, but she's…very much like Lily," she cared about everyone around her, tried to help them unless of course, she wrote you off completely like she did him. Barty and the Lestrange's' stiffened and glanced at Harry as if they were expecting something…explosive to happen. Not that it can be blamed, since it was well known that Harry Potter was quite…powerful and prone to emotional outbursts when his parents were mentioned from the rumours. The inflation of his 'so called' aunt being the main one, now that had been all over the Ministry before they were able to get the obese woman sorted.

Harry just shrugged, she wasn't his mother or grandmother, he didn't want her touching him or trying to tell him how to live his life. He didn't tolerate it from Remus and Sirius he sure as hell wasn't going to let a stranger do it. He might change when he was older, but right now, he couldn't tolerate it.

Taking a gulp of his non-alcoholic drink, which by the way he was still pissed at, but the guy handing them out refused to give him anything else. Who would have thought those on the dark side were just hard-asses like the law-abiding wizards and witches. It was a good job he liked butterbeer, even if it was impossible to get drunk on, well except the obvious if you were a House-elf. "Where are they going?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side, watching quite a few wizards and a witch wandering out of the room into a side room, leaving the door open.

"They've gone to play cards," Barty grinned, "Up for a game?" up for showing Harry just how much fun these things could be.

"Cards? You don't just mean exploding snap then?" Harry said sarcastically teasing him.

"No, actual cards, although you'll need to go get your money if you want in," Rabastan explained, "Come on, let's go have a game," as always eager to know Harry more, unfortunately he wasn't able to stick around Slytherin manor all the time and thus he didn't get much in the way of opportunity in spending time with his relative – no matter how distantly.

"Alright," Harry agreed, "Let me get another drink and my money I'll meet you there,"

"I'll get us all a drink," Severus corrected, wincing at the sound of the music, rubbing his temple, he'd rather endure cards than listen to this abhorrent noise. "Same again?"

"Fire whiskey," Harry stated, if he was going for it the bartender would have to give him it.

Severus snorted; Harry groaned knowing he wasn't going to get anything tonight. "Oh, come on!"

Lips twitching, "I'll tell you what, I'll pour a shot into your tankard of Butterbeer," he informed the teen, very happy to see him acting like a teenager for once. Especially considering he definitely had been dreading tonight, with good reason he summarised to himself. He had just come out to the entire dark side, knowing not all of them would accept him quickly or easily. He might be worried about an attack, but the Dark Lord had ordered a few of his inner circle, including him, to keep an eye on Harry all night to ensure his safety and wellbeing. Which was something he would have done regardless, perhaps letting him drink was a bad idea, but he wasn't going to be drunk himself, so he could keep him safe from anyone or anything. That and he was wearing the gift Severus had got him for his birthday tomorrow.

"Okay, I'll get the money," Harry said smugly, happy he got his way before he wandered out of the hall, glad he had his money, all the while he wondered what kind of card games wizards play.

"Fire Whiskey?" he asked the others.

They all gave their agreement, the glasses were promptly banished back to the bartender before Severus approached him, veering off when he caught sight of Lucius and Draco talking.

"Everything alright?" he asked, giving Draco a pointed look, his face was bright red, evidently not taking the news of Harry's presence well.

Lucius pursed his lips, "I think my son might need to return to our rooms for the night," he threatened his son, eyes flashing mercilessly cold. He definitely wouldn't be leaving Draco's side, or letting his son leave his.

"Why him!?" Draco whined, flinching at his father's look, knowing he was pushing it but unable to help himself.

"At least show a little bit of sense, Draco," Severus stated sharply, annoyance flaring within him, "We have won the war, do you understand? Our ways will be restored and all branches of magic in all its glory returned to us." He truly believed that without any obstructions they could win, the Order when they realized this would fall, Dumbledore would die probably by the Dark Lord's hand. He no longer felt the obsession with ending Harry with him being on their side. He wasn't sure how it came about, but he wasn't going to deny he was very pleased with it.

"He's lying! He has to be a spy! I mean come on!" Draco said exasperated, "He's as light as they come!"

"Do you think he can fool the Dark Lord then?" Severus snapped, his patience wearing thin fast. He could see that Lucius was seconds away from snapping himself, but he also knew Lucius had never harmed his son, either through magic or using his fists. He had never touched his son to punish him, not like Abraxas had done to Lucius. He never wanted to raise a hand to his wife or son and vowed never to be like his father. The very idea had made Lucius feel sick to his stomach.

Draco went quiet at that, "It's Potter!" he said eventually, "He works for Dumbledore! I've seen him follow Dumbledore around like a pathetic fool!"

"Yes, yes he did," Severus nodded his agreement, "But Draco…you must take care of what you say, Harry Potter is not who you think he is, and he's more important than you can fathom. Heed the Dark Lord's warning otherwise your parents might just find themselves without an heir." Warning him that he would be killed if he messed with Harry without coming right out and saying the words. You always had to be blunt with Draco, subtly did no good, he'd learned after teaching him for six years.

Those words just made Draco fluster further, gritting his teeth, "Has he been marked?" furious beyond belief at the thought of the boy being marked especially when he hadn't been given the choice.

Severus paused, thinking on how best to say what he needed to, "Harry is unlikely to ever be marked…he is almost an equal to the Dark Lord and will be above the inner circle." Giving his own opinion and likely to be more accurate than anyone realized.

Lucius inhaled sharply, glancing at Severus intently, he had not realized just what kind of part the boy was playing.

Severus nodded seriously to Lucius letting him know just how important Harry was going to be. He wasn't blind to the looks the Dark Lord had gifted Harry with tonight, or the eyes that constantly sought him out or the looks around the room to ensure nobody was paying attention. If he was wrong it didn't matter, it was obvious the Dark Lord had no intention of marking Harry or would have done so by now. He wasn't in Hogwarts, there was no risk to him being found out, nothing else made sense. Then there was what Harry got away with, how he'd seen them conversing on multiple occasions…no, there was no way he'd be a simple 'Death Eater' he'd bet his not so considerable fortune on that.

The implication went straight over Draco's head who just steadily went redder in the face and slid past Severus and Lucius and grabbed Potter, who was about to go into a room that was already filled with wizards playing cards. "I'm going to find out what you're up to Potter and expose you for the fraud you are," he hissed out, anger twisting his usually good-looking face making him ugly just as he was on the inside.

"Who's really the fraud here, Malfoy?" Harry sneered, yanking his arm away from the furious Malfoy. "What are you going to do? Say 'wait until my father hears about this?' why don't you run along and tell him? You're pathetic, grow the fucking hell up you stupid idiot!" with a violent shove which collided Draco with his father who had immediately begun to stalk towards his son upon seeing him no longer beside him.

"My apologies, Lord Potter," Lucius said respectfully, grasping his son by the back of the neck, and squeezing, warning him from saying anything else. He grimaced at his wife when he saw her watching them with a concerned look on her face. Unable to reassure her as he would have liked to do, he couldn't risk Draco doing anything else tonight, he was going to remove his wand and lock him in their rooms until the end of the night.

"Potter-Black," Severus corrected Lucius quietly as he stepped beside them.

Harry just nodded curtly before disappearing into the room after taking the tankard from Severus with a little quirk of his lips in silent thank you.

"Excuse us, Severus, I think my son needs some alone time to process this," Lucius stated firmly, it was now very, very clear given what Draco has just done, that his son needed to be corrected.

"I completely agree," Severus replied, glancing at his godson blatantly displaying his disappointment, he was grateful for one thing though, that the Dark Lord had not seen the incident. Quite honestly, he never wanted to see Draco under the Cruciatus curse for disobeying the Dark Lord, and that was only if he was feeling merciful. Tonight, he wouldn't be, especially after just warning them all that he was to be treated with the respect you'd show your Lord. He would have needed to be made an example of in order to deter further attacks, no he only hoped Draco could see something like that but not be the one on the receiving end. This would drive home just how serious it was. Honestly, teenagers, they always thought they were right. "Perhaps you should have a frank conversation with him, or better yet show him," Severus warned Lucius, Draco seemed to lose all sense and reason when it came to Harry. Added to the fact, subtly did not become Draco at all.

Lucius swallowed thickly, pinching the bridge of his nose in a move reminiscent of Severus, he usually had more composure than that. It was then that it dawned on Severus just how much pressure Lucius felt like he was under. "It seems I may have no choice," he didn't really want to show Draco the harsher side of what it meant to serve the Dark Lord, especially considering he'd been so much saner since Potter-Black had joined their side. The alternative was…terrifying.

"No, you certainly don't," Severus revealed sincerely, not if he didn't want to lose his son, and have the Malfoy line end. Narcissa couldn't have any more children, which had depressed her immensely for a while. She had so desperately wanted to give Lucius a little girl, or more like herself, she'd wanted to have a girl to dress up and raise. "Now if you'll excuse me," the quicker they got Draco out of there the less chance of anything else going wrong.

Lucius gripped his son tightly as if he could read Severus' thoughts before leading him through the hall, leaving a watchful Pansy and pensive Theodore and Blaise as more of the Slytherin students joined the group, seeking all the gossip they could get.

"Father!" Draco protested in deep embarrassment, utterly humiliated feeling like a little child being scolded.

"Do not make me silence you," Lucius retorted anger evident in his voice, he gestured to his wife to remain where she was, it was clear she wanted to follow.

Draco finally went silent, sullenly leaving with his father, trying to keep up with his long quick strides. Wincing at the tight grip his father had on him, as it finally – stomach sinkingly – dawned on him that he may have gone too far.

Harry's gaze never wavered from Marcus Flint as they both played poker, the others had already folded, not risking losing any more of their funds. Especially not to Harry who had already taken a great deal of their funds this evening.

"He's good," Terrance Higgs commented to his old Head of House who he was sitting next to, on his other side was his best friend Marcus, who was still playing against Harry. "Did he completely fool us by lying that he hadn't played before?" not sounding upset by the prospect but amused, it was a Slytherin thing to do after all.

Adrian Pucey glanced up in curiosity, he was two years older than Harry, who he had no problem with. He was a brilliant Quidditch player, and that was all there was to his feelings for the teenager. He unlike many of the younger Quidditch players never played dirty, preferring to keep the game clean and win that way. Unfortunately, since Harry came to Hogwarts that hadn't happened, he was just too good, losing only one game and that was due to Dementors during a game with Hufflepuff.

"I do not believe so," Severus commented in amusement. "He's just an astonishingly fast learner," everyone was bound to know that themselves, performing the Patronus charm with a few lessons on the subject.

Adrian Pucey conceded that thought, he'd barely been at Hogwarts a few months before he became the youngest seeker of the century. Won his first game against more experienced players, and while enduring problems with his broom. Even more impressive was the fact the rumours indicated that his flying lesson was the first time on a broom having been raised in the Muggle world. Snatching up an herb infused roll up, he flicked his wand and lit the end, inhaling it, it was similar to a Muggle cigarette he'd been told, just without any of the threats that Muggle cigarettes pose. "And completely sozzled,"

"That is definitely not the case," Rodolphus said, Harry's eyes were far too clear and sharp for that, plus he had only one fire whiskey shot over two and half hours ago, since then only butterbeer. He should know he had been the one to bring the latest drink for him. He watched Flint put more money in the pot, wondering who was going to win this round, nine times out of ten it was Harry winning, beginners luck.

Harry plucked the sickles and galleons and added them to the pot with a smirk, taunting Marcus.

Marcus just smirked right back, quite sure in his hand as they continued on, although their pile of money was considerably different, Marcus did not have anywhere near as much as Harry.

A quick check of the time declared it was eleven forty-five.

By midnight Harry said, "I'll tell you what, since you've no money left, we might as well show our hands," teasingly, genuinely curious about his hand, after all he had been very insistent.

"A royal flush," Flint stated smugly, laying the cards down, the ace, king, queen, joker and ten of hearts.

"Damn," Adrian whistled as he stubbed out the butt.

"Nice," Harry said wryly, "But not as good as my royal flush," laying down the ace, king, queen, joker and ten of spades.

Flint just stared stunned before groaning dramatically and staring up at the ceiling as if asking 'why him' before shaking his head.

Harry laughed in amusement, tapping the table and the money he'd made zoomed into the coin bag. "Nice playing with you,"

"Remind me not to play against you again, Potter," Flint informed him, not sounding upset the slightest. "Is there anything you can't do?" was grouchier than upset too.

"Plenty," Harry said with a snort, "Just haven't found it yet."

Flint let out a bark of amusement, as he stood up, "Want anything to drink?" definitely having no desire to play any more card games.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged, "Last one though, I'm getting tired," he'd definitely be heading to bed soon.

That one last drink had the people who had somehow come to be rather important to him in the last two years, celebrating his birthday, ironically enough, the actual hour of his birth. Harry had been born as the seventh month dies, just passed midnight. Once again Harry had felt overly emotional, especially when he received gifts from the Lestrange's and Barty, Severus had already given his which he was proudly still wearing.

He ended up staying up a little bit later than he intended to.

It was a hell of sixteenth birthday party, one of the best birthdays he'd had.

Exhaustion crept up on Albus Dumbledore, it was both physical and mental tiredness. He was quite honestly at his wits end with this damn Daily Prophet reporter who was reporting on things that had happened at Hogwarts. Between that and his constant searches for Harry was leaving him with little sleep. When he tried to sleep – with what little hours he managed to set aside for his rest – he found himself unable to sleep. The stress of it all, his mind continued to reel over everything instead of resting. He didn't dare take a Dreamless Sleep, it would have him sleeping for over eight hours and it wasn't time he could afford on sleep.

He was furious with the boy, the damage he was causing and the fact he had deviated from the path he had set him on. If he hadn't been so important to the war effort, he would have already cheerfully wrung his neck. The impudence of the boy, he wanted answers. Why was he going to such great lengths to destroy his reputation? Who was giving him the ideas? The one who had ensured he remained hidden during the summer holidays? The boy didn't know enough about magic to stay hidden from him so successfully.

No, he was being manipulated by someone.

The longer the boy remained outside of his sphere of influence the harder it would be to get him back in line. His worst fear is that this unknown enemy was working with the Dark Lord. Slowly converting the boy to the dark side, not that it would work. The boy might not be the smartest Lumos ever cast but he was far from stupid enough to join the wizard who had killed his parents. No, even in the event of his death, Harry wouldn't join the evil wizard, he knew that, he had seen it himself when the boy was eleven without much in the way of loyalty.

Yet why was Harry going out of the way to destroy him? He knew, he knew the boy was responsible for the article. He had gone to the Weasley's to see if they had been questioned by anyone with dubious intentions and found that the two youngest Weasley's hadn't left the house at all during the summer. Which left him with only one suspect, Harry, unless he wasn't willingly giving the information up.

For all he knew Harry was captured and being interrogated for any and all information he had. Whether it by an unknown enemy or Voldemort. After all, he knew Voldemort was desperate for the prophecy and would assume the boy would know. Thank Merlin he had never informed the boy, at least he didn't need to worry about that becoming public knowledge.

He had to find the damn reporter, interrogate him, find out whether Harry was doing this willingly or if he had been coerced into it via Veritaserum.

Harry wasn't behind all of them, there was no way he could have gotten the information that had been spread out on the Daily Prophet. Rubbing his tired eyes, he brought the red and gold Gryffindor covers further up his body, as the room grew colder. He was constantly cold these days.

On the bedside table beside his wand lay a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

He could no longer function without rest, he was out of options, he needed to take it lest he wanted to break down completely. His body was just so tired, so worn down, rubbing his eyes tiredly, with shaky hands, vision blurring, he grasped a hold of it, weak and fatigued, he uncorked the vial. Half, he would only take half, hopefully it wouldn't mean he would be asleep for eight hours.

Even his memory was beginning to be affected by the long-term lack of sleep.

With a resigned tired sigh, Albus put half the potion into his mouth, corked the vial again and set it aside as he let the potion side down his throat.

Sleep quickly consumed the overworked, stressed-out wizard.

If only he knew how Harry Potter was celebrating his just turning sixteen, he would have had a heart attack right there and then.

And the resignation letter from his Potions Master lay amongst the pile of paperwork piling upon his desk.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 51

Harry woke up with an insistent pressure in his bladder demanding his attention, groaning in despair, he grumbled in general grouchiness. His head was throbbing, and it was freezing cold, he didn't want to let a foot let alone his entire body out of the duvet he was ensconced in. Yet the increasing pressure on his bladder gave another warning. Cursing in annoyance, he reluctantly got up, sliding his feet into his slippers before making his way to his ensuite's bathroom to vacate his bladder with relief. Non-verbally and without his wand, he cast a spell to tell the time, to find it was six thirty-nine, far too early to be up yet, especially on his birthday.

Sixteen-years-old, it was difficult to believe really, he thought as he washed his hands and padded back through to his bedroom. Once he was at his bedside, he grabbed his wand and flicked it in the direction of the fireplace. There was wood already inside, just waiting to be lit. Lit up it did once the spell hit it, sitting on his bed, glancing at the pillows with a sigh, he could tell he wouldn't get back to sleep. He'd only had four hours of sleep, if that, the last time he remembered checking the time was after one o'clock in the morning. He was so thirsty; his mouth was so dry that his tongue was sticking to the inside of his mouth.

Shaking his head, wincing at his actions, damn it, his head was throbbing. Standing once more, he wandered over to the trunk and opened it. Rooting through until he found his potion supply, he didn't have a hangover cure, why would he need it after all he wasn't old enough to drink…and truthfully, he hadn't cared to drink. If this was how you felt afterwards, he wasn't sure he would be again. Ha! The Headache reliver, that would need to do. He downed it in one go, sighing in relief at the ache left his head, it no longer felt like a bowling ball. Now it felt like a hollowed-out bowling ball.

Throwing the empty vial in the bin, he slid into the bed, covering his legs with the duvet as he plucked Remus' – he recognized the writing after all – card and opened it up. Slightly surprised to find vouchers for the apothecary within. Ten galleons, which was a lot when it came to Remus, and he couldn't help but smile in gratitude. It would definitely get used, he spoke quite often about his experimental potions something he and Remus could share since Sirius didn't care much for the art of potions brewing. even less when he realized what the Wolfsbane potion was doing to his partner. It wasn't just the ten-galleon voucher, he realized, opening the next gift, which had been from Remus too, it was a potions kit, a professional one, must have cost a lot of money too.

He put the vouchers in his money wallet/coin bag, which still held his winnings from last night inside. Then he put the card on the table, and plucked up Sirius' card and added it to Remus before he grabbed the present and unwrapped it. Smiling softly at the fact he could, they'd wanted to make sure he had them to open on his birthday so had sent them right away. Quirking an eyebrow at the old books, reverently stroking the spine, these were from the Black family library, the Black coat of arms gave it away. It was stamped, presumably magically, on the inside of the front cover and it was a first edition. Odd, was Grimmauld Place open to him or were they books that Sirius had before he left home maybe?

One was about potions, the other the Dark Arts…or rather the Dark Arts and defence against them. There was a little note stuck inside of the potions one. It warned him against displaying them, that they were considered dark and people might get the wrong idea. Without Dumbledore…Sirius was truly coming into his own, and Harry felt proud. He was no longer holding a grudge against magic, especially dark magic, or his family. Sirius wouldn't have given him this if he still felt the same way regarding the Black family or the Dark Arts. Then again, Sirius had made an offhand comment about having to know the Dark Arts to truly defend yourself against them. He must have gotten the books that day, and it was probably on his mind.

He wondered if the library was still present in Grimmauld Place, he hadn't seen any books though, not when he was searching for the Headmaster's portraits of the Black Headmaster, Phineas. So, he assumed they'd been removed, just as a precaution, he rather hoped they hadn't been thrown out otherwise he'd be most displeased. He likely should give Grimmauld Place a thorough going over, before he got it gutted for sure and he would do that one day. It definitely needed it, shuddering anew at the critters that he'd seen the other day.

Placing the Dark Arts book to the end of his bed, he sat cross legged and delicately opened the book on potions. He hadn't had as much time as he would have liked to focus on the Metamorphmagus potion. Which wasn't quite there yet, although he was closer than he'd ever come before. The feeling of excitement thrummed through him, making him want to move, to jump to do anything other than sit still. This sort of excitement wasn't new to him anymore, not since he had been freed. Grinning widely, he settled down, breathing evenly and began to lose himself in the book.

Which he stayed immersed in until knocking distracted him.

Harry wished right there and then he hadn't put silencing spells up last night, he wanted to know who was at his door without getting up. Sighing, he placed a piece of paper in the open pages of his book, so that he didn't lose his place as he got up. Absently removing the silencing spell as he went, there would be no music or loud voices to stop him sleeping now after all.

"Barty!" Harry said, a slow grin making its way onto his face, "Sore head?" he asked innocently, if one could call Harry that even without the wicked grin on his face.

"Don't even!" Barty grumbled, pointing at Harry with a twitching eye giving away his annoyance.

"Why haven't you gotten a hangover cure already?" Harry asked amused as he left his door open letting Barty come in as he pleased.

"There's none left," Barty snapped bitterly, everyone had the forethought to get theirs yesterday evening for this exact reason. He hadn't thought about it at all, it was a good job he rather liked House-elves otherwise the damn thing would have been cursed right there and then after telling him they had run out.

Harry cackled in amusement, as he wandered over to his trunk, "It's not a hangover cure but it should help your headache," he informed Barty as he handed over the potion vial.

"Happy Birthday," Barty said, looking a bit more alive and less likely to bite someone's head off for one wrong move. The colour came back to his cheeks and he sighed in relief.

Harry glanced at the cards, assuming that's how Barty had known about it, "Thanks," his theory was shot to hell though, when a card and present was thrust under his nose. Apparently, he wasn't completely recovered, Harry thought in amusement as he accepted the gift from an out of sorts Barty.

"A greasy breakfast they say helps hangovers," Harry commented, opening and placing the next card on his stand, feeling warmth surge through him. Normally he only got two, one from Ron and Hermione, now though…now he had Sirius', Remus', Barty's and gifts to go with them. Gifts he actually had a use for, although he never once grudged any gift he received, too happy to have anything gifted to him. "I'm guessing everyone will be coming down to breakfast at the same time?" that thought was daunting, there was a lot, lot of people here right now.

"Yes, with so many people here, you can't just ask for it in your bedroom or suite," Barty explained, shrugging his shoulders. His tense muscles beginning to relax, he wasn't fully recovered, he still felt a little queasy but the worst of it was gone. It had to be the muscle relaxant properties in the Headache cure.

"Not even the inner circle?" Harry asked perplexed, he knew they got away with a lot more than the rest of the Death Eaters did. They had proven themselves and thus were given a lot more leeway than normal.

"At an event like this? You're joking, aren't you? It would be seen as a sign of disrespect and dissent in the ranks if they didn't come." Barty pointed out as he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, getting a glimpse of the books he'd just gotten. He then whistled in awe, recognizing them for what they were and what they were worth. Then again, he often forgot what Harry was actually worth himself now.

"Yeah, I supposed I didn't think of that," Harry conceded, sitting back in his bed, once again crossing his legs. "What time did you go to sleep last night?" surprised anyone was up yet after last night.

"I'm not sure," Barty admitted, he'd drank his weight in fire Whiskey after Harry had gone to bed. He was no longer on watch duty, to make sure nobody did anything…stupid. He didn't mind, honestly, he would defend Harry from anyone who dared to say anything. Not because of his Lord, but because he had grown to know and respect Harry. He was probably the only one other than his Lord that actually knew Harry best, except Snape of course, but Snape hadn't been around really. He couldn't due to the fact he was on duty at Hogwarts, spying against Dumbledore for their Lord. "I think maybe an hour?" every time he lay down, he just felt sick, the only sleep he'd had was bent over the toilet bowl.

Harry shook his head, "You're all nuts," imagine staying up that late, the latest he'd ever stayed up was midnight, and that was to see in his birthday. It was a tradition he hadn't broken, just the place where he stayed had.

"Admit it, you had a good time, you completely thrashed everyone at cards," Barty snorted, not buying Harry's words for a second.

"It was fun," Harry said slowly, "But I doubt I'd do it every night," he conceded, once he had stopped worrying – after his drink – he definitely had fun. Whether that was because he'd been winning or not…he couldn't be sure. He just wasn't a people person; he preferred his own company over loud boisterous company. He put it down to his childhood, but who could really say?

"It will happen eventually, for weeks after we win," Barty declared with self-assurance that they would indeed win the war. How could they not? After all the one they say could have ended it was now on their side, with two such powerful wizards it was a given they'd win.

"Oh goodie," Harry drawled sarcastically, he rather hoped he could miss out on that one.

Barty just smirked at him, reckoning he knew what the teen was thinking.

"What are you going to do today?" Barty asked, it was his birthday and he couldn't even go out anywhere, he was stuck here.

"Actually…I'm going to try and fine tune the potion," Harry stated, carding his hand though his hair, "Maybe Severus will have a few ideas I could use." He was ready to throw his hands up in the air and admit defeat and ask for the assistance he so obviously required. There was no shame in that though, Severus was a Potions Master at the end of the day. They potion worked, sort of, just not right, not the way it was meant to. Maybe he'd never perfect it, which was disheartening, he'd put a lot of thought and effort into it. "And write out the information they need for my participation in the Duelling circuit."

"Somehow…I'm not surprised to hear you say that," Barty said wryly, Severus would agree just to get away from everyone else too. They must have the most antisocial wizards he'd ever met in his life. If it let Harry enjoy his birthday, who was he to say otherwise at the end of the day? "What did Malfoy say to you, by the way?" he had seen the confrontation, and was very curious. He hadn't wanted to mention it in front of the others out of respect for Lucius.

Harry huffed out a laugh, sounding bitter but amused, "Oh, he's going to find out what I'm up to." Harry said shaking his head, "He thinks I'm a spy, quite honestly…I wonder if the idiot just doesn't realize how powerful Voldemort is…or if he just thinks he's as stupid as him."

Barty groaned, closing his eyes in despair, "And he's supposed to be the smartest of the Slytherins…hell, Merlin help them all, they're going to need it." rubbing his forehead exasperated.

"He is?" Harry asked in surprise, "Are you sure? I would have said that was reserved for either Zabini or Nott," they were the most Ravenclaw like of the entirety of the Slytherin fifth years…soon to be sixth years upon their return to Hogwarts.

"Well, it's just what I've heard, there's no actual proof," Barty conceded, "But you're right, they were hard workers," he would know, he'd taught them for a year, just because they weren't loud or opinionated didn't mean they didn't know their stuff. They just never volunteered to answer questions, Harry was the same actually. He wouldn't have known just what the boy was capable of if not for the work he put into homework and the school work.

"They're the only ones I can actually see myself liking," Harry confessed with a shrug of his shoulders, that's if either actually wanted anything to do with him – and him alone not to further themselves in the ranks – which he would not allow to happen to him. "From my year that is, Marcus and the others were pretty cool."

"They aren't all Slytherins'," Barty pointed out, feeling slightly smug that there were only two out of everyone that Harry would like. Less competition for his time, what could he say? He was possessive of the people he cared about and didn't share well with others, blame his parents for only having him and not giving him a sibling.

"Yeah, I noticed," Harry said wryly, "Don't know much about the Ravenclaws though, I recognized a few but couldn't tell you more than their names. We had a lot of classes with the Slytherins and hardly any with the Ravenclaws."

"Noticed that too," Barty agreed, "They seem to be primarily paired with the Hufflepuff's." they being the Ravenclaws.

"Probably Dumbledore's doing," Harry said with a grimace, "Anything to stir shit up between the Gryffindors and Slytherins,"

"Nothing would surprise me," Barty said, "You going to open it then?" wanting to know what Harry thought of what he got him. His main gift though was down in the dungeons and would be gifted to him later after breakfast. He'd worked hard to make it happen. He was unsure of how Harry would take it though, so he was apprehensive. He was dark yes, but didn't have the same sadistic tendencies he and nearly the entire dark section had. He doubted the teen ever would, although if you did piss him off…Merlin, help them since he went farther than the rest did, to sate his fury.

"You know I didn't need anything right?" Harry said, as he opened the gift, doing as he always did and being careful leaving the wrapping whole. Inside he found a broomstick servicing kit, which he definitely needed, his old wax was going hard, well what was left of it anyway. It was much more expensive than the kit had, also had much more than his other one which was more basic. Under the broomstick serving kit was two books, one brand new on Runes just out a few days ago and another on spell creation and weaving. "Thanks, Barty, this is awesome!" his green eyes showed his gratitude more than his voice did.

Barty felt extremely uncomfortable with the raw unadulterated appreciation and gratefulness for some little gift that wouldn't have had anyone else blinking. How was it he could be so appreciative of silly little gifts? He knew the Dursley's – he refused to call them Harry's family – hadn't given him anything but he'd had friends, surely, he had gotten more used to gifts? Then again, the Weasley's couldn't afford to live let alone give their son money to buy their friends presents. Hermione though had parents that were well off, so he surely got something of value from her? "I've got you something else…I'll show you it later," he'd find out whether his gift would be appreciated or not.

"You really didn't have to, this is…more than enough," Harry said, "I almost want to just stay here and read…" four new books that were holding his curiosity, he honestly couldn't say which one he actually wanted to read first. Except he had already started one that Sirius had given him.

Barty groaned, "Oh come on! It's your birthday! You only turn sixteen once! At least celebrate a little!"

"I did that last night," Harry pointed out wryly, shaking his head.

"Oh, come on!" Barty protested, thank Merlin their Lord at least was going to make sure he left the damn bedroom. "You—" whatever Barty was about to say was interrupted by the appearance of a House-Elf.

"Breakfast is being served, and Masters are to join immediately," the House-Elf did not wait around for a reply, merely disappeared with a pop, liking due to the number of people the elf did have to go around repeating that sentence to.

"Looks like we've been summoned," Harry said amused by the way the House-Elf had spoken.

"Do yourself a favour…and dress classy," Barty warned him, everyone else would be. "Otherwise, they'll have a lot to say."

"I will," for breakfast? Ugh, these purebloods' seriously, they even dress up for breakfast? Barty hadn't been particularly overdressed…so this was just because everyone was there and wanted to peacock.

Barty blinked in astonishment, more surprised than shocked by the fact Harry actually listened to him. He wasn't one to be concerned about the others and what they thought. He wasn't self-conscious so it wasn't that, he didn't embarrass easily either…so why give in? Why was he suddenly listening to him? The perplexity of it followed him, as he murmured out, "I'll wait for you outside," he waited staring at the wall, confused as well, wondering if that's exactly why he'd done it! Just to confuse him! Nothing would surprise him when it came to Harry, he liked screwing with people.

Ten minutes later, a scowling Harry muttered "I feel like a freaking peacock," as he closed his door, always making sure it was closed and locked.

"Because the robes are green and blue?" Barty blinked in confusion.

"Erm, no more along the lines of showing off, it's just so not me," Harry said, explaining as they both made their way towards the Grand hall.

They didn't pass anyone until they had to descend the stairs, where they met a lot of people now, they were out of the Dark Lord's private wing. Which nobody could get near, at least not the Dark Lord's room, the wing they left alone probably due to fear of what would happen if they went anywhere near it. Harry was grateful for that, it meant there was less temptation to get into his private quarters.

"Please tell me that Voldemort has ordered every single Daily Prophet on the planet," Harry said, once they got near the bottom of the stairs. Stifling his sniggers as one of the Death Eaters squeaked and slid down a few stairs in shock. He must be a new recruit surely, then again everyone reacted badly to the name.

"You really shouldn't call him that," Barty sighed in exasperation, more used to it than he would like. Hell, even the Dark Lord didn't react when Harry called him Voldemort. The only one who found it amusing the first time they heard it was Fenrir Greyback.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first hundred times." Harry said dryly, as he passed the Death Eaters standing stock still where they'd been when Harry spoke the 'dreaded word'. Honestly, it continued to amaze him the effect saying just one word had on people. He'd been hearing it for six years now, the fear and terror at one word, a name, a name the world would one day fear to speak. Even at what…seventeen years old, maybe eighteen he had been determined and quite correct. "So…papers?" he doubted the dozens upon dozens of people living here right now had diverted their owls here, far too risky.

"I have absolutely no idea, other than the seven that usually come here," Barty shrugged, him, Harry, Voldemort, the Lestrange's and Wormtail.

"Everyone is going to want to read it," Harry said with vindictiveness.

Barty just smirked as he opened the door, almost everyone was sitting down, conversing quietly, some rubbing their foreheads in obvious pain. Harry blinked at the sight of two very long tables along with a single smaller one on the platform which had only the inner circle, their families and Voldemort.

"Come on," Barty said, giving Harry a nudge to get him moving, his stomach grumbling heavily as he did so.

Harry nudged him back in retaliation before he began moving, taking his seat right next to Voldemort. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Narcissa Malfoy's fingers gripping her sons arm, who was red in the face, looking as if something rotten waving under his nose. Sighing softly, he shook his head, honestly, he didn't want to deal with the drama that came with being around Draco Malfoy. Everything was a conspiracy around him, he won't put up with it though.

Voldemort had given him permission to deal with them however he liked.

He'd better watch out, if he thought for a second the displays at Hogwarts would happen here…he was in for the shock of his life.

Harry would not be tamed by anyone.

"When's the newspaper coming?" Harry asked, turning to face Voldemort, "Please tell me they'll get in?" blatantly ignoring the choking going on around him. Presumably at the way he was talking so casually with Voldemort.

Voldemort glared coldly at those making noises, "It should be here momentarily, the House-elves will bring it." Voldemort informed the teen, he noticed the new dress robes, it definitely wouldn't have been Harry's doing, so Barty then.

"Man, I almost regret not being there to see the look on his face," Harry sighed, looking gutted, but Severus' life was worth hell of a lot more than seeing Dumbledore's reaction to the newspaper. It's not like any of the students could give him the memory since school wasn't in session.

Voldemort's lips twitched, "Indeed," he too would feel bad that he wouldn't see the old man's face. It would have become a cherished memory for certain.

Everyone listened intently to their conversation, that was until the food came directly after their Lord's words. Everyone immediately began to dig in, despite the food they had consumed yesterday, they were all starving. Still reeling over the way Potter was so casually conversing with their Lord. Those who were familiar with it, watched the scenes with amused twitches of their lips. Beginning to feel better as the potion got to work, along with a belly full of good food and coffee or teas as they preferred.

Albus Dumbledore woke up blearily to the sound of incessant knocking at his quarters door. Worry bloomed within him, there were only a few people who could disturb him in his living quarters. One of them was his deputy Headmistress and the other his spy. He couldn't get in, he didn't trust his spy that much, only with Harry's life and that was solely because of the Vow. He would never have accepted the wizard without it, would have preferred having him put in Azkaban before trusting the wizard at all. Perhaps Severus had information about Harry? Hope bloomed as he hastily slid out of bed, waving his wand and was swiftly dressed as he stepped into his footwear. One more spell had his hair and beard brushed and in place, and his wand was pocketed as he moved quickly out of his bedroom to answer his door.

He was only slightly surprised to see that it was Minerva making the racket, she was rarely one to panic, "Minerva? What is the matter?" she not only was panicking but it was showing on her face, along with distrust, which he had never seen when she was dealing with him. "What's happened?" feeling very worried himself now. The hope he'd had moments prior of perhaps Severus having found his wayward student diminishing entirely.

"You should read the newspaper this morning," Minerva said, eyes shadowed, wondering if it was true, she didn't want to think that Albus was capable of such deception. She'd known him for the majority of her life, he'd been her favourite teacher at one point.

Albus closed his eyes, "What has been written now?" he asked, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Here," Minerva withdrew the paper from her cloak pocket, folded up and handed it to him.

"Thank you, Minerva," Albus sighed, not unfolding it just yet, as he moved down the spiralling staircase and into his office. Taking a seat in his chair, he stared at the folded paper and spoke again, "I honestly wonder what this reporter has against me, and to make matters worse there has been enough truth posted to cast doubts upon my person. I expected things like this from the likes of Skeeters not a reputable reporter such as he." Unable to say his name out of sheer rage and disgust. Elsmere had made life increasingly difficult by implying he had the ability to deal with the chamber of secrets instead let a twelve-year-old deal with it and the basilisk within. The outcry had been immense, and he hadn't been surprised by the number of people removing their children from Hogwarts.

Something that had caused ire within the Ministry of magic.

Minerva remained silent, joining him in sitting down, opposite him. She honestly didn't know what to think anymore, she felt awful in thinking such bad things about Albus, especially in case he was innocent. Yet, the evidence spoke very heavily to the contrary and Albus' secretiveness did not help matters. She hadn't known about anything other than the vague notion that he had a brother whom he wasn't close to. She'd known nothing about his sister, his mother, his father or even this, his ambitions and the fact he'd concocted it all with Gellert, there was even photos to prove it. To prove they had been close at least, but whether the information was true…she honestly didn't know.

Albus opened the paper, preparing himself for anything that could be on the front. The last thing he ever expected to see was a younger version of himself standing with Gellert Grindelwald looking extremely closely, too close for any other explanation than a relationship to be deduced. Any and all colour Albus had gained from a night of restful sleep faded completely leaving him with an ashen complexion.

'Grindelwald Manipulated? Albus Dumbledore the true Mastermind behind the war?

"Is it true, Albus?" Minerva asked, watching his reactions closely and feeling her heart sink, this…this could be nothing but the truth surely, given his responses thus far. Was this why Albus had not wished to face Grindelwald? She knew he hadn't wanted to face him, instead sending Newt to constantly track his whereabouts.

Albus could say or do nothing for fear of his reaction, he remained frozen in his seat.

"Albus?" Minerva's voice became curt.

Still nothing from the Headmaster.

"Oh, Albus," Minerva whispered, taking his silence for what it truly was – confirmation. "What did you do?" she had suspected this was quite correct, at least part of it. He would have reacted differently if some of it was untrue, surely? To have absolutely no comeback did not look good for him.

As a student from Durmstrang Institute, Grindelwald was expelled for twisted, dark experiments and near-fatal attacks on his fellow students.

He later fostered more than just friendship with Albus Dumbledore, making plans to lead a Wizarding revolution to end the International Statute of Secrecy, creating a benevolent global hierarchical order led by wise and powerful witches and wizards that dominated Muggles. Their partnership supposedly fell apart after the two were involved in a three-way duel with Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, that resulted in the death of Dumbledore's sister Ariana. Grindelwald left Britain and proceeding alone with the revolution he and Dumbledore had planned.

Was Albus Dumbledore responsible for Gellert Grindelwald's obsession? After all those we have spoken to from Durmstrang indicate that Grindelwald was a wanderer, someone without any set goals. What if Dumbledore was the one with the plans? The mastermind behind the Wizarding revolution? What if Dumbledore wished on a larger scale overtake his father's plans to put Muggles in their place?

Albus closed his eyes unable to read any more of it, his entire past was laid bare for everyone to see. From what his father had done, to his and Gellert's ideals, plans and blaming him for everything. They had not found out about Ariana's attack and why his father had done what he did all those years ago. Which made it look as though he had been raised by a fanatic, a pureblood who loathed Muggles.

The newspaper was more like a thick magazine or book today.

"Albus?" Minerva retorted once more, anger mingling with concern over Dumbledore's glazed over countenance.

Albus' mind reeled, how had the reporter got this information? There were so few people who could have had this information to give out. His brother and…of course, Bathilda Bagshot the nosy bint. His hands balled into fists as he stared at the paper.

Minerva just stared at Albus, watching a variety of emotions flow through him, which was odd in itself. Albus wasn't one for displaying many emotions if any.

"Please leave, Minerva," Albus said, his voice cold and lifeless.

"Albus?" Minerva questioned, her heart beginning to pound furiously in her chest, for the first time she truly feared him. His magic was beginning to leak from him, she'd always known he was powerful, he had bested Grindelwald in a duel, and he was said to be the darkest wizard of the age surpassed by only Tom Riddle.

"Leave!" Albus demanded, not even contemplating keeping his masks up. Too furious to think straight at the moment, as his world crumbled down around him.

Minerva stood up and abruptly made her way out of the room, refusing to remain there.

The sound of roaring and smashing met her ears as she travelled down the gargoyle, her hands shook as she took trembling breath terrified beyond belief. She honestly didn't know what to do. Did she get the healers from St. Mungo's in or the Aurors? Did she just leave him? What if he harmed the other professors in a bid to get away Would the Aurors be coming for him anyway? All she knew right now was that he was dangerous and unhinged in a way she would never thought Albus could be.

For the first time in her career, she did not know what to do, she was torn. Between her loyalty to Albus and the loyalty she had to the school. To the Ministry, to the right thing.

Does he deserve that loyalty? A whispered condemnation of her inner thoughts betrayed her cynicism.

Unfortunately, that decision was being taken out of her hands, as she felt the wards shift emitting several people. She knew, without a single doubt that it was the Minister of Magic and Aurors.

A single glimpse out of the window confirmed her suspicions as she saw the distinctive red colour of Auror robes from the gates of Hogwarts.

They were coming for him.

Minerva felt nothing but relief.

The downside to having so many people within the manor, Harry found out, was that it wasn't easy to find who you were looking for. His search for Severus so far was proving futile. Whether he was just avoiding people or if he was away doing something in the manor for Voldemort maybe? Or hiding from everyone…that wouldn't surprise Harry, he partly wanted to do the same thing really.

"Why don't you ask our Lord where Severus' room is?" Barty asked, getting annoyed by the running around. He wanted to show Harry his last gift. He wanted to find out just what he thought of it, be it good or bad, the anticipation was killing him.

"You think he's gone to his room?" Harry questioned, "I thought it more likely he'd be brewing," he confessed, it's the first place he'd checked, the potions labs but he'd found nothing, they were empty. He'd half expected him to be making more hangover cures for everyone if he was entirely honest.

"Well, he is staying here until Lockdown is done," Barty explained, "Might be unpacking for now."

"Good point," Harry mused, Severus was very anal, at least about his potions lab, he could be that way with his private life. No doubt he wouldn't be satisfied until it was turned into something he was happy with. Although, he couldn't see Severus unpacking everything, just things he'd be liable to use while living there. He was much too private to endure living here for long. "I'll just look for him later, come on…show me what you wanted to show me." okay, he was curious himself now about what on earth Barty had for him that he was almost hopping about like a bunny while he tried to find Severus.

Barty's grin took on a feral edge, "Brilliant!"

A sudden pop had both of them turning swiftly around to find a House-Elf standing there.

Harry could have hit his head, why hadn't he just used Dobby? "Hold that thought," he added, "Yes?"

"Master demands your presence immediately,"

"Me or Barty or both?" Harry asked the House-Elf.

"He demands Master Harry Potter-Black's presence," the House-Elf said curtly, looking a little worried that Harry wasn't immediately moving.

"Guess you better get going," Barty said, "He's usually in a hurry when he sends an Elf and not one of us."

"Yeah, I'll see you later," Harry said distractedly, genuinely curious as to why he was being requested. "I wonder if Draco will dare follow me up to where I'm going," yes, he knew Draco had been following him all morning, he was actually half decent about being unobtrusive about it…but not compared to him being hypervigilant given the amount of people here.

"It would be a shame to miss his face," Barty said wickedly, "Let me know when you're done,"

"Please, you just want to know what's going on," Harry teased, as he began to walk away, absently waving his hand goodbye in the wizards direction. Completely ignoring the other Death Eaters, whether they moved for him or refused to budge.

A large cluster of Death Eaters stood at the staircase leading up to Voldemort's office. "Move," Harry commanded, getting a little annoyed now. It was as if they were going out of their way to try and annoy him completely.

"Go around," one Death Eater retorted, evidently the ringleader of this particular group. The Death Eaters own annoyance evident. Fingering his wand, eyes narrowed as if just waited for Harry's legendary temper to get the better of him. The thought of seeing the little snot punished made them almost salivate. It would be a public punishment too if he attacked anyone. They just had to make sure they weren't seen at fault, otherwise it wouldn't be good for them. Not that their Lord would care, he never did for petty disputes.

"You want to be the reason I'm late to see your Lord? If so keep going," Harry added snapping in irritation, they were being deliberately annoying in order to get him in trouble he realized. His anger tapered off, a sly smirk appearing on his face, deciding to fuck with them. "If this is how you treat Voldemort you really should have more care, the Cruciatus curse is very painful," he whispered conspiratorially. "He knows how to keep it on to maximise your pain without turning you to into a vegetable,"

The Death Eaters hastily parted with that threat, leaving a pathway free for Harry to move towards the stairs. Which he did, with his head held high, but his hand lingering on his wrist, ready to call upon his wand in a seconds notice. He didn't trust them at all, but he made sure that he remained impassive, making it clear that he did not see them as a threat to him.

Nobody heard the breath of relief Harry let out half way up the stairs, he was good…but not good enough to fight seven Death Eaters on one. He wasn't completely suicidal; he would have made sure to cause maximum suffering…but he wouldn't have come out unscathed he knew that. He'd fight if he had to, and relished a challenge, but he was too curious right now about many things to really want to endure a trip to the closest Healer and worse…Voldemort's digging into what happened.

Harry froze, was he worried about disappointing Voldemort? Been seen as weak? Lesser than Bellatrix and the others who had been taught from him? Stunned disbelief coursed through him, no, it was impossible, there was no way he was worried about something like that.

Taking the last few remaining steps, he knocked on Voldemort's private office door, not the one downstairs, which he wasn't using right now. Presumably because of all the noise and the people milling around. There was only so much noise one could take.

"Enter," called out Voldemort.

Harry blinked, Voldemort sounded in high spirits, then again so had he since he read the newspaper. Opening the door, he stepped inside, to find Voldemort facing the Portrait of Phineas Black, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts. He hadn't expected an update quite so soon. Shrugging it off, he wandered in and sat down, presuming that the seat had been placed there for him. "An update already?" Harry queried, staring between Phineas and Voldemort curiously.

"Indeed, it would seem that Dumbledore has a warrant out for his arrest," Voldemort stated with a victorious gleam in his reddish brown – maroon - eyes.

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise, "They actually took it seriously?" the bloody Ministry rarely took anything in the Daily Prophet seriously.

"They have to," Phineas drawled his tone one of boredom. "They are very serious allegations, especially if he has been under charms of the manipulation kind. He will find himself with a full scan to ensure that he was sound of mind…relatively speaking," someone who caused all that couldn't be considered 'sound of mind' if he wasn't compelled in any way.

"There's other subtle ways to manipulate people," Harry pointed out, "Although I'm not sure Dumbledore at the time would use them…he will have had a strong aversion to anything Muggle related." If he had even visited the Muggle world after the elder Dumbledore – the father – had moved his family to Godric's Hollow one of the few pure wizarding towns available to them. "But underestimating him is never a good idea…so why just a warrant for his arrest and how did you find out?"

Voldemort watched the emotions pass through Harry's eyes, he didn't need the mind link or the now removed band from Harry's leg to get a grip of his emotions. His eyes, they told everything even while his face remained impassive, occlumency hadn't changed that. It's that of course, or he was just the exception when it came to reading Harry. The robes he wore didn't do him any favours, they brought out the colour of his eyes, and seemed to make them pop more, especially since he'd gotten rid of this disgusting glasses years ago. He looked regal, a true Lord of his estate with that attire, he definitely had to find out why he was choosing to wear them. Find out and make sure it remained that way, it helped that Harry looked years older than his true age.

"Very good questions," Voldemort stated smoothly, turning back to Phineas in enquiry.

"When Dumbledore read the newspaper, he completely lost it, he was screaming, shouting obscenities and throwing everything within touching distance at walls, portraits and the floor." Phineas said with supreme amusement, it had been quite a comical sight to see such old man throw what could only be described as a temper tantrum. "He was just calming down after exhausting himself when the Aurors barged in,"

"Let me guess he got away with Fawkes?" Harry stated, already knowing he was quite correct, it was an exact scenario he could see playing out.

"Informed them that they were mistaken if they thought he was coming quietly, and yes, he used Fawkes to get them both out of there." Phineas informed them lips twitching at just how well the young boy knew Dumbledore. No, not young boy, the Black heir, Lord Black, and Phineas found himself proud to have such a Lord in place, even if he was first and foremost a Potter and a Half-Blood to boot.

"Of course he did," Harry scoffed, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "The first place will be the Weasleys', I don't think they'll change their opinion, at least not the parents and youngers…they seem to revere the ground he walks on. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George don't care." And he often wondered just how that was, what made Ron and Ginny so different from all the others? Maybe the fact Bill and Charlie had been gone from Britain helped, Percy just believed everything the Ministry said and Fred and George were natural rebels. "He'll try and gather his allies, use what's left of the Order…but how many are left that truly support him without question…that's the question."

Voldemort's lips twitched, the boy was exceptionally clever, and he had to admit each thought Harry had given voice to…he had already thought himself. It was just a shame they were on lockdown, otherwise he would have advised Lucius to whisper such things in the Minister's ear, catch Dumbledore before he became more problematic, "There's only one problem, this means we have no idea where he is, what he's planning or his next step." He'd meant to get rid of the problem not make it more severe. It was very inconvenient that he had just lost his spy within Dumbledore's ranks where it would have proven to be more…useful.

Harry winced, "Yeah, sorry about that," Harry sighed, "Unfortunately we can never account for everything no matter how meticulous it's planned." Even the best laid plans of mice and men go awry as the saying goes Harry muttered mostly to himself.

"You can say that again," Voldemort stated dryly, his biggest one was definitely the boy in front of him, awry indeed.

"House-Elves can find anyone, anywhere, no matter what wards they're under," Harry pondered, "Without even knowing the address, I could get Dobby to plant another frame for the portrait but without knowing where he's actually staying for the duration it might prove futile."

"Perhaps not under the Fidelius Charm," Voldemort deduced, "Unfortunately, I do not think anyone has had the forethought to run tests."

"Or fortunately," Harry corrected shrewdly, "Depending on whether it works or not. I don't think Dumbledore will be stupid enough not to put his place of residence under that charm especially as he is a wanted wizard…better question…who the hell would Dumbledore trust with such a thing?"

Voldemort leaned back, his mind mulling over every potential applicant, but he found absolutely nothing and nobody he honestly could say that Dumbledore actually trusted.

"Moody might be one," Harry suggested, "But Severus might be able to answer that question for us," he was closer to Dumbledore than them, and not only that but he been by his side for over a decade playing a docile little turncoat, which of course, he wasn't.

"Agreed," Voldemort conceded, although quite honestly, he did not believe the question would be answered. Dumbledore might seem to have many friends, acquaintances but none they could say with one hundred percent certainty was the one he'd use.

"Does Dumbledore even know Severus was gone?" Harry asked, giving a bark of amusement.

"Minerva does, she planned on informing him before the newspaper came if what she told the Aurors was true," Phineas informed them. Well, she didn't specify Severus, just that she had news she had to tell him regarding 'one of the faculty retiring' but it didn't take much to put the pieces together.

"What about her? She's always been enchanted by Dumbledore," Harry queried.

"She hightailed it out of there paler than a ghost," Phineas revealed gleefully, his face twisted in utter delight. "She must have sensed how close he was to losing it." unlike him, she would be able to feel the magic emanating from the powerful wizard.

"Would have paid a fortune to see that," Harry replied, a rueful look on his face, he honestly couldn't remember seeing McGonagall anything other than composure itself. The only close break they had to her being shocked was definitely the incident with the troll. Then of course, she went ahead and awarded them points, encouraging them to break school rules as opposed to punishing them and preventing more rule breaking. It wasn't a teacher thing to do at all, especially having so many students under the one roof. Frankly it was astonishing that nobody else was hurt trying to be a hero and a stupid idiot like he'd been forced to be in order to prevent greater scrutiny by the old fool.

Voldemort chuckled; Minerva McGonagall had not changed since her Hogwarts years. She had been the same then as she was now. Always trying too hard, brought up to never display her emotions as they were signs of weaknesses. Which was why he had noticed her more than any other Gryffindor. After all being hairbrained was a Gryffindor trait, he'd soon deducted that she probably ended up in the wrong house, or picked one when she was equal measure brave and smart. Loyal to a fault, and it was just a shame that the idiot she chose to give her loyalty would never give her any in turn.

"Thanks," Harry said, just as the former Black Headmaster vacated the portrait. "Well…that was unexpected," leaning back as he stretched out languidly. Certainly not what he had expected when he woke up this morning at any rate. "Think he'll try to get back into Hogwarts?"

"It's possible, everything he owns is in the school," Voldemort said pensively, a thoughtful look coming onto his face, "Perhaps I should allow Lucius to tend to the Minister, suggest that they lay in wait for the old fool."

"I can do you one better…the Marauders map," Harry said green eyes gleaming, "They'll have his exact location, at the exact time he comes and he won't expect that."

"You detest the idea," Voldemort pointed out astutely.

"To my bones," Harry agreed, grimacing, "It's a brilliant piece of magic, it's amazing that three fifteen-year-olds were able to make it. I don't think I could have done it, or could do it even now, it's a mixture of potions, runes, spells, charms and transfiguration…they could have done amazing things together…" instead of joining the Order and going to war was unsaid. They could have made the magical world rise out of its stagnant state it had been stuck in for generations. "People should be allowed to see it, use it, but I don't like the thought of the beauty of it being replicated and turned into something…insignificant I guess."

"I deduce you'd say the same for that Invisibility cloak of yours," which was unique in itself, it had been in the Potter family for generations and it didn't look a day old, wasn't deteriorating and that itself was impossible. Magic didn't last that long; no invisibility cloak had ever lasted that long.

"I could unravel the map…but the cloak? That would be impossible," Harry admitted, and that was an irrefutable fact.

Voldemort nodded curtly, agreeing with Harry, that was true. Flicking his hand in the opposite direction, Harry blinked in surprise when a black square package sailed through the air. "Enjoy your birthday," he stated, his lip curling unconsciously, unable to prevent it.

Harry laughed, finding amusement in the look of pained derision painted over Voldemort's face. Honestly, you'd think there was something foul under his nose, not just saying 'Happy birthday' which he wasn't anyway, but he was in his own way. Hadn't he said it the last time? Harry was sure he had, although he had been rather mocking…hadn't he? Harry couldn't' remember he had been too stunned when he'd been handed – had the gift shoved into his hands more like – the parcel which had been filled with clothes he'd actually barely worn. They'd becoming too small for his frame pretty quickly, and those expensive clothes couldn't be altered.

What had he gotten him this time? Unable to contain his curiosity he opened the box and blinked in surprise. There must have been a silencing spell on the box otherwise surely, he would have heard the snake by this. Was this Voldemort's way of offering him more protection or just something he bought because he could talk to snakes? "Uh…" Harry was speechless as he stared at the tiny snake.

"It's a black tiger snake it's a species of snake indigenous to Australia." Voldemort informed him, "It's actually ten feet, once you make him his normal size. The tiger snake has a preference for coastal regions, creeks and wetlands. The snakes venom is very potent and causes adverse effects, such as breathing difficulties, numbness, tingling sweating, and inevitably paralysis." Perfect to act as an additional bodyguard for Harry, one nobody would expect.

"Is there anything you don't know?" Harry asked, mesmerised as stared at the snake that looked little more than a pencil size at the moment.

"Knowledge is power," Voldemort retorted immediately.

"Yes, yes, it is," Harry agreed wholeheartedly, which was why Dumbledore had tried to stifle him, it hadn't worked of course. He'd let the old fool believe he was mediocre, he often wondered if Dumbledore knew he was smart or if he'd just studied with someone smarter until he knew the material? If he did believe that then Harry had well and truly done his fooled him.

Turning back to the snake, it was pure black, and wasn't happy with his current size at all. Grinning wryly, Harry spoke to the snake, and to neither of the occupants, it did not sound like hissing but English. He told the snake who he was, that he wasn't allowed to bite anyone unless he was in danger or Harry allowed otherwise. That he had an owl and nothing had better happen to her. Then informed him that he would make him bigger…but not the whole ten feet, that would be impossible to cart around with him. He made him a good size to sit comfortably around his neck but noticeable, what could he say, he rather liked the thought of scaring the shit out of everyone. For those who claim to be Slytherin's they were all deathly terrified of snakes or maybe it was just Nagini.

"What's your name?" Harry hissed out.

"The great one called me Aadarsh," the snake replied, its tongue tasting the air, glad to be out of the box he'd been placed into half an hour ago – not that he knew it was half an hour – and stretch out so to speak.

"Great one?" Harry teased Voldemort a wicked chuckle leaving his lips when he swore, he saw Voldemort's cheeks go pale red, so slight that Harry honestly believed he was imagining it. "You named the snake you bought me?"

Voldemort sniffed imperiously, "Such creatures deserve good names," and wizards came up with the most ridiculous names these days. Even his Death Eaters, he could say he genuinely liked only a few of what they'd named their children.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, he didn't know much about Hindu, and he knew that's where the name came from. Voldemort was obsessed with the Hindu culture for some reason. He'd named his House-Elves and his snake as well as Harry's as proof of that.

"The one who has principles," Voldemort informed him, and it was actually more geared towards Harry than the snake itself. Despite being on his side, he had stuck to his core principles and refused to give in, even in the face of potential danger. Not that Harry seemed afraid of him, even in the beginning it was as though the boy didn't fear death and perhaps didn't understand the true meaning of fear. That was probably what made Harry even more fascinating to him.

"Thank you, he's amazing," Harry said sincerely, stroking the snake which seemed content to scent him thoroughly, it was awfully submissive for such a creature. "Are they normally so…docile?"

"Snakes all respond well to Parselmouth they are…elevated compared to the humans they fear." Voldemort explained, "One could even say that they revere the ability it is ingrained. They also feel compelled the answer and do as directed by a parselmouth, none more so than their chosen Master." By chosen Master simply meant the one the snake gives their loyalty to.

"Nothing to do with magic?" Harry blinked in surprise. As always quite eager to learn anything new, although he did have to admit he preferred reading to learn new things instead only getting snippets. He would need to go into the Muggle world and find a few books on those sorts of snakes, and maybe one in the magical world too. The more information he had the better.

"Surprisingly not, although they can tell Muggles from Wizards," Voldemort informed him. The snakes also had the ability to get jealous, Nagini had gone off to sulk, not even giving him a chance to explain. Honestly, sometimes he wondered what he had been thinking bringing her back from Romania.

"Their sense of smell," Harry said with a decisive nod, which was true, snakes had unbelievable power on that tongue of theirs.

"Indeed," Voldemort replied, in agreement. Feeling smug and satisfied that Harry liked his gift, he'd gone back and forth on what to get him like some sort of demented idiot. He did not buy gifts for others unless it was tradition to do so in order to achieve his goals or it benefited him. This did neither, he'd actually wanted to buy a gift for Harry, wished his to be the best, the most memorable. He would never admit it to anyone, and obviously the fact he cared for Harry had not changed him. He could still curse others like nobody's business and his killing instincts were still prevalent.

It would seem he just had a soft spot.

"I'm pleased you like it," Voldemort stated, with his usual dismissive tilt to his head when he had business to attend.

"Yeah, yeah, I better go before Barty wets his pants," Harry said with a sly smirk, "He has something he wants to show me," well, give him really. "Have fun!" Harry turned, situating the snake comfortably on his neck, making sure it was comfortable for both him and his snake, he didn't see the glare boring into his back. He felt it though, and it made him shiver, that powerful gaze constantly cut through him, made him feel naked and a little vulnerable as though he could see into the heart of him. Out of everyone though, he probably did, having been in his mind as often as he had during his Occlumency training.

Voldemort contemplated the idea of sending Barty out on a mission he knows would result in his death and capture. He did not like the feeling of competition or the jealousy that reared itself inside of him. There was nothing to be jealous of, even before he realised his own feelings he hadn't been comfortable with Barty and Harry's friendship. Despite the fact he should be pleased with it, after all more connections and friendships Harry created the less likely he would be to leave the dark side.

Harry had barely closed the door before he was pounced on.

"What happened? What's going on? Is that a snake?" he blurted out belatedly realizing it was there.

"Voldemort got for him for me," Harry said, "For my birthday,"

Barty gaped, his brain going momentarily offline. Not only at the reverence in Harry's voice – which by the way was a first especially when it came to the Dark Lord – but also the fact that their Lord had actually bought something for someone. He'd never heard of that happening before, it was so out of character that he was stunned speechless.

"His name is Aadarsh," Harry told him, absently stroking the snake as he hissed at him. "Put your hand forth, let him scent you," he added, as the snakes face came up, scenting the air with his tongue. To his surprise Barty did exactly that, he didn't even seem the slightest bit hesitant. Harry wondered if it was because Barty was used to snakes or if he trusted him. His mind flashed to the reactions of Hermione and Weasley when they found out, how pale and sick they looked over his talent. He'd known about it before Hogwarts begun, but he hadn't anticipated the reaction from everyone.

"What kind is he?" Barty asked, delicately stroking its head, and he absently wondered at his true size, although it could be a juvenile snake and have more growing room.

"Black tiger snake," Harry told him, as Barty slowly pulled away so that the snake didn't strike out of fear at his unexpected movement. "So, what the hell do you have down there…or should I be asking who?"

"Come on," Barty said, yanking open the door and making his way down the stairs, the stairs were narrow allowing only one person at a time down them.

"Barty," Harry said in warning, his tone going grim, as he made his way down after him.

"Come on," Barty urged him, his own tone not as cheerful as it had been just moments ago.

As soon as they were outside the cell, Harry stared at the red robes, an Auror. The figure looked sort of familiar, was it someone he knew? It was doubtful he didn't know any Aurors…at least not personally. He was pretty sure Voldemort had a few Aurors in his pocket though. "Who is he?" assuming it was a him due to the short hair.

"She," Barty corrected, staring at Harry cautiously, this was the moment of truth.

"Who is she?" Harry asked, his tone filled with exasperated amusement.

"Nymphadora Tonks, Auror and Order member," Barty told him, "The only Metamorphmagus in the British isles."

"You do realise you have just condemned her to death, right? She's definitely not getting out of here alive," Harry said impassively.

"Yes, she's a thorn in the Dark Lord's side, she was never going to survive the war anyway," Barty stated, relaxing a little at the lack of horror or any sort of negative reaction from Harry. "This means you can investigate, find out what you're missing and make your potion it gives her life some meaning." Even if it was over the second, he was done.

Harry cocked his head to the side.

"How did YOU manage to get the best of an Auror?" Harry asked, amused, "Don't they have partners?" it shouldn't be easy to take down Aurors, if it was that easy…they shouldn't

"The idiot tripped over her own feet and knocked herself the fuck out," Barty said scathingly. He would have laughed but it was honestly not funny, it had been sad and pathetic. How she managed to finish Auror training was beyond him.

Harry however, burst out laughing, just imagining the scenario playing out.

"And that's an Auror," Barty stated darkly, staring at the unconscious witch with obvious distaste.

"No torture," Harry stated firmly. "If she's mine I want her healthy until I figure out the potion…afterwards she can get killed…and with the killing curse." Not that he would be the one casting it, it was the one spell he had refused to learn and still didn't know if he would succeed if he tried it. She'd done nothing so he wasn't going to make her suffer, he was indifferent towards her presence here.

"Yeah…you might have to go to Our Lord with that," Barty said, "They will only listen to him and if Bellatrix finds out she's here…well, it's best you don't know."

Harry scoffs, "Yeah," he could imagine just exactly what the witch would do, especially considering how pissed off she was at him.

"Why are you so determined to make the potion anyway? I've never seen you like that before," Barty said, his focus now on Harry as he completely forgot the Auror.

"So, you guys can go out without being found out, with new identities you'll all have a new lease of life," Harry confessed.

Barty blinked, staring at Harry completely stunned, "That's why?" he croaked out, well fuck, you could knock him over with a damn feather. He wanted to work on an experimental potion on his birthday to help them all…perhaps there was a bit of a Gryffindor still inside the boy after all…unless he had ulterior motives for helping them…perhaps a boon but it would be worth it regardless of what Harry asked.

Plus, what he asked was never anything untoward or risky, as seen by the fact he had only asked them to watch out over his friends for the boons in the past.

He'd never had anyone care enough to do anything like that, not ever, and he knew Rab and Rod would feel the same.

Barty gave Harry a genuine heartfelt smile, changing his face completely, it might be Harry's birthday but Barty felt like it was his. "Thank you, Harry, even if it never works…I'm grateful that you tried…but knowing you, you'll get it working." After all this time he was still learning new things about the now sixteen-year-old but he also knew his mind was brilliant and just as amazing as their Lords. If anyone could do it, it would be him.

It will be him.

"What's wrong with you? Are you feeling alright?" Harry said shoving him with his hip, grinning widely, teasing the older wizard who rarely spoke so heartfelt.

Barty just swatted his hand away with a grin, pleased with himself.

And off they went, Harry positively making a beeline for his grimoire dying to see if perhaps he could get it with someone's blood.

"Hey, you know where Snape is?" Barty's ears perked up when he heard Rodolphus speaking out in the hallway, "Hey, Rod in here!" Barty called out, shifting a bookmark into the book. He was looking into blood magic and how it pertains to family magicks and gifts, and a dozen other books on potions regarding changes of appearance but most of the information told you to (See Transfiguration) or rather permanent transfiguration, which wasn't what he wanted.

He wasn't surprised to see that Rodolphus brother Rabastan was with him, they were rarely out of each other's sight. They had not shared the same cell, and both had been alone for over a decade. So, to see them spending every second together didn't even make him blink. He too had been alone for over a decade with only Winky and his father for company. He had been stuck in his own mind though, as his body went through the motions. If he could have…he would have murdered his father for what he'd done. Selfish fucking bastard that he was, Barty would have preferred death over that continued existence, not something he had to worry about now thankfully. Frowning in annoyance, he hated thinking about him, but it was inevitable, especially when he interacted with people who had been in Azkaban the entire time. They might think he was lucky…but Barty didn't consider himself so.

"Hi, he's not in here," Rodolphus groaned, shuffling to the seat in the library and gratefully sinking down into it. Thank Merlin, he was aching in places he hadn't known existed. If he wanted to be back to his normal self – the one before Azkaban – he had to work out hard in both mental, physical and magical aspects of his life. he had just been doing all three for two hours straight, with only a minute break to drink something before beginning again. "Why did you shout?" too exhausted to even glare but he was glowering.

Rabastan was pretty much the same, as he too sat down, a pained look on his face.

"Get a House-Elf to do it," Barty informed them, sympathy playing on his face, he knew the feelings all too well. he'd struggled alone with only a few potions – that weren't the right ones for his problems – while playing the part of a damn suspicious Auror. It hadn't been easy but he would be damned if he let his Lord down again. "Leave Snape to work with Harry," he knew what they were up to, so of course, he wanted them to work and actually figure it out, the idea was exciting.

Rodolphus frowned, "What are you on about?" since when did Barty defend Snape? A lot of the Death Eaters hate the fact he got off while the rest of them ended up in Azkaban. He openly declared his allegiance to the Dark Lord, without reservation, even if it meant serving a life sentence in Azkaban. He had known the Dark Lord would return and would get them out, and his devotion had proven true. The Dark Lord had returned and gotten them out of the hell hole, but to realize he'd spent so long in there had been a shock to the system.

"He's busy, they're busy," Barty absently corrected himself, seeing as they were in the lab, he thought he'd read up, see if he could figure out how to help them. He might not be as smart as the Dark Lord or Harry come to that, but he was no slouch, his grades reflected how determined he'd been to be a good son, a smart son. Not that he had cared, his father barely glanced his way, and that anger began festering, to hatred until he couldn't stand the old man.

"Best way to go with a lockdown," Rabastan said, "I don't suppose you know the names of any of the Dark Lord's House-elves?"

"Amita!" Barty called out, as Rodolphus slid the book Barty had been reading over to himself, glancing at the title curiously.

"What can Amita do for…" the poor House-Elf didn't get a chance to reply.

"Retrieve two pain relivers mixed with muscle relaxants now!" Rabastan growled out, he needed that pain relief as soon as possible.

The poor thing immediately left their sight to do as commanded.

"Good job Harry isn't here," Barty muttered under his breath, and it was true, Rabastan would have found himself in even more pain. Either that or in the process of receiving a mental beatdown by the teenager who had some odd thoughts especially on House-Elves. Barty wouldn't admit it but he was fond of them too, especially Winky who had taken care of him and genuinely cared for him throughout his childhood into his adulthood.

"He has problems with everything we do," Rodolphus grouched, it was a wonder they were breathing right, he would never state as such, since Harry was pretty much higher up than them now.

Barty stared at Rodolphus for a few moments, barely glancing at the House-Elf when she returned and left again having dropped off her demanded to receive items. "You can't honestly say you'd prefer things the way they were? Do you?" Barty eventually asked, his tone low, he definitely didn't want to be overheard especially by the Dark Lord. "I mean towards the end," when things were looking really fucking grim. The Dark Lord had gone off the rails, their plans just completely evaporating into thin air, all the Dark Lord had obsessed over was the prophecy.

Rodolphus sighed as the potion began to work, rubbing his forehead as he actually thought on Barty's words. "Potter has nothing to do with the Dark Lord's current state." He truly believed that.

"You didn't hear or see him before Harry was brought here," Barty explained, eyes shadowed, "I will follow our Lord…to whatever end, and was doing so back then. Now, for the first time in a long, long time, we're back on track Rod, we actually have a shot at winning, he's no longer obsessing about that damn prophecy, his mind is back."

"Was it that bad to begin with?" Rabastan asked, a frown on his own dark features. Naturally referring to the time where Barty found the Dark Lord again and set off the chain reaction. Or rather when the Dark Lord had found Barty as the case may be.

Barty nodded grimly, it was the truth, and how nobody else could see it was beyond him. Then again only he and Pettigrew had seen the Dark Lord before he had his looks and mind back. He wasn't sure what the Dark Lord had done, and frankly he didn't care as long as it was good for them.

"Damn," Rabastan mused thoughtfully, stretching out now that his entire body didn't hurt like blazes. Shaking off his thoughts, he turned the conversation to something different. "Do you know how long the lockdown is going to last for? I hate being cooped up," after Azkaban though this place was amazing, it didn't mean he wanted to be stuck in one place too long. As long as it was his decision to stay, and an ability to come and go, it didn't matter, it was the fact he couldn't go anywhere that was getting to him.

"We're always having to stay hidden," Rodolphus muttered distastefully, "The day the Dark Lord wins cannot come quick enough," he would give anything to be able to wander around Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade during the day, to see all the changes and what had remained the same. His only saving grace was Owl order, it meant he could buy what he liked, when he liked, but he would honestly prefer to go there himself and purchase something. He knew mentally it would be a let-down, not as big as his imagination was thinking it…but he didn't care. He wasn't going to risk being found out, he wasn't the best at glamours unlike Barty.

"Sooner than you think," Barty replied, thinking of earlier that morning, people didn't have the capacity to surprise him often. Yet Harry had genuinely, deeply surprised him and touched him. Add to the fact that the Dark Lord had given him a gift, a present for his birthday it blew his freaking mind. seeing how everyone else had reacted to the snake – which Harry had returned to its original size – had also been hilarious, everyone was giving him a wide berth suddenly. Then again given the potent venom the snake had, he would too if he didn't trust Harry.

"Do you know something I don't?" Rodolphus' eyes widened with hope.

"Harry's close to a breakthrough on his potion," Barty informed them, eyes gleaming in delight, the thought of actually going out into the magical world without fear of detection was liberating to say the least. He didn't doubt for a second that Harry would get the potion working, he worked miracles. The potion for them all had been…blessing, it enabled them to recover much easier and smoothly. Easier was an understatement, it would have taken months, if not at least a year for them to recover from the damages Azkaban had wrought to their bodies. He truly was a marvel when it came to creating potions.

"He's working on a potion?" Rabastan questioned curiously, he hadn't had an idea and he'd been watching the teen closely. He didn't approach him too often, and never in a friendship capacity despite the fact he wanted it. Harry was friends with the Longbottom child, a boy they had left an orphan that night.

"He is," Barty answered enthusiastically, waiting impatiently for them to ask.

"Why would it affect us?" Rodolphus finally asked the question, confused by the change in conversation.

"Because of what he's creating…" Barty replied, outwardly calm, centred and controlled. "He's creating a potion that will in essence make the drinker a Metamorphmagus. Just think about it…taking that potion will make you completely safe." Except if someone did a blood test on him, that would have their true identities revealed, but only Gringotts did those tests.

"That's why you brought in the witch," Rodolphus said, understanding dawning, he and Rabastan had seen him returning with her just before everyone began to Apparate into Slytherin Manor for the lockdown. 'and didn't kill her' was thought even if not explicitly stated.

"Well, I'm hoping it will help him," Barty shrugged his shoulders, he didn't really care if it did or not, unless it helped him succeed. Either way it was another Order member off the streets and less likely to kill them. The most dangerous one, all things considered, since she could change her appearance at will, and nobody knew what she looked like, if she hadn't been a clumsy clod anyway.

"She won't be helping anyone, especially when Bellatrix finds out," Rodolphus snorted derisively, "She hates her sister and the fact she had a kid with someone who isn't pure." Anything to cause any pain to Andromeda who Bellatrix felt betrayed by, giving up everything she loved about herself. The Black family, the pureblood ways, making the line impure, well as so much as Bellatrix could care about anyone. Quite honestly, Bellatrix could kill Narcissa even, without so much as batting an eyelash she truly had too much of the Black madness.

Bellatrix had not only now been divorced, but she was holding onto her Black name with the skin of her teeth. If she did anything out of line…they all knew Harry would disown her completely. Bellatrix only had a single vault to her name now, with the probability of replenished funds every month highly unlikely. She had no home, unless she rented somewhere. They pitted the fools who came across her, she was unstable, and quite frankly, a danger to herself and others. It had been Rodolphus' job to keep her contained…now he was free of those restrictions.

"No, I'm sure Harry will think of something, he's not stupid enough to think for a second she's safe down there." Barty said flippantly, that book of Harry's that he's constantly toting around had a whole plethora of spells within it, spells he'd created over the past five years beginning from his first year. Spell crafting was usually a Prince trait, but Harry was definitely not a Prince.

"Rolf, can you imagine if the potion works?" Rabastan said reverently, "We could have our lives back," when the Dark Lord took over – however he was going to do it – they could live their lives, properly without the constant fear their names caused and the distrust and the potential and unwelcoming attacks for what they'd done to the Longbottom's.

"No," Rodolphus whispered with a pained grimace, "Not everything," they would be losing their last name, the Lestrange name…and it was a legacy that would end when their father died especially if they changed it.

Rabastan frowned, figuring out quite quickly what his brother was referring to. They had done that, reduced the Lestrange name – which was already in bad shape – and made it something of an insult, something disgusting to have or admit to having the Lestrange bloodline. Their father could say he didn't blame them until they were all blue in the face, but the times they'd mentioned reactions and such, their father had such a broken down and hurt look on his face. He'd spent decades trying to revive their name, elevate it. unfortunately, there was nothing he could do now, the second he and his brother were caught…that was it. The name was completely tarnished, nothing short of a miracle would revive it.

"You could still use the Lestrange name…I know it wouldn't be the direct line unless you want to play your own sons?" they reused names often enough that it was doable, and there were spells to change things, although whether it would be fool proof he did not know.

"I am not portraying myself as a seventeen-year-old kid," Rodolphus sneered, the curled lip saying more than even his words, he found that entirely disdainful. There would come a day where he wished he had considered it, but he wouldn't have wanted to go along with it anyway.

"Not even to keep your name?" Barty asked, in genuine surprise. As much as he loathed his father, he was proud of his name too, so he could see where they were coming from.

"Not even then," Rodolphus insisted, it was a pipedream he knew that.

"Would you wish to go back to being a teenager?" Rabastan pointed out to Barty, but then again, he might have a hope in hell of fitting in unlike them.

"Are you kidding? It would be awesome!" Barty grinned roguishly at them.

Rabastan snorted in amusement, shaking his head, 'only Barty' was his thoughts. Only Barty would want to 'pretend' to be a teenager again, the thought horrified both him and his brother. They'd hated being teenagers last time around…and this time would probably be no different. People never took you seriously when you were young, it was entirely vexing to say the least.

"Then you're welcome to do it," Rodolphus said, shuddering anew at the prospect, the only way he would do it is if someone – the Dark Lord – forced his hand. Even then he'd be tempted to put up a token of protest, just to show he wasn't happy about it. Well, with the way the Dark Lord was now he would, before never in a million years. Perhaps Barty was right…perhaps Harry did have a significant role in the Dark Lord's return to sanity.

"Wait…isn't it Potter's birthday today?" Rodolphus blurted out, after a few moments of silence. He was sure he had heard someone mutter something like 'Happy Birthday' to the boy last night. Although in truth it might be the drink distorting what he'd heard completely.

Rabastan blinked rapidly, "Is it?" before saying, "It is," 'seventh month dies' the Dark Lord had demanded to know of any child born during that time. Harry and Longbottom were the only two that fit the bill, the dark sect had been beyond terrified during that time, praying their significant others wouldn't have their heir on or around that particular date. They knew exactly what the Dark Lord intended to do.

And as much as they abhorred the idea, they would follow their lord loyally, as they had sworn to do.

"The Dark Lord bought him a gift," Barty said, eyes gleaming as he watched their reactions, which was worth it. Jaws drooping, denial swarming their eyes, as they bugged out. This was from pureblood's who had been taught from a young age not to show emotion.

"You lie," Rodolphus whispered, knowing deep down that Barty wasn't lying he just couldn't believe it.

"He bought him a snake," Barty said, his savage glee unhidden, he'd made them actually show their true feelings. It didn't happen often so, of course, he was going to milk it for all it was worth. These memories were worth viewing again at a later date, the only other real time he had of such a thing wasn't worthy of remembrance. The day they were sentenced to Azkaban for life.

"What is it with that boy?" Rodolphus whispered in shock, his face shuttering as he regained control of himself, glaring a little at Barty for making him show his true feelings. He was genuinely baffled, why on earth would the Dark Lord desire to buy him anything? He had nothing to prove to anyone, he was the most powerful wizard in the magical world.

"Given the way the Dark Lord looked at Harry Potter last night…we might find ourselves protecting a consort," Rabastan whispered quietly, speaking mostly to himself but sharing his beliefs with his brother and Barty. "The Dark Lord's consort," showing once again that the Lestrange's weren't just muscle, but they were smart, smarter than a lot of the Dark Lord's followers. After all Voldemort didn't just take on mediocre, he looked for the best and brightest, especially in pureblood's but would take on a few half-bloods if he believed they were worthy of his cause.

Rodolphus choked on thin air, staring at his brother in stunned disbelief, "No way!" that wasn't possible, sure their Lord was far from celibate but to think after all these years to take on a consort? Especially if that person was Harry Potter? A boy who was still considered the epitome of good and lightness? "The Dark Lord does not share power," and that's fundamentally what a consort would do.

"What did you see?" Barty asked, a funny look on his face as he stared intently at Rabastan. Unlike him and Rodolphus if anyone had seen something it would have been Rabastan, he'd had a vantage point to where Harry' revealed himself along with Severus.

"Desire, possessiveness, and want." Rabastan stated steadily, after a few moments pause to gather his thoughts.

"Doesn't mean he'll take the boy as his consort," Rodolphus pointed out, he'd never taken one, he had lovers he used and discarded for Merlin's sake. If anything, the boy would become another notch on the Dark Lord's bedpost, the only difference was the Dark Lord's looks…which had deteriorated by the end of the last war with the rituals he was using on himself. He was worse when he returned though for a while.

"The fact he's waiting, giving gifts, showing him respect…" Barty mused out loud, "Damn I didn't see that coming," realization hitting him, Rabastan was right. He wondered if anyone even came close to the same realization they just had. Nothing better happen to Harry now during lockdown or any other time…otherwise that person would wish for death decades before it was finally granted.

"Oh, come on!" Rodolphus almost, almost spluttered. This was insanity. "There's no evidence, none!" they were getting ahead of themselves surely? But how Harry was acting…what the Dark Lord had said…something inside of him told him it was true.

"I suppose there's not," Barty conceded, just gifts, parties, and a possessive Dark Lord apparently.

If they had seen the meeting that was happening down the hall in a few hours…they would have immediately all been in agreement.

Only Fenrir was gifted with the sight of the two.

His laughter once he emerged scared the hell out of everyone in the vicinity.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 52

"Hello, Nymphadora Tonks, I've heard a lot about you," Harry said as he wandered into the main cell area, opening the empty cell nearby her and sitting inside, legs stretched out comfortably. Staring at the girl with a curious look on his face, she was a metamorphmagus, he was too but he didn't have the full gift, he could only change his hair. She looked like she was bearing up well against her imprisonment and Harry did have to take his hat off to her for it. Then again, she was an Auror, she must have gone through hell to become one. Her unique abilities might have opened doors that would have otherwise remained closed, but they likely hadn't given her the job on a silver platter. If she'd joined the Unspeakables, perhaps that would be so, but it wasn't.

"Can't say the same about you," Tonks spat defensively, hair blood red, her face white despite her flushed cheeks.

Harry laughed, "That's amusing," evidently, she didn't recognize him, which was good he supposed, it meant more freedom. Then again, she didn't know him, not in the way Dumbledore had watched him closely over the years. He still might recognize him he supposed. Eyeing her perceptively, "My name is Harry James Potter-Black, I am the Lord of both the Potter and Black estates," if Nymphadora's mother hadn't been disowned legally he would have actually been responsible for her, luckily though, he was not. They hadn't downed the girl's mother magically, otherwise there was no way she'd have had that gift. Clearly, they'd hoped to bring her back into the fold one day.

Tonks' breathing hitched, "No," she whispered, eyes bugging out in disbelief, shaking her head, it was impossible, this couldn't be Harry Potter, it just couldn't be. The entire Order had been searching for him since he'd left the school after a disagreement with Umbridge. Something Albus reassured her that had been blown well out of proportion, Umbridge had gone into hiding afterwards, in order to get out of being detained. There was still a warrant out for her arrest actually, but there had been absolutely zero sightings of her since. She obviously knew how to disappear, the consensus was that she had fled the country. "It can't be," left her lips most unwillingly, she refused to play their games, whatever they hoped to accomplish by this mind game, she would not surrender. She was an Auror.

Harry just shifted his hair, showing off his lightening bolt scar, that he'd received the night his parents was killed and everyone knew about before they knew what he looked like. It had become a symbol of light and hope, all thanks to Dumbledore.

Tonks paled, shock replacing her disbelief, "Why?" she croaked out, why would Harry Potter betray the light like that? Betray his parents? Betray Dumbledore and everyone in the magical world?

Harry snorted derisively, staring at her from the cell he'd wandered into. "You actually have the audacity to feel betrayed?" a fucking Auror that didn't know him had the daring to feel as though he had betrayed her? That just pissed him off to no end, it really, really did.

"You've betrayed everything you and your parents have stood for!" Tonks rasped out, there was no real indignation in her tone, still too shocked to really feel anything other than that primarily feeling.

"Tell me, Tonks, what do I stand for?" Harry asked dryly, "Since you know me so well, go ahead!" annoyance bubbling within him.

"You're Harry Potter," Tonks retorted but her voice was weak, "You're everyone's hope for a better future, you make people fight for that future,"

Harry closed his eyes, "No, Tonks, I might be everyone's false hope for a better future but I don't make them want to fight, they want to bury their heads in the sand and make me fight for them. Even you, an experienced Auror expects a sixteen-year-old to fight the good fight. Without giving me a reason for it, everyone gets to choose which side to be on its hardly my fault if everyone believes I have to be on the light side."

"Your parents would be rolling in their graves," Tonks said spitefully.

"Probably," Harry replied immediately, unbothered by her words, if he'd known them maybe it would have hurt but then again if he had been raised by them…he probably would never have come to this side. "I'd like to think they would like to see me survive my seventeenth birthday though, even if it meant joining a side they fought against. They loved me more than fighting a damn war in the end," only in the end though, by then it was too late. Then again perhaps it was fated that they die and he live the life he did, well, fate being the name Dumbledore he thought darkly.

"They died for the light side, for you, they wouldn't want to see you like this!" Tonks stated sharply, perhaps she could get herself and Harry out of here. "Your mum was a Muggle-born witch, something they despise."

"Do you know why they dislike Muggle-borns?" Harry countered, "Do you even know the dark ideals before you joined the Order? And on that note, you're already on the front lines as an Auror…why risk your career and life by joining the Order…something you surely realize draws a massive target on your back and the likelihood of your death with a greater capacity?" her parents weren't Order members, so there was no reason other than manipulation. Had Dumbledore seduced her to the light side? Made her feel even more special? Persuaded her she'd be saving even more lives? Dumbledore was good at what he did after all.

Tonks remained stubbornly silent, she didn't want to know what the dark wizards wanted, they killed people, hurt people, they didn't deserve to live let alone brainwash people.

"I didn't think so," Harry said dryly, shuffling until he got yesterday's paper, and flung it into her cell, "The reports in the newspapers about Dumbledore by the way are true, all the information is out there if you look for it."

Tonks avoided looking at it, remaining stubbornly silent and unmoving, for all of five minutes before interest won out. Snatching the paper up from the floor beside her, she opened it up, the light in the room giving her the ability to see the title. When she did, she resolutely shook her head, there was no way Dumbledore would do something or plan something so unspeakable. The Dark side was just trying to get into everyone's heads, Albus Dumbledore had fought for the light for as long as he'd been alive basically, decades for Merlin's sake.

"Things are different now," Harry said quietly, staring at the opposite cell instead of her, "Goals have changed, haven't you noticed the lack of raids and death? I'm just sorry you'll never get to see the outcome."

Tonks shivered at that threat, closing her eyes in dread, swallowing the lump in her throat, she didn't want to die, but there was no way to avoid it. She was in the enemy hands now, nothing short of a miracle would save her. "Come back with me, nobody needs to know, I swear," Tonks said, begging him, having no reservations as fear truly set in, she didn't want to die.

"Why would I want to give up my freedom?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"This…this isn't freedom Harry, you've been…brainwashed," Tonks whispered, her frightened eyes meeting Harry's.

"That's impossible," Harry said, holding his hand up showing off his two Lord rings, which meant it was impossible for him to be controlled via a potion, and the Imperius curse did not work on him. She was just thinking the same thing everyone else would, they would never believe he had joined the dark side on his own accord, Dumbledore had well and truly done a number on the wizarding population. "As I've said things have changed."

It was Tonks turn to snort despite her worries and fears, even if part of her mind conceded his previous words, it was true, there had been no mass breakouts of Azkaban, no raids, no fighting, no mysterious disappearances. If she didn't fully trust Dumbledore she knew she would have doubted it, the Ministry definitely didn't fully trust him and thus refused to listen to his 'warmongering' as they called it.

"Dumbledore is wanted by the Ministry, when they get him, they will use Veritaserum and he will be brought down, the truth will be revealed," Harry pointed out, and he and Voldemort had poured over a list of questions for the interrogator to ask – who happened to be a dark sympathiser but not a Death Eater – so that he would have no choice but to answer them the way they wished. It was quite ingenious really, thankfully there was only one interrogator so they didn't need to worry about more plans going askew.

"No, they will see he's innocent," Tonks stated.

"It's interesting how much you're defending him…I doubt his name was brought up overly much in your family, so you met him what for the first time when you were eleven? Did he watch over you with concerned blue eyes? Raise his goblet to you with twinkling eyes, make you feel special? Award you point's for breaking the school rules? Defend you against anyone who would say anything?" Harry's questioned rolled off his tongue quickly, giving her a knowing look, "You do realize he did that to certain people every year? He had his favourites alright, each of them were Order members and extremely smart and powerful…most actually Gryffindors but who can deny the trophy of having a Metamorphamagus in their cupboard?" that's all they were, trophies. He had been one too, only he'd managed to wrestle himself away.

Tonks' eyes widened, as her hair turned black, she didn't want to listen to this at all.

"James Potter, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Bill Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley, see the pattern here?" Harry said thoughtfully, "He's worse to people he doesn't trust, treats them like shit, especially the Slytherins, he's supposed to be impartial as Headmaster but he's not, another rule broken." Tom Riddle, Severus Snape…and truthfully, he should have been on the list if he had let it place him in Slytherin maybe he would have been straight from the start.

Her retort was weak, "Go away," which of course, she didn't really mean, she didn't want to be alone.

"Very well," Harry stated, as he stood up and made his way out of the cells, closing the door as he did so. He'd go down tomorrow and discuss the finer points on what the Dark hoped to accomplish. He didn't want to kill her, but if he had to, he'd do so painlessly, unlike the others who were quite sadistic against those who fought them. He'd also tell her every single goal the dark side had, it seemed to him as if she was wilfully blind, refusing to see the dark were fighting for a cause too. If she deluded herself that the light was any better…then there might not be any hope of making her see reason. Why he wanted her to see reason was lost on him, she would die, there was no doubt about that. She was a threat, she'd made herself a target, silly woman that she was fighting without knowing why.

The light side killed too, using the righteous path in order to do so.

Flicking his hand, watching the time glow red in mid-air, blinking in surprise, well, it seemed as though he would have had to leave anyway, he had a meeting to attend.

"Hey," Harry said, blinking in surprise at the sight of the hulking mass that was Fenrir Greyback before a grin split his face in two. "Hey big bad,"

Fenrir chuffed, finding himself amused by the wizard, who again smelt of absolute zero fear being in the same room as the Dark Lord Voldemort and himself, a known feral and 'savage' werewolf. He might not be what the Ministry make him out to be, but he was no saint, he had killed to protect pack and he would do so again and again. He was an Alpha it was his responsibility after all. It's why they trusted him, they knew he'd go all out to protect them from the wizarding society that would see them all 'put down' like beasts or collared until they were nothing in magical society, lower than even goblins. "Potter," he grumbled, giving the wizard a head tilt, surprisingly the boy didn't get on his nerves or make him wish he could kill all wizards.

"I give you a nickname and you stick to my last name? How…disappointing," Harry used his best Severus voice, before grinning wickedly, he wasn't sure why he liked the big guy, but he did. Maybe it was the fact he'd never shown any awe and reverence his way when he noticed his scar.

Voldemort cleared his throat, impatience somehow coating it, annoyance, possessiveness and jealousy surging within him. Quite frankly it was insulting that Harry first noticed Fenrir. Yes, he was much taller and broader than anyone else on the Dark side, but he was definitely the most powerful. He should be the one Harry noticed at all times, and at his own thoughts his annoyance tripled, he couldn't believe he was getting all possessive over such an insignificant little thing. "Why were you in the dungeons?" he queried sharply.

Fenrir inhaled sharply, before sniffing again, thinking he had it wrong. Nope, he realized quite quickly that he didn't have it wrong at all. Eyeing both of them in equal parts fascination and amusement, the attraction he had scented months ago had grown on both their parts. Wizards were odd creatures, if he saw something he was attracted to he fucked them and got them out of his system. He wasn't looking for a life partner, he'd already lost one and had no desire to suffer through another.

"What worried I'll let her go?" Harry teased him, shrugging his shoulders indifferently, "I was just giving her the newspaper." Eyes gleaming, he wished he could see each of her reactions as she read it. Unfortunately, he'd only gotten to see her reaction to the headline before she refused to read anymore. Oh, he knew she'd read it eventually, she was too curious not to.

"You're up to something," Voldemort narrowed his maroon eyes, the cross between his original colour and the red had bled together, making him all that more attractive and unique.

"Maybe," Harry replied with a smug grin. "Nothing dangerous, I promise,"

Voldemort sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes, why did he put up with him again?

"So…why am I here?" Harry questioned, as he casually sat down on one of the available seats. He hadn't known the werewolves had also come for the shut in.

"I would like to requisition your map," Voldemort ordered.

"So, this is about Dumbledore," Harry deduced, rubbing his forehead, he supposed he should give it up, even though he didn't want to. He would always have the original though, which was better than any other that might come afterwards. "Ugh, fine, I suppose I can make a copy of it."

"Why that particular map?" Fenrir questioned in his usual grumbly voice.

"Accio Marauders map," Harry summoned it, ready to show him instead of revealing it, he wondered if Fenrir would be impressed with its ingenuity even if it was created by wizards. He did seem like someone who could appreciate anything well made, but he didn't know Fenrir all that well, he seemed more of a basic werewolf, one who appreciated what he had and didn't want more…or to better himself.

A few moments later, the map slapped itself into his hand, tapping his wand against it, he murmured the password quietly, aware that both the werewolf and wizard would hear him. once it was activated, Harry spread it out on Voldemort's desk, revealing the map in its entirety, along with every single person on the map. Minerva McGonagall was pacing her office, with a few unknown – to him anyway – wizards inside, Aurors maybe?

"This is the Marauders map, it shows everyone, what they're doing, every minute of every day," Harry explained, and he did wonder what Fred and George had made of the fact there was always someone called 'Peter Pettigrew' following their brother around. Even when they were next to the twins who could only see the golden 'trio' didn't they wonder who was sleeping in their brothers bed every night? It made Harry's skin crawl with revulsion, how different could things have been if Fred and George had reported right away? Before Sirius escaped Azkaban that was, Pettigrew might have ended up in Azkaban with Sirius freed. Given how much Sirius relied on Dumbledore…he didn't believe his life would have been all that different. Sirius was different now though, the knowledge that Dumbledore had known with one hundred percent certainty had ensured that. "It's never wrong,"

Fenrir stared at it impressed, nothing gave that away though, his amber eyes roaming over it, looking for 'Albus Dumbledore' but did not find him. His name was big enough – long enough too – that it shouldn't be too hard to pick out the disgusting old fart. An old scent caught his attention, the impudent cub made this piece of magic. "Remus was involved wasn't he?" a werewolf had aided in this creation, which made him feel a little more smug and superior.

"He was the smartest of the four, so I'd say he was the primary creator with my dad," Harry explained, "They all became Animagi to help him through the full moon."

"They became his pack," Fenrir grumbled, he supposed he should be grateful the cub hadn't been alone, although if he had, there would have been a chance of him swaying the boy into his pack.

"Yes, Prongs was my dad, a stag, Padfoot is my godfather, Sirius Black, a Grimm, you know Wormtail, and of course, Moony was Remus," Harry explained, showing the front of the map where their names were. "The second Dumbledore steps foot in Hogwarts we will know,"

"And we will act," Voldemort stated firmly.

"We? You're not leaving him to the Aurors?" Harry asked slightly surprised.

"He is too canny to be allowed to live," Voldemort declared. He wanted the old fool dead so he couldn't mess up any other plans.

"Yes, that's true, but if he dies before the world finds out…you'll have people joining the Order in his name…make him more of a bloody martyr than ever." Harry pointed out, brow furrowed. "Don't do it, once you take over kill him in Azkaban for all I care…the only problem is Fawkes, is there any spells you know of to contain a phoenix?" although the thought of doing such a thing was abhorrent really. It would just be until Dumbledore was dead, then they could get it go.

Fenrir's eyes widened when he saw that Voldemort was actually contemplating everything the teenager was saying. It was damn near impossible to get Voldemort to change his mind after it was made up. He had to work extremely hard to get through to him, since nobody else would, too afraid of angering their 'Lord' to dare go against him. Yet, here he was, standing before a sight he'd never imagined, Voldemort actually listened to Harry Potter. The logic was sound, so perhaps that's why, either way, even towards the end of the last war, Voldemort had refused to listen to reason, even from him.

"That is a reasonable conclusion," Voldemort conceded, but the thought of leaving Dumbledore alive turned his stomach, even if it was only until he took over. "There are a few spells that can force a bond on a Phoenix but I have not read one where it can be contained. Out of all books, I do believe the Black library might hold the answer to the question you seek."

"Force a bond?" Harry repeated, his lips twitching, "Hmm, I wonder if he has…there's no way a light creature could possibly be fooled like wizards when it comes to instinct."

"You wish to imply that he has forced a bond on Fawkes," Voldemort said dryly, honestly, he was beginning to think the boy was more vindictive than him. It appeared he wasn't going to be content until he had completely ruined the old man, and left him with nothing to his name except his name. He did have a point, if Dumbledore died now then perhaps it would cause more rebellions and that was something he wanted to avoid if possible.

"For all we know it might not be 'Implied'," Harry said gleefully, "If we want to do this I need to leave," already dying to get over to Grimmauld Place to get the books that he'd need to find out. Either way, Fawkes wouldn't be coming to his aid again, Dumbledore wasn't just a danger to Voldemort but him too, especially since he had found out about his allegiance, if he had of course, he had no proof that Dumbledore knew.

"The shut down has effectively been lifted," Voldemort stated, "You, however, must return immediately upon retrieving the books," he demanded of Harry.

None of the properties had been invaded, no aurors sent to 'investigate' them, they seemed to actually be focusing on finding Dumbledore. Which surprised him greatly, and perhaps the Order weren't able to think let alone plan an attack in retaliation for what their precious leader was going through. He knew there was no way they were actually thinking for themselves. They had been brainwashed so much that the idea of thinking anything badly of the old fool was incredibly unlikely.

"I'll take Barty with me," Harry replied immediately.

Fenrir choked almost silently, at the scent of jealousy and anger that wafted from Voldemort at that pronouncement. Damn, the boy had better watch otherwise he'd be the death of Barty without even realizing it. He'd experienced more possessiveness and jealousy from Voldemort today than he ever had before. The anger wasn't new though, he was almost always angry for one reason or another, well except of late, but all his plans were going smoothly so he had no reason to get angry.

"Very well," Voldemort stated crossly, it seemed he might have to keep an eye on both of them, they were getting much too close for his liking.

"I am to assume I am no longer needed?" Fenrir questioned, his arms crossed, revealing none of his amusement. He had been originally called here to deal with Dumbledore should he get out of Hogwarts. Hunt him down, bring him to Voldemort so that he could deal with him. Something he could do when no other Death Eater could, locations could be hidden with spells, but the scent always remained. What he'd intended to do if the Aurors got him he didn't know, nor did he know what he would have done if he'd escaped completely using Fawkes once more. You could tell how new the plan had been, Voldemort usually had more than just one backup in play.

"Yes, you will still keep an eye on the area, ensure that he gets captured, by any means necessary except killing the old fool," Voldemort stated, already coming up with alternative plans, although truthfully, they weren't all that alternative really. His assassin would not be needed, since Dumbledore wouldn't be killed, he had no need for him to enter the Ministry undetected to get the fool and bring him here. "Do not allow yourself to be seen or captured," he ordered, he would be very displeased if he had to get Fenrir out of the Ministry – and he would do it too – which would cause questions he didn't want raised. Fenrir was much like Rabastan, a good friend, although Fenrir unlike Rabastan, wouldn't disagree with him.

"I won't," Fenrir said in agreement a feral smirk on his face. He'd kill any wizard or witch who got in his way, he refused to give up his freedom not without a fight. It would be a fight he would win, wizards rely too heavily upon their magic, and wands to dare to dream they could fight him and win. "I'll take Kas and Steven with me," two of his most loyal and big brutes like him too, never once lost a fight. It would ensure that they could keep Dumbledore on his toes without killing him. the last thing he needed was Dumbledore's dead body being found with obvious werewolf wounds, it would ensure they'd be hunted to extinction.

Not what he wanted at all.

"Good, Lucius is already aware, and will be ready," Voldemort stated, he was already at the Ministry in position to whisper more into Fudge's ear.

"Is that why there are Aurors at Hogwarts?" Harry asked in idle curiosity.

Fenrir did a double take when he saw Harry's snake peek out to look at the map as well as if the thing could understand. Hissing something at the boy, he expected Voldemort to reply, not the boy. Then of course, he remembered the fact the boy was a Parselmouth. It was little wonder he was gifted with a snake, Voldemort would see it as a rite of passage of sorts, for a Parselmouth to have a snake.

"Where?" Voldemort asked, glancing at the map intently.

"McGonagall's office," Harry swiftly pointed it out.

"They…are not Aurors," Voldemort stated astutely, "Nor Order members unless they've very new," which regretfully, he had nobody to confirm that suspicion or deny due to the fact he no longer had a spy in Dumbledore's ranks.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore managed to get a few people onside," Harry said thoughtfully, "I can't see McGonagall going along with though." Unless, she was buying the lies, after blatantly seeing the truth in Dumbledore's reaction. It was possible she could be sticking her head in the sand, not wishing to acknowledge Dumbledore was bad. He wasn't evil, and probably didn't consider himself bad, he just let others dirty their hands so he could keep his clean. It's always been the way Dumbledore seemingly operated.

"Their names aren't known to me," Voldemort admitted, staring at the names written on the map with aggravation. "Mudbloods," he muttered mostly to himself.

Harry rolled his eyes, at least he wasn't saying it with repugnance, merely stating it as fact. "Might I remind you that a so called 'Mudblood' got the better of the big bad Voldemort," Harry said, it was more of a light teasing with a small reprimand to remind Voldemort that his prejudice was stupid.

Fenrir stiffened completely at the utterance of those words, damn the boy truly had no fear of speaking his mind. Even he would never have spoken those words out loud. Then again, he was from a pureblood family, the last of that family in fact. His 'parents' had abandoned him when he was bitten, and they had conveniently 'died' young, he had made sure of that. He'd done nothing to his sister though, but regretfully – and he was sincere in those thoughts – she had died during childbirth, along with her young son, who he later learned to name the child after him. Now that had been a kick in the gut and another regret to live with.

"Pure luck," Voldemort sniffed in disgust.

"You need to stop underestimating them," Harry said still grinning, shaking his head in amusement. "Us," he added as an afterthought, he might not be a 'Mudblood' but he certainly didn't consider himself a pureblood and to any pureblood someone lesser was less important.

"You aren't a Mudblood, in fact you're actually considered a Pureblood," Voldemort informed him imperiously, "Especially now you have two pureblood names attached to your person."

"Meh," Harry waved off the comment, he didn't care about blood status, he never had.

Fenrir himself rolled his eyes along with Voldemort at the indifference Harry displayed about his blood status. He didn't consider himself a 'pureblood wizard' but rather a 'pureblood Alpha werewolf' he hated most wizards. He had a few exceptions and they were sitting in this very room. He couldn't even stand the majority of the Death Eaters, they were terrified of him, it was pathetic, they were pathetic.

Sure, there was one of two exceptions in the ranks but even they got on his nerves. Thinking they were better than him just because they weren't werewolves.

"I'll go and get the information we need," Harry stated, in other words he was going to Grimmauld place with Barty to find out if there was a way to contain a Phoenix so Dumbledore couldn't use the damn bird to get away. "I'll be back within half an hour," he was going to bring the entire library with him, he needed to go and get his trunk so he could put them all away. "Maybe longer, depending on how long we take to move the library to the trunk."

"I'll be keeping that," Voldemort stated before Harry could reclaim the Marauders map.

"If anything happens to that I'll shove my wand so far up your backside I'll see a Lumos every single time you speak." Harry warned Voldemort seriously.

Voldemort just stared at Harry with an odd look on his face. Wrong orifice, wrong body, wrong wand so to speak, right idea the depraved part of Voldemort thought, too stunned to feel appropriately vexed by Harry's remarks.

"Let me know when I have to leave," Fenrir commented, sounding slightly strangled, as he lumbered from the room, his shoulders shaking.

Harry embarrassingly enough jumped when he heard Fenrir Greyback roar with laughter suddenly as he wandered down the hallway. Harry could practically see Fenrir's entire body shaking with the merriment in his mind's eye. His jaw hanging open he stared at Voldemort in confusion. What the hell had tickled Fenrir to make him laugh like that?

The Death Eaters in the vicinity parted like the red sea.

Never in all their time in the Dark Lord's service had they seen Greyback amused let alone full out belly laughing. So, damn right they were parting ways to avoid the werewolf.

Inevitably Harry shrugged his shoulders before he wandered out of the office, with a parting, "Keep it safe," the map and cloak were the only things he had in this world that belonged to his parents. He would be beyond pissed if anything happened to either, sure he didn't have any feelings other than an abstract sort of love for them, but it didn't mean he was cold and unfeeling towards them. "I forgot to make sure they're making Umbridge's life hell." Absently, hopefully he'd be back again soon.

If Harry was being honest, this place also needed a similar map, he was tempted to test his skills to see if he could recreate it. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be able to, he had too much going as it was, added with the constant interruptions…he felt as though he wouldn't get anything done. That and his recent project just seems to keep failing no matter what he did, it seemed impossible. Fortunately, this time, Harry knew where Barty planned on being, whether he was there or not remained to be seen.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Harry grumbled in exasperation when he glimpsed familiar blonde hair from the corner of his eye as he ran towards the library. He was tempted to tell Voldemort and let him deal with it, see how Draco coped with Voldemort's attention on him, the wrong sort of attention. He'd tell Severus first, he kind of owed him that, since he knew Severus was Draco's godfather, and he respected Severus a whole lot.

Skidding to a halt outside the library, he peeked inside to see Barty sitting with Corvus, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange. Those two boys were weird, Harry knew it all came down to the damage caused by Azkaban. One day they look at him with respect the next there's caution and worry, and the next time there's suspicion and mild dislike. It's like get your thoughts straight already, regretfully he suspected they'd continue to be that way for a while longer. Either that or they'd always been that way, Bellatrix certainly was unstable, she could have turned the boys that way.

"Hey, Barty, I'm heading to the Black library, you coming?" Harry called from the doorway, staring inquisitively at the wizard, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"We're on lockdown," Rabastan pointed out, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Is something going on?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded seriously, "Lockdown will probably be announced as over soon enough, you coming?"

"May I accompany you both?" Rabastan asked, eager to get out, even if it was only for a trip to the Black library, for some odd reason, he couldn't recall where the property was or name it. He knew he'd known it, he'd gone frequently in his youth.

"Sure," Harry said with a shrug, he didn't mind them coming.

"You sure Dumbledore doesn't have the place watched?" Rodolphus asked suspiciously, not wishing for his brother to go if that was the case.

"Fidelius charm, so he can't remember it, and I've been there dozens of times and been fine…now you've probably gone and cursed me," Harry said wryly, with a smirk, that was what usually happened.

Barty laughed quietly as he shook his head, especially at the perplexed looks on the Lestrange's faces, they just didn't know Harry's character like he did.

"Then I'm coming as well," Rodolphus stated, refusing to let his brother go alone.

"Wow, you really don't trust me, do you?" Harry said surprise flashing through his green eyes, he'd thought they were at least beginning to believe he was not here spying. "Do you think so little of Voldemort that you think he'd be duped by an idiot who by the way didn't have a single mind shield available when I first got here?" ignoring the flinches of the three Lestrange's, at least Barty no longer flinched when he used Voldemort's name.

"Do you honestly think I would have helped you if I didn't trust you?" Rodolphus retorted, annoyed that Harry was assuming he thought so little of the Dark Lord and insulting him by using his name.

"When it comes to you…I honestly have no idea, you are night and day, I can't figure you out at all," Harry replied blandly.

"The world doesn't revolve around you," Rodolphus sneered, uncomfortable by the fact Harry was able to read him so well.

Harry sighed, "I'm leaving, you can come or not, it's entirely up to you," not in the mood to get into a debate if he was honest, he wanted to get the books from the Black library, give Voldemort the ones he needed to deal with phoenixes and get back to his project.

Sauntering away from the table, Barty threw back, "You coming? He will leave without us," and with that he smirked as he heard the twin scrapes of the chairs as Rabastan and Rodolphus vacated their seats, with murmured goodbye's to their father. The potions they'd taken earlier will probably wear off pretty quickly, as the aches reinserted themselves.

The brothers didn't take too long to catch up with Harry, as they all prepared to go out. Rodolphus and Rabastan accepted the pieces of paper they were handed, and as soon as they read the last word the secret from the paper went up in flames. The fire didn't so much as singe or burn their hands as it did so, but the paper was reduced to ash before being scattered into the wind. Harry didn't wait around and say another word, instead he apparated away, Barty quickly followed so the brothers were quick to join.

The brothers noticed Draco Malfoy following from a distance and made a mental note to speak to Lucius about his idiotic son.

The four of them found themselves on the street of Grimmauld Place, number twelve slowly materialised in front of Rabastan and Rodolphus. Barty had been there before, so he already saw number twelve while it materialised for the other two. The area was exactly the same as it had

"It's been…nearly two decades since I was here last," Rodolphus admitted a little wistfulness entering his tone.

"Regulus?" Harry queried, smirking a little at the surprise on his face, Rodolphus glanced at Barty quickly, presumably suspecting he had said something. He didn't need to look to know Barty was shaking his head with his own amusement displayed.

"Yes," Rodolphus admitted, finding no shame in that. They were like brothers, branding together for a common cause. Friends in school first, before gravitating towards the Dark Lord and becoming Death Eaters together. Although, Regulus was acting rather odd before he disappeared, he'd actually meant to talk to him about it the next time there was a meeting then he'd gone missing. The Blacks had announced his death (their wonderful tapestry revealed all) and not the only one, it was barely a while after Orion's death was announced. He wondered if the property was still the same?

A sudden pop of someone Apparating had everyone drawing their wands, only for all of them to be stupefied by the fact it was Luna Lovegood.

"Luna…what…" Harry said bewildered, why the hell was she here?

"Dumbledore is coming with Order members, get out of here, now!" Luna demanded, running towards them, a concerned look on her face, evidently the outcome was not a good one for them. "Move!" she added with a yell of frustration as she reached them, glancing over Harry's shoulder with a knowing look in her eye. Jerking him out of his stupor, Harry automatically grabbed her, and apparated them away.

R&R

Hmm...I wonder when the best bet for Harry to leave would be, after the fight with Bellatrix or away and then have her start on him upon his return?

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 53

"Shit," Harry cursed viciously, glancing behind him, all the while yanking his cloak up over his head. He might have a million questions flying through his mind, but he would not risk her being right. He wondered if she'd overheard something and had put her own life in risk to tell him or if it was something else? It didn't explain how she'd known where he was, where Grimmauld Place was even in the vicinity.

They'd need to go somewhere, a café in London, but first he'd need to make sure she didn't have any sort of tracking charm on her. So, a pitstop then they'd talk and eat at the same time. Harry was literally just reaching out to Apparate Luna with him. "Damn it!" he scowled in mounting fury when Rodolphus grasped a hold of Luna and Rabastan before Apparating away. He wasn't pissed that Rodolphus had helped Luna per se, not at all but the fact he knew where the idiot was taking her. Straight into the den of Death Eaters, Death Eaters who still didn't bloody trust him completely, and would be more liable to kill Luna than trust her for a second. Voldemort wasn't going to let her go without erasing the memory of the place from her or worse…demanding oaths and endless vows. That was if he was feeling generous, if he was in a mood he was liable to bloody kill her.

Growling lowly, "I'm going to kill him," he vowed as he snatched Barty and Apparated them away from Grimmauld Place, into what he suspected would be one hell of a confrontation.

He was quite correct, Harry's stomach sank, Rodolphus had Apparated Luna to his home. Honestly, for a smart wizard he was being completely stupid. Removing his wand, he looked around warily, glad to see that there was nobody lurking outside. "What the fuck do you think you're doing bringing her here?!" he roared at Rodolphus, his magic leaking from him as he struggled to control his mounting fury.

Rodolphus took a step back, fear slithering down his spine, when you felt dark magic that way…the first instinct is to take cover. He was utterly saturated in it, and the magic was sparking out of him in droves. With the Dark Lord it was cold, calculated and controlled, Harry's was the opposite, hot, untameable and relentless. Gulping slightly, once again reminded just why Harry Potter-Black fitted in so well.

"You might want to calm down, Harry," Barty warned him, standing close to Harry, "You'll have a very uncontrolled situation on your hands otherwise…" the Death Eaters would converge on them in droves, wanting to see what was going on.

"I already have!" Harry spun around to face Barty, hissing the words out through gritted teeth. "You seriously think she's going to get to just walk away?" he wouldn't even be able to convince Voldemort of that, not even if he had a million years. He'd be lucky if he managed to stop Voldemort killing her for Merlin's sake.

"She is standing right here," Luna pointed out crossly, "I knew very well what I was getting into!"

Harry stiffened, his brow furrowed, "You really don't."

Harry didn't even blink at the sudden appearance of Voldemort, who looked just as pissed off as him. Instead, he just raised his hands in the air in defeat. "Brilliant!" he muttered darkly. He'd sort of expected him sooner, like the second they Apparated sort of soon.

"What is going on here?" Voldemort demanded, eyes narrowed in on the blonde-haired girl he knew to be Luna Lovegood, he also didn't fail to notice the protective stance Harry had standing beside her.

Harry sighed, brushing his hand through his hair, thinking of the best way to reveal everything to Voldemort without Luna being killed on sight.

"Dumbledore placed wards around the vicinity of Grimmauld Place, he might have forgotten the address, or how to find it." Luna was the one who spoke, quiet and respectful, but she wasn't doing that because it was Voldemort, that was just how Luna always was. Even towards those who bullied her she had been tranquil and humble. "He's grown more desperate to find you, Harry, and he if he did…you would have been…changed," a shudder ran down her spine the unending number of bloods spilled was nightmare fuel for her.

Everyone narrowed their eyes for different reasons, "What does that mean?" Harry asked, almost afraid to know.

"It's a long story, one that's best told away from prying ears," Luna said, giving a subtle glance over to where she knew Draco Malfoy was watching.

Harry impatiently closed his eyes, not even having to look over to know who she was referring to. Draco Malfoy was quite quickly becoming a thorn in his side; he was tempted to kill the idiot. Especially the way he was feeling, which was more vulnerable than he had in a while and he did not like it at all. "I wish to grant Luna Lovegood safe passage," Harry eventually asked of Voldemort, green eyes unconsciously pleading.

"Very well," Voldemort conceded, unable to say no to Harry when he begged so sweetly.

Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty startled at how quickly the Dark Lord had given in to Harry's demands. Rodolphus shared a look with his brother, perhaps there was something in what Barty and Rabastan said. They would need to keep an eye out, truly curious to know if perhaps he was right, that they would have a consort – if Harry could be coined one which really, he shouldn't be since he was a Lord, twice, in his own right. He was as high up the hierarchy in terms of the pureblood ladder, perhaps just as high as the Dark Lord…some might say higher actually. Although not out loud if they want to live.

As if Rabastan agreed with his brother, understood where his thoughts were going nodded just once.

Despite the agreed safe passage, Harry kept Luna behind him as they began walking into the manor, with the Dark Lord leading. His strides were quick and urgent, it was clear to see that he wanted answers. Answers he'd only get once everyone was settled in for the time being. Harry worried regardless, just because she had safe passage in, didn't guarantee her complete safety.

It did not take them long at all to reach the Dark Lord's downstairs office, the moment they were all inside, the door was slammed shut and wards flared to life. Nobody, not even Draco Malfoy could hope to hear them down, although it would be amusing to see Voldemort's reaction if he did try.

"Luna what's going on? what do you mean by I would be changed?" Harry asked, as they all sat down, his confusion taking prominence. Sure, he understood that Luna might not know the answer to that question.

"You forget how smart Dumbledore is, he's created a potion that's part alchemy, part potion, it works like a liquid Imperius curse, giving you traits that he wished for you to have and without an anti-dote you would have remained his version of what he wanted you to be." Luna explained.

Harry paled, his stomach rebelling dangerously, what the fuck? He knew just how smart Dumbledore was, that's why he was considered a danger to them all. Yet to think Dumbledore was desperate enough to give him an untried potion without an antidote to get him to do his bidding…it was exactly like the old fool really. He was obsessed with ending the war, of him being the one to end it. They why only really made sense now, after Voldemort explained what he had inside of him. He was a Horcrux, he could imagine Dumbledore's plan alright, and he did not like it one bit.

"What are you?" Voldemort demanded, already heavily suspecting she was either a spy or something…much, much more. He knew everyone Dumbledore paid special attention to; Luna Lovegood wasn't one of those people. Nine times out of ten, those he paid special attention to he recruited for his Order. Unless, Severus had been mistaken, but he very much doubted it. Severus had been good at what he did, and he'd seen his memories of his time under Dumbledore's thumb. The thought of such a potion going into anyone let alone Harry infuriated him, causing his maroon eyes to flash dangerously.

"I am a seer," Luna spoke the words out loud without riddles for the first time in her life. She never thought she'd see the day where she actually joined a side, let alone revealed that information about herself. The fact that it was Voldemort himself, well, the irony wasn't lost on her at all. Yet she could see what was happening with greater accuracy each day that passed. It was almost as if events that had to pass unencumbered had done so allowing her to see fully for the first time. Although it may have something to do with her age, if this was it now, she wondered how much better control she'd have when she turned seventeen.

Harry suddenly smirked, green eyes gleaming, noticing the subtle reverential gleam in Voldemort's eyes. Oh, he was definitely not going to kill her, at least not unless he had absolutely no choice. She had chosen to come here, had chosen to warn him despite the obvious consequences – becoming entrenched in the dark was consequences enough you'd think – the outcome had to run in her favour…and she obviously wanted what was best for him too. "We need to take him out, now," he demanded, shuddering violently at the thought of what could have come to pass had Luna not warned them.

"What else do you know?" Voldemort asked, eyeing the girl with highly suspicious maroon eyes.

"I know a lot," Luna revealed, "Some of which cannot be revealed until its time, others completely insignificant, my abilities haven't always been…so clear."

"Do you know where that potion is?" Harry asked, mildly, green eyes flashing furiously, the desire to feed the old bastard the very potion he wished for him to take…it was very much prominently on the forefront of his mind. "Or more accurately where the old fool is staying?" would she give him the information he so desired?

"The most obvious place you can think of," Luna replied a knowing look on her face, "Who do most people go to when they're in trouble?"

Harry just stared blankly, how the hell should he know? Was this something he'd have to figure out on his own?

"Family," Rodolphus blurted out, "I'd go to family," which was true enough, the first thought when he got out of Azkaban was his father, who he knew was alive due to the letters they received from him. It was the only contact they were allowed with the outside world due to the fact they were top level Azkaban detainees. Watching the blonde with fascination, he remembered her father, vaguely, he was older than him, by at least a decade.

"His brother? You mean he's in Hogshead pub?" Harry muttered incredulously, that he hadn't seen coming, at all. Why the hell would Aberforth even think of helping his most wanted brother? They didn't get on, in fact Aberforth hated his brother, he might not remember the interrogation he'd undergone but they sure as hell did…and the newspaper got a whole flew of information because of it. Harry groaned and pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, Merlin, help him, they really did need to take care of Dumbledore and very soon. "He'll probably have his room warded to the nines, if he's still near Grimmauld Place now might be the only time we have to get the damn thing. Maybe inform the Aurors where he is…give us time to get it?"

"Or we can take a leaf out of your book and send your House-elf to claim it," Voldemort stated with feral viciousness. Oh, he knew what sort of person Dumbledore would have turned Harry into. He would have had no choice but to fight his horcrux and Harry himself, since Harry under that influence wouldn't stop until he was dead. He didn't delude himself into thinking it could have been fought, the seer had brought them this information for a reason. Harry definitely had found a rare gem to call a 'friend' then again, he would have 'befriended' someone unique as well.

It was an odd experience for Luna, to have seen this conversation in clarity to have it play out in real life. It was giving her such a sense of Déjà vu. Of course, some things were different, she didn't just envision one potential outcome but one, two sometimes three. It made things a little exciting, she was definitely glad she hadn't seen her own death. The one difference was the fact Voldemort hadn't been pissed off enough to end her life before finding out she was a seer and not a spy for the Order.

"Destroy the potion and remove the memory from Dumbledore," Luna cautioned, "Such a potion should not exist, not even for one's own ends." Giving Voldemort a knowing look, she knew what he was tempted to do, and it would largely backfire at some point. She just couldn't see that point due to the fact that future was so undecided at the moment.

Rodolphus listened and watched the witch closely, feeling awed of her ability to be calm and respectful in the face of the Dark Lord. Not many could say they reacted this way. Most people he had seen meeting the Dark Lord were usually speechless, and embarrassed themselves or terrified and wetting themselves. Both scenarios actually amused the Dark Lord to no end. Interest sparked within him, as he watched her, she must be something else if Harry had befriended her.

"Dobby?" Harry called out, commanding the House-elves presence without being a nasty shit about it, like the others all were.

"What can Dobby do for Master Harry?" his eyes brightening when he noticed Luna – Harry Potter's Loony as he liked to call her – he always helped take care of Master Harry's friends even if they – or Harry – didn't know about it. He owed his master everything after all, for saving him from the daily beatings and mental abuse the Malfoy's inflicted upon him. He didn't care what side his Master was on, even before he had the spells – quite willingly actually – placed upon him to ensure there was never any question of his loyalty.

"Dumbledore is currently staying above Hogshead pub, with his brother," Harry explained, ignoring the disgust coming from the Lestrange's at his casual way of speaking to Dobby. "He has a very dangerous potion that would cause a lot of trouble…that would harm me, I want you to find his room and bring back every single vial or goblet of potion you find, in fact, just take everything except his clothes. It needs to be destroyed, Dobby, as quickly as possible."

Once Dobby disappeared, Harry glanced up at Voldemort in silent query, a single nod was his answer. The Aurors had already been informed and were on their way to Grimmauld Place to deal with Dumbledore. Voldemort obviously had a way of communicating with the Death Eaters, since Lucius was already at the Ministry and presumably already informed the Aurors or subtly manipulated them into believing they had a sudden 'tip' from a source who wished to remain 'anonymous' out of fear of retaliation. It would be believed after all.

"Does your dad know where you are?" Harry asked, knowing that it would kill Xeno if he believed anything had happened to his daughter. She was all he had left in the world, and he adored the ground she walked on, he only needed to look at him to know that.

"He knows," Luna reassured him, seeing the cross look on Voldemort's face, "Or rather understands that I won't be back for a while," she hadn't actually told him she was going to be in the Dark Lord Voldemort's manor. Her father probably wouldn't have let her leave if she told him that.

"I want to talk to Ms. Lovegood, alone," Voldemort demanded, telling them to get out of the room without saying the words.

Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"Now," Voldemort added, not in the mood to listen to him protest against his decision, especially not in front of this newcomer, seer or not he demanded respect.

"Fine. I'll be back in about ten-fifteen minutes," giving Voldemort a look that suggested she better be fine at the end of this and NOT in a cell along with Tonks. Or he would break her out and leave. There were a few people he had silently decided were completely off limits, Neville and Luna (as well as their families) were most definitely off limits.

The second he, the Lestrange's and Barty were out of the room, leaving Luna inside with Voldemort Harry rounded on Rodolphus. "You ever, ever do anything like that again and I swear I'll make what you did to the Longbottom's pale in comparison to what I have in mind for you. You'll be begging for death and I will never grant it. You could have gotten her killed! You still could!" he couldn't believe Rodolphus had apparated her here, well, actually, he could. Bloody idiot, and his loyalty to Voldemort, he meant it though, if anything happened to Luna, he would kill him.

Rodolphus outwardly remained stoic despite the fact he was a quivering wreck inside. Being on Harry Potter's bad side was a very…ill-advised idea apparently. If there was any truth to Harry's potential place at the Dark Lord's side…it made him a threat that he had best not antagonise. He didn't want to test the theory on whether Harry was more important than him, that's for damn certain. He had reacted to the potential threat without truly thinking it through. "I…apologise," Rodolphus managed to get out through gritted teeth, a sign of weakness apologising, but he conceded naturally that he owed the boy it.

"I mean it!" Harry spat, before he stalked off, fury exuding from every pore of his body.

Barty let out a breath, well, that had gone pear-shaped very quickly.

"You were right," Rodolphus told his brother, "Did you see the way he got away with asking questions?" none of them would have dared to do that, if anyone else had done it they'd have been cursed within seconds. The way he had looked at the Dark Lord spoke volumes too.

"He's been doing that since the beginning," Barty shrugged, "He holds no fear of the Dark Lord and I personally think he likes that," he finished wryly, his voice low just in case the Dark Lord could hear them, even if they could hear nothing coming from within the room. Hell, he had guts to talk so casually with the Dark Lord at meal times, it had been quite hilarious to see everyone's reactions and indignation at what they felt was a slight and disrespect. The others just didn't get it. But they would. It would just take time.

That's if Luna's arrival and potential danger didn't send Harry disappearing for good. Rodolphus had meant well, it just hadn't ended well.

"At least she's marginally safe," Barty offered, speaking mostly to himself, "I mean…a seer," he whispered almost reverently, prophets were dime a dozen, but seers were rarer. After seers were abducted and taken for powerful men wishing to know the future, and keep it themselves, the Ministry and Dark wizards included, seers never boasted about their abilities, they kept themselves hidden in plain sight. The fact Luna had revealed she was a seer to Voldemort…it spoke volumes, she had to trust what she'd seen in the future to have faith him. That got his blood pumping really good, between a seer, Harry Potter…the building blocks to them being successful was all laid out there for the world to see.

Rodolphus blinked, she was a pretty little thing, very powerful too, a seer, and he couldn't help but wonder what she could see.

"Quick question…is it possible to remember the impossible by using a pensive?" Harry asked them casually, leaning against the wall, a picture of nonchalance. "I mean even after a Fidelius Charm has been cast?"

The Lestrange's and Barty blinked blankly at him before it was replaced with a thoughtful frown, it was a very good question…one they hadn't contemplated before. "You think that's how Dumbledore remembered?"

"It's just a thought," Harry replied, and he definitely wasn't going to be looking it up any time soon, he had enough on his plate as it was. His attempt at 'Nonchalance' deteriorated quickly, as he began to impatiently tap his foot. "I'm done," 'waiting' went unsaid as he stalked over to the door and opened it, he found Luna and Voldemort eyeing each other like predators, as if trying to win the upper hand over the other. "Any news?"

Annoyance flashed over Voldemort's face for a moment, but his eagle eyes caught the apprehension Harry was trying to hide. Interesting, he wasn't used to anything affecting Harry, yet this news apparently troubled him greatly. "There has been no news from Lucius yet, I believe he will head back as soon as he gets word to let me know." The connection didn't work both ways, he made demands of Lucius and that was that.

"Speaking of Lucius…tell him to get that spawn of his under control," Harry hissed out in annoyance.

Voldemort blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of subject, "And what exactly is young Malfoy doing to have your ire directed at him?"

"He's been following me, and it's beginning to get on my nerves," Harry revealed in aggravation. "If I catch him in the mood, I'm in…" he gritted his teeth, well, Draco Malfoy would find himself in a world of hurt.

Luna sniggered, before her hand slapped over her mouth when she realized it had come out loud. "Nice to see some things never change, he had best watch himself otherwise he'll end up like Marge did."

"Who's Marge?" Barty asked, always eager for information especially on Harry.

"Vernon Dursley's sister," Harry stated coolly, raising his hands in the air in defeat, seems like his conversation was over then, arching his brow, that was rather scary that she knew so much about him without him revealing anything. It was also fascinating; did she actually see what happened or did the information come to her after?

Barty's eyes gleamed, "What happened to her?" whatever it was, he imagined it was well worth it.

"Actually…to this day I'm not exactly sure," Harry admitted as he slumped down in his usual seat, right next to Voldemort and across from Luna. "She just started to inflate; she was already a huge woman to begin with so it didn't take much to have her you know…floating up to the ceiling. Then like a balloon she began floating away. They managed to find her eventually and return her to normal though…minus the memories," which had irritated him, not that he'd shown that. He hated the woman with a fiery passion. He would have loved to have seen her cowed, too terrified to raise her hand to him again. Although…given how thick Vernon is…perhaps she wouldn't have.

"Brilliant," Barty whistled, "Leave that on long enough they will explode, their internal organs pack in, damn, that's dark magic, wonder how they managed to keep that quiet."

"Too bad the Ministry was alerted the moment I used magic then," Harry said, almost sounding petulant.

Barty just grinned wickedly, as always Harry reminded him every day that he had a steel backbone, and he might not be like the others but he was still wickedly devious and dark as they came.

Rabastan grinned, seeing the Lestrange in Harry Potter-Black for the first time, well, if you exclude the duel he summarised internally.

Rodolphus smirked a little, respect once again pinging inside of him for harry, his emotions for the teen keep ping-balling back and forth. Of course, none of this concern showed on his face. He felt like a young teenager again, especially emotionally. This should have all worn off, he'd been given the all clear having followed the healers directives.

"All of you, leave," Voldemort barked out, his annoyance obvious for all to see. "As for you, Harry, I expect you back here within the hour." He ordered.

Harry nodded, "Alright," taking Luna's elbow and guiding her out of the room, "Come on let's go,"

"She remains within the property," Voldemort demanded, his tone booking no arguments.

"I figured," Harry threw back, "See you later,"

The three Death Eaters just stared, at the sigh of exasperation that left their Lord.

Barty left the room sniggering, it was now the second person who had left Lord Voldemort's office laughing, which is exactly what he did moments after stepping out, unaware that he could be heard.

Luna hastened her stride to keep up with Harry, who was seemingly content to drag her off her feet to…who knows where. The place was silent as the grave, she couldn't hear a single noise and didn't notice even one person since Harry guided her out of Voldemort's office. The little chat had gone better than anticipated. Admittedly there was a great deal of suspicion on her from the Dark Lord, after all what better way to get Voldemort's attention than secreting a seer under his nose, someone to report back to Dumbledore. After losing Severus, it would be a move Dumbledore was looking to make. Each side wanted to know what the other was doing. He wouldn't just accept it; he was going to require a demonstration of her powers at some point.

"Slow down," Luna asked, her legs were beginning to strain with her attempts to keep up with Harry lest she end up being practically dragged up the stairs.

Harry slowed immediately, "Sorry," he replied slightly sheepishly, easing up on his grip and strides, "We're nearly there," he promised her, and true to his word, they stopped outside his bedroom. Opening the door, he glanced around, looking for the familiar head of blonde hair, but to his surprise and suspicion there was no sight. Hmm, he'd need to keep a better eye on the blonde idiot, especially right now, if he wasn't here then he was definitely up to something. "Come on in," he added, once they were both in his bedroom he closed the door, the wards flaring as they always did.

"Is this your suite?" Luna asked, gazing around, curiosity getting the better of her. You could always tell so much about a person by their bedroom, the dorms were different, naturally messy.

"Yeah, have you eaten?" Harry asked her, almost feeling off-kilter about her being here, especially in his personal domain. Only Barty, Severus and Voldemort had actually been in here.

"No," Luna replied, shaking her head, drawn to the warmth of the fire, sitting herself comfortably on the seat nearest it. She'd been so worried she'd immediately left, without putting anything on to keep her warm. It might be only August but it was still cold enough to require a jumper which she did not have on. She'd had to run knowing how vital it was to get there before it.

"Amita?" Harry called out to the House-elf, she was Voldemort's, he rarely used her preferring instead to use Dobby. She would do in a pinch, since Dobby was busy. He was stuck between wanting to be down in Voldemort's office where the updates would be immediate, and staying here with Luna. Although he definitely had an extremely important question to ask her, all else could wait.

"What can Amita do for Master Harry Potter-Black?" the diminutive creature asked.

Luna gasped in shock, at the pronouncement. "You're Black's heir?" unable to help herself.

"Can you bring us up a platter of food, please?" Harry asked her kindly, surprisingly enough, despite his orders Voldemort treated them decently. By decently he meant that, especially when compared to how the Lestrange's reacted to his perceived 'kindness' and how Malfoy treated his House-elf. He was made a note to himself that she didn't know everything, which pleased him.

Amita immediately popped away to do as bid, not bowing and scraping, aware their Masters' didn't care for delays. When they wanted something done, they expected it done immediately.

"So…Black heir?" Luna unhelpfully wanted more answers.

"Not quite," Harry said amused, "I'm Lord Potter-Black, as in the Lord of both estates," he corrected her assumption.

Luna gaped for a moment; he'd certainly kept that quiet. "Oh," was all she could articulate.

"Luna…I can get you out of here," Harry said sombrely, a worried look on his face, "The only problem is you'll need to go into hiding, probably forever." Giving it to her straight, but he would help her if she asked it of him. She was one of the few people he actually considered a friend and would do anything for.

"No, I'm needed here," Luna replied right away, not surprised by his offer, Harry would do anything for his friends, that much was obvious. He wasn't one for picking up and discarding friends easily or at all really. When he became friends with someone…they remained friends until they royally screw up and there were no second chances…he didn't even stay mad either. She'd seen him interacting with Ron after all that went down, and he was kind and also supportive to an extent. He'd just made it clear to the red head that their friendship was over but they could remain acquaintances. He'd heard them talking about Quidditch and things like that, without any warmth admittedly.

A platter of food popped into the room, on the table, ready for them to just eat. It was overflowing with food, but with some of the others already leaving there was probably enough food to last the remainder of the group for a couple of days.

"Needed? Or you want to be?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Grabbing a few sandwiches he absently began to nibble on them as he thought on everything that had come to pass in the past…what twenty minutes maybe thirty? There was no way she would have come here unless she saw a favourable outcome for herself. She'd have surely warned him then apparated away herself.

"Can't it be both?" Luna questioned innocently, her wide blue eyes staring into Harry's with only a sliver of wickedness in her gaze.

"With you? Absolutely," Harry agreed with that statement. "Are you sure?"

"I am," Luna replied, she had made her choice.

"You understand that you'll lose Neville?" Harry said, a saddened look on his face, he had come to terms with losing Neville as a friend when this whole thing came to public knowledge. Unfortunately, he just couldn't remain firmly on the light side for the sake of one person…maybe two, since Hermione was always going to remain on the light side but he wasn't as close to her as possible. Hell, she might join the Order and be the enemy fighting them.

Fighting the inevitable.

Luna got a knowing look on her face, "Perhaps," if what she saw came to pass…then things would be okay, nowhere near the best friend scale but not the enemy Harry was envisioning Neville seeing him as. She picked up a bundle of grapes and began to chew on them as she watched a thoughtful look pass across Harry's features.

"Alright…if you're sure," Harry agreed, he couldn't say he was displeased by what happened, it would be nice to have Luna on his side. Not because of her seer abilities, which he hadn't known about all that long. Rather because he had missed her. "There will be a lot of distrust from the others, heck, they might dare to attack you." Which of course, he would never allow to happen…at least not more than once.

"Then perhaps you'll help train me further?" Luna made it sound like a suggestion but it was a thinly veiled order.

Harry narrowed his eyes, sensing the undercurrent order, only Luna would get away with such a thing, he didn't even let Voldemort Order him around. "Perhaps," Harry gave his own warning right back with a look. He wasn't going to take orders from anyone and if she thought she was being subtle she wasn't. Subtlety wasn't ever lost on him; he knew manipulation like he knew his own wand.

Albeit he didn't know everything, especially when it came to emotions, but such as life for Harry who hadn't experienced life as a normal child or teenager.

Dobby interrupted the tense atmosphere, by appearing with what Harry assumed was a box containing everything found in Dumbledore's rooms in Hogshead.

"Did you check everywhere, Dobby?" Harry asked immediately. Desiring to make sure that there weren't any tracking charms or recalling spells upon the items. If there were he would prefer them removed, he did not wish for Dumbledore to remember whatever it was that Luna saw that could turn him into a puppet. The sheer idea of it terrified Harry and he'd long since stopped fearing Dumbledore.

"Dobby did, he brought everything Master Harry, Sir," Dobby said with a beaming smile, knowing he'd served his Master well. "No spells, curses or hexes, all safe." Absolutely delighted in being able to do as his Master Harry wished. He didn't ask for anything much, at least when he compared to his life within Hogwarts or worse the Malfoy family.

"That's perfect, Dobby, thank you," Harry said, feeling relieved, hoping against hope that the damn potion Dumbledore intended to use on him was amongst those Dobby had brought. Knowing his luck, Dumbledore would be too cautious to allow it, but he didn't have much in the way of other options. "I best get this to Voldemort, stay in here, I'll be back as soon as I can, just…stay here for now, there's plenty to read, the writing materials are over there," he pointed to their general direction.

"Leave the door open, I'll have it closed later," Luna commented, as Harry walked towards the door with the large box containing the potions from Dumbledore's abode.

Harry threw her a confused look, he never left his door open, he wasn't about to start now, especially not with Luna in the room. Short of actually putting the box down, and closing the door…he couldn't actually shut it anyway. He grunted, forcing himself to stop as he bumped into Rodolphus Lestrange. Who was sitting on the floor, rolling his wand back and forth absently. "What are you doing here?" he asked the wizard, sounding resigned and suspicious all in one go. Staring down at him wondering why he was waiting on an answer he already knew the answer to.

Rodolphus smoothly raised himself off the floor, brushing off his clothes as if he were removing an imaginary piece of lint. He didn't do awkward and clumsy; such a thing had been well corrected by the time he entered Hogwarts. Elocution, etiquette and every manner of lessons had been taught to him. being hit with a stinging jinx for shrugging his shoulders or putting his elbows on the table wasn't exactly what he'd consider a fun time. It was memories he'd rather forget, even though the lessons were deeply ingrained now. "Is Miss Lovegood receiving visitors?"

Harry's lips twitched, finding himself amused, he sounded like someone out of those old books his teacher in primary school read from. Then again, the Pureblood's were old fashioned, he wondered if they were all like that, if so, it was going to be an amusing time to be around the Lestrange's that was for damn sure. "Luna, you want to talk to Rodolphus?" Harry called out loudly, Rodolphus grunted in annoyance, his lips in a thin line of displeasure.

Voldemort must have given Rodolphus permission to be in this wing, Harry didn't know how he felt about that, nor did he know how to feel about Rodolphus' sudden interest in Luna. He had a rough idea that he wasn't just going in there to apologise for bringing her into the vipers nest even if it had been pure panic. They knew they'd have been figured out if Dumbledore had gotten there on time. It would have ruined everything for them and the Dark Lord's disappointment was painful. Literally and metaphorically.

"Sure," Luna called back, her giggle thawed Rodolphus dour mood almost immediately much to Harry's amazement.

"Want me to remain and be a chaperone?" Harry teased, not sure whether he was teasing Luna or Rodolphus.

"Harry!" Luna called back sounding exasperated and fondly amused.

"It's only appropriate," Rodolphus informed him, his own lips twitching, finding himself amused by the teasing. See, his emotions kept ping-ponging all over the place, and he detested it. He wished they would settle down already, he was physically fit, his magic had settled, why were his emotions taking so long to catch up?

Harry grasped a hold of Rodolphus arm, and led him down the hall, "What is that look on your face?" Harry asked, eyeing Rodolphus with an intense look.

"What? Nothing!" Rodolphus argued, a blank mask covering his features, even if he was unnerved by the teens grasp on something being wrong with him.

"It's not nothing," Harry argued, "You're…there's something wrong,"

Rodolphus just sneered, becoming irritated with his probing.

"Tell me," Harry said, green eyes softening a little, "If you won't…at least tell Vol…the Dark Lord," the words were exasperated giving in and saying the damnable words.

"Don't tell him," Rodolphus warned him, seeing it as a threat instead of concern. He didn't want to be excluded from any upcoming missions, even if it had been quiet on that front. Although it seemed it was just starting to build back up, if the sudden missions were anything to go on.

"Rodolphus I'm not saying this because I want you to get into trouble…but so many different emotions in one go…all different extremes, isn't normal," Harry cautioned him, he'd gone from amused, angry, sappy, happy then extremely vexed before settling on pleased again. "The potion to negate exposure to the Dementors was experimental but approved…did you take the calming draughts for the entirety of the course you were prescribed?"

"I may have missed a few," Rodolphus admitted with a grumble, "I was dealing with Bellatrix and she was taking them, I didn't think they were that important…" judging by how Harry was reacting perhaps he should have done so.

"Explains why your brother's fine but you're not," Harry said shrewdly, "No wonder you're messed up, I'll brew a strong, fresh batch after I'm done with the meeting…you take them all and at the requisite time is that understood?" how he'd gone so long without anyone noticing was beyond him. Then again pureblood's had a good hold of their emotions to begin with, except when they got a good drink in them.

Rodolphus winced, so they had been important, "Why bother taking them now?" shouldn't his emotions have gone back to normal by now? He'd been out of Azkaban for a long time now, were his feelings for Luna a result of his instability? Merlin, he hoped not, for the first time in a really long time, he felt something good, something pure, something he'd desperately wanted to feel for Bellatrix but couldn't.

"You need to take them, the course is four weeks long, it will straighten you out," Harry stated, "You take them every morning after breakfast, don't make me have to make sure you've taken it every day. If I have to, I will tell Voldemort."

Rodolphus flinched at the name and the warning, which wasn't thinly veiled at all, not very Slytherin but at the same time very effective so perhaps it did have some element of Slytherin in it after all. Shifting almost restlessly, "Is it that bad?" he didn't like the thought of anyone being able to read him so well, especially considering he didn't spend a lot of time with the teen.

"Not glaringly obvious, no, but your reactions to me vary widely by day, and that is abnormal," Harry stated, relieved beyond belief that the potion wasn't degrading. It would have resulted in instability in the Death Eaters resurfacing and Sirius getting becoming so as well. "According to Severus it's not your normal behaviour, and yes, he's noticed as well,"

"Which means My Lord has definitely noticed too," Rodolphus whispered mostly to himself, sounding rather devastated by that.

"I wouldn't be surprised, he's the most observant wizard I've ever met," Harry said, surprisingly being honest with himself. He'd figured Dumbledore out when he was just eleven when nobody else had. It had nothing to do with Slytherin houses' influence either, since Voldemort said it was before he stepped foot in Hogwarts. It was one of the rare times he actually spoke about himself, when they were duelling and discussing Dumbledore and how they'd figured out there was just something more to the old man. That he was wearing nothing but a façade.

He had too, but not to the same extent Voldemort had.

"He is," Rodolphus said reverently.

Harry told him, "I'll have the potion made for you within two to three hours depending on how long the meeting runs,"

A mixture of annoyance, anger and exasperation ran through Rodolphus. He was getting worse, he realised, he prayed the potion actually worked…and he hadn't screwed himself up completely. The calming draughts he'd taken occasionally, had masked the symptoms…and he'd slowly gotten worse over time. "I will," and it want a placation, he had every intention of taking the potions. It had to be quick, he didn't want the Dark Lord to be disappointed in him, the idea very nearly had him puking up.

"Of course he will," came Luna's voice through the door causing both to startle just so.

Harry chortled wickedly, having absolutely no doubt she would, before he knew her, he wouldn't have thought so, now? now he knew she cared for those she liked very much. She didn't seem to care about her own bullies and needs while at Hogwarts which irritated him.

Rodolphus looked at the door with a constipated look on his face, surprised and confused as to why she would even care. It would take a long time, even with Rodolphus' mental state becoming solid for him to realize that not everyone was Bellatrix.

"I've got to go, see you later!" Harry called out, taking off down the hall, technically Voldemort said an hour and that hour definitely hadn't passed yet. Harry though, wanted to know what was going on with Dumbledore, the Ministry and even everyone in the manor. The lockdown was officially over, but he didn't know if anyone had been told yet.

Rodolphus watched Harry Potter's retreating form, he was unlike any other wizard he'd ever met. Go figure he would be friends with a girl who was unlike any other witch he'd ever met. She made his heart pound, palms sweaty, and Merlin he could wax poetically about her, she was just…mesmerising. He had so many questions about her abilities, and more importantly why she'd chosen to help.

Taking a deep breath, Rodolphus stepped inside, none of his nerves showing, so very curious about her.

He hadn't felt curious about anyone in such a long time, it made for a refreshing change.

"Is that everything gathered from the old fools room?" Voldemort asked Harry the second he stepped into the room, standing up gesturing for Harry to put them on the table he was now standing in front of. He was slightly surprised he'd came to him and hadn't attempted to figure everything out on his own. Pleasantly surprised, it meant Harry was beginning to realize he had people he could rely on.

"Yeah," Harry said, barely blinking at the sight of Lucius and Fenrir – who were glaring at each other – in the room. Moving over to the table, he slid the box and its contents onto the stable surface and opened it for the first time. He chuckled when he realized what Dobby had done, he'd literally boxed everything, including his Bourbon and fire whiskey bottles. "Did they get him?"

Lucius let out a strangled sound which made Fenrir bark out a sound of amusement.

"They did," Voldemort informed him, "I have a few people keeping an eye on him from afar, they will stop any attempts to get to him," to free him went unsaid. It was possible, there were people who would risk life and limb for Dumbledore, refusing to believe who he truly was. There were too many people like that, it was sickening really, how blind they were all to Dumbledore's true character even with proof shoved under their noses. It's what made Dumbledore an extremely dangerous wizard, and they couldn't allow him to roam free…especially with the news they'd just learned. He hadn't spent two years watching Harry flourish only to see him change and have to fight him. Which he would do, if he must, regardless of his feelings. Considering how crafty the boy was…it was a fight he couldn't be entirely confident he'd win.

"I hope you're good at remaining in the shadows," Harry sighed, brushing his hand through his hair, feeling stressed to the max. At least Dumbledore was in prison, he mused, as he unscrewed the caps on the drink and sniffed them, making sure they were what they looked like. The strong smell of alcohol wafted from the bottles rim, definitely just drink. They were automatically put in the bin under the table, so they could focus on the goblets and vials set very carefully and tidily in the box, with Dobby's magic making sure they remained upright and free of spillages. "Can't you get him put in Azkaban right away until his trial? He IS a flight risk,"

Lucius just stared blankly at Harry, "I am going to assume that's some sort of Muggle custom?"

Harry smirked almost ferally, "Do you know the ministry of magic's motto is based on the Muggle one you deride?"

Voldemort cleared his throat, his annoyance unhidden, honestly, those two absolutely love winding each other up. Any other time he would have been quite amused by it. Dumbledore however, was a real danger, especially since his façade was obliterated, he had no job and held no fear of the Ministry. "Harry raises an interesting point, what would it take to get Dumbledore in Azkaban until the trial?"

Harry grinned smugly at Lucius, Merlin, there was nothing more fun than winding Lucius Malfoy up. His Dobby jokes weren't working anymore, so he was having to up his game. Although, strangely enough even that wasn't working. Why the hell had Lucius become so afraid of even reacting remotely to his taunts? It was so unfair. His eyes lit up gleefully when he noticed the subtle twitch of Lucius' jaw, it wasn't much but it showed a reaction.

Fenrir just leaned back enjoying the show, Voldemort knew Harry was taunting the blonde and never did a thing. He wondered how long he'd allowed it, did the boy even realize how high a capacity he was held in? Lucius and Severus were very high up in the inner circle, not many would deliberately wind them up. Hadn't anyone explained anything to him? Or did he know and do it anyway? He wasn't sure which one would cause the more respect for the teen.

"My Lord, I was barely able to convince Fudge to send the Aurors to Grimmauld Place," Lucius replied, his tone as always respectful.

"It's easy, play on his fears," Harry replied sardonically, "Dumbledore's already gotten away once, if he gets away from within the Ministry of Magic itself…the people will lose respect and become worried that others might be able to do the same thing."

Lucius blinked, almost cursing himself, why hadn't he thought of that? Oh, yes, because he was too pissed off at the teenager. He somehow had the capacity to rile him up like nobody else. The worst thing about it, he didn't dare do a single thing, he valued his life and the life of his family thank you very much. Which apparently Draco was jeopardising as it was. Not just with Harry but with Barty and now Rodolphus Lestrange who had come to him and warned him that he'd make Draco regret it if he kept spying on them. Even with his warnings the night of the party, his son was determined to destroy the family name. Or end the damn Malfoy name, Narcissa hadn't been able to get pregnant again and they had reconciled themselves to having only Draco. He'd apparently need to have another talk with him, this time he was bringing in the big guns, in other words his mother. Narcissa would need to be told everything, Draco would listen to her, if everyone thought he was terrifying they evidently hadn't seen Narcissa pissed off.

"Lucius?" Voldemort stated, thinly veiled annoyance in his tone.

"I'll get right on it, My Lord," Lucius said, standing, knowing when he was being dismissed. He hadn't been dismissed from a meeting in a long time, especially since it was still being conducted. His mind wondered whether it was because of Draco's actions or if it was the urgency that was Dumbledore. He chose to believe it was because of the threat that Dumbledore posed. Nodding curtly in respect he vacated the room, hastily making his way to the Ministry, the quicker he dealt with his Lord's demands the sooner he'd return to deal with his son.

"Some of these are just normal potions, pain relievers, calming draughts, ibuprofen muscle relaxants, makes you see the old fool in a new light," Harry said wryly, he was always buoyant, full of life, you don't imagine him with aches and pains. At least he hadn't, although he probably should have, he certainly could run like nobody's business. Had a tight grip too, he knew courtesy of the Triwizard tournament. "He wanted everyone to believe him infallible, seeing him taking these would have ruined the image. It would have enforced the idea that yes, Dumbledore is old, too old, as a matter of fact. They'd have begun thinking he should slow down, take it easy, before long whispers would have started up, insisting he cut back his duties, the Wizengamot and the ICW would have gone first, they liked the old fool too much at Hogwarts." He threw them all in the trash, nobody would be taking anything that belonged to Dumbledore.

Voldemort just observed the teen with a prideful glint in his eyes. Nothing the teen said had surprised him, he knew just how smart Harry was. He saw the world in almost the same way he did, with a few obvious differences, especially in the beginning. Harry had opened his own eyes to some of his misconceptions and he was glad he had. It had taken the war in an entirely different direction. He still wished the boy had more bloodlust though. Bellatrix hadn't taken it well when he had forbidden her from venturing into the dungeons for the foreseeable future. No doubt the news of Tonks placement there would reach her soon, or had already.

Then again perhaps he had enough for both of them.

"Which leaves only five unidentified," Harry gazed suspiciously at the two goblets and three sealed vials. "Do you know the smell of anything alchemy related?"

"Indeed," Voldemort replied, hence his decision to have Fenrir at the meeting, Severus too.

A knock at the door distracted them, "Enter," Voldemort ordered, knowing exactly who it was.

"My Lord," Severus said dutifully, stepping in and closing the door. "You wished to see me?" his eyes were gleaming with excitement.

"We have just found out that Dumbledore created a concoction that's a cross between a potion and alchemy," Voldemort stated, refraining from informing Severus of what exactly it was that was created. He wanted to see if Dumbledore had created it, and if Severus could confirm its authenticity. As tempting as it was to use it, he decided against it, what was created could be used against him, not just Harry or anyone else…thus it would be destroyed. He was too paranoid to allow such a thing to exist.

"I assume it's one of these?" Severus asked, gesturing towards the vials and goblets.

Voldemort gave him the go ahead with a gesture of his hand.

Severus stepped up, black eyes gleaming with challenge, picking up the goblet, he inhaled sharply, his nose picking up the subtle scents of all ingredients from within. Giving it another sniff, his gaze sharpened on the colour, "This is an extra strength bone regrowth draught, it's used for those with a degenerative disease," it does come with old age, his surprise came from the fact Dumbledore clearly had someone brewing this for him that was not him. It was insulting, he was the youngest Potions Master in the world, and the best at what he did, he could have made this potion much more potent.

Harry smothered a snort, "He probably had quite a few potion brewers out there making these for him, if he didn't do it himself. It's not wise to let someone know just how bad off he is. Especially if that someone is a spy, even if he did trust you."

"Oh, he brewed these himself, he wouldn't trust anyone else to know about his predicaments," Voldemort said in deep amusement.

"It means he won't survive in Azkaban long if he's suffering from bone degeneration unless he gets the potions he requests, but too bad there's no healers at the prison." Harry said darkly, he hated that fact, sure they're in prison, but that doesn't mean they didn't deserve the basic human rights.

"Don't tell me you're going to start demanding changes to Azkaban," Voldemort stated, his eyes closing momentarily in exasperation pinching the bridge of his nose.

Fenrir grinned ferally, his very canine teeth showing off, things were much more fun than they had been in decades.

"Maybe," Harry said simply, his tone slightly impish, "I'm sure the others will agree,"

Voldemort just gave Harry a unimpressed look, oh, he knew if the boy dug his claws into the cause he would damn well get his way. He had a penchant for being able to say the right things at the right time. It was infuriating most of the time, other times it amused him to no end.

"I figured out the potion by the way," Severus commented idly.

"Wait, what? The Metamorphmagus potion?" Harry whirled around to face Severus; his teasing Voldemort already forgotten.

"Yes," Severus answered smugly, "But first let's find out what these are," noticing the Dark Lord's edginess.

When Severus opened one of the vials, Fenrir hissed out sounding more feline than canine.

"Close that," a guttered snarl leaving Fenrir's lips, already close to shifting.

Harry stared in surprise; he hadn't seen Fenrir lose it so quickly. "What the hell is in that vial?"

"It's something that causes a werewolf to become…incontrollable," Severus replied, his tone cautious, "If drunk…it would cause irreparable damage to whomever drank it. The worst of it…I do believe it's much like the wolfsbane potion only twenty times stronger and I believe it would be overlooked…" in a routine autopsy diagnosis.

"Whoever?" Harry scoffed, rage building in his system, "We both…no we all know there's only one werewolf who would have trusted Dumbledore unquestionably."

"Lupin," Voldemort and Severus stated sharply.

"My impudent pup," Fenrir scowled at the same time. Another reason why he was quite correct never to trust Dumbledore.

"Damn," Harry said, "Just when I thought he couldn't get any worse."

"What do you know that I don't?" Severus asked, for Harry to say something like that implied Dumbledore had done or planned on doing something to Harry. His friends and the people he cared about always came before himself, hence why he knew it was something that had been done to him.

"You'll see, there's only three other potions left," Harry said, gesturing towards them, he wasn't a master, so he didn't know potions by scent the way Severus did. It was mesmerising to see though, he didn't know how Severus did it, Fenrir was self-explanatory, his sense of smell was much stronger than anyone else's.

Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Very well," reaching forward he grasped the next goblet, it was by far the freshest batch of potion. The second he smelt the scent of books and the scent of the park from his childhood he knew what it was. "This is…an altered version of Amortentia, it does not have its noticeable mother-of-pearl sheen." Which was quite alarming, "My Lord may I take this to inspect it further?" saying nothing else until he gained permission. He was perplexed by it, and genuinely worried about what it could do.

"Very well," Voldemort agreed, getting impatient again.

"I shall have you an update as soon as I have news." Severus nodded his thanks, before getting to the last two vials, yanking the cork out so the wax seal around the edges broke. Taking a sniff of the cork, he froze, blinking, he repeated the process but inside the vial instead of the cork and it was exactly the same scent. He glanced quickly at Harry, who nodded solemnly, hatred blazing in his green eyes.

"There are a few ingredients in this that I can't pinpoint, they're obviously scentless, which means…that this potion couldn't be replicated or an antidote given for." Severus said, his heart pounding in his chest.

"What exactly would it do?" Voldemort asked deceptively, despite the fact he already knew, and Severus knew he already knew.

"This…the ingredients within are all components for ensnaring the mind, utterly bewitching the senses, in essence it would change someone into something else entirely…" Severus paused, unable to find the correct words, "It's worse than the Imperius curse…at least that can be removed or fought, this…this cannot it would change someone so utterly they'd never revert back to their true personality."

"Yes," Harry muttered his agreement, "Thanks to Luna it's not going to happen,"

Severus paled at the prospect of how close he came to closing Harry forever to the light side. It would have made his vow…complicated to say the least. It wouldn't have screwed with only Harry's life but his too. He owed Luna Lovegood a serious thank you, she certainly deserved it. If that was how he felt, he dreaded to think just how pissed off the Dark Lord really was.

"He's at the Ministry, with a little luck Lucius will manage to convince Fudge to send him to Azkaban until his trial," Harry said grimly, it would be much harder to get him out of Azkaban than the Ministry of magic.

Probably the only reason he was alive, the Dark Lord would have sought his death. Severus wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore miraculously turned up dead. Unless, of course, he had something else in mind, presumably worse than death. After what he had just heard, he wasn't opposed to it. He was supposed to be the leader of the light, but these potions would see him sentenced to Azkaban for life itself let alone for all else he'd done during his extended lifetime.

The list was quite extensive. Longer than his name, which would be irritating for the scribe and prosecutors and defendants to call out every time. "Good," Severus sneered, eyes glittering coldly.

"Now what did you mean about the potion?" Harry asked, his attitude changing abruptly, as excitement sprung up from nowhere.

Voldemort actually glanced at Severus in curiosity, the desire to know himself most prominent.

"It appears the potion works at full capacity for those who have Black blood…no matter how far back in the family line." Severus explained haughtily. "Even a single drop six generations ago is enough to give someone full control over Metamorphmagus abilities by the potion,"

"Are you saying we need Tonks blood to harness the potion?" he definitely wouldn't volunteer his own, Voldemort had already done that thank you very much. "Which means technically me and Voldemort could take it since we share the same blood?" and same protection and same soul – even if his was only a shard – but nobody would ever know that.

"Yes, but those who don't have a speck of Black blood only have partial abilities," Severus explained, he might not sound excited but Severus was exuding excitement.

"Most pureblood's are inner related," Fenrir grunted out, as always listening to everything, but only giving his opinion on the rare occasion.

"Very true," Harry said wryly, "Who would have thought the inner breeding was a good thing?"

"Depending on how far back it works," Voldemort pointed out astutely.

"It's definitely something to investigate," Harry replied, "Who did you give the potion to anyway?"

"Ardella Carrow, she is related to the Black's six generations back through her mother, Carina Black a cousin of the main line," Severus informed them, she was quite an unsightly girl, poor thing looked more like her father than should be possible. She'd very quickly volunteered to test it for him, just for the chance to look 'pretty' without having to go through magical procedures which were terribly painful so most people did not go through with it.

"Wait I thought there were only two Carrow's?" Harry asked, how brow furrowing, honestly there were too many people to keep track off.

"She supports the dark but is not an active participant, her mother threw her out over it, she's staying with her father," Severus explained, "She was here during the lock down," her mother had kept her maiden name despite marrying a wizard with a better name, but their marriage ended quite quickly after he realized the brother would always be uncomfortably in the way. Honestly, their relationship was bordering on incest, and actually was if you believed the rumours. So, it was no surprise that the father had demanded a paternity test done on his daughter.

"And her father is?" Harry asked curiously.

"Antony Dolohov, Antonin Dolohov's son," Severus informed him, Antonin had lost his wife at childbirth, nine months after he married her. He'd never remarried, and came to Britain with his son and Antonin was said to be one of the Dark Lord's first Death Eaters. Which was hardly surprising considering how magical Russia had been back then. It was sort of the reversed with those in power killing anyone remotely opposing them. They didn't care who got hurt in the process, and Antonin's new wife was one of those. Antonin now believed those who were in power were corrupt, especially the likes of Dumbledore.

"What age was his son when he was sentenced to Azkaban?" Harry asked unimpressed.

"Fourteen, he lived with his maternal aunt in Russia until his father's breakout and made his way directly here," It was Voldemort surprisingly who answered.

"Which makes him twenty-eight years of age, hell of a chunk of his kids life to miss," Harry conceded, especially considering he'd lost his wife and he could imagine what the wizard heard with the company of only Dementors. Although he could imagine how many children, he had left orphans or without both their parents, how many people he'd tortured and killed. The lines were sort of blurring, he guessed when someone was passionate about something they lost sight of the bad things. He sincerely hoped that didn't happen to him.

Fenrir grunted and stood up, his immense presence felt, before he lumbered out of the room without a word.

Obviously, he wasn't one for small talk while they waited on Lucius Malfoy returning. Hopefully with good news, but Fudge was predictable so it should be good they hoped.

"My Lord…what do you plan on doing to Dumbledore?" Severus dared to ask, tensing slightly at his own audaciousness.

"Nothing," Voldemort informed him imperiously, "I've been advised that killing Dumbledore so soon would have an adverse effect of turning him into a martyr," making it clear who had given him that advice.

"That's true," Severus conceded, understanding the unspoken message all too clear. So soon, which meant he would be dealt with, Severus believed the moment he was sentenced to Azkaban he'd be taken care of. He rather hoped Dumbledore was made an example of, those potions…he deserved to suffer tortures of the damned.

"And it looks like Lucius had returned," Voldemort said deceptively, straightening up further, the wizard better have good news for him. Plucking the vial from Severus fingers, having every intention of destroying it, and killing Dumbledore so such a concoction could never be remade. He accepted the cork and replaced it inside, keeping the liquid from spilling out.

"Are you using the labs for anything?" Harry asked, remembering the fact he'd need to brew the strong calming draughts for Rodolphus.

"I have two cauldrons bubbling away but the rest of the stations are free," Severus replied, "Need any help?"

"I should be fine, I'm just making the extra strength calming draughts," Harry waved away the help, two cauldrons were all it would take and he could make them in sync.

"Ah," Realisation washed over Severus, remembering their discussion while they brewed more of the Metamorphmagus potion. "Was it as bad as we feared?" noticing Voldemort watching them suspiciously.

"Nah," Harry said shaking his head, making it clear there was nothing to worry about.

Voldemort was just about to open his mouth and demand an explanation when Lucius entered without knocking. "Well?" he questioned forcefully.

"I successfully talked him into it, he was already singing off on it and planning his transportation when I left, the others are remaining to keep an eye out." Lucius informed his Lord without pausing to take a breath. The others weren't Death Eaters but sympathisers, the Dark Lord had a lot of them, which was a good thing.

"Good," Voldemort stated in satisfaction very pleased to hear that.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 54

A week had gone by since Luna had come to the manor and Dumbledore had been put in Azkaban. They'd heard nothing yet, at least nothing Voldemort was sharing anyway. Harry suspected that he would tell him, especially given how dangerous Dumbledore was to both of them as a free man. Wanted wizard or otherwise, it was pure luck they'd managed to get Dumbledore arrested at all given his reputation and those who would defend him. Harry hated the wait; it was the same in the muggle world though. It took a long time for someone to gain a trial, but Harry had assumed that since the wizarding world was significantly smaller it wouldn't be such a wait.

"Anything?" Harry asked, entering the dining room, only Voldemort was there, sitting at his chosen spot. They wouldn't be alone for long, those that had remained behind would soon join them. Most of them had previously been incarcerated in Azkaban. Free men only because the world was under the impression they had died upon the island. The reality was, the worst sort of Muggles had actually died there. Soon, they would be able to hold their heads up high and walk in the light of day without fear that a single stray curse could unveil them and put everyone in danger of being discovered. At least those with a miniscule of Black blood running through their veins.

"A Court date has been set, yes," Voldemort drawled in amusement, the boy had been asking him that every day since Dumbledore had been put in Azkaban. He understood the concern, it was rather…terrifying thing to behold that potion. Considering Dumbledore had planned on using it on Harry, presumably, he did understand the constant worry. Which was why he had banished the potion within the boy's sight. He couldn't allow distrust to begin breeding now, not after all the work that had gone into giving Harry the freedom to run his own life. Something Dumbledore had refused him.

"When?" Harry asked, his shoulders unconsciously relaxing, he'd be glad when the news got out and the world saw Dumbledore for what he truly was. There would be people less likely to help Dumbledore when they heard just what he was like under the influence of Veritaserum. He also knew when that happened, Dumbledore's death was going to be planned with retribution and swiftness that would stun the magical world. He'd successfully made sure Voldemort didn't make him a martyr, which wasn't something he wanted to see happen. It made his stomach churn at the mere thought of it, but what happened after…well Harry only hoped he got to see it in action.

"September the tenth," Voldemort revealed, his lips twitching at the unamused look on Harry's face. "You should be grateful, without our…input it would have been next year at least, six months' time."

Harry grunted, annoyance souring his face as he claimed his seat, scooping up breakfast foods as his stomach grumbled hungrily. "With such a small community, I'm surprised it takes so long, that's the sort of time you'd think Muggles take, and Muggle trials take weeks if not a month to come to a conclusion depending on the case." He voiced his thoughts, complaining marginally, vexed by the entire ordeal. He'd never be able to thank Luna enough for what she'd done for him. He still had no clue how Dumbledore had remembered Grimmauld Place. Then again, he had been the secret keeper once, perhaps that was enough for him to retain that knowledge?

"The same goes for Wizarding trials, as most people avoid memories and Veritaserum if they can help it, especially if they are guilty." Voldemort pointed out wryly, unsurprised Harry was less familiar with magical trials than Muggle ones. Dumbledore had kept the teen tightly tethered to Hogwarts or Privet Drive. Harry had been fine with going with the flow until he was old enough to get the hell out of there – if he managed to survive. This much he got from the memories he'd seen when he raked through Harry's memories when he first got dumped in the front cells here. His lack of knowledge on the laws had been his downfall, since he'd been legally an adult since his entrance to the Triwizard Tournament, which meant he could have ran the moment school ended. Thankfully though he had not, and thus a new era was about to be born.

"So, Dumbledore will get away without having to use it," Harry scowled, gritting his teeth, his mind trying to figure out a way to see that it was used. As far as he knew the Lords and the council were the ones to aim for, if he could use the right incentive, he could get them to demand its use. He said as such to Voldemort, who's eyes just gleamed with pride and glee, as he so often did actually.

"Lucius and a few others are already gathering blackmail material for the council of magic, to ensure that Veritaserum is pushed through." Voldemort replied, as always, the boy was on par with him in ensuring their plans went through without a hitch.

"It will need to be good, isn't he really good friends with some of them?" Harry asked, Dumbledore might seem to have a lot of 'friends' from all walks of life, but they were strategically placed. He was smart, he hadn't lasted this long by being stupid. Harry would have admired his skill set if it wasn't being used on him, and had been used for years. "Well letting them believe he sought highly of them anyway."

"Indeed," Voldemort stated, and in that he and Dumbledore were quite alike, although he didn't fake kindness. What people saw is what they got, at least now anyway, back then he used to charm everyone to get what he wanted. One could even say he was just a con wizard back then. Dumbledore was still one now, it was almost as if this entire thing was one big con. Whatever Dumbledore wished to truly accomplish…well he wouldn't get that chance. Decades of work just crumbling down around his ears, Merlin, he must be absolutely furious, he knew he would be.

"They better get some good leverage," Harry murmured around his scrambled egg.

"The best," Voldemort declared, having complete confidence in his people to see it done, plus they had months to ensure they had the best of the very best. His trial wasn't for just over a month yet. It was already through the first week of August. They already had information on some of them anyway, giving the others a chance to dig up on the others to ensure mission orders were met. "Have you created enough of the potion yet?" he didn't need to elaborate for Harry to know what he was referring to.

"It's the last day, today," Harry told him, washing down his hash brown with some orange juice. "It will need a few hours to cool before it can be given out to those who want it." something he'd left up to Severus, since he was here full time now, he needed something to do and Potions was his things. Albeit, Severus wasn't known for his people skills, but informing everyone about the new potion wasn't quite the same as having an extended friendly conversation with them. His entire body vibrating with excitement just talking about his latest accomplishment. He was very proud of himself, and nothing and nobody could bring him down.

"Good! I can't wait to take it, I've been dying to go out and really investigate Muggle London," Barty said as he confidently strode into the room.

"You want to take Veritaserum to investigate Muggle London?" Harry fibbed, biting his tongue at the face Barty made at the pronouncement. Voldemort coughed a little, and Harry could have danced in sheer smugness. He loved getting a reaction out of Voldemort. It used to be anger, or annoyance really, those who anger Voldemort didn't have the tendency to live long. But getting him to nearly laugh? It was almost unheard of.

"Wait, what? What? Eh…What are you talking about?" Barty flushed bright red, utterly embarrassed by his embarrassment and the inelegant way he'd just spoken.

Harry sniggered which tipped Barty off to them lying, flicking his wand, he hit Harry with a smacking jinx, the jinx was like an invisible smack being delivered to the back of the head. In retaliation, Harry picked up one of the apples and with vicious accuracy pelted him with it. It didn't take long for Barty to squeak in both pain and surprise. Cupping his privates to stop any other retaliatory measures Harry might have up his sleeve.

"Such gaudy Muggle displays shouldn't be allowed," Barty grunted out as he made his way towards breakfast. Deciding against sitting right next to Harry right now, quite frankly, he wanted to keep his balls exactly where they were thank you very much.

"You're just annoyed I've got perfect aim," Harry retorted, but there was no heat behind it.

Draco snorted as he entered, the 'You wish' plain as day on his face, as he entered the room, stalking towards the table and gracefully sitting.

Harry barked out an incredulous laugh, "Did I ever tell you about Granger calling Draco a foul loathsome little cockroach and punched him in the face? You didn't even get your wand out, did you? Too stunned at being hit by the little Muggle Born girl," his teasing wasn't kind here, it was mocking and sarcastic and filled with vindication. He loathed Draco Malfoy, he would never like or respect him no matter what he did. Even if they were on the same side.

Voldemort suddenly found himself using all his self-control not to laugh, Draco looked exceedingly like his father at that moment. The indignant look on his face was reminiscent of the time Harry had also taunted Lucius about Dobby. Barty however, wasn't quite so restrictive and did indeed find merriment in Harry's mocking, laughing out right much to the boy's embarrassment. The boy he was convinced could rile up a saint and make him commit murder.

"She punched him?" Barty asked, almost asking for the memory to see for himself.

"Yeah, two and half years isn't long enough to let go of all those Muggle instincts to use ones fists instead of magic." Harry shrugged, clearly not caring at all. He had oddly enough taken to magic better than physically fighting, he wasn't sure why, perhaps because he was used to running instead of actually fighting. If he'd actually stayed to try and fight Dudley and his gang, he would have likely been killed. His Slytherin preservation kicking in. Perhaps it wasn't odd at all, the idea of him taking to magic so quickly.

"Did you ever do something like that?" Barty asked, his laughter gone but his curiosity definitely wasn't.

"Nah, it's always been magic for me," Harry said, his emotions always got the better of him, and he usually did something quite accidentally. He paid for it too, and he would never have gotten away with raising his hand against Dudley growing up so he actually had self-restraint which Hermione evidently ran out of. He'd gotten the last laugh though and made sure they feared magic with their dying breath. It was just very satisfying to make sure they knew true fear before they died. They deserved everything he'd done to them.

"You miss her," Barty observed, which surprised him. The cold cool greeting he'd given her when he'd met her for the first time – when he wasn't playing a professor – gave that away.

Draco snorted, muttering about 'Mudbloods' under his breath.

"That Mudblood you so deride Malfoy is a descendant of yours," Harry snarled, a parody of a feral grin on his face.

Draco gasped in shock, "You lie! Take that filthy lie back!" Draco hollered at Harry, standing up ready to fight after Harry besmirching his name.

"Draco Malfoy, that is enough!" Narcissa stared sharply, never once raising her voice, but Draco shot to attention as though she had. Her voice was deceptively mild but with just a sharp tang of sternness.

Damn, Harry thought, not even Lucius had such control over his son. It was quite obvious who wore the trousers so to speak in that family. His lips twitched as his green eyes gleamed taking in the situation Draco had found himself in.

"Looks like I need to have another talk with Lucius," Rodolphus muttered as he wandered in, he didn't come alone, he entered with Luna directly behind him with his brother at her back.

"He's trying to imply that the Mudblood Granger is related to me!" Draco whined, well, a mild whine, he would have been ten times worse at Hogwarts.

"I'm not implying anything, I'm outright stating it," Harry retorted, "You didn't tell them?" he asked Voldemort enjoying the spectacle he was creating.

"I'm surprised you haven't sprung it on him earlier," Voldemort said dryly, he should probably feel annoyed by the racket Harry was creating. Yet it happened so often now that he was impervious to it. Well, the racket maybe, but the amusement he got from it had definitely not faded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said in feigned innocence.

The Lestrange's and Barty were unable to help themselves, they snorted, loudly. Not buying Harry's innocent portrayal for a second. Draco was still frothing at the mouth, and Narcissa stood next to her son, trying not to worry too much. Which was an impossible thing, she and her husband had spoken to Draco, cautioned him. Yet here he was not even a fortnight later causing more trouble.

"Is Granger related on the Malfoy of the Black family?" Narcissa asked, a hopeful tide rising within her. There was a girl actually related to the Malfoy family. A girl young enough in need of correction, with connections to a pureblood family…their family, it was more than she ever expected. She was the same age as his son, he had a few years before he was legally an adult, Granger was the same.

"Malfoy family," Harry said respectfully, wondering at the look on Narcissa's face.

"Do not approach her, Narcissa, she wasn't raised with our ways, she will rebel against anything you try," Barty warned, he knew Narcissa better than most. Barely paying attention as Luna and the Lestrange brothers took their seats.

"But she's family," Narcissa pointed out, lips pursed.

"Yeah, so is your sisters, niece and cousins, didn't stop you abandoning them, did it?" Harry drawled out sardonically, "Stay away from Hermione." Thinly veiled warning in his tone. What was the woman thinking anyway? That Hermione could be easily manipulated? The girl was smarter than the entire Malfoy family combined, and that was easily admitted to, even if he had hated her.

Narcissa flinched a little at the dig, causing Voldemort to raise an eyebrow, that was interesting. She didn't even so much as startle when he threatened her husband, yet here she was actually visibly showing some signs of the words getting to her at what Harry had said.

"Like anyone wants anything to do with the Mudblood," Draco muttered derisively, wincing as his mother's fingers dug into his shoulders.

Narcissa said nothing, as she pressed her son back into his seat, taking the one next to him. She would discuss this with her husband who might be able to convince the Dark Lord that it was a good thing. The thought of having a girl to dress up, teach and perhaps tutor in all ways was quite exciting and hopeful. She'd always wanted a daughter, although she had never let Hermione Granger, she found herself wishing to. She wasn't sure how her husband would take it, but it was family and Lucius cared about family more than anything else. She suspected he would want the girl as well; she was a Malfoy after all even if she was somewhat distant relation. There weren't many Malfoys never had been, there had been hope she might be able to give him more than one heir, the Blacks had no problem giving at least three kids. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be, it was hard enough getting Draco. They'd almost given up hope when she got pregnant.

"I heard you're tutoring Luna," Rodolphus questioned Harry, as after a few tense moments, cutlery began to clatter as everyone began to eat breakfast.

"Yep," Harry replied barely glancing Rodolphus' way.

"I'd like to help," Rodolphus said, rather hopeful that he could do something useful. "I'm aware that you need to step up you're training."

Harry glanced up at him with a stink eye.

"Please?" he added startling Voldemort, Barty and Rabastan badly, they'd never heard a pureblood beg before in their lives. They didn't plead, well to anyone except their Lord, and if it was something worthy of their attention. And for that they're usually alone so nobody witnessed their humiliation – or rather what they saw as a humiliation – had Azkaban changed him that much?

Harry glanced over at Luna, raising an eyebrow in silent query, wondering if Luna wanted this.

Luna nodded once as she ate, absolutely famished.

Harry shook his head in amusement, "Alright," he agreed, honestly, it had taken him months to relax here, especially with all the Death Eaters but Luna looked very at home right now. How unfair was that?

Breakfast went quite quickly after that, the sight of Luna and Rodolphus, heads together talking quietly was enough to make Harry arch a brow in silent contemplation. Nobody noticed Luna handing him the calming draught with a stern look on her face except Harry who had yet to return to his breakfast. He was pleased to see he was remembering to take his potions mildly surprised Luna was helping him.

Yes, she was going to keep Rodolphus on his toes. Not that Rodolphus had minded, he'd seemed stunned over her watchfulness on him. With Luna, Rodolphus would begin to understand true partnership, and realize just how toxic his life with Bellatrix had been.

"You ready to get going?" Harry asked Luna as they situated themselves in the duelling room, which he had booked for three hours. Yes, you could book the training room, although all requests had to be brought by Voldemort. He was the only one who could get everyone to stay away when ordered to do so. Not that it was required now with nearly everyone gone.

"Yep, what are we learning today?" Luna asked, very eager to learn. Harry was a great teacher, she'd learned more from him than she had in four years of Hogwarts education, especially when it came to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Well, you were quite quick at learning the Patronus charm so we can move on to something else," Harry said, ignoring the three Lestrange's in the room. The father was there today, his face impassive and his attention mostly on Luna, it was almost as if he was judging her for some reason.

A strangled noise drew Harry's attention, "Can she cast a full Patronus?" was the strangled reply.

Harry laughed, "Of course she can," he scoffed, "I don't start something I can't finish; you're acting like it's hard, I had it perfected when I was thirteen." he informed them imperiously. He'd managed to teach Luna who was only fourteen at the time to conjure one. Only a year older than he was, which showed her magical abilities perfectly if he didn't say so himself.

"A fully-fledged Patronus?" Rodolphus enquired his tone reverential.

"Show them," Harry encouraged her.

A Thestral leaped from Luna's wand, fully fledged and flexing its wings as it roamed around. When it found no threat to its 'Mistress' who had conjured it, the winged creature relaxed and sailed through the room before Luna allowed it to fade.

The look on the Lestrange's was amusing to say the least.

"Luna is the best and brightest of her year, if not for Granger she'd probably be the brightest witch in Hogwarts," Harry explained smugly, "She didn't get sorted into Ravenclaw for nothing," he added as an afterthought.

After that their lesson began in earnest as Harry taught her spells that were bordering on 'dark' but not quite on the spectrum. She had to be taught the basics before he jumped her into the darker stuff. He'd need to make sure she didn't get addicted to the feeling of the dark arts even though he suspected that Luna would surprise him.

"She's good, for her age anyway," Rodolphus was informed by his father, without even a hint of condensation in his voice.

"Anyone smart enough to gain Harry's attention would have to be," Rodolphus stated, watching Harry and Luna 'mock' duel. "What are you doing here?" he growled, causing both Lestrange's – father and son – to look at him as if he was insane. One glance at the doorway revealed the cause of Rodolphus agitation. Quite rightfully so, considering it was Bellatrix.

"Better question is why are you here?" Bellatrix asked suspiciously, glaring at her ex-husband, which she didn't consider her 'ex-husband' just because they'd been forced apart. She didn't love him, but she had been a Lestrange for so long that she didn't like being shoved aside. It didn't help that the Dark Lord had been giving what she saw was pathetic missions even the most newbie could accomplish without fail. It was almost like the Dark Lord wanted her away from here, and she did not like that thought at all. With those thoughts in mind, she had returned and immediately begun snooping.

"Why, the same reason you are," Lestrange senior insisted, ignoring the look of pure panic Rodolphus had aimed his way, hidden from Bellatrix's sight. "Idle curiosity, and I'm not sure if you've heard or not, but Potter is of Lestrange blood," and it was as true to the truth without being the actual truth. He had been in a constant state of curiosity over Harry Potter, especially after finding out he was a Lestrange. Even if somewhat distantly.

"She going to be a problem?" Harry whispered to Luna, unwittingly looking quite…intimate as he watched Bellatrix over her shoulder.

"Depends on your definition," Luna replied, hair looking like the ying to Harry's yang.

"Luna," Harry quietly reprimanded, Bellatrix could be a danger to anyone, heck they didn't even need to bother her. She was clinically insane, had been since she was a kid he'd bet.

"She will be for a moment," Luna sighed, giving into Harry's demands, "But in the long run…it's exactly what's needed."

"Yes, but for who?" Harry asked suspiciously, not of Luna itself but the conversation. He suspected Luna was being deliberately obtuse with him.

"Wouldn't that be telling?" Luna teased him, lips pulled up in a smug smirk.

Harry grunted, "Very well," he sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anything else from Luna right now. Which was ironic, he hadn't known she had the ability to see things as they come. Yet, he knew her well enough to know that when she got even more vaguer there would be nothing forthcoming.

Rodolphus growled under his breath, clenching his fists at the sight of Harry and Luna so close together, whispering intimately. Glaring heatedly, unable to help himself. Luna didn't belong to him, but the caveman inside of him didn't get that memo, as he continued to metaphorically pound on his chest with grunts.

"Ease up, brother," Rabastan grunted out in annoyance.

Rodolphus was easily brought out of his thoughts by his brother, whom he was very close to. Stunned to realize just exactly what he'd been doing. He'd never been possessive of anything other than his name and perhaps the family fortune. He'd married Bellatrix but the reality was, he honestly didn't care what she got up to. Not even when she tried to get the Dark Lord's attention constantly. So, this feeling was entirely foreign and new to him, so much so that he honestly wasn't prepared for it…and partly didn't know what the hell to think about it. Inhaling sharply, grateful for his brothers interference.

Corvus Lestrange was surprised by the fact Harry remained silent on that front, perhaps he wasn't too embarrassed to have Lestrange blood running through his veins as he first thought. Not that it mattered, he doubted very much that Harry would desire to take on the Lestrange name. He was already having to sort through two estates as it was, with the goblins help no doubt, but still, it was an awful lot of work. He couldn't imagine having to tiresomely work through two sets of books and keep the estates up and running. "Perhaps we should give Ms. Lovegood some decent training now?" the eldest Lestrange added, unwittingly insulting Harry's training.

"I will not just throw her in the deep end," Harry retorted swiftly, green eyes flashing angrily, "As important as it is to ensure she can protect herself, to just begin teaching her the Dark Arts is at the height of idiocy!"

"He does raise a good point, Father," Rodolphus stated, somewhat reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to train Luna swiftly. So, she could defend herself at least partly from everyone that might mean her harm.

"May I also add that the light arts are just as dangerous as the dark arts," Luna added lightly, "And the counter-spells are not addictive."

Harry laughed, "Of course, why didn't I think of that?" shaking his head.

Bellatrix however, scoffed at the pretence that the light arts were anywhere near dangerous.

"You don't believe the light arts can be just as dangerous?" Luna questioned Bellatrix, staring at her unafraid.

"Going to kill someone with an alohomora little girl?" Bellatrix cackled at the question, almost cooing at her the way she had with Harry with condescension written across her face.

"An Alohomora? No, but if I kept a tickling charm applied for long enough, I could asphyxiate you," Luna pointed out, with her sunny personality still showing through. "Levitated you high enough or onto something pointed…well that would kill you too. The right moment to wait then use a tripping jinx would be a sight to see, might not kill you but it would paralyse you, effectively making you useless."

"Damn," Rabastan murmured impressed despite himself.

Rodolphus meanwhile was staring at Luna starry eyed, grateful for his cloak hiding a rather pressing problem that was…normal as of late when he was around her. How could she talk about death with such a sweet look on her face? It gave him Goosebumps and reminded him vividly of a succubus. She was magnificent, she truly was and he'd never wanted anyone more than he wanted her at this very moment.

"I could go on really…there are so many spells that could be misused, even a simple cutting charm pressed in the right location can have you bleeding out within moments before help could arrive." Luna said sweetly, smiling at the enraged look on Bellatrix's face. Bellatrix had been subtly warned, and she knew it, it was her only chance of coming out of this entirely unscathed. Plus, she was needed for a little while long…just to ensure that happening happened.

After that, well she wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Corvus rose a grey eyebrow, rethinking his stance on the youngster, she might be young but she certainly seemed to have the same sort of bloodthirstiness that a lot of the people their cause had.

Harry sighed, "All magic is just that magic, it's society that's deemed them dark or light, it's quite pathetic really," Harry said loud enough to snap all their attention. "Rodolphus, go ahead and teach her a few spells, nothing drastic," he warned, he definitely didn't want Luna to suffer through an addiction to the 'darker arts' which was, yes, very addictive. "I only have another thirty minutes before I meet up with Severus." By then the potion should be cool enough and he'd get to see the potion he'd created himself, albeit with some minor help from Severus in action.

"Oh?" Luna asked, turning her attention back onto Harry, effectively dismissing Bellatrix and 'not dangerous' which Bellatrix saw as a personal affront.

"Yeah, you can come if you like, Barty, Dolphus and Rab will all be there," Harry explained to her, not seeing the look of surprise on their faces, it wasn't very often nicknames were used. Pureblood's had been brought up 'respectively' anything remotely 'normal' was seen as plebeian. For the lower class so to speak. Only really close friends and family ever gave nicknames to one another. Barty and their father were the only ones to use Rodolphus and Rabastan's nicknames, although Rabastan's was 'Bastian' by their father not Rab. Their father only did it when he was feeling particularly nostalgic, Barty only did it sometimes now.

"What kind of potion?" Luna asked, wondering why that particular trio would be there for it…something to do with Azkaban? She knew he had created a potion to help them, but hadn't' they already received that? It was rather annoying not knowing everything, especially since she was getting more and more information these days from her visions. Which excited her very much, she'd never expected them to get so clear, so vivid. She almost felt like fate, manipulating happenstances around her to get to her goal. Although, saving Harry had been the first time she'd directly interfered.

"You'll see, come on we only have twenty-five minutes now," Harry gestured for Rodolphus to come forth, stepping aside, curious to see what Rodolphus would teach her.

Unfortunately, he didn't really get a chance to watch them, instead the breathless mutter of 'My Lord' caught his attention. He was slightly surprised to see Voldemort down here. He was curious about Luna, about her abilities, and he wasn't subtle about it. Yet, it wasn't as if he could talk to her here while duelling so yes, still a surprise. He wondered if Voldemort could give him a few pointers for Luna to help her on her way.

From the corner of his eyes, he watched Voldemort and Bellatrix interact, and he felt pure unadulterated fury course through his veins. Keeping his face impassive all the while, easy to do, due to the fact he'd had to do it so often with Dumbledore. He hadn't had to do it in such a long time though, not since he'd gained his freedom from Dumbledore and the expectations they tried to force upon his shoulders.

The extent of his feelings surprised him, and he spent the next twenty minutes trying to decipher just why the hell seeing Bellatrix all over Voldemort pissed him off.

The conclusion absolutely terrified him.

Sure, he'd had dreams but he was a guy, for Merlin's sake it happened to everyone…but this had gone from attraction to pure bloody insanity. He'd liked him from the get go, for enabling him to get free, telling him everything Dumbledore kept from him and his looks…well he wasn't bad to look at, but he'd never expected this.

'Fuck me' he thought, 'I'm fucking crushing on Voldemort'

But even as he thought that, he knew, deep down, that it was more than just a mere crush.

So much more.

"Hey, we ready?" Harry asked Severus as he stepped into the potions lab, as always there were a few other potions brewing. Even the one brought in by Dumbledore was shelved on its own, with a few warning labels. Severus was actually enjoying himself, despite the fact the potion was dangerous. Not to their health, well, yes, their health at the end of the day. Harry heavily suspected what that potion would do, as did Severus it was just not mentioned. Considering the other potion that had been banished…neither one was overly shocked at this particular one. It was obviously an altered love potion, and knowing Dumbledore…they suspected a normal antidote would do sweet fuck all in reversing the damage.

"Will you tell me what it is now?" Luna asked, quite impatiently.

"You'll see," Harry said distractedly, as he had been since his earlier 'revelation'.

"We are," Severus replied, already moving to gather three of the potions still sitting cooling at the corner. Placing them on the table in front of Barty, Rabastan and Rodolphus, all of whom had Black blood running through their veins.

"You're sure this will work?" Barty asked cautiously, "It's more than six generations removed for me," he wanted the full effects not a cheap rendition. He didn't even bother insinuating that it wouldn't work full stop. Not only was this potion brewed by the Youngest Potions Master in the world…the creator could have very well have become his successor as Youngest Potions Master in the world. Harry was…he was downright amazing, a genius really, when it came to spells and potions. He certainly left him in the mud when they got talking, and he was smart himself.

"It will," Severus declared, "Any speck of Black blood is enough to activate it,"

"It worked on Esmerelda?" Harry asked, surprise evident in his tone.

"Of course it did," Severus replied, barely refraining from rolling his eyes, "You knew it would." But he understood having concerns about potions, and worries that it might not have the higher standards you'd wish to set. He and Harry hadn't half had a rocky relationship with that potion, but they'd got there in the end. Although, he did ponder on the prospect of Harry having given up at the first hurdle. He certainly had before, but he had been younger without the resources he could bring to bear now.

"I hoped it would," Harry corrected him, "It just seemed unlikely to work that far back, especially fully, diluted blood doesn't work as well as the full score,"

"Evidently not," Severus drawled, gesturing towards the potion as if to say, 'that there is all the proof you need' no, without them Harry would have eventually gone back to it. Judging by all the potions and spells he had created he wasn't one to give up, not completely anyway.

"I'm glad," Harry revealed sincerely, he was really glad that they had worked out all its kinks and made freely available for those who need it.

"Me first," Barty stated, grasping one of the vials he uncorked it and swallowed it in one go.

The Lestrange's watched closely, but absolutely nothing happened.

"Well, that was strangely anticlimactic," Corvus Lestrange stated, lips pursed, wondering if it just hadn't worked as he ventured further into the room having lagged behind them. He had told them to just head on that he would catch up with them momentarily.

"What did you expect? Barty to start bubbling in the face before clutching over in agony as he changed shape? It's not Polyjuice potion you know." Harry said wryly, smirking at the elder Lestrange who probably presumed the potion hadn't worked.

"From the information I've gathered, it's easiest to change the colour of your hair, why not try something simple to kick-start it?" Severus suggested, unperturbed by everyone's reactions. Mostly because it too was his reaction, at first, but the more they dug they learned and expanded their knowledge on this particular potion.

"You've written everything down?" Luna queried, seeing the stacks of parchment beside Professor Snape.

"Of course," Severus said dryly, "That's the point of fact gathering while experimenting with the draught,"

Rodolphus gnashed his teeth at Severus, warning him from mocking Luna. She'd suffered enough in school without adults doing the same thing to her. Severus was startled by his…feral actions but not overly surprised.

"May I see it?" Luna asked, truly curious to see what Harry had created fully. She preferred knowledge over visible evidence so to speak.

Severus waved her forward, letting her see for herself.

Barty's hair meanwhile turned bright neon green, this was where Bellatrix made herself known.

"Where is mine?" Bellatrix demanded, wanting the potion, for no other reason than the others had them. She stood in the doorway, so both Rodolphus and Rabastan were quick to uncork their own vials and drank the contents. Knowing from personal experience, that she would just take what she believed belonged to her – which was anything not nailed down – even something she had already of her own. Case and point to Rodolphus' calming draughts. Which had led to a longer recovery period to which Rodolphus was extremely angry about.

"I'm afraid that there is no more of the potion available, yet," Severus explained, it was much too complicated to brew two or three batches at a time. Very time consuming and required a strict watching and timeline, not enough time to prance from cauldron to cauldron.

Bellatrix's face contorted into rage and anger, becoming increasingly redder.

"But it will be brewed again," Rodolphus explained calmly, trying to stop the inevitable explosion. Nine times out of ten this was his life, trying to talk Bellatrix off the edge. "It only takes a few days,"

Luna ceased reading, watching the scene in front of her with quiet contemplation. Severus, the three Lestrange's and Barty were all tense, ready for a confrontation. Hands very close to their wands, but not quite touching. They were either scared or cautious of Bellatrix and her…tantrums. She knew how bad the outbursts could be, she'd seen one in a vision and it wasn't pretty. She could see how the woman had managed to lose her cool and turn Neville's parents into a drooling mess.

"That it does," Severus replied, his black eyes narrowed slightly, regarding Bellatrix with suspicion, he grudgingly added, "I'll set aside the first dose for you," Harry was carelessly standing with his back to the insane woman, his wand not even out, honestly, he could quite frankly kill the idiot for his actions. Bellatrix was dangerous when she went into one of her moods, but if Harry hadn't been here, he wouldn't have pandered to her whims. He loathed when the Lestrange's did that, it just pandered to her, made her worse, she was like a spoiled brat.

Harry just gave him a bland look in return, giving away how he felt about Bellatrix having the potion without words.

"Fine," she huffed, before turning on her feet and stomping out, exactly like a child having a temper tantrum.

"Do you do that often?" Luna questioned them, her blue eyes filled with blatant disbelief.

Rodolphus relaxed fully when Severus nodded that she'd left the vicinity. "Quite often," he revealed tiredly, "Too often," the good mood as always destroyed by just her mere appearance. It was better than enduring her endless fits to be frank, which were even more exhausting.

"This is awesome," Barty said, having conjured a mirror and begun to change his features, copying the glamour charm he often erected while following Harry around Muggle London. Now he could finally go out anywhere without the fear of discovery.

Rabastan followed Barty and begun to change his appearance. Elation coursing through him, his life would be his own again. It was more than he could have ever hoped for. No spell, no law enforcement officer could find out who he was, and with such abhorrence of blood magic, they'd literally never find out. They were safe, they were truly safe.

Luna sidled closer to Rodolphus, "How often does she do that?" Luna was very curious, and not afraid to ask Rodolphus anything. They'd been talking all week, often with Harry in the room along with Rabastan and Barty. They were all beginning to regain the closeness they had before Azkaban had robbed them of their lives.

Rodolphus glanced at Luna, mesmerised by her blue eyes, "It depends," he confessed, cautious as to why she was asking. Was she regretting spending time with him? Looking for a reason not to? Was she worried about her own wellbeing and was trying to decide if it was worth spending time with him over the danger that Bellatrix represented? Despite the worries that she might, Rodolphus was completely honest with her. "She has her good and bad days,"

"So, she's always been that way?" Luna whispered quietly, an intense look on her face.

"I believe so, we were…unaware of her condition when my father agreed to the contract to bind the Black and Lestrange families together again." Rodolphus explained. "She grew steadily worse as she aged, Azkaban has…ceased all her attempts at hiding it."

"How much to do with the Longbottom situation did you have?" Luna then asked, her tone barely above a murmur.

Rodolphus inhaled sharply, he knew of Luna and Harry's friendship with the youngest Longbottom. Barty had informed him of his time at Hogwarts as 'Professor Moody' although mostly just to brag that he had duped Dumbledore himself. After all Dumbledore was meant to be very close to Moody and he had successfully portrayed himself. Perhaps his earlier thoughts had been correct. He would miss talking to her, she didn't treat him like an escaped convict, or as if he would break, they talked about everything and anything and he loved it.

He, Rodolphus Lestrange, loved spending time with Luna Lovegood.

Thank Merlin nobody could read his thoughts, he would have been mocked to hell and back.

"We aren't innocent in it all," Rodolphus stated, his voice colder than he would have liked, but Luna didn't so much as flinch. "We took part, we cast those spells, yes we tried to get her to ease up, but only so we could question them… but ultimately we could have stopped her but we didn't." This was it then, no doubt she'd avoid him. It shredded him to bits just thinking on it.

"She'll wreak havoc if she's allowed that potion," Harry said in dire warning, his full attention not on the conversation, instead he was half watching Luna and Rodolphus. Only he and Rabastan were probably close enough to hear what Rodolphus had just said to Luna. He'd gotten way too defensive and spoke harshly, that indicated it wasn't a time in his life he liked thinking or talking about. Whether it was because of his actions or if it was because he'd ended up in Azkaban, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter either way, Luna knew what the brothers had done and she'd still come to care for them, let them into her life.

"I know," Severus stated grimly, something he'd need to talk to the Dark Lord about, he was the only one who would be able to prevent her from taking it. Although if she was desperate enough, not even the Dark Lord would stop her, at least he didn't think so. It wouldn't be the first time she'd disregarded orders and went out on her own. He wasn't even thinking of the Longbottom incident either.

Luna remained silent after that proclamation; her face devoid of any emotion as she stared at Rodolphus. Only after a few moments did she nod, her head slowly, to indicate she'd head and understood what he said. Then without a backward glance, she went back to the handwritten book in front of her. Luna didn't know how to feel about his words, this was Neville's parents they were talking about here. She didn't know them but Neville had grown up without them because of it. She couldn't imagine growing up without parents, she loved her own so much. Was she having second thoughts? No, Neville's parents weren't what was really bothering her. She'd accepted all of Rodolphus' faults, good and bad, he was never going to be a law-abiding citizen after all. The visions she'd seen flashed through her mind's eye, all the horrific things that the future would bring to bear.

Rabastan seemed to be the only one to pick up on what happened, or so it looked, he clenched his hands into fists as he stared at the back of Luna's head. Desiring nothing more than to lay into her for hurting her brother. She'd known what the hell she was getting into, how dare she pretend to be interested only to fail at the first hurdle? Holding someone's past against them was so utterly pathetic, Rodolphus deserved someone better. Someone who could see all he had to offer and not just his misdeeds.

"Try it," Harry whispered in a deadly warning as he passed Rabastan, warning him to stay the hell out of Luna and Rodolphus' dispute. "If you ever touch her, I will make sure you die in excruciating agony," he promised, and he would keep it. Luna had given up her friends, her comforts to be here for him, he'd do anything in turn to protect her, even if it was from an over protective brother.

Rabastan inhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes at Harry in seething irritation at his interference. His brother looked fucking gutted and he was being threatened? It wasn't like he'd planned on touching the girl, just giving her a few home truths. It was the least she deserved for hurting his brother at the end of the day surely. What would Harry know about brothers anyway? He didn't have one, and never would. He knew it was unfair really, to think as such, but in heart of hearts, he knew Harry considered Luna his sister. They were both going through the same thing, wanting the best for their own 'sibling' and being protective of them. This acknowledgement made him deflate a little.

Harry seeing as he'd gotten his point across moved towards Rodolphus, "Giving in at the first sign of trouble?" Harry whispered sardonically, "If that's the case you don't deserve her."

"She's too good for me, too good for us," for this side went unsaid, she was good and pure, and probably what drew him to her. She shone like a beacon and he wanted her badly but he also found he cared enough to let her go. She'd seen the darkest nature of him and turned her back on him. "It's for the best," he tried to convince himself. Better he realizes that they don't have a future now than somewhere down the line before he got himself even more deluded of an actual life with her.

"You're completely clueless, aren't you?" Harry said wryly, eyes boring into Rodolphus' dark shadowed eyes.

Rodolphus wanted to snort at the hypocrisy of that statement, between his Lord and Harry they had enough sexual tension to fill Gringotts. He didn't know about his Lord but Harry was completely oblivious to it all. Bellatrix had some competition, but was it competition when the Dark Lord didn't care for Bellatrix the way she wished? If he'd loved Bellatrix, he would have been jealous of it, if anything he'd welcomed her constant distractions. It meant less watching over her, less having to deal with her and less tantrums.

"Go talk to her, you'll be surprised by what's really bothering her," Harry said softly, he could see how devasted the wizard was. How desolate he'd grown when Luna had turned her back to him. "Use my room," with Bellatrix around, they needed guaranteed privacy, and the only people who could get into his room was Luna and Rodolphus, Barty, Rabastan, which given the wizards look the day he got in, spoke of how un-lightly he took the admittance. Understanding he was gaining something that most others did not, and of course there was Voldemort, who could get in anyway, they were his wards first and foremost. "Go," he added, nudging Rodolphus nearer Luna, there was little doubt in Harry's mind that Rodolphus was thinking all the wrong things.

'Go talk to her, you'll be surprised by what's really bothering her' echoed in Rodolphus' mind, giving him the courage he needed to see this through. If there was even the slimmest chance that he had a chance with Luna, he had to take it. "We have to talk," his tone now soft, none of his previous coldness to be had. Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, gently guiding her towards the door, he didn't even bother to glance back at the others. Luna was his priority at the moment all else could wait, including learning how to change his features. Judging how fast Barty had gotten the hang of it, he suspected it wouldn't be too difficult. If he had been a good man he would have walked away, but he wasn't. He wanted Luna, even if it drew her further and further into his depraved life.

They both remained silent as Rodolphus led her towards Harry's room, it was rather improper – he had grown up to respect the rules of a betrothal after all – but technically this wasn't a betrothal – yet – not until a contract was signed between both parties, the Lestrange and Lovegood's. He wasn't sure how that would go, Luna seemed amendable to the idea…but the father? After their reputation? Well, he wouldn't be surprised if he vehemently denied their desire to be married to one another. Which would mean – if she still wanted to be with him – that they would need to wait until she was seventeen to elope. Considering it was her father, Luna might decide it isn't worth the risk of losing her father, she'd already lost her mother. That loss still cut deeply; he knew from the talks they'd had. He'd spent so much time talking this week, he was rather hoarse from it all.

Rodolphus waited patiently for Luna to open the door, while he was allowed entrance, he couldn't open the doors. It was quite an ingenious piece of magic if he didn't say so himself. Not that he was going to admit that to Harry Potter of all people, the last thing he needed was a bigger head. Even after only a few days of constantly taking those potions he was feeling better in and on himself. His emotions had settled down, it was…shocking really, how much easier it was to keep a grip on his emotions. Sliding into the room behind her, not giving her a chance to slam the door in his face – if she would do such a thing – but it wouldn't be the first time Bellatrix had done it. He didn't like to compare the both of them, but he did, constantly, Bellatrix was the only female he'd been around constantly. The two were as opposite as night and day, and not just because Luna was a blonde and Bellatrix had the customary Black hair. No, it was breath-taking not having to calm a woman down out of their rages and angers. They actually spoke to each other, he and Luna, about everything and anything. Bellatrix only ever spoke about missions and the Dark Lord.

"Dobby?" Luna called, as she sat on the couch, the fire was blazing keeping the room toasty warm. After being in the duelling room and the potions lab, she was grateful for the heat.

"What can Dobby do for Master Harry's Luna?" Dobby asked, he used to call her Loony but one look from Rodolphus had put a very quick stop to that. Dobby hadn't meant it in any particular mean way. He called Ron – Wheezy – when the pair had been friends, yes, the names had never been maliciously intended.

"Bring us up a platter of foods and something warm to drink, please," Luna said, smiling at the creature who promptly disappeared to do her bidding.

Rodolphus grimaced at the sight, having never seen such a thing before in his life. Smiling at House-elves, it just wasn't done. There was no denying that Luna loved her creatures though, her eyes lit up when she spoke about them. Rodolphus wouldn't be surprised if Luna went into a career that dealt with animals on a daily basis. They weren't as bad as the Malfoy's when it came to House-elves though, he'd heard rumours and stories about how Lucius treated Dobby. In fact, Harry went out of his way to constantly try and get a rise out of Lucius by mentioning it often. They weren't kind to House-elves nor did they smile at them, but they weren't constant ordered to mutilate themselves.

It didn't take long for Dobby to pop back in with a huge platter of food and a click of his fingers brought the hot beverages.

"Thank you, Dobby," Luna called out just before the little thing disappeared.

Rodolphus bit his tongue as he busily begun filling their cups, knowing by now how Luna liked to drink her beverages. Like her it was an eclectic lot, teas, coffee's and hot chocolates with odd things in them. He decided on one of the hot chocolates – that had been brought in a mug – enjoying the taste it's the first thing he'd had after his release from Azkaban. It had been ambrosia after over a decade of slop they fed everyone on the island. It tasted like freedom to him even now, and he'd always have a fondness for it.

"You wanted to talk?" Luna prompted, curling up on the sofa, cup between her hands, warming her as she took little sips.

"You knew what I had done, it was no secret, hell, everyone knows what we did," Rodolphus stated, still quite frankly confused by her sudden turn around. "If you did not want to hear the answer to that question, why ask it?" now demanding answers getting very quickly frustrated.

Luna's face contorted in surprise, "Oh," she whispered, a thoughtful look on her face, "No, it was nothing to do with your confession, Rodolphus," although if she was honest with herself, she didn't like the thought that Rodolphus might do it again. To leave someone a drooling catatonic mess was…worse than killing them.

Rodolphus blinked, perhaps Harry was right after all, "Then what was it?" finding himself baffled now.

"The fact that I don't care, the reason I don't care," Luna confessed, her blue eyes filled with sadness. She felt trapped between a rock and a hard place having to deal with all these visions. Which were becoming increasingly more violent each night, even Harry didn't know what her visions entailed only that she wasn't getting much sleep because of them.

Rodolphus arched an eyebrow in surprise, well, that was unexpected. She was young, she was just growing into her own, the thought of death, killing and fighting probably scared her in the sense of her morals. Which had been up until lately been on an entirely different level. She'd been on the light side, that was what was troubling her. She was having to accept being here she'd be seeing death happen, knowing it was being done by people she loved. At least until they won the war, and things would settle down, they had no interest in killing children or people who didn't want a part in the war. They were only interested in wiping out their opposition. The Order mainly. The corrupt Ministry workers and Aurors who were fighting them.

"Luna…why don't you care?" Rodolphus asked quietly, a frown marring his features, he had a feeling this went deeper than this. "What have you seen?" he'd never discussed her abilities, not wishing for her to think he was using her on orders by the Dark Lord or just because of her abilities full stop. While it was intriguing, it wasn't why he liked her, he'd been drawn to her well before he found out about her seer abilities.

Luna sighed and closed her eyes, she found it odd to hear people asking that. Especially after going her entire life keeping, it a closely guarded secret. Her father and mother had made sure she understood it was to be kept secret, and her father had enforced that after her mother died every single day. Even more so after rumours of Voldemort being alive had begun to surface. It hadn't been a true concern; due to the fact her visions weren't anything to boast about. She didn't see much of anything to be worthy of kidnapping in her books. Until things had begun to take shape.

"Luna?" Rodolphus questioned cautiously when she didn't reply. The Dark Lord had made it clear that nobody outside of the group was to ever catch wind of it. So, Barty, Harry, the Dark Lord, and his brother and father were the only ones who knew besides himself. It wasn't something that was ever shared anyway, seers were considered sacred, but to keep them safe, it had to remain a close guarded secret. Hell, if it got out the light side would kidnap her in order to get the upper hand. It wouldn't be the first-time rumours of Dumbledore using divination to win the war, between prophets and seers. Whether there was anything to these rumours he still had no solid proof.

"You realize what it entails?" Luna asked, being a seer is seen as something amazing, awe inspiring and desirable. "Being a seer?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Rodolphus, did Harry already know all this? Was this why he had said what he did? No matter, he was just glad that his actions over a decade ago weren't going to destroy his chances with her. Anything else he could live with. She obviously wanted someone to talk to and he was very happy that it was him she was confiding in

"It's not so bad when you're young," Luna said, setting the cup aside and standing up making her way to the window, staring out at the lush perfectly kept grounds of Slytherin manor. "You don't see much, what you do see is bits and pieces, I lost faith in my abilities when I didn't see what happened to my mum. Losing faith didn't stop the visions of course, but they were just as puzzling as before."

Rodolphus stood up and made his way over to her, wrapping his arms around her, comforting her, mostly being selfish because he'd wanted to do it for ages now. "You shouldn't blame yourself," he replied, "It's life, and it's downright hard and cruel at times." Merlin, she felt better in his arms than he'd imagined so often.

"Do you know why I chose to save Harry?" Luna questioned pensively.

"Because he's your friend?" Rodolphus was thrown by the question.

"Of course, but there are deeper reasons, that day I saw things while I was awake, which has never happened. I saw the future so clearly, felt as though I was actually there and not just seeing it. It's as if my abilities were warning me, if that can actually happen. Up until that day the visions I were seeing were peaceful really, I saw my own future, which was…beautiful." Her family, children and Rodolphus was part of that. "I knew if he took that potion…everything would change."

"And they've stopped?" Rodolphus questioned, stiffening as his mind reeled. What did that mean? Why would her visions of her future change? Tightening his hold on her. Was he part of her future? Had she seen them together? Hope kindled anew, as it blazed in his stomach.

"The warning visions are still there, just different, it's almost like what I did that day doesn't have any affects," Luna sighed, rubbing her eyes as she leaned more fully back against Rodolphus. "Except from saving Harry, which I don't regret…I just don't understand what it's trying to warn me off, I can't see the full picture." Exasperation clear in her tone.

"Maybe you're looking at it too closely," Rodolphus said thoughtfully, almost distractedly as he inhaled Luna's scent, from where he perched his head on her shoulder. "Or taking too much pressure onto yourself. Why not let the Dark Lord see them? He's one of the smartest wizards in the magical world, if anyone could figure it out it would be him."

"Him and Harry," Luna replied, a small smile twitching at her lips.

Rodolphus chuckled darkly, seeing that smile, "I'm assuming we're…I'm going to be serving two Lord's soon? Hmm," not that it was a surprise really, he'd been expecting it for a while.

"Oh, yes," Luna answered without pause, feeling rather smug. Arching her head up, to get a look at Rodolphus, the reminder that she didn't need to do this alone was all she'd needed. "Thank you," she whispered softly, feeling very content at the moment.

Rodolphus kissed her on the forehead, not exactly where he wanted to kiss her but it would do for now. He was content just to have her actually in his arms for once. "How do you think your father would react if I asked for your hand in marriage? Would he sign a Betrothal contract between us?" expecting a straight up no, despite his hopes.

"He never had a Betrothal contract made up for me, he doesn't believe in them, they're very restricting after all." Luna replied, Rodolphus' arms around her made her feel invincible, protected and cherished. "He always wanted me to find love just like he did, he and my mum loved each other since they were children, and eloped when mum turned seventeen and was officially allowed to marry without parental approval." There had been two years age difference between them.

"That wasn't a yes," Rodolphus said dryly, nor was it a no really.

"You're previous Betrothal didn't last long and your marriage wasn't exactly…stable," Luna pointed out, "So why do you want to go through with another Betrothal? Why not just see where it goes and go from there?"

Rodolphus cocked his head to the side very briefly to acknowledge her point. It was true enough, his Betrothal to Bellatrix had been three short weeks before they married. Only a few meetings in which her father had accompanied her, he'd never been alone with her, but that was expected. Perhaps if he hadn't been in a Betrothal – or adhered to the strict practice – he would have realized there was something wrong. Would have asked his father to cancel the Betrothal, but he hadn't.

"Personally, I wouldn't want a Betrothal getting in the way, we wouldn't even be able to stand like this…" Luna trailed off, "How about you?" a secretive grin splitting her face, already knowing the answer. Already able to feel the affect she was having on Rodolphus from where she was clutched tightly to the wizard.

"You're a little devil, are you sure you were meant for Ravenclaw?" Rodolphus grunted, not used to this gentle teasing, he liked it.

"Never considered anywhere else," Luna replied smugly, very proud of her placement, even if the bullies she'd endured had made her Hogwarts years rather…hard to bear. She could have gotten the better of them, of course, she knew a lot of magic, more advanced for her age, but she'd never stooped to their level. It got better when she became friends with Harry and Neville, mostly because of Harry. Everyone knew better than to mess anyone Harry was friends with. Mostly because of the rumours, of things he'd done to his aunt – like blowing her up for instance – everyone knew Harry's friends were off limits. Well, everyone except Draco and his cronies had gotten the message, those three didn't know when to stop, even now actually.

"Nor for me," Rodolphus agreed smugly, and it was true, it had shouted Slytherin mere forty-five seconds after it slid onto his head. Considering how long it took the hat to speak, if it didn't then he'd say fifteen seconds maybe twenty-five at a pinch. "So, shall we?" he wanted to help Luna, and if getting insight into her visions by Voldemort and Harry would help her somehow…then he'd do it.

Luna stared pensively out the window once more, she'd never shared her visions before, not even with her father. Sure, she'd described things but viewing entire memories in a pensive – and she had no doubt that's what he meant – hadn't been done. It felt wrong on every level to let go of those visions and place them in a pensive and she wasn't even acting it out yet. Was it her own senses warning her of something or was it a lifetime of it being drummed into her, not to reveal herself, her gift. "Okay," she said shoring herself, a problem shared is a problem halved. Considering there was more than one person, hopefully then these visions wouldn't weigh quite so heavily upon her. Just having Rodolphus to talk to eased her somewhat, she didn't think on them quite so much until she was on her own that's when they bothered her. Then of course, there was the damn visions at night. No, being a seer wasn't a bloody godsend, it was a constant nightmare.

"Then let's go," Rodolphus said after a few more minutes of just relishing in being close to her. She was right, perhaps it was best not to go down the Betrothal route, otherwise he'd be giving up this. He'd only just got a little piece of it, fuck if he was going to give it up. Not for a contract at any rate, no, but the fact she hadn't shot him down meant she did see a potential marriage with him. Had she seen a future with him? He thought, his mind trying to envision a potential future.

"He could be busy," Luna pointed out, he was trying to take over the magical world after all, no doubt that took up a lot of his time.

"He'll make an exception for us," Rodolphus insisted, he hoped that was true, the old Dark Lord wouldn't have borne it, but this one…this one had patience, something he wasn't used to. It was the Dark Lord who his father was more used to, one that had utter confidence in his moves. He preferred this one, if he was honest, he wasn't sure anyone had been cursed since his return, at least not the way he preferred that spell back in his day. He had no idea what his Lord had done to make himself better and changed his looks but he didn't care. They were winning and more importantly…he found himself with a woman he could evasion a future with. One that actually had a nurturing bone in her body, they hadn't spoke of kids yet, but he had hope.

"Okay, just let me shower first," Luna said, still sticky from sweat that had long since dried in from her hours of duelling she'd just done. It wasn't magic making her sweat but trying to avoid Harry who was throwing spells left and right, and she was supposed to stop them hitting her. He never threw anything dangerous, just tickling jinxes and very minor spells that first years learn. In between teaching her actual spells, it kept things interesting for sure, and she had no idea how out of shape she really was until he'd given her that first training session. He'd make a good teacher that was for certain.

Rodolphus groaned when that implanted a thought in his mind he definitely didn't need when they were going to see the Dark Lord. Closing his eyes, wondering if Luna – the little minx – had done that on purpose to torment him. "I'll wait," already sitting himself – rather uncomfortably might he add – plucking the book he'd been reading from time to time when he was here.

Luna's tinkling laugh was all Rodolphus heard before the door closed, definitely did it on purpose. She might look like an angel but she was a bloody little devil in disguise.

Despite the book in his hands, he didn't manage to absorb even a word of it, too deep in thought about everything that had just happened. He'd thought for sure he had lost her given the way he spoke and what he'd said. He could have lied and said he had hardly anything to do with it, that it was all Bellatrix. Which in a way it was, but they had taken part, and were just as guilty, they also could have stopped Bellatrix, between the three of them anyway. It was however, Bellatrix's fault they were caught, and even worse that they were found 'guilty' she just couldn't keep her trap shut.

Although, frankly, he believed Luna would have given him a few days to stew over the fact before stomping up to him and dealing with it herself. She was just that sort of girl, the kind he needed to keep him on the straight and narrow. By Merlin, he was so enamoured it was pathetic really, even to him. Yet he couldn't find it in himself to care one iota. His father didn't seem to mind, in fact he was extremely pleased in the duelling room.

Yep, pathetic, he thought sardonically, finally giving up his attempts to read and flung the book aside.

"Rod?" Luna's voice came through the closed door slightly muffled.

"Yes?" Rodolphus asked, his tone cautious, wondering what his little devil was up to now.

"Can you grab me something to wear?" Luna asked.

Rodolphus groaned, "Are you trying to kill me woman?" he grumbled as he stood, opening her trunk and grabbing a few of Luna's favourite things, he knew because she wore them more often than anything else. He slid the door open just a tad, tempted to peek but refusing to do so, he kept his eyes closed and dropped the clothes and let the door close with a click once again privy to Luna's giggling.

She-devil he thought wryly, wandering over to the table and eating some of the food the House-elf had brought up. Anything to try and keep his mind preoccupied.

Ten minutes later, Luna appeared, "I'm ready," time to get this burden of her shoulders.

"You look lovely," Rodolphus told her, a soft look on his face.

Luna smiled sweetly at him, as they wandered over to the door, but the second it opened, Rodolphus' face became a blank mask. His fingers nonetheless brushed against Luna's and unable to help himself, he clutched her hand to his for a few moments while she closed the door. Only once they began moving down the corridor did Rodolphus let go, with Bellatrix around he couldn't take any chances.

Luna fortunately was used to this by now, even if Bellatrix wasn't around, she knew he would be like this outside of his close group. He was never going to be one for displaying his love to the world. He hadn't been raised that way, and saw it as a weakness of sorts, or rather letting everyone else see he had a weakness. Her parents had been different and it would take some getting used to, but as long as he cared about her…she didn't care about anyone else's perception of her life.

From around the corner, Bellatrix' eyes flashed malevolently as she watched them, fury etched on every line of her face. "You're going to regret this," she vowed angrily.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 55

Voldemort watched Luna Lovegood and Rodolphus closely, as he did whenever someone – or several someone's – were in his presence. He felt annoyance thrumming through him to begin with, that they had interrupted both himself and Harry. He didn't like his time with the wizard being interrupted, they barely had any time together as it was. Not like they used to, Harry no longer needed training and with the war heating up he was constantly assigning missions, doing paperwork and keeping order in his own home. He would deny this on pain of death, but he missed it, missed his humour, his bloodthirst, his powers, just everything that made Harry who he was.

So, yes, he'd been annoyed, that was until he heard the reason behind their appearance in his office. He should have guessed that Rodolphus wouldn't have called upon him if he didn't feel like it was important. He was tempted to ask them to repeat themselves after they'd explained it all.

"Let me get this straight, the visions have changed but the outcome hasn't, right?" Harry asked, wanting confirmation.

"That's right," Luna's head bobbed up and down in agreement.

"Okay, so Dumbledore has some sort of backup plan, it's not really a surprise," Harry said, glancing at Voldemort, arching a brow silently asking for his thoughts on their current situation. "Actually, scratch that, it is a surprise, his hubris is his belief that his plans will always work out."

"Hmm, it's my belief that Dumbledore plans for every eventuality he can foresee," Voldemort disagreed with Harry there, but for most part Harry did know Dumbledore well. "It is perhaps, rare, that he needs to enact those plans, since his first ideas usually bear fruitful results." Another thing that truly annoyed the Dark Lord immensely.

"That's not really the question though, is it?" Harry said grimly. "Who." Harry and Voldemort uttered simultaneously, knowing what the other was thinking immediately.

"Back up plans, you think that the potion is still in play?" Rodolphus questioned, his stomach twisting unpleasantly despite the potion he'd taken earlier that day. Quite honestly, he didn't want to hear more, the little he had heard was just down right barbarically cruel. To take someone's free will away, permanently, and then leave them stuck with a personality not their own? Damn, it was a wicked, wicked thing to do.

"I hope not," Harry admitted darkly, green eyes gleaming with viciousness that spoke of a desire to cause the ultimate pain. Rodolphus was familiar with that feeling, the savagery that overcame when things became too much. Like when the Dark Lord was defeated, that hadn't been a good time for them. Not that the next decade and a half was a walk in the park. He didn't need three guesses to accurately predict who he was envisioning on the other end of his curses.

"And if he does?" Rodolphus enquired, his tone cautious, he wasn't about to piss off Harry Potter. He knew it was only a matter of time before Harry was held in a status that was higher than all of them. officially anyway, since he was positive that the Dark Lord already considered Harry far greater than the rest of them. He wasn't jealous, that spot had never been open for anyone. Contrary to what Bellatrix would believe.

"Then we have to make sure we get every single vial of it off the streets," Harry retorted, green eyes flashing in fury, it was just like Dumbledore to pull bloody cards out of his sleeve even from Azkaban. "Do you have anyone in the Ministry who could give us sneaky permission to get into Azkaban to visit the old fool?" although, why bother with permission? He knew Voldemort had control over the dementors, and the prison basically.

"Veritaserum?" Voldemort questioned, as always able to keep up with Harry's train of thoughts.

"That and ripping his mind to shreds, it might be the only option we have," Harry said disdainfully, and it wasn't the idea of basically torturing the old fool…it was the prospect of entering his bloody depraved mind. However, due to the dementors, his mind shields shouldn't be what they could have been.

"Why wait for permission?" Rodolphus scoffed, "Our Lord can go wherever he pleases,"

"Yeah, he can, but why risk someone seeing him and the whole thing blowing up in our faces? They aren't aware of our claim on Azkaban and quite frankly I don't want it happening. The last thing we need is someone poking into the death of the Death Eaters, and finding the fucking Muggles we have masquerading as you lot." Harry retorted in annoyance, going so far as to be vulgar. "If any of them are still alive that is,"

"Very doubtful that any of the Muggles have lived this long," Voldemort snorted derisively, he loathed muggles and made no secret of it.

"Probably not," Harry conceded, scratching his head, relieving the itch, as he frowned, "I doubt he'd use anyone like Moody or Doge as his back-up plan guy, it's too obvious…but that kind of obvious is why he'd use them." he knew everything about the Order and Dumbledore. Through memories or meetings, he'd had over time.

"May I see the memories?" Voldemort asked, he couldn't believe that the girl had come to him in the first place. Seers were usually neutral; they never took on sides. Not willingly at any rate. He should probably be grateful for the odd assortment of 'friends' Harry seemed to pick up. Between House-elves to seers. He couldn't deny he was curious about what she saw when she had visions. The books that held information on seers was…incomplete, contradictory and half the time, he felt complete absurdity.

Luna pursed his lips, and Voldemort was sure she'd deny him his request, and he wouldn't hold it against her truthfully. She'd given him more than he honestly ever expected, but the visions would help in the long run. He wanted to see if he could spot what she was missing.

"Alright," Luna agreed, very grudgingly. She'd had it drummed into her to keep it secret for her own safety. So of course she was very reluctant to do this.

Voldemort didn't waste any time, before he had the pensive in front of the girl.

"Think on the memories," Rodolphus whispered to her, his wand at her temple, helping her without even thinking about it. "I'll take them," she was so unfailing brave and beautiful, to sit there so unafraid and determined to do the right thing. He was honestly in awe of her.

One by one, Rodolphus began to extract the memories that Luna was freely giving up. Each one was dropped into the empty pensive. Not that it was empty for long, Harry and Voldemort watched them with impassive gazes, neither looking forward to or dreading immersing themselves in the memories Luna was offering up.

"That's it," Luna murmured, sounding lighter and freer than she had in days if not over a week.

"Rodolphus," Voldemort commanded, his Death Eater glanced his way before nodding in realization at the unspoken order. Breathing out, Voldemort gave Harry a glance, and the three of them prodded at the translucent memories in the pensive, the three wands drawing them into the bowl leaving Luna alone to watch over them.

Luna watched the swirling pensive, wondering why Voldemort really wanted to see the memories. She suspected he was curious, he was a very smart wizard, judging on the books surrounding him. They weren't for display, they had been well used, loved one might say. He cherished knowledge, he was smart despite his chosen way to deal with a war. Consider what she was seeing, it was the only way. He was also drop dead gorgeous; it was little wonder Harry was attracted to him.

"Whoa," was the first thing spoken when the pensive finally, after half an hour, ejected them from within its confines. "Well, that was…something," Harry murmured, he wasn't sure how Luna put up with that, it would be an utter nightmare, truly, to see all that night after night.

Luna nodded, "That's how I felt," what they'd just seen was what she'd seen just before she went after Harry to stop it. A few were from afterwards, but there weren't many, since they were basically all the same. Same things happening and same outcome.

"I think you've been interpretation them wrong," Voldemort stated, a thoughtful look on his usually blank features. "These visions you think that haven't changed…they have. You're quite correct however, in your belief that something is in play."

"I don't think it's the potion, I think it's the Order," Harry mused, "I think despite my best efforts, Dumbledore's fan base is much larger than anticipated. So much for not making him a martyr,"

"That and something else," Voldemort scowled, distaste written across his features.

"The Muggles find out about us, by the look of it, and in quite the near future." Harry nodded, getting what Voldemort was talking about without any verbal indication. "The war is drawing attention to us; it has to stop." He warned Voldemort, thankfully he hadn't been going out on raids in order to bloody draw out the Order and Dumbledore. "We have to get rid of the Order in an unobtrusive manner as possible…and as many of them together…if not all of them and in our own world ASAP." He and Voldemort knew better than Luna and Rodolphus about the true dangers Muggles actually posed to them.

"Wait you think Dumbledore and the Order are responsible for the Muggles finding out about us?" Luna asked, befuddled, where on earth did, he get that in the visions?

"Nobody here makes a move without Voldemort's permission," Harry shrugged, they knew better than to disobey. "None of them go into the Muggle world, except me and Barty sometimes. We don't use much in the way of magic, and I doubt Voldemort's orders are going to change any time soon."

Luna got what he was saying and nodded, no raids, no general unpleasantness. The Dark Side had no intention of bothering the Muggles, and actually hadn't done so since Voldemort returned actually. It was one of the reasons people refused to believe that he had returned.

"It's not easy to get everyone in the Order, we've tried, multiple times," Rodolphus informed them, a frown marring his features as he thought on the best way to go about it. They'd gotten maybe seven or eight during the last war, not that it mattered, Dumbledore just replaced them with newer and younger wizards and witches.

"Because you reacted impulsively, honestly, I'm astonished you got any of them," Harry revealed shrewdly, "It's a surprise, since I know you're brilliant at strategy," with Voldemort at the helm, moving all his pieces, it truly did confound him that he hadn't won last time.

"That I am," Voldemort stated smugly, he was just too impatient really, and didn't take a step back to see things from a different perspective. Perhaps because he'd grown so used to the magical world that he didn't see things from a Muggle-raised perspective like Harry did.

"Bellatrix is not to be involved in any stage of the process," Harry declared seriously.

"You are forgetting who is in charge," Voldemort stated with deceptive mildness. Giving Harry a warning look that he was pushing it, he would not allow such blatant disrespect to go around, not while his Death Eaters were there. In private he'd tolerate it, part of him found it extremely titillating if he was honest.

"Have you spoken to or seen her lately?" Harry asked, instead of bowing down or giving any indication of deference. He wouldn't be Harry Potter if he'd done such a thing.

Luna rubbed at Rodolphus' back and neck, he was tightly wound, stiffer than a board. Honestly, you'd think Rodolphus would have more confidence in Harry by now. Plus, since Voldemort had returned, he hadn't been like he was.

"Meaning?" Voldemort commanded, voice cold and demanding. He did not like the implication that he was somehow missing the obvious. He spent most of his time keeping an eye on his followers, so that they didn't go and mess up everything they were finally accomplishing. It had taken him decades to get to where he was, with a genuine chance of winning this. Not like the last time, he'd realized he couldn't win through fear, that someone would always rise up against tyranny. Nobody would know that Lord Voldemort was alive and well, and sneakily taking over the magical world.

"She's insane!" Harry cried out in exasperation, "She's made no effort to get herself better after all this time in Azkaban. Nobody can stand being around her, and her temper tantrums are getting worse. Everyone does what she wants because they know the consequences! And her having been a fucking favourite of yours while you were insane nobody wants to mess with her!" and he wasn't jealous about that, not at all. "If she gets her hands on the Metamorphmagus Potion it will be even more difficult to keep an eye on her!"

"Nonetheless an eye will be kept on her," Voldemort retorted immediately, eyes flaring in genuine annoyance and anger at Harry's words.

"The Lestrange's found it difficult to control her, for years, they ended up caught and in Azkaban because of it," Harry argued, "You can't expect them to keep watching out for her like that they've done enough!" and that was true, Rodolphus had divorced her, cut all ties, he shouldn't fucking have to clean up his ex-wives messes.

Rodolphus clenched his jaw to stop it dropping open in shock, he hadn't expected that at all. No matter how true it was, he wasn't used to anyone defending him or his family full stop. It was exhausting constantly keeping an eye out on Bellatrix. Especially these days, due to the fact she couldn't be seen in public, they had to ensure she was happy and didn't end up going off on one in anger. The divorce though…he'd jumped at it, without really thinking of the possible repercussions. The most disconcerting thing about it all was how quiet Bellatrix was over the entire ordeal. With him spending so much time with Luna, his brother and father had picked up the slack. He should feel guilty, but he couldn't feel anything remotely resembling guilt when he spent time with Luna. She made it impossible for him to feel bad.

"I will not kill her," Voldemort argued vehemently, she was one of his most loyal followers. She'd endured Azkaban for him, sure that he'd return and save them. Which he had. She did not deserve to be killed for absolutely no reason at all. He refused to repay that loyalty by killing her.

"I'm not suggesting that," Harry threw his hands up in the air a visible sign of his exasperation.

"Then what are you suggesting?" Voldemort questioned in annoyance, completely forgetting that Luna and Rodolphus was here to witness this. He wasn't used to anyone arguing with him let alone giving him a straight honest answer or reprimand. All he could think of was how attached Harry was getting to a few of his Death Eaters, it made him feel jealous as well as smug and self-righteous. It meant that there was less chance of Harry deciding to – Merlin forbid – go back to Dumbledore. Which he knew wouldn't happen, he knew that, but he also thought he knew Regulus Black and look what happened there. He'd rather take all the preventative measures he could to ensure no confliction took place. Out of them all, he was granting Harry more trust than he'd ever given before. so, it was hardly surprising he was cautious.

Rodolphus arched a brow staring at Harry as well, genuinely interested in hearing that answer. Just what was he up to? Why now? His gaze wandered to Luna, and realisation struck, of course, it was very like Harry he supposed. He was protecting Luna; he knew what a ticking time bomb Bellatrix actually was. He wasn't going to spend his entire life hiding his relationship with Luna. He couldn't do that to her or himself, he wanted to marry her, start a family, Merlin, help him he sounded like a love-struck fool, a seventeen-year-old idiot, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

"Give her the same treatment you gave to me," Harry stated firmly, "So she can't leave the manor."

Rodolphus' eyebrows rose in shock, it can't still be attached, he'd seen him leaving…unless he could only go when given permission?

"What the hell?" Luna stood up, "What does that mean?" suddenly finding herself enraged by what she was hearing.

Harry gave her a dry look, "Don't worry, it's been off for ages, I decided to go back to Hogwarts,"

Luna sighed, sitting back down at Rodolphus' urging, understanding the unspoken words, he'd chosen to return. He had freely chosen his own side, and she didn't have to worry she'd picked the wrong side.

"And would that stop your complaining?" Voldemort asked wryly, finding himself amused, by Luna's reaction, Rodolphus' paling and worried countenance and Harry's vehemence. Bellatrix would listen to him, she always did, she knew better than to disobey his orders.

Harry gave Voldemort a disbelieving look, "When she does something you can't overlook, I'll get to say I told you so." he stated, walking towards the door, "And if Luna pays for that…nothing will stop me taking my vengeance." He warned Voldemort "I've given her the reassurance she's safe here." With that Harry left the room, his own annoyance getting the better of him.

"My Lord…he has a point," Rodolphus said suddenly feeling weak, his grip tightening on Luna. "Even we were struggling to keep her in line." By we, he meant his father and brother as well as himself. She was worse after all these years in Azkaban. The fact she hadn't followed the healers advice made it infinitely worse. It didn't help that they were recovering too. Or that she had hindered his recovery as well, without him realizing it. He would have taken the entire course of potions if he'd realized how important they were.

"I will deal with her," Voldemort stated firmly, he couldn't just dismiss their concerns, not when more than one person was coming to him with them. Confining Bellatrix to the manor wouldn't solve anything, she could still wreak havoc here just like anywhere else. Just as she apparently was. They were obviously having to deal with that havoc, and he had missed each incident. Plus, Harry would keep his word, if Bellatrix did anything to Luna, she'd find herself in a world of pain. Harry, when slighted, was worse than Bellatrix – or even him if he was honest – could hope to be on a bad day. He was vindictive, brutal and downright terrifying, to others perhaps, he on the other hand found it extremely arousing to see what Harry Potter had become upon being freed of his gilded cage.

"If that is all, My Lord?" Rodolphus asked, uneasily, he was used to Voldemort being challenged like that. Let alone his reaction, years ago if anyone had dared to say a single thing like that, they would have been suffering under the torture curse within seconds. Just in case he was furious and hiding it better, he wanted Luna away from here just to be on the safe side.

"You may go," Voldemort stated dismissively, waving his hand in the direction of the door.

They may as well have apparated, the haste in which Rodolphus quickly got Luna out of the room.

Voldemort's lips twitched, it was good to see that his Death Eaters still feared him, despite his different approach as of late. Nobody else would get to speak to him the way Harry did, and if anyone tried, well they would find themselves in a world of hurt. Harry was different though, he respected him, respected his passion, his honesty and most importantly his fearlessness. He was just waiting for someone to gather the courage to speak to him out of turn.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," he called out, annoyed at the constant interruptions, added to the fact he had more on his plate courtesy of Bellatrix apparently. He needed to speak to Harry about what exactly Bellatrix was doing.

It was Lestrange Senior.

"My Lord," Lestrange said, giving a nod, "I have done as instructed, there will be a new opening in the Ministry of magic soon."

"Sit," Voldemort asked of his old friend, "I've just had Harry Potter in my office warning me against Bellatrix, and your son was quick to back him up. What is going on?" knowing without a doubt that if it was concerning Bellatrix, he would be aware. He along with his sons, constantly kept an eye on the witch. Had been doing since she was married into the Lestrange family. Anything she did would reflect badly upon them. It had already occurred after all; she'd gotten them all arrested for the Longbottom debacle. Voldemort was aware that Corvus regretted the match, which was a shame, she was powerful, just regretfully not…quite right in the head. Neither of the other Black ladies suffered from whatever ailed Bellatrix. As Harry said, she had a screw loose. He had found her amusing for most part, until he begun to see how everyone around her was reacting.

"The usual," Lestrange explained, and it was, there was no need for further clarification on his part. "I think that Mr. Potter has just begun to see more of her and her reactions to everything."

"Meaning?" Voldemort questioned perplexed, not that he showed it.

"Ever since Mr. Potter dissolved the marriage between my son and ex-daughter-in-law she's been loitering around the vicinity of either Rodolphus or Harry." Lestrange informed him, "Not always hiding, much of it is in his presence. He is very…observant, he makes no effort to conceal his observations either. Just a while ago he was watching her careful with…something in his eyes as, I noticed when we took the Metamorphmagus potion, he also observed us too. And our reactions to her. Which just deepened the expression on his face, but whatever that emotion was…I'm afraid he wasn't giving much away. He has a way of sensing her moods, much like we do, and can sense her impending loss of control." There were times when they didn't receive any warning, she just literally explodes and rants and raves.

Voldemort's brow rose, admittedly Bellatrix had been around the manor more often since the lockdown. Before then, there had only been sparse interactions between Bellatrix and Harry. "Do you believe that Bellatrix feels slighted over Harry's actions in enforcing the divorce?" was Bellatrix planning something? The thought of her touching Harry – if she could successfully accomplish that feat – left him feeling cold, fury was quick to replace that. Truthfully in comparison to power, Harry was more powerful, but experience wise, Bellatrix won hands down, even after over a decade in Azkaban. He quite honestly, had no idea what the outcome between a duel between both of them would be.

"Normally I would say no," Lestrange admitted, well aware of Bellatrix's attraction to their Lord, "Unfortunately, I can't help but feel I'm missing something." It wasn't as if he could read Bellatrix's mind after all, that was Voldemort's job.

Voldemort accepted his words with a nod, "Any suggestions on the matter?" Harry certainly had them in droves.

Lestrange's eyes widened subtly at the implications behind the question. The first is that the Dark Lord actually intended to do something about it. Not something he'd ever expected to occur, second, he was actually being asked his opinion it was a rare happenstance, especially during the end of the last war. He was speechless, he literally had no idea what to say. The Dark Lord had always had a fond spot for Bellatrix, just like he had for Barty, his sons and Severus Snape. Out of them all, he believed Bellatrix was definitely Voldemort's favourite.

Or had been, up until Harry Potter, who outshone them all.

"Corvus?" Voldemort repeated himself yet again, asking for suggestions.

"I don't know, it depends entirely on what you want to do with her," Lestrange replied seriously, still a little speechless. There was no way the Dark Lord would take Bellatrix out of the picture completely, which was too bad really. "House arrest, perhaps?" somewhere far away from them all where she couldn't ruin his sons life anymore. So that he wouldn't need to keep an eye on her when he was here, which was to spend time with his sons by the way, not cater to his ex-daughter in law.

And Bellatrix was a loose cannon and he just didn't want to deal with her anymore, he was too old for this.

Sudden and rapid knocking had both of them glancing at the door in surprise, urgent and panicked.

Whoever it was, was in the danger of being cursed judging by the look that came on Voldemort's face.

"Enter!" Voldemort barked his eyes gleaming with viciousness.

"M-my lord…" rasped out Avery, panting outrageously, "B-Bellatrix…Lovegood…duel…Potter…"

"Where?" Voldemort demanded standing up suddenly very much at attention.

Avery merely wheezed, bent over unable to breath properly.

"Dining…room," he managed to get out, only to be shoved aside as both Voldemort and Lestrange burst out of the room as though the hounds of hell were upon their asses.

Terrance Higgs, Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had been playing a game of Poker. Or attempting to, with Draco complaining endlessly about them 'fixing the game' because his cards were pathetic. In a show of exasperation, Marcus Flint had magically collected the cards and they mixed themselves in the middle of the table in front of the teen. Afterwards, they began to evenly distribute themselves.

Draco smugly accepts the next cards, his heard jerking up when he heard Potter's voice, his focus completely off the cards as he thought of his nemesis. How everyone could be so blinded to have accepted the idiot he didn't know. He was going to be their downfall, Draco knew this, everything his father and the Dark Lord had worked so hard to accomplish would be destroyed. All because of Potter and their blindness to who the scar head really was. It was laughable really, Potter going dark, it was a joke, surely the Dark Lord wasn't drawn in? Maybe he had his own plans and was just going along? Everyone else thought Potter would be bigger than even his father…more important, it wasn't possible.

"Malfoy, it's your turn," Pucey called from the other side of the table, wondering why they'd agreed to let the boy join them. He was intolerable at the best of times, but he had money so why not let him spend it? More for them, in the long run, he never did care about spending his 'daddy's' money to get what he wanted. He never won, and his annoyance was a sight to see, to think him and Potter were the same age. Now Potter is someone he'd like to play again. It was a challenge, he was good, better than any of them expected when he sat with them – which had been a surprise itself – they hadn't expected him to be friendly or funny.

"Hey, Potter, up for a game?" Higgs called out to the teen, who paused at the doorway, Higgs laughed at Marcus' groan, he'd lost his entire pot for the night a while ago to Harry. Despite his statement of never playing him again, he knew Marcus would love to.

"Miss getting beat, do you?" Harry called out with a wicked grin, causing everyone – except Draco – to chuckle in amusement. "Tell you what, get a decent game going for tonight and I'll play," his blatant glance at Draco didn't go unnoticed. Luna and Rodolphus paused as well, Luna peering in curious to see who Harry was talking to.

"Make a night of it?" Marcus suggested, he'd enjoyed the night of Harry's coming out and party, so why the hell not.

"Yeah, bring the Fire whisky, I'll bring the butterbeer." Harry agreed, he was still too young to buy Fire whisky unfortunately. "I'll tell Barty, he'd love it."

"Done," Terrance agreed, already throwing the cards on the table, no point to playing right now, he might as well save his money for tonight. Not that he had much, he'd need to go to Gringotts and retrieve enough to last the entire night. "I'll get the Fire whisky; I need to go to Gringotts anyway."

"See you then," Harry informed them before he left the room, heading towards the dining room.

"What are you doing? We're in the middle of a game!" Draco protested, as they all began to put their cards down, clearly deciding not to play.

"We hardly got started," Marcus scoffed, 'because of you' went unsaid, turning to Terrance he added, "I'll come with you, we'll need to get some food for tonight anyway," they couldn't just ask the House-elves here to provide for them, nobody had the guts to ask the Dark Lord's House-elves to do something for them at least not those that weren't inner circle at any rate. Which they most assuredly weren't.

Blaise and Theodore sighed, well, it looked like they wouldn't be playing at all, as always, they had Draco and his attitude to thank for it. They were regrettably used to that, they put up with it in school as well, although it was worse here. After all, nobody wanted to suck up to Draco here in order to get higher up the food chain. He was finding it difficult to come to terms with, he was used to everyone doing as he said otherwise face his father's displeasure. They only endured it because their parents told them to make friends with Draco, that their lives would be difficult with the Malfoy's against them. That having the Malfoy as a contact would be good for them in future.

The first second Harry realized something was wrong, he hastily erected his strongest shield barrier, but it was too late, a spell had already come their way. Crouching down beside a twitching Rodolphus, concerned, he'd immediately shielded Luna with his body, only seconds before the spell struck. "What hit him?" Harry asked, he'd been talking to Terrance, Marcus and Adrian, not paying the slightest bit of attention. He hoped Luna had, otherwise they might not be able to save him. Dark curses always needed the counter-curses, you couldn't just use a 'Finite Incantatem' and boom its gone.

Harry stared coolly at Bellatrix, casting counter spells to the spells she was blasting him with, not trusting the shield fully. He had cast it while he was emotional, so he'd use it only as a back-up plan.

"Um…Fervefacio…" Luna scrambled to remember the shrieked words from moments before.

"Shit," Harry murmured, "It had to be that,"

"What? Is there no counter?" Luna asked, petrified, ducking the oncoming spell from Bellatrix's wand, she didn't even know what half of them were for Merlin's sake. It smashed against the barrier, splintering it a little as it did so.

"Yes, but its long, you'll need to do it," Harry said standing, "This shield won't last long and I'm not risking her hitting us again," go figure there was nobody else around, well, nobody else that could help, but that was probably why she had chosen this moment to strike.

"Okay, just tell me what to do," Luna said remaining crouched over Rodolphus who begun to scream increasing in volume by the second as the spell did its job. It was literally boiling Rodolphus from the inside out. You could see the skin bubbling from under the surface, if it was on any longer than a minute…then there would be no rescuing Rodolphus from the spell.

"Crucio!" Harry retorted angrily; the spell clipped her causing her to laugh in his face.

"Poor little Potter, don't you know not to fight when you're mad?" Bellatrix cooed at him in a sickly manner.

"The wand movement is circular over the body, while you repeat the spell," Harry informed her, "I fight best when I'm mad! Bombarda!" not aiming it at Bellatrix to the witches surprise, instead the statue at the side, which blasted into smithereens, hitting Bellatrix with the debris stalling her for only a few moments before she banished them.

"Dismoveo Sevoco imum, seven times, without pause," Harry stated, "Clypeus!" casting the counter to the spell she'd cast on him.

"NO!" Bellatrix shrieked, not expecting them to know the counter, "I'll kill both of you! All of you! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"ENOUGH Bellatrix!" Harry roared, summoning a silver platter from the table, it absorbed the killing curse, which had been too close to Luna for comfort.

"You're not the boss of me!" Bellatrix snarled, drool spitting out of her mouth as she spoke.

"I am your head of house, and I say enough is enough!" Harry retorted angrily, "Don't make me kill you." They began to circle each other, as if looking for a weakness to exploit.

Bellatrix cackled again, "You wouldn't dare Potter," she said smugly, "My Lord would kill you first," after all she'd proven her loyalty to the Dark Lord for years, there was no way he'd pick him over her. Its why he'd never actually disowned her, the Dark Lord wouldn't allow it, of that she was certain.

A sudden squeak of utter surprise had them temporarily distracted but neither Harry or Bellatrix gave the person a single glance. They knew better than to take the eye of the other, even for a moment.

"You underestimate the lengths I'd go to for those I care about…" Harry said blankly, and it was true, "Just because you're incapable of feeling…don't mean the rest of us are that way." And Bellatrix was incapable of feeling, and Rodolphus had been forced to endure a loveless marriage for so long he was surprised that the wizard would take the risk again. Luna though…Luna wore her feelings on her sleeve, as Severus would put it, couldn't hide anything, she was as different from Bellatrix as could be…perhaps that's what drew the dark wizard to her.

"You can't do anything if you're dead!" Bellatrix uttered, eyes gleaming with madness, slashing her wand in a downward motion, fire broke out of her wand, fiercely becoming a dragon as it spread around the room, before swooping towards Harry.

Harry returned fire, creating a large waterfall of water, consuming the flames preventing her from turning his home into a fiery inferno. It was his home; it was the only home he ever had that he could say was his. As much as he said Hogwarts was his home, he really wasn't and honestly? Harry didn't want it to be with Dumbledore around. Not that he was in Hogwarts anymore, instead he was in Azkaban awaiting trial.

Best thing to ever happen to the magical world.

"Crucio!"

"Angor!" Harry returned, using his own creations.

There was no shield or counter, the spell hit Bellatrix and she fell immediately, screaming in pain, writhing her eyes open, bulging in shock.

"That's for Neville," Harry stated watching as the effects begun to dissipate. "For Alice and Frank," who had done nothing to deserve what she had done to them. Sure, they were the enemy, they were Order members, but to do what Bellatrix did…honestly didn't surprise him, she was completely insane. The look in her eyes…it was utter madness and emptiness.

"Vulnus!" Bellatrix snapped out, still able to aim her wand, "You have nothing on the Dark Lord's curses boy!" which wasn't strictly true, since she was still shaking under its affects.

The spell hit Harry on the leg, causing him to crumble as he bled, the blood quickly and severely pooling around him.

Luna scrambled to get up, to aid Harry, to do something…she couldn't sit back and let harry get taken down by Bellatrix. Rodolphus, however, grasped a hold of her and refused to let it get up. "Don't," he ordered, unable to help how commanding he said it. The urge to swipe the sweat that coated his brow away, refusing to let his gaze drop from Bellatrix for a moment as she gathered herself. He didn't even know where his wand was right now, they were vulnerable and he loathed that fact. He smelt absolutely foul, and the sweat was starting to harden but the fact he was alive and coherent did take precedence. Plus, he'd seen the Dark Lord and Harry Potter fight, this…this was nothing, a warm up really.

He hoped.

"Adtono!" Harry cast, sweeping Bellatrix off her feet with a strong gust of wind, "Sano, Furela," the wound Bellatrix just inflicted healing and swiftly bandaged as Harry shot to his feet. "Do not move, Luna, he's right." Not needing to have seen what was happening to know, Luna wasn't one to sit around when anyone was in danger and the fact it was him would have motivated her further still.

"Executio!" Bellatrix cast while on the floor, breathless from the spell that hit her.

"Crucio!" Harry return fired.

The two spells hit each other explosively, the vibrations could probably be felt all over the manor.

"Enough!" one single demand and without a raised voice was enough to have everyone standing at attention. The Dark Lord not even attempting to hide his displeasure or magic. As he demanded attention from everyone in the room, Avery, Lestrange Senior, Terrance, Marcus, Lucius and Draco all looking in from the doorway but not daring to say a word or come in further lest they fall victim to the Dark Lord's temper.

Draco watched the scene with savage glee, the only show was his eyes which gleamed with triumph. His face however, was smooth and blank, as he had been taught, to hide his emotions. He was sure Potter was in for it now, starting fights with his high up Death Eaters, it looked like the card game he'd just set up was a no go. It's what they got really.

"Rodolphus!" Corvus called out in concern, swiftly making his way to his sons side, worry written across his features. He knew his son had relapsed so to speak after not taking the potions properly. he had reprimanded him for being stupid enough to do so, after being warned by Harry and Severus – both of who knew their stuff, one a Master! – but was pleased to see thus far that Luna had made sure that Rodolphus didn't forget. She was taking good care of him and he liked that, it reminded him of the relationship he and his wife used to have.

"I'm fine, father," Rodolphus stated firmly, despite how pale and clammy he looked. He didn't want to be comforted by his father at his age, not with the object of his affection next to him anyway. Which was also a new experience, normally when he was injured it was his brother or father helping him. Bellatrix simply didn't care enough to even pretend for a few moments.

"What happened?" Voldemort demanded, once again drawing the attention to himself.

"Potter happened, My Lord, he interrupted a duel between Rodolphus and I," Bellatrix stated immediately, the madness gone from her eyes as she deferred immediately to the Dark Lord. The anger was still evident though, but Bellatrix was always that way.

Rodolphus sighed resignedly, unheard by everyone other than his father and Luna who were close enough to hear it.

Luna glanced at him in confusion, wondering why the hell he sounded so down, Rodolphus' father was no better in fact he was minutely shaking his head.

"Potter…what happened?" Voldemort ordered in thinly veiled fury. Contrary to everyone's belief he did not favour Bellatrix so blindly that he didn't know that she got away with more than most. Also didn't favour her enough that he didn't see the resignation on the faces of his other faithful's and that pissed him off completely. Added with the conversation he'd just had with Harry warning him, well, he wasn't going to take anything in the face of value, not even with what Harry said.

Rodolphus and Corvus' gaze came up so quick their necks creaked; shock evident in their eyes. The Dark Lord never questioned Bellatrix's view of things. He took her word for what it was, assuming she was telling the truth. Not that they could blame the Dark Lord, she was good at twisting the truth and blatantly getting away with it due to no word of a lie leaving her lips. Nobody wanted to earn her wrath by contradicting her, it made for an easier life by going along with whatever she said. They had to remember it hadn't been like this since his return.

Harry who had not removed from his position in the middle of the room, observing everyone and their reactions. Not missing Draco Malfoy's gleeful eyes, which made him want to curse the idiot. Honestly, he wasn't in school, if he kept that up, he'd piss off the wrong person and end up on the wrong end of their wand and given a lesson he wouldn't forget. Harry was tempted to be that person, but he decided to let Severus deal with it. although he was only going to allow so many passes before, he lost it. His main focus was on Bellatrix at the moment anyway seeing as she was an actual threat.

"She decided to attack us while our back was turned, not sure who she was aiming for, but it was either Rodolphus or Luna…" Harry stated firmly, his mind barriers lowered as he looked Voldemort straight in the eye. There wasn't a hint of apprehension or fear in Harry's gaze, there never really had been. How could there be a fear when death had been preferable when they met? As he'd thought earlier…even if he was living on borrowed time, he'd live it well. "Bellatrix Black, I challenge you…to a duel, winner picks the outcome,"

"My Lord…who are you going to believe…" Bellatrix stated indignantly, furious that the Dark Lord seemed to believe the brat. She who had gone to Azkaban rather than denounce her lord? Who had remained loyal to him after all these years? Sure, he would return for them and get them out of Azkaban? What had Potter done? He'd destroyed him that's what! He was nothing special, he should have been killed rather than allowed to live. It didn't matter how powerful he was, nobody was more powerful than her or her lord. They belonged together, he and her, they would be…glorious.

"Quiet!" Voldemort commanded, barely giving Bellatrix a second glance as he stared at Harry with the same intensity that the teen was bestowing upon him.

"But My Lord…" Bellatrix whined, she actually whined.

Draco watched the scene feeling jealousy surging through him, he could barely get the Dark Lords' attention for more than two seconds. He'd been lucky if he was actually looked at twice since he started coming here. He wasn't used to being ignored, and that's exactly what the Dark Lord was basically doing. What was so special about Potter? Why did he get so much of the Dark Lord's attention? He was the one who did better at school, he was the pureblood, not a filthy half-blood, this was where he was supposed to excel. Where he was supposed to shine, Potter wasn't supposed to be here shining on his parade. It wasn't fair, it was bad enough he took every moment at Hogwarts and turned it into 'Harry Potter world' without being here too. He couldn't seem to compete with him, never had been able to.

One glance from the Dark Lord caused Bellatrix's mouth to snap shut, with finality.

"Very well, a duel," Voldemort retorted seriously. He didn't want to lose either Harry or Bellatrix, but it was becoming increasingly clear he was going to. He knew whom he would choose, and that was without feelings coming into it. Added to the fact he could not interfere with the duel lest he want an uproar on his hands. Duels were the most ancient and noble practices of their world, to prevent one would be seen as weakness and an insult. Potter knew this.

"As your Lord, Bellatrix, get into position," Harry deliberately goading her.

"You are not my Lord, Potter!" she'd rather die than ever let those words pass her lips.

Voldemort's eye twitched as his nostrils flared, glaring at him in silent warning that he had best not continue on in this vein.

Harry pursed his lips, greatly amused, he loved winding people up, it was so easy to do so that it was almost…annoyingly disappointing sometimes. These were people who had been raised to hide their emotions, to learn Occlumency so that family secrets weren't exposed. Meanwhile he had successfully hidden who he truly was – necessity was a mother of invention – for years without anyone so much as getting an inkling…even those who claimed to be his 'best friends' were blind to his true character. It was hardly surprising that he found it amusing that they'd close control of their own emotions so quickly and easily.

"I accept," Bellatrix's eyes just gleamed with feral intensity, the boy was good, she acknowledged she would need to be careful; the boy was powerful and knew his spells. He wasn't as good as her though. She had not only learned from the Dark Lord, but she had been the best he'd ever trained – he had said as such – and she kept up her spell work. He would regret challenging her, and the Dark Lord knew this, he wanted her to put the brat in his place.

"And refrain from burning down my manor," Voldemort added through gritted teeth, it wasn't too bad, but it was enough to make him feel aggravated. This was his home, and he knew Harry felt the same so it was easily deduced that the culprit was Bellatrix. Another strike against her, feeling how the others felt for the first time. When she did whatever, she wanted without facing the consequences.

"They're really going to duel?" Terrance whispered wide eyed, "Damn, he'd going to get his ass handed to him," he was just beginning to like Potter too. He was going to get himself killed. Bellatrix was lethal, his parents warned him to stay well away from her and not to bring himself to her attention. Hell, his father repeated himself when discussing her, more so than he'd been warned about the Dark Lord and that was saying something.

"I don't think so," Marcus stated shrewdly, "I bet you twenty galleons that Potter wins," Potter had never been overconfident, he was self-aware enough of his own abilities to know his own weaknesses and strengths. He was good and he knew it, in other words, he wouldn't challenge Bellatrix unless he felt like he could win. Plus, the boy had surely been dipped in liquid luck, with the amount of good luck he'd had his entire life.

"Twenty?" Terrance choked out, narrowing his eyes, wondering what Marcus could see that he wasn't. "Ten and you've got a bet." Not willing to risk twenty galleons if Marcus was right.

"It's a bet," Marcus replied, watching as everything was banished and the dining room was converted into a temporary duelling platform. The Dark Lord worked fast, it was evident that the duel was going to happen right here and right now. He hissed when he felt the Dark Mark heat up, surprise filled him, he was calling the Death Eaters?

"Are you okay?" Luna asked, seeing Rodolphus in sudden pain once again, "Did I not do the counter-curse correctly…" she was just in the midst of a severe panic thinking she'd gotten it wrong when Rodolphus pressed his forehead against hers, her big blue eyes staring into his.

"I'm fine, calm down," Rodolphus stated firmly, making it clear to Luna that he truly was, and he wasn't just stating as such to calm Luna down. Compared to the pain he'd just been in, feeling the Dark Mark heating up – with the Death Eaters being summoned – was nothing at all. "The counter-curse worked, it was just the Dark Mark heating up," and he definitely didn't want Luna getting the Dark Mark. He hadn't wanted Bellatrix to get it, he had wanted her to have an heir, be safe, continue the Lestrange line. He'd been an utter fool of course, but that had been his thoughts before he realized what his life was going to be like long term with Bellatrix as a wife.

Luna sighed, her rigid form softening.

Rodolphus knew that the Dark Lord cared a great deal more for Harry than most people realized. Bellatrix would play dirty…and if she killed Harry…merlin help her, because nobody else would dare to. Not even Bellatrix would deserve what the Dark Lord would do to her. What he did to his enemies would pale in comparison, and Bellatrix was probably deluded enough to think that Dark Lord wanted her to win this.

"Can you stand son?" Rodolphus' father asked.

Rodolphus sat up straighter, leaning back a little so he could properly see Luna's face, ignoring the shuffling of the Death Eaters arriving. Those in lower ranking bowing to the Dark Lord in greeting and taking their places, or being guided to them. some of them had never seen the duelling platform before, so won't know where to go. It had been a long time, decades since the Dark Lord had a duelling champion competition. Not that this was what it was, but the set up was identical and they would assume it was so. Many of them were already salivating, questioning the others who had been here to begin with. "Are you okay?" her best friend was about to duel Bellatrix for Merlin's sake. He would be worried about Barty if he found himself facing down the raging dragon that was Bellatrix.

"Yes," was all Luna said, blue eyes shadowed with worry. She had known this was coming, she also suspected the outcome, but she knew better than most just how quickly visions could change. Her saving Harry had changed everything, then the visions changed again, so she took nothing at the face of value, not even the visions she loved so much about her future. She prayed for them, of course, she did, but until they were happening in front of her, she'd take nothing for granted.

"If you say so," Rodolphus replied doubtfully, with the help of his father who had been silently listening to everything, he was eased up onto his feet. He ached all over, his blood had just ten minutes prior boiling within him. Bellatrix had meant to kill either him or Luna, and it worried him. Shuffling to move out of the way of the door as the traffic begun to thicken up as more Death Eaters made their appearance.

"Why has he summoned everyone?" Luna asked, watching everyone with wide baffled eyes, she wasn't a Slytherin, she didn't understand their thinking. She was a Ravenclaw, and as smart as she was, she wasn't street wise or well versed in cunning. Not the way the Dark side practiced it at any rate.

"To maximise impact," Rabastan was the one to answer, causing Luna to squeak and spin around, the urge to punch him on the arm was strong but she didn't know him well enough for that. She wasn't sure she ever would know him well enough to be that familiar with him.

"Don't do that!" Luna said, clutching her hand to her chest, heart pounding. "What do you mean maximise impact?"

Rabastan blinked, barely glancing in his brother's direction, whose eyes were boring into his with ferocity not to scare Luna away with his bloodthirst talk. If it had been anyone else, he would have, but his brother was happy, he couldn't find it in him to be his usual self. "The Dark Lord is using this as a warning, to the others not to start anything with either Bellatrix and Harry, mostly Harry since everyone knows Bellatrix isn't to be messed with." He explained, honestly, she was much too innocent for his brother, but if that's what got him off then fair enough. He deserved happiness, they all did, their life had been one uphill battle since they left Hogwarts.

Luna smiled, "Thank you,"

Rabastan blinked again, giving a nod, surprised by the Genuity of her gratitude and thanks just because he explained something simple. He was more in awe really, that's he wasn't panicking, Potter was good, but was he as good as Bellatrix? In fact, to beat her he'd need to be better as a matter of fact. "Why do you think he suggested the victor picks the outcome?" this he was asking Luna since she surely knew Harry better than him.

"I think…he knows that Voldemort is fond of her, that he doesn't want her dead," Luna suggested seriously, "Knowing Harry…what he has in mind…well, she's going to wish she was dead."

Luna had no idea how correct she actually was.

"If he wins," Rabastan corrected her.

"If he wins," Luna reiterated.

"What the hell happened?" Barty whispered urgently, making his appearance looking incredibly flustered.

"Where have you been?" Rodolphus asked, arching a brow, he would have been here first if he was in the manor. It wasn't often Barty actually left, so he must admit he was astonished.

"Never mind that, what the hell happened?" Barty asked, taking in the sight in front of him. The Dark Lord and Harry were quietly conversing in the middle on the platform while everyone took their position. Bellatrix was at the other side, staring at the Dark Lord and Harry cross between angry and smug. He'd only been gone a few hours for Merlin's sake! What had he missed?

Rodolphus quietly and quickly explained everything, just as Barty was about to ask another question blasts left the Dark Lord's wand. Indicating that the duel was about to begin, so Barty didn't get a chance to ask whatever it was that he wanted to know. He grinned at the distracted looks he got at his neon green hair, they likely assumed it was a spell or a joke product of some kind. They'd likely have no idea about the potion.

The Dark Lord in question stood apart from everyone else, watching the two bow before each other and step back on the platform. Nobody dared approach him, as he observed the pair begin the necessities for the duel. He was unimpressed with this turn of events, but he shouldn't have been. It had been brewing on the horizon for some time, Luna being here was the catalyst that saw it come to fruition. No, the cancellation of the marriage contract and the fact Harry had taken over the Black estate was probably nearer the truth as to why this was necessary. Still, the fact that Harry didn't want it to be till death revealed he had something else in store for Bellatrix.

Which begged the question…what? What on earth did he have up his sleeve for her? He would show her no mercy, whatever he did, it was going to change how everyone saw him, of that he had no doubt.

"Crucio!"

Harry rolled his eyes and summoned birds 'Avis' from his wand to take the impact, flicking his wand in a 'A' mark, dozens of arrows shot out of his wand.

Bellatrix swiftly erected a shield, but one of the arrows managed to avoid it and slice into her side, before skittering to the side of the platform. Purple flames blasted from a non-verbal spell, Dolohov's curse, it made everyone draw breath as one, it required a counter and nobody thought for a moment Harry would know it.

To the surprise of everyone, he did, not only did he stop it, he sent one in retaliation.

Bellatrix stepped aside, uncaring for those who were behind her, "Confringo!"

"Accio shoes!" Harry cast, watching Bellatrix fall back as her shoes were summoned off her feet.

Bellatrix roared in annoyance, rolling to her side, she shouted, "Incendio!" casting the spell aiming at Harry's feet in retaliation for the fact he'd embarrassed her so thoroughly by summoning her shoes.

A simply water charm stopped the spell, slightly surprised by Bellatrix using such a simple spell, "Pollicem clavus crescere!" causing Bellatrix's toe nails to begin growing at an alarming rate.

"What the hell is he doing?" Dolohov snorted derisively, "Is he trying to piss her off? He's only going to get himself killed!"

"He's doing what he always does," Barty said, watching the scene with rapid attention, "Catching them off guard." And it was a good way to go, simple spells would do that.

"Genu Novis!" Bellatrix spat, causing Harry's knees to reverse causing his legs to buckle.

"Flipendo! Flipendo! Flipendo!" Harry cast in rapid succession, to ensure she actually bloody got hit as he corrected the damage done to his knees so he could get up. Barely wincing at the pain of his knee-hex reversal being reversed, damn that hurt though, but nowhere near as bad as fighting with the Dark Lord.

"Conjunctivitis!" Bellatrix roared from her fallen position.

The spell hit Harry head on, managing out the counter spell only to feel immense pain radiating down his side, as she severed his arm.

"Langlock!" Harry spat out despite the pain and the lack of sight, as he begun to feel woozy, catching the witch in mid cackle. Her tongue was now attached to the top of her mouth, in the crowd a wizard nodded in satisfaction. "Inritus," Harry spat the words of his own spell out, Bellatrix raised a non-verbal shield, having no other alternative.

It failed.

The spell blasted on through her powerful shield and she dropped like a tonne of bricks, bucking and writhing in agony. Everyone watched in horrified fascination at the sounds coming from Bellatrix, the sound that spoke of immense pain despite the fact her tongue was in fact stuck to the roof of her mouth making her incapable of properly screaming.

Draco watched what was going on, his stomach heaving dangerously at the scene in front of him. Between the severed arm, the screaming coming from Bellatrix to Harry calmly reattaching his severed arm as if it had happened that often it was merely an afterthought. Gagging at the horrific sight in front of him, the urge to flee was strong.

"Calm down, son, do not embarrass the Malfoy name," Lucius warned him, tightening his hold on his sons shoulders. The urge to reach out to his wife was strong, despite all Bellatrix had done…she was and is Narcissa's sister. The only one she was in contact with to be fair, the only family she had left of the Black's.

"You have won, remove the spell," Voldemort stated, his eyes flaring with molten desire as he approached Harry. Who was staring down at Bellatrix's writhing form without so much of a hint of guilt.

He was perfection at its finest.

"It will pass," Harry said dryly, "Along with her magic,"

The Death Eaters gasped and began muttering to each other, telling one another what he had just said wondering if it was true. Had Harry Potter removed Bellatrix's magic? Was he truly that powerful to do so with such ease?

He had done the impossible and the most despicable thing one wizard could do to another without blinking.

Voldemort was in awe.

He did the only thing left to do, he claimed Harry Potter in front of every single one of his Death Eaters.

"Mine," Voldemort growled out his mouth still partially attached to Harry's as he kissed him senseless, tightening his hold upon his head to ensure he couldn't get away.

Harry just blinked in completely incoherency.

And the entire hall went utterly silent seeing then hearing the declaration.

What broke the silence was Bellatrix's muffled wail of anguish and horror at what she was seeing, unable to comprehend the fact she'd just lost her magic let alone the Dark Lord himself. Tears of pain and snot covered her face as she stared at the scene in front of her incomprehensively. Raising her wand, fury encompassing her, 'AVADA KEDAVRA!' but it was as if she was holding onto a piece of wood, nothing magical about it. Her non-verbal spells had always been impeccable giving credence to her now unmagical state.

Draco dramatically passed out, the only thing preventing utter humiliation was his father's grip.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 56

The second he felt those lips on his, Harry's thought ceased entirely, his body however…reacted accordingly. That is to say, very, very willingly as butterflies erupted in his stomach and a low build of arousal lower still. He had dreamed of this, and it took a few seconds for him to realize this definitely wasn't a dream, it was reality a very, very welcoming reality. Those lips, which were always giving out curt advice and demands were so soft but claiming ardently, making a statement.

Voldemort was kissing him. In front of everyone.

"Mine," Voldemort had stated, claiming, demanding, irrefutably. His head protested that he didn't belong to anyone, yet his body betrayed the desire he felt hearing someone claiming him so publicly. His low-grade arousal was changing, the fire burning a little brighter within him. He could feel that Voldemort had a problem similar to his own, as it pressed against his pelvis.

Blinking at Voldemort, his stupidly handsome face filled with smug satisfaction. Noticing that all had gone quiet, except the sound of noise somewhere in the background, a wailing, heartbroken sound, but it was so far away, all he could focus on was Voldemort. This had been the last thing he expected after he fought Bellatrix. Voldemort was after all inexplicably fond of her, its why he hadn't made it a duel to the death. With the added benefit of what he planned…she wouldn't be able to get on anyone's nerves, be entirely useless to everyone around her. Hell, he's expected Voldemort to be furious with her loss of magic…this was the opposite of any and all reactions he'd expected.

"All of you leave!" Voldemort declared, having made his point, that Harry Potter belonged to him, nobody else was to ever put a finger on him. "Greyback, Corvus, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Luna, take Bellatrix to my office and remain there until I return." He was probably best to get everyone out of the room before Harry exploded. That was the thing with Harry, he never knew how he'd react, even having been in his mind and knew him probably better than anyone else did – except for perhaps Barty who was just a friend, at least he better be – so that was saying something. He was fascinating, it was always amusing to see which step he would take, and this was no different.

"My Lord…please," Bellatrix shrieked as Greyback grabbed her, the rest of her words indecipherable as she screeched the rafters in. Slapping Greyback across the face, her nails digging in viciously, not appreciating the manhandling, or the betrayal and abandonment of her lord well at all.

Greyback snarled viciously, furiously wrapping his hands around her long bushy hair and electing instead to drag her out of the room. The screeching turned into screams of pain, as she scrambled to find purchase and unable to do so. All she could do was try and grip his hands in order to get him to let her go, but he didn't budge the slightest.

The Lestrange's followed silently, along with Luna who was looking rather conflicted with Greyback's actions. On one hand nobody deserved to be manhandled in such a demeaning way, on the other hand this was Bellatrix…she'd just tried to kill Rodolphus – a man she was slowly coming to care for immensely – and her best friend in the entire world. She made a mental note never to get on Greyback's bad side, he was still growling lowly as they moved through the corridors.

Only once they were in Voldemort's office did Greyback let her go, after giving her a rough shove. Not that she was in any shape to fight them, as she just lay where she'd been shoved, shaking and shivering. The removal of her magic and the small fight with Greyback, trying to get him to let her go seemed to have drained her utterly.

Rodolphus watched Bellatrix as if she was a poisonous snake ready to strike, keeping Luna ensconced in his arms. Well out of the woman's reach, and if Bellatrix wanted to try to get to Luna, she'd need to go through him. Just as she had hours earlier…had it even been hours yet? It felt like mere minutes, yet at the same time hours if not days. Bellatrix's breathing had relaxed considerably as her body went lax, but he didn't trust it.

"Rodolphus, sit down," Corvus demanded, his tone gruff but his eyes heralded nothing but worry for his son and heir. "You need to rest." He added, when his son stared at him. Was that exasperated embarrassment? Was his son embarrassed by his fussing in front of the heiress? Well, well, this was interesting and very new. He'd never shown that sort of reaction before. Was it because he didn't want to be seen as weak? Or was it because he was in love? Merlin, he could only hope that Luna wasn't going to break his sons heart.

"Here," Rabastan murmured, conjuring up a comfortable green two-seater sofa – or a loveseat as they were sometimes called – that surprisingly didn't look too out of place in the office. This way Rodolphus can keep Luna close and get rest. He could see his legs subtly trembling from where he stood. Rolling his eyes at the gratitude from his brother as he herded them towards the soft seat and groaned as he sat down. Even as he sat, he had Bellatrix directly within his sight at all times.

"We should all sit, we might be here for a while," Corvus informed them, creating his own seat as he sat, making one for Greyback who as always refused to sit. Rabastan did the same, as his father and sat down.

"Well, how about that?" Rabastan muttered, eyes slightly wider than normal, everyone in this room had known it would happen at some point. Their Lord wasn't known for his patience, so it was a wonder it had held this long. To have it done so publicly? "And in front of everyone too…" heck, he'd prefer the warning the Dark Lord had given instead of a Cruciatus Curse any day. So, he didn't particularly mind, still, he couldn't help but wonder if it had been normal back in the day…or if Harry was a special case.

Quite frankly the second option wouldn't surprise Rabastan the slightest.

Greyback snorted loudly, "There was never going to be any other way," Voldemort was a possessive bastard, he'd want everyone to know Harry was off-limits. "If he didn't show it, he would have broadcasted it,"

"He's never been one for public displays of affection," Corvus stated gruffly, not quite arguing with Greyback but at the same time still feeling in a state of disbelief. "He isn't a monk by any means…but he's never done anything remotely like what he just did in there." In fact, all indicators were subtle, he never once broke out of his masks in public and when in privacy…still had masks upon his face. He had been more pleasant since his return, the Tom he'd known a long time ago.

He still failed to see what was right in front of him.

Greyback barked out a disbelieving laugh, "You wanted him to declare every one of his bedwarmers? Power hungry smarmy bastards who agreed with everything he said in order to climb up the ladders and became petulant when it didn't work?" giving Corvus a look of utter disgusted disbelief, as if he couldn't believe the old man wasn't getting what was going on.

Arching a brow, "What are you suggesting?" Corvus asked eventually, rather baffled by Greyback's talk. It was difficult to get him to say more than a few words any given day, he'd more than filled his quota and yet here he was, still talking. It meant he felt strongly more so than any other time in the history that they'd known each other.

Greyback grinned, it was a feral sort of grin, all his teeth showing, "I'll let you figure it out on your own," Giving the sons a look, he reckoned that they had already figured it out, probably as long as he had. Made sense though, his senses gave him an advantage and the boys had been here constantly due to their ill health and of course, need to remain in hiding lest they end up unveiling the plot Harry and Voldemort had worked on in order to get everyone out without anyone the wiser. Senior was barely ever there, busy with the Ministry, the estate and of course, doing missions the Dark Lord ordered. It didn't give him much time with his sons, thus, not so much time in the Dark Lord's presence.

Rodolphus ignored the byplay going on in front of him, just tried to press Luna further into his side. He felt sick just thinking on how close he came to losing her. He hadn't been aware of the counter-spell to that particular spell, if it hit Harry then him or Harry then Luna they could have died. Or worse if Harry had not been there and just a little slower…he couldn't contemplate the idea. He would have died, but it was something he'd gratefully endure to keep Luna alive. The touch of her hand on his back soothing him, back and forth across his shoulder blades.

Unlike the others, he expressed no shock or satisfaction at being right. Luna had alluded to all this coming into play, and she was as always quite correct. It seemed some things were set in stone, and others could surprise the seer. Which was probably a good thing, there would be nothing worse than the constant knowledge of always being correct. No, he'd known it would happen, knew Harry would soon become another Lord, equal to his Lord, the only thing he hadn't been aware of was the 'when' he'd had a chance to digest it whereas the others hadn't yet. His father was in particular struggling the most, because the Dark Lord he knew would not share power, and it was how it looked the reality was, Voldemort was doubling his power base, making them even more powerful. Making it beyond one hundred percent that they would win this war with such a strong united front.

Corvus refused to be bated by Greyback, instead he ordered refreshments to be brought up for them all immediately by a House-elf.

Harry unconsciously licked his lips, a bad idea, as Voldemort's eyes flared with a feral intense desire that Harry knew was for him and him alone. He could taste him on his lips, and holy shit, his taste was…incredible. He realised he wanted a replay, he wanted those lips coaxed back onto his, not that it would take much. He wanted to run his hands through Voldemort's and see if it was as soft as it looked. Flushing bright red, Harry took a step back as his brain came fully back online again. Bloody hell, what had he been thinking for even going along with it for a second?

"What are you up to?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, cautiously, why the hell would Voldemort want him? Yes, it was something he'd like, something he'd been dreaming off since he'd seen Voldemort sans the whole snake façade. Which by the way hadn't been up at all this evening, in front of every single one of his followers. "I'm not some sort of prize to be won, just because I bested Bellatrix," in fact the thought of that being why Voldemort was making a move actually hurt, but why the hell would he want to make a move anyway? He'd had absolutely zero interest in him…hadn't he?

Voldemort stepped closer into Harry's personal space, making up for the step he took back just moments earlier. "You believe yourself to be a prize because of your powers?" Voldemort asked, feeling slight disbelief, didn't the boy look in the mirror? He wandered around Harry speaking as he moved.

"I have more than enough power of my own, Harry, I certainly don't need yours." Which was a lie of sorts, he didn't need Harry to be his partner to have his powers, he already had them just by Harry's being on his side. "I already have you on my side, I already have your power at my disposal." Brutal honesty would be needed here, definitely. He was cagy and suspicious of him, and it rather vexed Voldemort.

Harry tilted his head up proudly, "And if I said no?" he challenged him, green eyes flashing at black ones.

If Harry was deliberately trying to wind him up, he was definitely succeeding, "I may be many things, especially in the eyes of the law, but I am no rapist." Voldemort hissed out through gritted teeth, quite frankly it sounded more like the snake language they both could understand than anything else. He'd never had to force a partner to sleep with him, they all did so willingly and with relish and he never left them wanting.

A wry smirk slid across Harry's face, green eyes gleaming ferociously, well, well, it looked as though Voldemort actually just wanted him for him. There could be worse ways to lose his pesky virginity, at least Voldemort didn't care for his 'fame' and it wouldn't be spread across the newspapers with explicit details on display. That and perhaps he could make his dreams a reality, because while he didn't remember most of them in a lot of details…what he did remember could still arouse him like nothing else ever had. When would another chance come up? Quite frankly, so far, Voldemort was the only wizard who actually caught his attention. At least nobody who could make him wake up from a wet dream like the ones he's had in the past. "You might look like you're in your twenties but you're what at least in your sixties…sure you'd be able to keep up old man?" Harry asked, taunting him, sweeping his tongue out again.

Voldemort inhaled sharply, the sly little bloody vixen he was deliberately winding him up. It made the problem in his pants more prominent and what little patience he'd retained vanish entirely. Watching Harry pulverise Bellatrix without losing sweat had been…alluring to say the least. The way he had utterly and mercilessly taken her magic as well…he was perfection at its finest.

Harry's eyes widened and he gave a surprise grunt as Voldemort grabbed a hold of him, and apparated them out of the destroyed dining room. He didn't need to open his eyes to realize they were most probably in Voldemort's bedroom. His mouth was in the process of being attacked by the wizard as he was shoved onto the bed with Voldemort on top of him.

Arching himself up, he wrapped his legs around Voldemort and flipped them over, he wasn't going to be a submissive little plaything, and Voldemort would have to live with that. The surprise that filtered over Voldemort's face indicated he definitely wasn't expecting it.

Kissing him back, distracting the both of them, he groaned at the feel of Voldemort wrapping his fingers through his hair and scraping his scalp in the process. There was something very erotic about it, but those fingers had been the first thing to get his attention. Grounding down against Voldemort, relishing in the arousal swamping him, Voldemort easily adding to it by the guttered groan he let out.

Voldemort realized he was going to come embarrassingly early if he didn't regain control, it had been a long time since he'd had a partner. He'd lost all trust towards the end, even in trusting a partner – as temporarily as they were – in his bed. He had been too busy since his return to even contemplate taking anyone. Then his bothersome attraction to the boy grounding down on him had well…made the thought of taking another somewhat…lacklustre. the enthusiastic participation wasn't easing his problem, judging by the…rather clumsy way he was acting the boy had not had sex yet.

He had to regain control immediately, with that Voldemort twisted them so that he was the one on top yet again. Tightening his hold so that Harry couldn't get out of his hold or try to get back on top. The maddening squirming wasn't helping him regain any control whatsoever.

Harry arched his neck in invitation at the first feel of that mouth biting and nibbling along his jawline. Bloody hell, it was so good, he'd never thought of his neck as an erogenous zone before, but it most definitely was. Harry slid his hands under Voldemort's clothes, gasping at the feeling of muscle under his hand, surprised to feel it. He'd never seen Voldemort undressed, but he'd always thought he was thin and lithe like himself. He couldn't help but roam his hands everywhere he could get them. Biting his lip and trying to keep silent, as he clutched his shoulders. This was a hundred times better than just trying to jerk off himself.

He had definitely gone too long, if those inexperienced hands could reduce him to a near writhing mess. They were exploring him as though they'd never even so much as touched another person before which aroused him further. Harry Potter wasn't just a virgin he was untouched and pure, and he was choosing to allow him to be his first despite their rather less than stellar past. He would give the boy a night he would never forget. Although nobody would be getting to touch him anyway, Harry was his now, he would kill anyone who tried to touch him or have him for themselves.

Harry blinked back to himself at the feeling of his clothes being removed, indecision warring within him. A bolt of panic hit him – not fearful panic just a little anxious panic – at the feeling of Voldemort undoing his trousers. "No," Harry stated, pressing his hand over Voldemort's, none of his panic showing, instead it was a decisive answer. He might be a virgin, and unexperienced, but he knew his own mind and knew better than to let anyone run all over him. That was what being here had taught him, that everything in his life was his own decision. Screw everyone else and their opinions.

To his eternal surprise, Voldemort did stop.

He did respect Harry's decision to go no further today, it was his body and as he had said before, he wasn't a rapist. He didn't need to force his partners to sleep with him, they had all been all too willing. Sure, expecting more than he would ever be willing to give them, it was hardly his fault that they grew to expect more. They were complete fools if they thought for a second, he'd share his power with them. With Harry though…he would share everything. He would go as slow as he needed. The feeling of Harry's lips against his own surprised him. So, he didn't wish to stop, he was just giving clear indications of his line drawn today.

Parting just slightly, he stared down at Harry, desire and satisfaction coursing through him at the desire and need exuding from Harry's body. The hickey's he'd marked into his neck becoming more prominent as time passed. Everyone would see, everyone would know that he had claimed the boy as his.

As if claiming them in front of every single one of his followers wasn't enough.

Nothing would ever be enough.

"You're mine," Voldemort declared passionately, before swooping in, determined to reduce Harry to an incoherent babbling mess.

Harry wrapped his legs around Voldemort, tightening his hold, "And you will be mine," he declared while panting for air as they came up for a much-needed breather. His lips were tingling with slight pain at the claiming, green eyes alight with passion.

All attempts at talking ceased after that, as they both focused on each other. Bodies pressing together, fingers scraping, legs tightening, bodies writhing on each other's hard bulges as passion grew to heights neither had known. Harry because it was all new and Voldemort…who had never truly been so obsessed over another person in this regard before. Eventually the passion grew too great, broken sounds left their lips as they came.

Voldemort unwound them both, leaning against the bed, and was content to watch Harry come undone, the desire to do more, to show him everything was strong. He refused; they had all the time in the world for him to show him all pleasures of the flesh. Harry was probably his first bed partner who had no desire for power, which was ironic in the extreme, since he was going to receive that and a lot more. He would ensure Harry received nothing but complete obedience and respect from his followers. Between the both of them, they would rule over the magical world and make it a world worthy of living in.

Lucius slammed the door closed of the quarters he used while they were living here temporarily as it had been. Face red, embarrassment and humiliation coursing through him. His son, his flesh and blood had fainted at the mere sight of a little blood and their Lord kissing someone. Those around him had seen it, and had found it all too amusing. Which meant it would be around the others within minutes, they would all know. His son was a complete and utter embarrassment!

"Do you think it's true?" Narcissa asked, wringing her hands together, anxiety pouring off her. As she petted at her son, who she'd just given a wet face cloth to. His face was just as red as his fathers, he did not tolerate embarrassment well, and he did not like his father's disapproval which was wafting from him in droves. "Has he taken Bellatrix's magic?" his worry for her sister obvious.

"Yes," Lucius stated seriously, "I have come to realise the boy never says anything he doesn't mean." The boy was infuriating in a way, but also very powerful, very self-aware and smart enough to know what it meant. Which meant that Lucius couldn't help but respect him for that. Although, for the first time, Lucius felt fear when it came to the boy. Fear of the power he was going to gain at the Dark Lord's side, fear of the power he had clearly enough to wipe Bellatrix's magic from her. The power he must have at his disposal to wipe Bellatrix' magical core was…very telling. He certainly wouldn't be going out of his way to even contemplate antagonising the boy again. Not that he had done such a thing for a while.

Narcissa felt tears brimming in her eyes, loathing herself for it, knowing if the situation was reversed Bellatrix would spare not even a single tear for her. The love she felt for her sister was one sided, Bellatrix felt no love for anyone except for the Dark Lord. "What will he do with her?" she was useless to the Dark Lord without magic, and quite honestly…she expected her death to come on swift wings.

"Love…there is nothing we can do about this situation, please don't cry," Lucius said, stalking over and wrapping his arms around her. He hated when she cried, there were only a few instances in their marriage when she had, not including the day Draco was born of course, they had been happy tears. When she found out she could have another child she'd been so heartbroken she had cried for days. He had almost joined her, but remained strong, almost stoic to the point. "I shall ask the Dark Lord for mercy," praying that he would give it to him. He was only going to do it for Narcissa, he personally didn't care for Bellatrix. She was more trouble than she was worth. Having a sister-in-law like Bellatrix wasn't only a hindrance it was an embarrassment.

"No, he will be furious," Narcissa declared strongly, she absolutely refused to allow anything to happen to her husband. She was already losing her sister she couldn't let anything happen to Lucius. "Just leave it alone." Her attention turning abruptly to her son when she noticed he was beginning to rouse.

"Do you understand now, Draco?" Lucius demanded; eyes boring coldly into his sons. "Do you realize why it is a bad idea to antagonise Potter?" wondering if his son even understood what was going on now. It truly was embarrassing and he was actually contemplating the very idea that Draco had some of the Black madness and impulsivity. Surely, he must, since he did nothing, he was meant to no matter how much he threatened his boy.

Draco hunched in on himself, "Is he going to get away with what he did to Bellatrix?" he'd never called her aunt Bellatrix. He barely knew her; she'd spent his entire childhood in Azkaban. He had a few pictures of her, of course, his mother liked to show them to him. He'd been a baby though, so of course, he didn't remember it. They'd been younger, youthful and very different from what they looked like now. Although, Rabastan and Rodolphus had changed since they got out of Azkaban but Bellatrix had remained maddeningly the same.

Lucius closed his eyes, despairing for his son, he didn't understand, "He will get away with whatever it is he wants. Do you not get it? Draco, Harry Potter holds more power than I or Severus do within the ranks." He'd never seen the Dark Lord publicly declare a lover before, he was different from all others. "He will rule by the Dark Lord's side, if Harry hadn't dealt with Bellatrix for what she did…the Dark Lord would have done worse."

"You must stop this childishness at once, Draco, if I find out you have been up to anything…you will not be back here again." Narcissa determined. She wasn't going to lose her son; Harry had given out numerous warnings so far. Even the others were warning her that Harry was losing patience, Severus, Rodolphus even Rabastan for Merlin's sake. No, she would just refuse to bring her son here, no matter how often he begged.

"Why him? Why is it always Potter?" Draco asked, sounding desperate and broken. Why did it always come down to him? He was never going to be anything when it was always down to Potter. In school, it was always him, from bloody house points, fame, ability to do anything he wants to getting off with murder. Not literally of course, but still, it was always him. This was supposed to be his side, where he shone and Potter died in obscurity when the Dark Lord won.

"The world doesn't revolve around you or Potter, Draco, only you are making it feel that way," Lucius stated sharply, honestly his son was still thinking of Potter as a rival in school. "You cannot keep comparing your accomplishments to Potter. It's no way to go about life. You won't be in school much longer." It would be like him trying to compare himself to the Dark Lord and that just would not do.

That was true, Draco thought, Potter wasn't in Hogwarts, yet nothing extraordinary had happened. All he did was spells, homework, quizzes then more homework. He didn't even shine when Potter wasn't there, no, Granger was still holding the number one spot in most classes.

Perhaps it wasn't Potter at all…maybe, just maybe, he was just disappointed in his life. He had expected greatness all his life after all, raised to believe it.

Realization filtered through Draco, finally at long last, he had heard the words that would bring realization crashing down upon him.

Whether it would be enough to keep the delusions from returning nobody knew.

"I must return to my office," and deal with Bellatrix went unsaid but definitely understood between the two of them. "You will accompany me."

It looked like despite their little…get together that Voldemort wouldn't change. Surprisingly that put Harry at ease, he wasn't sure how he'd have reacted if the Voldemort had suddenly started asking him things instead of demanding it. He did flush red just imagining everyone's reactions though, they'd know what they'd been up to. He wasn't thick, he could feel the marks adorning his neck, he absently touched them, yes, on full display.

Voldemort's eyes just gleamed in satisfaction, a small smirk making its way onto his features as if he could sense what Harry was thinking. He would make it his mission to always see those sorts of marks on Harry so he might as well get used to it.

"I need to get change," Harry barely finished the words when the feel of magic washed over both of them, getting rid of the damp patch in his underwear. "Well…that took care of that, I would have still preferred to shower." The sweat had dried up on him, leaving him feeling a little…yucky. He didn't like being dirty, not anymore. A great deal of his childhood had been that way, since he had been able to, he had kept himself as clean as possible. Showring at Hogwarts every night – when he wasn't in the hospital wing anyway – and of course bathing or showering here. Although he preferred bathing, there wasn't a bath at Hogwarts – unless you counted the prefects bath which he didn't far too public.

"Later," Voldemort demanded, "Let's go." he wanted this dealt with as soon as possible.

Harry huffed out a sigh, before blinking as he took in Voldemort's bedchambers for the first time. They were similar to his own in design, no surprise there. What also wasn't a surprise was the green and silver Slytherin bedding. Not only was he proud of his house at Hogwarts he was proud of his family line. The Slytherin line. It was clean and orderly, just like his office, he swore Voldemort had a touch of OCD. He was curious about the book he was reading, but the impatient noise Voldemort made Harry huff again. "Alright, alright, Merlin," Harry said smothering his amusement as he swung himself off his bed. Absently rearranging his clothes, so it wasn't too bloody obvious what they had been doing. He placed a glamour on the bite marks adorning his neck and stepped out of the room, only to feel the magic receding.

Harry barked out an amused chuckle, "You're a possessive bastard, wasn't your declaration enough?" there was little to no point to putting up another glamour he knew Voldemort would just remove it.

"I'll have you know my parents were married before I was born, as distasteful as it is," Voldemort declared imperiously, he was in no way a 'bastard' thank you very much. In the magical world such a thing was sordid and dirty, especially in Voldemort's time, not so much these days, like all things the 'badness' or prejudice came and went.

Harry glanced at Voldemort surprised that he would mention his parents instead of getting pissed, but inevitably shrugging his shoulders. He cared no more for his parents than Voldemort truly did. It wasn't the inability to care, it was the fact they'd never known them. Yes, when he'd been eleven, he had pined for them, but he was no longer a child wishing and desiring for parents. Pining for something wasn't the same as missing them, he hadn't grieved like Remus and Sirius had for Lily and James Potter and never would.

The remainder of the walk towards the office was a silent one, but not an uncomfortable one. Things hadn't been uncomfortable between Voldemort and Harry since the beginning. Since Voldemort had figured Harry out, realized what he wanted and had given it to him on a silver platter. His freedom most importantly.

The silence in the room where the Lestrange's were wasn't quite as peaceful, they were tense and alert, deeply uncomfortable. Well, everyone except for Luna and Rodolphus of course, who was as always, content to spend his time with Luna whenever and wherever he could. Despite the fact they were warm, seated and had drank and eaten their fill they were still anxious by the look of it.

They stood the moment the door opened, Luna much slower than the others, not used to how things were done here. Luna though, was watching Harry intently to make sure he was alright. A nod from Harry relaxed her shoulders. She was definitely out of place amongst the others who had tensed further upon the Dark Lord's arrival.

Voldemort made his way over to the unconscious bundle in his office, and did a basic diagnosis on the woman at his feet. As expected, he found her magical core completely gone, shattered beyond repair. Other than that, she was in very ill health, which disheartened him, she should have recovered by this, hadn't she been following Grant's health plan?

"Well, I do believe her…life is in your hands," Voldemort stated to Harry, "What do you plan on doing?" he wouldn't interfere with the duel and deciding her fate would be interfering. She had accepted the duel adding more weight behind it.

"I did what I intended to do," Harry said coolly, having no pity for Bellatrix, she deserved everything she got in his opinion. "What happens next can be up to Rodolphus and you." Deeply curious to see what Rodolphus would decide. Rodolphus gave a choked noise at the declaration.

He stared at Harry with a 'deer in the headlight' look that definitely looked comical on the wizard. "What? Why? Why me?"

"You've had to endure the most," Harry pointed out, "But be warned, anything she manages to pull will go directly on your shoulders. Just because she has no magic doesn't mean she isn't a danger to society." And wasn't that the truth? Anything and everything could be used as a weapon.

Rodolphus stiffened, well, that explained his 'mercy' when it came to Bellatrix. For surely, he knew that he wouldn't wish to see Bellatrix dead not really. He knew that the Dark Lord didn't wish to see her die either, so it didn't leave much in the way of options. "I…I can't see her dead," he confessed, looking pained and angry at the same time. Angry at his weakness for his inability to see Bellatrix gone from his life for good.

Harry merely nodded, waiting for Rodolphus to make up his mind, ambling over and taking a seat. Making himself something to drink and nibbling on the food that had been at some point brought up. "So? What's your alternative?"

"Harry," Luna chided, didn't he realize this was hard for them? of course, he did, he was just protecting her, going to the extreme. She appreciated it, she really did, Bellatrix could have killed Rodolphus if Harry hadn't known the counter-curse.

Rodolphus gripped Luna tightly, she had better learn not to argue with Harry at least not where Voldemort was anyway. He could see that Voldemort wasn't even happy with what she had said so far. "How about keeping her on the grounds here, with the inability to leave her abode…until…"

"Until?" Harry arched a brow.

"Until she can be put in St. Mungo's, she needs someone to take care of her, stop her doing anything…drastic, she's never gone a day without her magic," Rodolphus said, shuddering violently just imagining how she'd feel. "She might try to end her life."

"Which is why you're probably just better off giving her some poison and letting her go," Harry said darkly, perhaps he was doing the wrong thing here.

"I hate to agree, but he is right, son," Corvus agreed one hundred percent with Harry.

"Maybe, but I can't just let her die," Rodolphus argued, "You've asked me to decide, this is what I've decided. In house-arrest spell, with a full-time carer so she can heal and get better. Someone strong enough to withstand whatever Bellatrix might have in store." Glancing at Luna to see how she felt about all this, and found her looking at him with a look that could only be 'starry eyed' or as close as one he'd ever seen before. She obviously approved of his mercy, although truthfully…was it mercy? Or was he just forcing her to endure more torture? Keeping her alive without magic, it was quite frankly worse than what they had done to the Longbottom's.

"Is there a cabin or anything here she can use?" Harry asked eventually, "I've never really looked properly," he added sheepishly when he got a raised eyebrow at his question. He did know there was nothing in the immediate vicinity.

"There is something…but it would need to be made suitable," Voldemort muttered grudgingly, he felt like he was betraying Bellatrix, betraying her loyalty, she had been so utterly loyal to him that he felt something. It wasn't so much as guilt…but perhaps a general sadness? If he could muster up what genuine sadness felt like he'd suggest it was that. Also, slight irritancy that he was losing someone loyal to him – someone who would do whatever he asked whenever he asked – at the end of the day he'd rather have someone stable like Harry than Bellatrix though. "Until then she goes into the outer dungeons," where Harry had been, it wasn't as cold down there and there was actually a bed. He was not having her roaming around; she was a danger with or without magic.

He had noticed her reaction when he had claimed Harry, and it wouldn't do to have them in the same building for long. He would have the cabin renovated overnight, and get her situated as soon as possible. The band would be easily made, he wouldn't need to use an item either, just imbue it into the Dark Mark, making it impossible to override.

"Well, excuse me, I've got a card game to get to," Harry said, rubbing his hands together gleefully, he was going to enjoy tonight.

Voldemort watched Harry go caught between being annoyed and amused.

"I'm coming," Luna declared immediately, rushing after him.

"Don't you have an unfair advantage, Luna?" they heard Harry tease Luna, her reply wasn't heard as they were too far away.

Corvus coughed to hide how amused he was by both Rodolphus' and the Dark Lord's reactions to their lovers just up and leaving without so much as showing any respect to the Dark Lord or getting their permission.

Well, life wasn't going to be boring that was for certain. It was time to embrace that.

Just as Harry and Luna were embracing their true selves now that they didn't feel the need to stick to the light side.

"I thought you lot wanted a rematch?" Harry asked, leaning against the doorway, watching them listen to the wireless, sounded like a Quidditch match was being played. Although, who it was Harry had no idea, their last names weren't familiar to him. Despite his love for Quidditch at Hogwarts, he was more in it for flying. He knew the names of some Quidditch teams but nothing more and only because he'd heard them in passing.

"Wha…we…er…that is to say, what?" Terrance Higgs spluttered out; his eyes wide.

Harry cocked his head to the side, staring at the group, they looked ready to piss themselves. "Card game? You better have gotten the Fire-whisky, I was looking forward to that,"

"You still want to play?" Terrance blurted out, genuinely taken aback. Glancing at the others as if trying to gauge their reactions as well. They were all just as surprised as he was that Harry was standing there as well.

"I thought your schedule would be rather…busy tonight," Marcus Flint commented, a wicked smirk adorning his face, which made him look more sadistic than amused really given it showed nearly all his teeth. "Not that we would have blamed you,"

"Yes, he is hot like burning, isn't he?" Harry taunted them right back, causing all of them to duck down, staring alarmed at Harry's casual way of talking about their Lord. Half expecting him to turn up around the corner and curse them for discussing him. "I mean those hands…"

Theodore, Blaise, Pansy and Millicent choked on their own spit.

Aiden Pucey squeaked, "The game…" he muttered desperately, "You still want to play?"

Harry laughed, throwing his head back, properly displaying every single bite mark that Voldemort had put on display while marking his territory. "I thought you didn't like starting things you won't be able to finish?" he asked them, they had begun taunting him…what had they expected an innocent virginal flush to overtake him as he stuttered? Oh, no, he rarely let anyone see genuine reactions from him. Maybe Voldemort and Luna and on the odd occasion, Severus but that was the extent of it.

"Just stop, we aren't going there," Marcus stated, shuddering, "Our Lord has the propensity to turn up just as something was said that shouldn't have been…"

Harry just smiled mysteriously; green eyes gleaming with a knowing look. Unlike them, he would know the second Voldemort approached. The mark he still bore acted as a beacon; he would know he was approaching even if it no longer burned him. He could, if he so wished, actually see out of the Dark Lord's eyes temporarily. Although, the last time had been an accident, and it had pissed him off, so it wasn't something he rather wanted to do again. Plus, it had been entirely too dizzying and weird to wish to do so again. The only way it would happen is if Voldemort apparated, but it wouldn't really be sneaking up if he was Apparating now, would it? "Alright," he said, taking pity on them. "I've had Luna set up in the room we used last time…well, with Butterbeer anyway, the real stuff was meant to be bought by you," gesturing towards Terrance.

"Well, luckily I did," Terrance admitted, although not for the reason the original bottle was going to be used for. No, they'd planned on getting bloody hammered after what they had just seen. "You've already cost me ten galleons." He must be mad wanting to lose more but maybe, just maybe the beginners luck had worn off.

"I'm insulted, you thought I'd get beaten?" Harry asked, shaking his head in mock irritation.

"He thought you'd get your ass handed to you," Marcus answered with a smirk, "I had him at twenty galleons you'd win. He shot it down to ten, so at least he had some doubts." Not against selling Terrance out, no Slytherin would be against being smug and superior that they were right all along.

"Love proving everyone wrong," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders, he was aware that they probably weren't the only ones who had placed bets either. "Bring everything down to the room, Barty and Luna are there," he added, "Nott, Parkinson, Zabini you can come if you want," they looked slightly put out, but the surprise on their faces proved they did indeed wish to come.

And with that Harry left the room.

"Well, you coming?" Marcus grunted as he stood, rubbing his hands together, determined to beat Potter tonight.

"I…" Theodore murmured, slightly dazed.

"Draco will be most displeased," Pansy admitted, especially if he wasn't invited.

"You think he won't show up?" Blaise said, snorting a little, he was there when they made the original plans, Draco would take it as invitation, that he too was invited. Although, given that he had been led straight away by his father after the duel maybe he wouldn't get out of his parents sight. "Well, I'm going, it's either that or head home." And he'd rather avoid his mother's badgering on what 'he wanted to do when Hogwarts was done' despite having near perfect grades. So, he would be able to do whatever he chose, he just didn't know what he wanted to do if he was honest.

They found themselves in an empty room, Marcus and the others had already left. Evidently not truly caring whether they chose to come or not.

"Come on!" Theodore urged, as he jogged from the room, in order to catch up with them, since they didn't know where they were set up. It was obviously a room they'd used to play before, but Theo hadn't been there for that, so they didn't know. He definitely wasn't going to try and ask people where they were.

They managed to find the room by barely keeping up so the guys were in their line of sight round ever corner then of course the room. Theo, Blaise and Pansy gaped as they entered, it was an actual games room, with the proper gear and everything. They'd never expected such a sight in the Dark Lord's manor. It made them wonder if he gambled or if it was something to keep the people happy.

"Woah, has this been here the entire time?" Theo asked, there were snacks strewn all over the table, next to where they had all just sat.

Marcus arched a brow, "Of course, it has." He grunted, unimpressed with the insipid words.

"I had no idea this was even here," Theo added, "I mean, I thought I had investigated every room on this level." The one level he was actually allowed to be in. Everywhere else was off-limits.

"That's doubtful, even I haven't investigated everywhere," Harry said wryly. "And I'm here every day." Had been for quite a while. He didn't know about this room until the 'coming-out' party which had coincided with his birthday. So more of a birthday party than a coming-out to the dark side sort of thing.

"Five card draw?" and it was quickly agreed, that was what they'd play.

"Why is it you decided to leave Hogwarts anyway?" Blaise asked.

"Betting limit per game I'd say ten galleons?" Harry said, putting a limit on this one, the last game he'd played, he couldn't remember a limit being on it, but it had all been adults and completely hammered so they probably hadn't thought of the good idea.

"Fifteen," Terrance suggested.

"Twenty," Marcus argued.

"Alright, eighteen galleons," Harry suggested, that way almost everyone would be happy. Plus, he doubted they were hard up for the money.

They all quickly agreed they were happy with that stipulation.

"I thought the scene in the Great Hall that time would have been explanation enough?" Harry said derisively, clicking his tongue. "Stop there, that's enough for me," he added watching Marcus pour fire-whisky into a goblet. Harry then poured a more than generous amount of butterbeer into his cup afterwards. He didn't want to get completely sloshed through.

Ten sickles were placed in the pot by Harry, who said "Ante up!" and the others added their own money which was in a pouch next to them.

Harry laughed when Theo, Blaise and Pansy barely got more than a gulps worth.

"What? I'm not getting any shit from your parents if they get wind of this, it's that or nothing." Marcus grunted; the Parkinson's were bad enough but Blaise's mother was the absolute worse. Theo's dad was a bit more laid back but he had no idea the kids tolerance so best to be on the safe side.

Harry used magic to deal the cards swiftly, dealing to his left then clockwise to everyone else. Each getting a card until they all had five each.

"Fair enough," Pansy agreed, well aware how annoyed her parents would be if she got drunk. She wasn't going to turn down free drink though. Accepting her cards, a pout showing on her face momentarily before she was 'pokerfaced' again.

Harry of course, noticed it, but he was sitting with a bunch of Slytherins who had been playing since they were young probably. So, he would need to suss out what were genuine tells or what was faked just to make you think the opposite of what they wanted you to know. It would be bad form to read their minds to find out after all…nobody had accused Harry of being good…at least not for a good long while.

Luna giggled behind her own cards, only to be given odd looks from everyone around her. She completely ignored them, used to the looks she received all her life.

"It will be unfair if you win," Harry commented to Luna who was sitting next to him.

"Tell me about it," Barty grumbled. "But it is a good advantage," he certainly would use it so he couldn't blame Luna if she did. Placing two of his cards down and accepting the replacements, as did Marcus, Harry and Luna. The rest seemed happy with what they had. Harry as the dealer of course, went last.

"What happened in the Great Hall?" Terrance asked, genuinely curious as they begun to play the game. Relaxing back, at least they managed to actually get the game off to a start this time, without Malfoy there to complain about his cards. It's like the kid didn't know how to play at all.

"Oh, I withdrew from school, handed my exam results over and walked out. The look on their faces were hilarious." Harry said chuckling in amusement. "I would have loved to have stuck around to have seen the look on Dumbledore's face though, but he can see through my invisibility cloak so I couldn't." genuinely pouting over that fact.

Barty snorted in amusement, only to laugh in glee at the next words.

"He bolted after you, shouting your name so loudly I wouldn't be surprised if the rafters vibrated," Theodore informed him with a smirk, "The entire school was in an uproar, not that I blame you really, she was a wicked bitch."

"That she was," Harry murmured, glancing pointedly at Pansy.

"What? I'm not going to feel guilty," Pansy stated seriously, "I'd rather be on the winning side. Plus, the Ministry had too much control over Hogwarts that year. Do you ever see Dumbledore protecting any of the Slytherins? We did what we had to in order to protect ourselves." The anger and disgust pouring off Pansy was immense. She had a deep hatred of Dumbledore like all Slytherin's inevitably did due to his favouritism.

"He didn't even help his 'Savior' so why the hell would he protect anyone else?" Theodore scoffed as he drank his whiskey laced beer.

They all had their hand, now it was time to bet.

"Severus would have," Harry stated immediately, and without a doubt. For it was him who had protected Harry as often as he was able. He knew it wasn't just because Voldemort had demanded it either. Severus might have hated him to begin with, but that hatred hadn't stopped the protection Severus had given him. "I bet ten sickles," Harry declared putting the coins down, starting low but this wasn't a high stakes game, it was just for fun.

Theodore, Blaise and Pansy were startled by the use of their Head Of House's first name. Sure, they knew it, but they'd never used it or heard anyone their age using it. It conveyed a deeper meaning; they knew their professor was obviously close with Potter.

"Was it all faked?" Blaise couldn't help but ask, "The antagonistic relationship you two had?"

"I'll see your ten sickles," Luna said, before adding more to the pot, "And raise you seven sickles!" which essentially made it a galleon in the pot already.

"That's it?" Pansy scoffed, "I'll see your seventeen sickles for five galleons."

"What do you think?" Harry asked, wondering what on earth they all thought. Despite the conversation going on around them, they were all paying close attention to each person.

"I would say no…but I never thought you'd be here so, what the hell do I know?" Blaise scoffed, shaking his head. "Fold," he wasn't even going to try with these pathetic cards in front of him.

"I just don't get that, I mean seriously, why the hell do you all think that my allegiance was a sure thing at the age of eleven? I hadn't even been in the magical world before then!" Harry said exasperated.

"Other than the fact you're suspected to have faced the Dark Lord at the end of your first year?" Marcus was the one to point that out, as he matched Harry's stake.

"Oh, that's true," Harry conceded, his lips twitching as Theodore added to the pot with a clear disgruntled look on his face for a second.

"What that wasn't just bloody rumours?" Blaise practically squawked.

"I thought Dumbledore just used something pathetic blown out of proportion to award the points, I mean a chess game?" Theodore scoffed, still seething over the loss by the way all these years later.

Barty added to the pot arching a brow as they continued to talk, curious despite himself.

"Actually, say what you like about Ron, that chess game was set up by McGonagall," Harry defended Ron, "At eleven years old…but he's always been good at chess. I think he would do well on the tournament circuit." Win a lot of money at that too. "I'll raise you two more galleons," after putting in the pot, and raising.

"I'm surprised you'd want to defend him after everything he's done," Pansy said screwing her nose up in disgust, "Bloody Weasley's!" absently playing with her coins as Luna went next after Harry, then it was her turn.

"We'll never be friends again, but it wasn't all bad," Harry conceded, "I've never understood the hatred you all have for the Weasleys' though," or the hatred the Weasley's have for all things Slytherin. Blind prejudice is what it was really.

"But you actually faced the Dark Lord? What happened?" Marcus asked, genuinely curious. Although the drink might have something to do with it. It was difficult to believe someone with only the basic of Hogwarts education got the better of the Dark Lord.

Harry cocked his head to the side, staring at everyone who was actually paying close attention despite the game. They honestly wanted to know what went down, the rumour mill had been rampant but nobody had actually believed that Voldemort had been at Hogwarts. Hell, Dumbledore hadn't wanted what really happened getting out and probably fed the rumours. "Voldemort couldn't touch me due to the protection my mother's sacrifice inspired. So, when he did, Quirrell began to disintegrate, it forced Voldemort to flee without the Philosopher stone Dumbledore had stored in Hogwarts to draw him out and see what would happen between us." Harry said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, he can definitely touch you now," Theodore sniggered, before clapping his hand over his mouth in horror at his own words. Glancing at the doorway as if expecting the Dark Lord to suddenly appear and torture him. "Fold," he added, putting his cards down, he wasn't going to waste any more money on this unsalvageable set of cards.

"That he can," Harry said, a smirk playing across his face. "And you are drunk,"

"No, I'm not," Theodore complained, clearly lying through his teeth.

"Go eat something," Marcus ordered, shaking his head before deciding to summon food for all of them. He really didn't want to get into it with the parents. This might be the biggest mistake he'd ever made. Potter that could outdrink the Slytherins, there was a day he never thought he'd see.

Harry's eyes gleamed into Marcus' as if he knew what the Slytherin was thinking. It was extremely intimidating, not that he would ever reveal that information to anyone.

They all ate not just Theodore as they played out two games, Theodore, Blaise and Pansy were only allowed Butterbeer after their first drink – clearly unable to handle their drink as of yet – much to their consternation. Surprisingly Pansy ended up winning the first game, and the second game went to Marcus Flint, Barty Harry had learned was a very sore loser.

"Well, I'm going to get back to Rodolphus, I owe him some snuggles," Luna declared cheerfully, as if she didn't mind that she had lost two games. She'd had good fun; she wasn't often invited to activities like these with people her own age. She had spent her Hogwarts years being bullied, only Harry had given her a chance…even Hermione and Ron had written her off immediately. Recalling their words to her, she might have looked completely unbothered, but it hurt to be excluded all the time.

Barty and Harry barked out an amused bout of laughter at the looks on Theodore, Blaise, Pansy, Marcus and Terrance's face. Honestly, you'd think Luna had just declared that she usually tap dance's naked on the full moon surrounded by werewolves.

She gave Harry and Barty a wave before she took off without another word to anyone.

"Rodolphus…snuggles?" Marcus muttered in horrified fascination. "Speaking off…what exactly has happened to Bellatrix? I assume she's dead?" Harry didn't seem to be one who took anything lying down anymore.

"No," Marcus and the others were startled to hear that coming from Harry.

"No?" Terrance echoed the word, wincing at the reality of a Bellatrix alive without magic, it was just too horrific to contemplate. It made Terrance have a healthy respect for Harry Potter and a single-minded determination never to piss him off. It was probably the same for all the others, especially seeing as the Dark Lord probably wouldn't do anything about it. "Damn that is just…vicious," death was preferable than living without magic.

"Mmm, Rodolphus couldn't bring himself to kill her," Harry shrugged, giving away the fact he had left her fate in the hands of the Lestrange's' and that they had taken pity on her…the worst kind of pity at that.

"That's hardly a surprise," Barty said, understanding what was going through Rodolphus' head more than any of the others. He was good friends with them, although lately he'd have to say Harry was more of a best friend, but only because the brothers had been focusing on getting better and he had never been in the state they had. He'd had been fed meals three times a day under the Imperius curse after all. It had addled his mind being free so suddenly, but he was still in better shape than the brothers had been.

Someone clearing their throat had them all looking up, Harry was half expecting Voldemort but was pleasantly surprised to see Severus there. "Hey," Harry said in greeting.

"If you have nothing to do, I would like it if you would help me brew a few potions in the lab." Severus stated briskly.

Harry arched a brow, Severus never needed help brewing…unless he had something he wanted to give most of his attention to. He had mentioned his desire to create a potion, so perhaps he wanted to focus on that instead. "Sure," he agreed.

"We can help as well, Professor?" Blaise suggested, next to Draco he was the best potions brewer in his year.

"I think you'd be a danger of blowing up the lab, instead of helping, Mr. Zabini," Severus said dryly, "Perhaps if you were sober the answer would have been different." Which was a lie but he'd rather let his Slytherin's save face. They got enough crap from the magical world just because of their placement, he wouldn't add to it.

"I'm not that bad," Blaise protested.

"I beg to differ, you're slurring your words," Severus said wryly, giving Harry a nod, before leaving the room and its occupants.

Barty and Marcus eyed Severus skewedly, knowing he didn't need help. Nor would he ask for it even if he was working under pressure.

"Best get going," Harry said, his curiosity showing, indicating he too, knew there was more to this than just brewing potions. "Thanks for the game, I'll see you later," and it had been fun, he was beginning to really like spending time with Marcus and Terrance. Although Barty was still the funniest of the lot.

"Definitely have to do it again," Barty stated determinedly but it was the last thing Harry heard as he left the room.

It didn't take Harry long to get down to the dungeons, where Severus was waiting for him. "You definitely don't need help with potions. What's wrong?" if anything he was the one that required inspiration from Severus when it came to certain potions.

"Has anyone given you the talk?" Severus asked, clearly deeply uncomfortable, but the set of his jaw and brow spoke of determination.

"The talk? About what?" Harry asked, frowning in confusion, at the abrupt change of subject.

"Sex," Severus stated bluntly. Truly unsurprised that neither Black or Lupin had thought to inform Harry of such things. They were bordering on immature; they knew nothing about children.

Harry flushed red immediately, "What the hell do we need to talk about sex for?" Harry squeaked out; eyes wider than Dobby's on a bad day.

Severus smothered down his amusement; he had never seen Harry so…embarrassed before. "I'm going to assume you missed out on the talk Poppy gave to boys in your class?" which wasn't surprising given the amount of time Harry often ended up in the Hospital wing.

Harry nodded curtly, glancing at the doorway, almost tempted to make a run for it.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to give you an actual talk," Severus said wryly, the boy would probably die of embarrassment if he did so. "Instead, all I ask is that you read this book, it will tell you everything you need to know, from the mechanism of sex to usual first-time questions people want to know the answer to but rarely ask."

Harry gulped, "Fine," he squeaked out, "I'll read it," too off-kilter to do much of anything let alone run.

"Harry…is this something you want?" Severus asked seriously, leaning against his empty workstation. "That YOU want." Not the Dark Lord, not anyone else, he wanted to be sure Harry wasn't being coerced into it, but he didn't think it to be the case. Merlin knows what he would do if it turned out that Harry didn't want the attention the Dark Lord was paying him.

Harry blinked, a small smile spreading across his face, realizing just how much Severus actually cared for the first time since he'd deflected to the other side. "That's something you don't have to worry about, Severus, I promise." Severus practically deflated like a burst balloon with confirmation. "I very much look forward to exploring…things with him."

"That…that's good," Severus said, clearing his throat, relief shining through his black eyes.

"How about you and I begin working on that tenth incomplete potion idea?" he had no names for any his potions, but the idea behind it was always written down first and foremost. As soon as the war was over for good, the potions would be published. Well, all except for the Metamorphmagus potion, that wasn't something they wanted widely publicized. Severus would get his share of acclamation and money gained, and yes, they were charging for it. The money was in a pouch somewhere in the lab actually.

"Which is your what?" Severus enquired, relaxing steadily, now that this horrific task was over with. He had read through the grimoire Harry had so graciously allowed him entry to. He had expressed interest in quite a few of them, but he hadn't memorised the book, the potion ideas weren't together, Harry scribbled a lot of information down, spells, potions, charms, hexes, dark arts and then potions again, it was all mixed up. Only Harry could ever make any sense of it.

"The one to repair the damage done to the Longbottom's," Harry explained, "Dobby?" he called, leaning against the lab table on the other side from Severus. "Can you bring me my grimoire, please?"

"Dobby will be doing that right away," Dobby said popping away, unsurprised that his Master had not waited for him to talk before asking. He knew he tended to blab a lot, but at least his Master Harry didn't hurt him.

"How is your arm?" Severus asked, concerned, his heart had been in his goddamned mouth the entire duel. He had sworn a vow to protect Harry, yet he'd been unable to interfere with the duel, and quite frankly, he hadn't known what the damn consequences would be. To the interference of the duel or worse, letting Bellatrix do anything to Harry. He was undeniably proud of how far Harry had come, the Dark Lord had taught him well enough…but Harry…had definitely trained on his own, and had his own brand of duelling. Which seemed aimed at pissing people off to the extent they couldn't think straight.

"It's fine, Voldemort's done worse during training," Harry shrugged, "I'm just glad she didn't go straight for the killing curse…I doubt I could have survived that,"

"That is very true, but Bellatrix is one for a spot of torture and completely bringing her opponent down. Her need for theatricality was her downfall, something you ought to take into consideration." Severus gave him a knowing look. He had been unsurprised that Harry had used his spell to take care of Bellatrix, he liked to do the unexpected.

Harry just gave him an innocent look before glancing at Dobby when he appeared with a pop. He accepted the book with a nod of thanks and Dobby disappeared once more. Harry immediately begun flipping through his book, until he came upon the one, he'd began when he found out what happened to the Longbottom's. It had admittedly been out of sheer boredom at the time…but if anyone deserved some good luck it was the Longbottom's…it was Neville. "Here it is, I'm pretty sure I've showed you it before."

"It does look familiar," Severus conceded, but they had been focused on the Metamorphmagus potion for quite a while.

"How is Narcissa taking it?" Harry asked, without a hint of guilt. He didn't feel guilty but he did feel bad for Narcissa in an abstract sort of way.

"I am unsure," Severus revealed honestly, as he placed the book in front of him. "I have yet to talk to either of them. Narcissa…despite Bellatrix's…mental instability loves her, not enough to allow her unsupervised time with her son, but enough to allow her to see him, that tells you just how deluded she is with just how far gone her sister actually was."

"Is," Harry corrected him absently, as Severus copied the information on the page and began to write down his own modifications without much thought put into it. Potions came as easy as breathing for him, so it was hardly any wonder. "Rodolphus couldn't bring himself to kill her, and Voldemort couldn't either."

"No, I don't suppose he could, there is one thing the Dark Lord appreciates above all else…loyalty. He rewards loyalty with loyalty, its why he was so desperate to get his followers out of Azkaban as soon as possible."

"Unless that loyalty gets in the way of what he wants," Harry commented idly, not unaware that Voldemort would kill even one of his most loyal followers to get what he wanted at the end of the day. Heck, Harry suspected he'd even kill him – and the Horcrux – if it came to it although considering he had absorbed the rest maybe not.

Severus paused briefly, glancing up at Harry, before nodding just once, "Indeed," was all he had to say on that subject. At least Harry wasn't becoming so utterly besotted that he didn't know what the Dark Lord was truly capable of.

"I doubt very much the Dark Lord will thank you for saving two Order members," Severus commented as they worked, suggestions going back and forth as they worked in sync.

"You actually think the potion will work?" Harry asked dryly, "I have no doubt that Neville's gran has the best people working on a cure and nothing has been worked out yet."

"Then she doesn't employ the right kind of people," Severus sneered at the prospect.

"Perhaps," Harry conceded, reckoning she used American Potion Masters of renown. Not many trusted Severus, despite the fact 'Dumbledore' vouched for him. So, he would have been struck off immediately, he wondered if the witch would come to regret that if they manage to successfully make it. Severus was a prodigy at potions, utterly phenomenal, he understood potions in a way that nobody else did. The Potions Mastery, being the youngest, didn't quite cover it.

And so, they sat on their stools and let their thoughts be known, completely forgetting the time. Not that they had anything to worry about, after all, they had nothing that needed their attention any time soon.

"How about phoenix tears? Would that work on mental damage? However miniscule it is," Harry mused thoughtfully.

"I've only ever heard of it repairing physical damages," Severus replied, "I am unsure of whether it would work against mental illnesses, and the tears are damn near impossible to incorporate into potions it requires a finesse that is near intolerable to accomplish."

"Okay, are there any potions available to deal with mental damage? Brain damage or anything of the sort Even a short amount?" he didn't know every single potion available so excuse him for asking. "Even one that isn't well known or 'illegal' by the Ministry's standards."

Severus frowned, his mind mentally calculating everything he'd ever read. "I believe…" Severus said slowly, "That there are three that I've read about, that might offer us some assistance." Already knowing what Harry was planning, it was quite ingenious really, to incorporate two potions together to make something new. Or using it as a stepping stone in order to accomplish what he wanted. Or making the first potion better, more powerful, much like what he had done with the potion for Remus Lupin and his wolf-y problem.

"But?" Harry asked, if he had the books, he'd already be off like a shot to get them, of that, he was sure.

"I believe you will find them in the Dark Lord's library, I may have one but I am not one hundred percent on that front. It's not something I had a great interest in, potions of that nature are extremely pernickety and I found myself disliking them immensely." Severus admitted, he had sold and bought more books than he could remember, so that one may have been one of the many sold for something more up his street.

"Not your preferred area, gotcha," Harry agreed, "Well I'll just ask…"

A pop interrupted their conversation.

"You are required to go to Masters private study at once," the House-elf reprimanded, and without waiting for a reply she disappeared.

Harry and Severus stared at where the House-elf was incredulously before glancing at the time. Severus arched a brow while Harry's eyes widened, bloody hell, it was well past dinner time, so past dinner time that it was nearer supper. "I guess we better go, I forgot we'd set up a meeting tonight." Harry sighed, "I'll find the books tonight, and read through them." Glancing at his clock, it was nearing time for him to get some rest, it was just passing midnight.

Severus tapped the paper in front of him then another, appeared before the pages glowed blue. "Any alterations made, will show up on both copies," he explained, as he closed the book and handed one copy of the parchment and the book back to Harry.

"Nobody finds out about this conversation," Harry warned him, flushing red, despite himself. "No one." He tried to sound as threatening as possible, but the reality came across as an embarrassed youth.

"Best not keep the Dark Lord waiting," Severus replied in lieu of an answer.

Harry groaned, the Slytherin that Severus was…there was no way he'd agree to keep it to himself. He'd just added to the ammunition, like some sort of Gryffindor. Muttering under his breath, he and Severus left the dungeons – taking with them the grimoire, the book that had Harry flushing further and parchment – and despite the general disgruntlement and delight on Severus' part, it was with a dramatic flair and general amusement that followed them up. Shoving the books in his cloak pocket - charmed to house more than just mere sweets or his wand - he did not want anyone to see that book thank you very much.

It warmed Harry that someone cared to bother about something like that. Never having had a parental figure, this day would stick with him for all time.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 57

"It came!" Harry said almost bouncing up and down on his bed as he shared the news with Sirius and Remus. The thick padded envelope had thus far remained unopened. The mirror remained aloft due to magic, luckily, otherwise it too would have been bouncing up and down along with a very hyper Harry.

Remus laughed softly, observing the teenager with a deep fondness.

"I don't think I've seen you quite so excited before," Sirius said, his tone a bit wistful, James found it so very easy to get all riled up. Harry was so calm compared to James or even Lily actually. They had tempers that were so easily shattered, given Harry's childhood he couldn't proclaim any surprise that he was reserved. "It's a good look on you." He reassured Harry as he calmed marginally.

Harry chuffed, "I really can't wait to go." he confessed, he hoped he got further than the first round otherwise it would be embarrassing and he'd totally never show his face anywhere again. He'd soundly beaten Bellatrix for goodness sake, if he could do that, surely, he could get through the first round? It would all depend on who he ended up facing as well, the only upside was that nobody knew his fighting style yet.

"Where are you starting and who is it, you're facing first?" Remus questioned, amber eyes alight with deep curiosity, pondering on whether they would know who it was, he was familiar with a few names on the duelling circuit, nowhere near as many as Filius, however, but considering the wizard was a multiple time champion, no surprise there.

Harry scrambled up the bed, ripping off the seal, and dropping it all out on his bed. He took a few moments looking through it all until he got to the schedule. "Oh, first round isn't too far, Ireland." He commented, it was likely very good, would mean he wouldn't be met with boiling heat if they were somewhere exotic or some such.

"Where about in Ireland?" Sirius asked, his godson was going to go far in this tournament he just knew it.

"Apparently we never get the exact location, outside of the fact it's in Dublin," Harry explained with a shrug, "Portkey there, and there's a lot of security, the sheer number of getaways is rather impressive." It had impressed Voldemort, for Merlin's sake, and that was saying something. It had eased him though, just knowing that the competitors were truly kept safe from any and all harm. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to stop a match or attempt to disrupt it to allow the other competitor to win all for money. That was just the start of it, knowing that Harry was there, they'd tightened it even more, and took steps to ensure nobody knew where and when, only one person and he had taken an unbreakable vow never to reveal it.

"It's the way of it," Remus murmured, "Do you need help practicing for the tournament?" he loved teaching, being a professor, he'd done it for only one year but it cemented his belief. He knew he would have taught forever, if he had the chance.

"Sure, I'd like to come and see you properly before I go anyways," Harry said, "Since I'll only be getting in touch through the mirror once I'm gone, except for once or twice." International portkey's were very difficult to get, not to mention incredibly expensive to boot. Well, not expensive to him, the amount of money he had was…just bloody out of this world. He'd never have to worry, not a day in his life even if he lived to five hundred years.

"We'll come and see you a few times," Sirius declared, "We'll be getting tickets as soon as they're available." Considering Harry had his and the portkeys it would be any day now that they were available to purchase by the general public.

"Don't get too many, I have no idea how far I'll get in the rounds," Harry said, warmth suffusing him at the idea that they cared enough to actually come to his matches to watch for themselves.

Sirius scoffed, "Get off! You'll win!" Harry was extremely smart, very talented and impressively magically powerful, recalling the stag that had erupted from his godsons wand when he was thirteen-years-old. Oh, Harry would easily take down anyone put in front of him, he had no doubt he had been training for this, he wouldn't be doing it without such actions.

Harry slowly smiled, "Here's hoping," he knew there was going to be a massive amount of betting going on here, in his home.

"How is Luna doing?" Remus asked, sensing Harry didn't want to continue on that particular conversation. He had never received praise well, not at all.

"Enjoying the rest of her holidays before she goes back to school," Harry replied, "She isn't looking forward to it." Laughing ruefully and shaking his head.

"No, I wouldn't think she would," Remus said sombrely, he was aware of the bullying she was subjected to. He had given the culprits detention when he noticed it, all the while knowing from experience that detentions don't really act as a deterrent for those determined enough. Especially given that people had been allowed to do it far too long. It had stung something fierce seeing what had changed and the gaping chasm that still existed between the students, mostly Gryffindors and Slytherins. Absolutely nothing had changed in that regard in the years he'd been absent from Hogwarts.

"It's not quite so bad now, I sent a few…warnings to those that seemed determined to continue their shit after I left," Harry revealed, a smug smirk on his face, too bad he didn't get to see their faces.

Remus and Sirius stared at Harry speechless at the look on his face, not sure whether to laugh or not.

"Did you find the books you wanted, Remus?" they spoke every day, about absolutely anything that caught their fancy. Never for too long though, twenty to thirty minutes maximum. Only because it was usually late at night, and Remus and Sirius weren't as young as they used to be and are normally tired by then. Harry is usually busy trying to multitask on a few things. Not to mention tired himself, especially if he'd been duelling.

"No, Flourish and Blot's offered their services in tracking it down…but the prices are extortionate." Remus shook his head, utterly annoyed by it, it would take the shop all of an hour to find the book and they want to charge you one hundred galleon finder's fees? Ridiculous! He wasn't paying that.

"Ever thought of going to the bookstores in Muggle London?" Harry suggested, "They have entire sections dedicated to magic, there have been a few brilliant books for the next to nothing… admittedly they were copies of the originals."

"You go to Muggle London?" Remus wasn't sure why he was surprised, he had to get the books he reads from somewhere. He'd assumed he just went to Flourish and Blotts, it was the most popular place to get anything and everything.

"Yeah, quite a lot actually, not just for Magical books either," Harry explained, shrugging his shoulders, and he went with Barty, he refrained from adding that part. They would most likely end up having a heart attack, if they knew that. Glancing at his door when he heard slight creaking, but paid no mind, they knew better than to interrupt his conversations with Sirius by now.

"I'll have a browse," Remus nodded, he always loved browsing for books. Normally in the libraries because he couldn't afford to buy new books often. Things had changed, for both him and Sirius, so he could now afford to buy a few books. His amber eyes filled with excitement, oh, why hadn't he considered that before?

"You definitely should," Harry said enthusiastically, smiling at Luna as she plonked herself down on his bed. He knew Remus would be there all the time when he saw the prices. When compared to Flourish and Blotts? It was only a third of the price for the books.

"Hey, Sirius, Hey Professor Lupin!" she said cheerfully. Rodolphus remained at the doorway, not wishing to intrude in Harry's room, aware that Black and Lupin were to remain ignorant of Harry's true…loyalty. He did change his looks and become a blonde-haired younger wizard. He was rather pleased with the progress he was making with his abilities. He often wondered if Tonks had difficulties like this or if it was second nature.

"Hi, Luna," Sirius said, while Remus said, "It's Remus, please, I'm no longer your professor."

"Remus then," Luna said, looking as pleased as could be.

"Okay, I best get going, I want to focus on this, talk to you both tomorrow alright?" Harry said, grateful for the excuse to get away.

Sirius and Remus gave their own goodbye's before Harry gratefully deactivated the mirror. "You alright?" they'd taken to converging on his bedroom in the evenings, and truth be told, Harry actually liked the company despite himself.

"He'll find the books he wants tomorrow," Luna commented, "I see you got the letter from the duelling circuit." Eyeing the letter without an ounce of surprise.

"Who is going to win?" Barty asked, as he walked in, "Come one! Please! Just once," wanting to know so he could place his bet and actually win.

"I don't know." Luna said simply, shrugging her shoulders indelicately.

Harry eyed her shrewdly, wondering if that was actually true or if she did know and just wasn't telling anyone.

"Stop pestering her, Barty," Rodolphus said in exasperation he desperately wanted to move closer to Luna, he wished to be with her when he could as long as she wished. He didn't want to let her go, but she'd soon be back at Hogwarts again. However, he'd never actually gone in without explicit permission or with Harry being in the room already.

Barty pouted, taking it all in good humour.

"You can come in you know, I don't bite," Harry grinned almost ferally at Rodolphus. "But she might," gesturing towards Nagini who was making her way into his bedroom.

Rodolphus froze immediately, barely daring to breathe as Nagini approached him, she totally ignored him and made her way towards Harry's bed. A broken choked wheeze left Rodolphus at having the vicious snake anywhere near Luna's vicinity. Nagini and Harry had a short conversation before Nagini quietened down.

"Not fond of snakes?" Harry asked innocently, barely wincing at Luna's punch to the arm, which seemed to alarm Rodolphus more, honestly the guy looked ready to pass out.

"Not after seeing her eat someone whole," Rodolphus admitted, yes it had been a traitor, he hadn't cared about the idiot but the sight had been rather disgusting.

"She has?" Harry asked, eager to know more.

"You'll probably see for yourself some time," Rodolphus grimaced.

"Would have liked to have seen Pettigrew being chewed out," Harry said his eyes lighting up with savage glee.

Rodolphus snorted, he'd never particularly liked Pettigrew, he was a coward through and through. It also irked him that Pettigrew of all people were more…capable than him for a while, able to do things while he was unable to help his lord in any way after being released from Azkaban.

"And you think we're the mad ones?" he added wryly, entering the room and sitting down on the chair closest to Luna. Keeping an eye on Nagini who had just curled up in the corner of Harry's room contently.

"Meh, nurture versus nature, did I start out innocent or was I always going to be a vindictive little shit?" Harry shrugged, he didn't think he was mad, but those that were never did now did they?

"You busy?" Luna asked, glancing down at the books, and paperwork strewn across the bed.

"I was, but I keep getting interrupted," Harry teased her, "Anyway, what's up?"

"I'm surprised you're still in this room," Luna commented, ignoring his question for now, "Don't you have somewhere else to move into?"

Rodolphus groaned, hiding his face with his hand, Merlin, help him, women were more trouble than they were worth…why did he even want to go contemplate it let alone go through it again?

"Even if I did, I'd probably turn this room into an office of sorts," Harry said thoughtfully, but he didn't see anything like him moving into Voldemort's rooms any time soon. Nobody as far as he was aware was even allowed in there, well…except him, but they'd been rather busy…and not exactly sleeping. He wasn't going to presume anything, he was interested in seeing where it was going, but that's not to say they were going to be going steady or anything. "Plus, it might not be something long term."

Rodolphus barely refrained from snorting, that was definitely a load of nonsense. He'd never seen the Dark Lord look at any of his conquests the way he looked at Harry. Not to forget the fact he never publicly claimed them, declared them off-limits to any wandering eyes. Merlin help anyone who did try…for nobody else would help them.

"Have you been to see her yet?" Harry asked, shovelling his books around, until he found the one, he wanted to read next.

"I'm going with the Dark Lord when he has a moment," Rodolphus explained, not needing Harry to elaborate on who 'she' was. Bellatrix, she had been deposited into the cabin the second it was done.

"Rather you than me," Harry said wryly, stretching out with a groan, he'd been sitting basically in the same position for hours, and he ached.

"You're missing Tarek Gladstone's book Mind and Matter," Luna commented idly, blue eyes gleaming. "You'll need to go to Knockturn Alley, it's the only place that has a copy left, it's in a drawer with the Lestrange coat of arms."

Rodolphus straightened an indignant look on his face, they did not just give away their property. There had only been one-time things went missing actually, just before they were arrested. They had a warrant to search the property, which they had done, in the ensuing chaos his father hadn't realized what had gone missing or when it had occurred leaving him unable to mount an adequate defence against the Aurors who'd dare steal from him. gritting his teeth, eyes flashing furiously, "Is it a dark oak bureau?"

"Yes, the main part can't be opened, it's why they sold it for the next of nothing," Luna said, eyes slightly glazed as she spoke. "Stealing while on the job, disgusting really," and it wasn't due to the fact it was Lestrange property, her partners property, it was anyone rifling through someone's private property only to steal a priceless heirloom. Which probably originally cost more than Auror's make in fifteen years.

"If that's true then it's at the height of irony that the book your father was reading when you were arrested…is the book that could right that wrong." Harry snorted, Borgin and Burkes was open late, he could actually wait until later tonight to get it.

Rodolphus curled his lip into a sneer, before the look was wiped off his face when realization dawned exactly who he was sneering at. He would need to have more care, if he did that in the presence of the Dark Lord…or Harry when he realized his place well, he'd find himself in a world of pain. Yes, he'd tortured the Longbottom's, yes, he regretted it, regretted getting caught and wasting his time, after all they hadn't known anything, it had been a waste of time. "The Dark Lord will not approve of this," he warned them, belatedly realizing what on earth the pair of them were implying.

"You have a lot of faith in me if you think it will actually happen, I'm not sure how to feel about that…" Harry said wryly, before Rodolphus changed his hair blonde back again briefly, as if to silently prove a point. "Point well made," he conceded, with a rueful grin. He wasn't above acknowledging his own accomplishments; he wasn't someone who acted all bashful over his accomplishments. He acknowledged them after working long and hard on them. "Wasn't just me though, if Severus hadn't helped, I'm not sure you'd have that potion quite yet." oh, he knew it would have dawned on him at some point, just not so quickly.

"You are brazen I'll give you that," Rodolphus conceded, with a quirk of his lips, but the fact he acknowledged everyone else's part in the potion spoke of confidence and understanding of his own limitations.

Harry merely shrugged his shoulders, "How about putting it to good use and coming with us?"

Rodolphus stiffened, "You wish to go out there? With Luna?" then damn right he was going to come with.

"She isn't in any danger," Harry pointed out seriously, "If anything they'd come after me," referring of course, to the Order and Dumbledore if they ever managed to corner him, but he was too careful for that.

"No, they'd use her to get to you," Rodolphus argued.

"Look, we're only going to Knockturn Alley, we will be all of fifteen minutes…and it would take that long for them to get to wherever the hell Dumbledore is…and the chance of more than one of them being in the area would be more than bad luck." Harry argued, he understood Rodolphus' worry, to a point, but he wasn't going to begin stopping Luna from doing whatever she wanted. It wasn't a good thing in a relationship, whether he was old fashioned or not.

Without another word, Rodolphus' features began to change, he became less…thin, but no means overweight. His hair became blonde, his features more angular, younger, almost childish none of his 'pureblood' features could be seen. He looked like an unassuming Muggle-born child and he did it very well with grace.

"I always thought it would be difficult to work with the Metamorphmagus abilities," Harry said, impressed despite himself, that was…a smooth transition. "I was led to believe it would take months if not years to gain control…can you keep the shift for long?" which is exactly what it was, he had shifted forms to one that wasn't his own.

"I kept one for two hours but then I shifted back," Rodolphus said smugly, and he had a right to be, he had the best control over his new abilities, his brother could only keep it going for half an hour before he slipped up.

"So, you actually use magic to keep it up, I summarise once your health if completely reformed that it will be as easy as breathing." Harry nodded, as always fascinated about everything that was remotely magical. "I wonder if that's even remotely true…who's the most magically weak of all of you?"

"None of us are magically weak," Rodolphus declared with a vicious intensity that showed he hadn't even thought of an answer before answering.

Harry just gave him a flat unimpressed look. "Out of everyone that you know who has taken the potion…is the least magically proficient?" he repeated himself.

"I'll be right back," Luna climbed back off the bed, flouncing out of the room.

"One of the Crabbe's or Goyle's," Rodolphus conceded, with a scowl on his face.

"Your new face doesn't suit that look…nor does it look particularly threatening," Harry teased him, getting up himself, and rummaging in his trunk until he found what he wanted, his galleon bag.

Rodolphus watched the teen, he could see why Barty would like him so much. It wasn't often they were teased good naturally, everyone was too terrified of their reputation and position in the Dark Lord's army to even think of it. Bellatrix had made sure that they were never spoken to really, going off on the deep end if anyone did, and it just got to the point where everyone avoided them. They built up a camaraderie between the three of them, Barty and his brother and him.

He had gotten so defensive that he didn't know whether it was well meant or being sarcastic some of the time. He wanted to change that, even if he didn't know how…although, he had a feeling Luna would make it so. At least with Harry, Luna was good friends with him after all and Barty too.

"Let's go!" Harry said, almost rubbing his hands together gleefully, like with all things, when he had a way to get his own way he felt a sense of accomplishment. This was something he was doing, something he could do. Dumbledore had tried to snuff that independence from him, but in the process had just made him even more independent but hidden it from the old fool. To think of all the ways, he could have changed the magical world already actually hurt a little that his accomplishments were hidden.

Severus had done the same thing as him, but for different reasons.

"You really should inform the Dark Lord what you intend to do," Rodolphus said quietly, giving him advice instead of demanding he do so. It was an odd feeling in doing so, but judging by the way Harry looked at him, he was actually thinking about it.

"You honestly think he doesn't know already?" Harry asked wryly, "He's read everything in my Grimoire, Rodolphus and he's probably already corrected a dozen of my spells and potions, maybe even this one, who knows?" and Voldemort wouldn't bloody correct them, not unless it benefited himself.

"Oh," Rodolphus murmured, feeling slightly foolish, those thoughts were abruptly halted as Luna came back into the room, ready for her trip outside. "Ready to go?" checking to make sure his wand was on his person and his Gringotts key was there. It was something he kept upon his person at all times, his key, money and his wand. Three of the most important items one ever carried upon them. He was getting that damn piece of furniture back even if he had to kill the shit that bought it in the first place.

"Come on then, don't want to be absent when Voldemort wants you," Harry said, as the three departed from the manor, making a quick run to B&B, Borgin and Burkes.

Half an hour later

"I don't think I've seen anyone alive pale so much and still be breathing," Harry commented, amusement coating his voice. "Like seriously, vampires have more colour in them."

"He should have known better than to buy things belonging to my family and then expect us to pay for stolen items." Rodolphus hissed, still furious over his audacity. He'd been so enraged that he'd turned back to himself, and coolly informed the owner what he would do to him in great detail if he didn't get his possessions back. He'd lost control over himself, and it took a great deal of effort to reign himself back in.

"It's beautiful," Harry admitted, admiring it, "You don't see this sort of thing nowadays," everyone has mass designed items for their house, it was cheaper. He knew this thing had probably been hand carved, or magically hand carved, either one had a lot of time and effort put into it.

"You've probably got dozens of them stashed away in the Potter-Black vaults and properties." Rodolphus scoffed, but he was warmed that he liked it, Harry's attention was solely focused on the coat of arms that had been painstakingly carved into it. As of right now, Harry was probably one of the closest people with Lestrange blood…if anything happened to him and his brothers, Harry could fight for the Lestrange Estate and more than likely win.

"Probably," Harry said, "Most of all I've seen was just stuff salvaged from Godric's Hollow, which wasn't much, I've been told that Muggles and Wizards alike descended on the property and stole what they could." His tone cold and harsh, if he ever came across anyone that did that…he would kill them.

Rodolphus grimaced, "A trophy, no doubt," even they didn't steal items when they went out on raids, it was a disgrace really.

"Probably," stealing stuff from where Voldemort was defeated, as if it was some sort of game.

"Do you even know how to open it?" Harry asked after a few moments silence, he wanted the book, everything else Rodolphus could take with him, he didn't really care. Or, if they protested, a copy of the book then everything could go with them.

Rodolphus just gave him an inscrutable look, turning towards the furniture and the latch opened a few seconds later. "My father will want this back," Rodolphus declared, as he imperiously handed it over. He scowled at the sight of the important bank documents someone could have got their hands on admittedly they were old, a decade old now, but it was still vexing.

"Older than I thought it would be," Harry admitted, opening the front page delicately, it was an old book, but not too old that the science behind it would be difficult to understand. Now those kinds of books were utterly annoying to try to read. "I'll just make a copy," and that's exactly what he did, the book was old enough that Harry was able to do so without having to circumvent the spell that prevents copies being made of it. Which wasn't easily done, but with enough magic…anything was possible. "Thank you, Luna," he commented, as he handed the real book to Rodolphus. No doubt the guy was going to be returning it to Lestrange manor where it belongs.

With that they didn't dally, leaving the catatonic wizard they returned to Slytherin manor.

"My Lord," Rodolphus inclined his head, giving his Lord the proper respect.

Voldemort nodded, giving a curious look at the furniture in the middle of the air. Then a quick look at the book, the copy and then Harry with an arched brow. Harry just grinned a smidge cheekily at him. "Rodolphus, Harry, follow me," was all he had to say.

"Me? Why? I really couldn't care less about seeing Bellatrix…and if you want to talk to her, you really should leave me behind." Harry said, she'd be absolutely pissed at him, and honestly, Harry didn't blame her. He'd be pissed if someone took his magic too.

Rodolphus bit his tongue, the urge to deride Harry for his defiance was strong, yet he knew out of them both, only Harry could get away with such blatant display of questioning the Dark Lord. Even if he was making a certain amount of sense. Out of them both, Harry would likely walk away unharmed if he said anything. No, he was smarter than that.

The others walked away, Luna giving a small wave goodbye leaving Harry and Rodolphus with Voldemort as they made their way back inside of the manor.

"I wish for your opinion, now come, let us go," Voldemort commanded, it was time to get Bellatrix situated into her new…accommodations until something better could be opened to her, such as St. Mungo's when the war is won.

With that Harry followed both wizards across the grounds, their pace brisk and didn't falter once. Those that saw them made quick work of avoiding them or giving reverence to the Dark Lord.

Eventually they rounded yet another load of shrubbery to be met with a grand sight.

"Whoa," Harry muttered, eyes wide slightly impressed, "This was all made within a few hours?"

Voldemort smirked smugly, "It was indeed," he agreed.

"Bloody hell," he said whistling in admiration, wondering if there was anything else on the estate. "Remind me to actually investigate the entire estate." Even if he did so on a broomstick.

"Wait until you see it in the morning," Voldemort added, it would be even more magnificent, a good job had most definitely been done here. Which, to be fair, is understandable, nobody wanted to disappoint him. The money that was given to ensure it's fast but firm construction. He naturally had helped; he was no expert but he was very pleased with the outcome.

"I can imagine it," Rodolphus said in admiration, at least Bellatrix would be happy here, somewhat, even if she could not come out.

"I did not think it was possible for her mind to decline so readily," Grant admitted, joining them, a perturbed look upon his face as he claimed his seat sitting next to Harry and the Dark Lord. She'd been completely unhinged in a way that he'd never seen before. Not even his Lord had succeeded in getting through to her, nor had asking Harry to step outside helped ease her even a little. Reaching out for a platter of food, he begun to serve himself, he wanted to eat and get some rest, dealing with Bellatrix always left him nigh on exhausted.

"It's not, not really, she's just lost her magic, she's going to be that way until she calms down." Harry sighed, putting a healthy portion onto his plate. "Which might not be ever, its…just that you're getting to see what was there all along. I mean seriously…is there any difference in her since the last time you saw her?"

Grant paused in plating food for himself, a thoughtfully look adorning his features, "I do believe it's very similar, I'd be hard pressed to find any differences." He conceded, glancing briefly at the Dark Lord knowing he wouldn't be pleased with his comments even if they were the truth.

"And Rodolphus, any difference from what you're used to enduring when she was your wife?" Harry gave him a wry look, pointing his fork at him.

Rodolphus' head snapped up, swallowing down his food looking a bit pained. Whether it was the food or the conversation, Harry honestly wasn't sure. Voldemort himself was leaning back listening to the conversation pensively. He'd taught Bellatrix for years, while she'd been adoring and excitable and desperate to prove herself…he had never truly seen a side to her that seems so apparent to everyone else around her. Had the Horcruxes made him ignore what was in front of him? And yes, she'd been a little spacy and out of it when he interacted with her after he got them out of Azkaban…but he'd never seen her so rabid as he had just experienced right now…was that what the Lestrange's had been forced to deal with?

"She had…episodes like that yes, it was…difficult to reign her in. We learned over the years how best to deal with her." Rodolphus explained, caution exuding from him, due to worry that the Dark Lord would be upset with him. If he hadn't been aware of the changes in his Lord, he would have been downright petrified and refusing to answer. They didn't know what had caused the turnaround…but they knew it had something to do with Harry and they were all grateful to him for it. Well, most of them, there were others who didn't like the thought of 'Muggle-born filth actually coming from their disgusting squibs who had been cast out instead of being killed' their own words not his.

"In other words, you went along with her crazy schemes but made sure she didn't go too far. Which led you to end up at Longbottom Manor." Harry pointed out with his knife, before cutting up a piece of succulent beef, already planning on eating more, it was lovely. Then again, all food that came from the Dark Lord's stores was the best he'd ever tried.

Rodolphus winced, hating how well Harry could read him, it was obscene really, "Yes," he agreed, it made him wonder just how the hell the boy was so…smart and how he figured everything out. It truly was obscene, and he wished he could be annoyed with the fact that everything he and his father and brother had done to hide Bellatrix instability was coming to light. It was an embarrassment, but at least it was no longer the Lestrange name, he had no obligation to her whatsoever. He was finally free.

"How long will the sedation spell hold?" Voldemort asked of Grant, reeling over everything he'd learned. Perhaps it would have been kinder to have her put down, the Black family madness seemed to have hit her the hardest. The Black family madness, it had never been uttered by anyone in pureblood society, at least the dark faction. The light faction was a different thing altogether, they constantly brought it up, used it to explain why the Blacks were all insane. Due to the fact they just didn't understand that it was marrying your own family repeatedly that caused the insanity.

"At least twelve hours, perhaps longer without magic to fight it off," Grant informed him promptly, "I think perhaps for her safety she should be put on a potion treatment."

"Like those in St. Mungo's," Rodolphus murmured, not sure what to think of that. During their most desperate moments, Rodolphus actually considered prescribing them. Unfortunately, it would have made her docile, unable to use magic, and absolutely no good to the Dark Lord. So, inevitably the idea was nixed.

"It's probably for the best if you want her to live Rod, despite the fact there's nothing in the cabin she could use to hurt herself or others…desperate people find a way, she'd find a way." Harry explained without an ounce of guilt. She'd tried to hurt Rodolphus and Luna, inevitably hurt him, so hell if he would feel guilt for anything that comes her way.

"I know," Rodolphus admitted, was it better than being killed? Probably not, Bellatrix would probably prefer death…but he honestly didn't want to see her killed. He didn't love her, never had, loved the idea of her perhaps in the very beginning. She was a beautiful woman, dark enough to suit his tastes, or so he thought, enamoured with the dark side like he, and also became a Death Eater too. Not many witches had done so, been able to impress the Dark Lord. Then came the obsession, and frankly, he'd been so very tired before Azkaban and it had been worse when they were released albeit illegally. Then Harry had given him his freedom from her, but he still, despite the damage and danger she posed, couldn't wish her dead.

"Get Severus to brew enough for a month and make it a standing order," Voldemort informed Grant, "Narcissa cannot visit her sister until she's under control. Is that understood?" knowing Grant and a few House-elves would be looking after Bellatrix, mostly the House-elves, who would be giving her the potions to ensure she didn't act up.

"I shall inform them, My Lord," Grant dipped his head in understanding of his new orders and respect.

"Good," Voldemort stated firmly, considering the matter resolved.

"Hey," Luna said cheerfully, as she entered the dining room, "All done?" she asked, referring to the visit to Bellatrix, as she took a seat next to Rodolphus, who unconsciously relaxed at her being here, at being safe and sound.

"Indeed," Voldemort said sardonically, not used to anyone being cheerful in his presence and truly not sure how to process it at all. Luna Lovegood was an odd one for sure, but she was also a hidden gem, a seer that had chosen a side…well, such things rarely happened and Voldemort wasn't one for looking a gifted horse in the mouth. Oh, he knew why she was there, and it wasn't anything to do with him, it was Harry. Merlin, he was so grateful he had decided against killing him. For more than one reason now. A wry smirk appeared on his features.

"Oh, it looks like Sirius and Remus are going on holiday," Luna said absently, "It was a good thing, they would have been caught in the crossfire otherwise."

Harry straightened up, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "What crossfire?" was the first thing he asked, he was glad Sirius and Remus would be away on holiday to avoid whatever conflict they'd end up in by accident.

"St. Mungo's, they find out you will be there," Luna said, head cocked to the side, as she saw the future. It was still freaky as hell when it happened, she was used to it only happening when asleep. Until that day where she saw a lot of the future while awake. Her abilities were advancing, so much so that it did worry her constantly.

Rodolphus grabbed a hold of Luna when she swayed a little, he'd never seen her 'see' anything before. He catalogued everything he was seeing. Her swaying, her glazed eyes, her drooped relaxed posture, mentally putting it away so if it happened, he would know and understand what was happening. He'd find out what she would prefer him to do if such an instance happened again.

"The Order…" Harry nodded thoughtfully, and no doubt Voldemort would send the Death Eaters to fight. "The potion definitely works then."

"Potion?" Voldemort asked with deceptive mildness, watching Luna with rapid fascination, much like Rodolphus gazed at her with awe.

"A potion to correct the long-term exposure to the Cruciatus curse," Rodolphus was quick to state.

Harry just smirked at Rodolphus, he sounded like a brother trying to get his sibling into trouble and deflect attention from himself.

"You've figured it out?" Voldemort asked slightly impressed, "How long have you been working on it?"

"I had help," Harry conceded bemused, "So you could say I cheated, it hasn't been done yet." he hadn't had a chance to look over the book. He would have obviously succeeded on his own quite quickly either that or it would be a year away after his duelling tournament.

"You're alright with this, My Lord?" Rodolphus asked, mouth slightly open, surprised.

Harry rolled his eyes, "It's not like the Longbottom's will be a threat." If they joined the war again, he'd eat his bloody wand.

"And Neville?" Rodolphus questioned, the son was likely desiring revenge for what happened to his parents, he understood it and respected it.

Harry gave Rodolphus a blank look, "Neville isn't a fighter, he won't unless he has no choice."

Rodolphus nodded slowly, understanding, and everyone started eating the food before it got cold.

Harry feeling utterly vexed, jumped from his bed and opened his door, peering down the hallway, pleased to see the private study light was still on. Voldemort must still be awake, padding down the hallway, he knocked and waited on an answer, rather impatiently at that.

"Enter!"

"Hey, do you have of Tarek Gladstone's Mind and Matter? Lestrange's copy is missing three double pages." Harry asked, peering around the door, before padding in, wishing he'd put his bathrobe on, it was rather cold in here, especially for a room with a fire roaring in it.

Voldemort arched a brow, surprised by that, it wasn't like his old friend to be careless with books, "I do, it's on the third bookcase," he informed Harry before turning back to his work.

"Really? Well, that's a surprise, Luna said it was the only copy left," Harry muttered mostly to himself, as he stepped up and began searching through the large shelved bookcase that housed dozens and dozens of books.

"Mine is an original, not a copy," Voldemort informed him with that smug tone of voice.

Harry just grinned wryly, with a groan, making a mental note to remember that, Luna still liked to speak in riddles. Sneaky girl that she was, more amused than anything, certainly not remotely upset over it. "Of course it is," he said trying to sound as condescending as possible, which wasn't actually as easy as one might think.

Voldemort shot him an indignant glare, something he wouldn't do with anyone else. Oh, he knew he was being teased and taunted, Harry had made a habit of it, much to his consternation. He had learned where to draw the line, the one time he'd mentioned him being like Dumbledore…that had saw him seeing red, and he'd cursed Harry. Not that the boy had reacted accordingly, no, he just whined about how he hadn't used his wand. When one was used to pain however, there was never an expected reaction.

"We need to come to an understanding about Ms. Tonks," Voldemort stated, putting his quill down and stretching out his hands and body languidly. He'd been busy writing for hours since dinner and he was rather tired of it but a Dark Lord's business was never over.

Harry blinked blankly, "You're asking me for my opinion?" he asked incredulously, which was not faked at all.

"Despite her…loyalties she is a Black, a daughter of the eldest female, she could revive the Black legacy should you have no desire to do so. I very much doubt Black will have any children, and quite frankly I'd be concerned if he did." Voldemort informed him, leaning back in his seat, watching Harry remove the book he wanted and move over nearer him and claim a seat.

"I agree," Harry sighed, that would be a serious concern, Sirius was definitely not father material, when he'd been thirteen and desperate he had been blind to what it would have been like living with Sirius. He wasn't sure what James had been thinking to be fair. "Plus, Sirius would only want a kid with Remus, and I doubt Remus wants kids, he wouldn't risk passing on his…infection as he sees it." Remus hated the fact he was a werewolf and had refused to accept that part of himself.

"It would be rather troublesome, but we could get a Vow from her, that encompassed everything that's potentially concerning." Voldemort informed him. In fact, he had already written everything down and made it fool proof, so that once she had made the Vow, they could safely let her out should she desire to do so. She might prefer death to stating the vow, especially if she was blindly loyal.

"I'm surprised you don't just want to kill her," Harry confessed, it would make everything much easier in the long run and he had resigned himself to it really.

"That would be the preferable method," Voldemort stated immediately, "But I am reluctant to kill off more wizards or witches. Our world has significantly declined, Lucius has given me the figures, including Squibs, and there are if you are lucky thirty students per year studying at Hogwarts."

"I agree, around about that, isn't that the norm?" Harry asked, "I mean don't people go to Durmstrang, Beauxbaton or home-schooling?"

"Did you get offered to go to those schools?" Voldemort pointed out wryly.

"Well, no, but I had been down for Hogwarts since I was born according to…well, everyone," Harry pointed out, "So I wouldn't get offers, would I?"

"Yes, if they accepted anyone into their school you would have, you have to be in the right 'district' so to speak to be accepted into the schools. If someone wishes their daughter to attend Beauxbaton, they have to move to France before they turn eleven to gain admittance, or after and become a transfer student." Voldemort informed him, as always surprised by how little Harry knew about some things but so knowledgeable about others. There were definite holes in his education that could do with polishing over, fortunately, he was young and had many years ahead of him in order to learn properly. It would help if he didn't focus solely on his spell crafting and potion creation.

"So, in all of the United Kingdom there were only thirty eleven-year-olds that were wizards and witches to attend Hogwarts although, to be fair some might not have attended," Harry said, mind reeling over such a small number. "Sixty-five million people in the UK and not even two million of us are magical…I always knew we were a small community but hearing this makes us even smaller by comparison."

"Less than a million," Voldemort corrected his assumption, a lot less, "Which is why I believe each of us is important. Not important enough to let them go under their own power." He wasn't going to let Tonks go and tell the Order everything including the potions for the Metamorphmagus, the blood they took from her or Harry's allegiance.

"And it would be able to be worded in such a way she wouldn't be a concern?" Harry asked, thoughtfully, bloody hell, they really needed to do something to have the magical world prosper, it would help if they stayed in the magical world too.

"Yes," Voldemort replied immediately, fishing out a slip of parchment and handing it over, going back to his writing while Harry read it as short it may be.

"Damn that's iron clad," Harry said, with a whistle ten minutes later, unable to think of a single damn way she would be able to get around the orders. He'd even made sure she couldn't tell portraits or ghosts, to then relay her words to the Order, it was a work of art really, this Vow.

Voldemort's lips twitched smugly, always smug when his work was appreciated for what it was. Genius, especially from a boy who admittedly was very canny and if there had been a way around it, he would have spotted it. "Indeed, did you expect anything less from me?"

"Definitely not," Harry answered as he put the parchment back into Voldemort's desk. "With that, I don't see why she can't be let out, although, as a Black female, I could potentially set up a marriage contract for her…" he mused, "There is old ones that would have her lose her magic if she didn't comply…" it would enable someone to keep a very close eye on her.

"After your…declaration earlier I am surprised to hear you say that," Voldemort couldn't help but snort, reminded of the look on Harry's face, the indignation of one house constantly having to be 'better' than the other just so they could control them.

"I wouldn't let just anyone marry her," Harry conceded, "It would have to be someone who would treat her right," just because he was thinking this through, didn't mean he wanted to see her beaten down or anything like that. But he also knew that introducing new blood would help pureblood society thrive. "The potion won't allow the metamorphmagus gene pass to the next generation…they'd need to take the potion…but it's just not the same really…it's a Black family trait and the trait shouldn't be lost."

Voldemort nodded his agreement, that was probably true. "Rabastan would be the perfect candidate," he commented, he was nearer her age, and he wasn't ruined by Azkaban and he wanted a family. He would take care of Tonks in all ways a husband should. "He's one of the tamer the Death Eaters." By tamer he meant he wasn't especially violent. Despite what the Longbottom incident would tell you, Rabastan had acted less than all the others there, not that he'd been 'innocent' so to speak, but he hadn't been as feral and angry as the others.

"Tonks wouldn't go for that; I mean his reputation would have her running for the hills and losing her magic before she even contemplated it even if Rabastan would want this." Harry stated.

"And why wouldn't he?" Voldemort enquired.

"He's gay," Harry said bluntly, staring at Voldemort as if he'd lost the plot, he wasn't the only one who had caught Rabastan staring at Severus' arse was he?

Voldemort arched a brow, "Tell me, why are you so determined to see this through? Why do you care about rebuilding family names? Thus far, you have not expressed anything good regarding the pureblood lines other than the fact trying to keep them 'pure' has made them inbred," which hadn't helped make him liked within the ranks, but they did like his honesty and the fact he could duel with him without losing sweat…that he'd managed to beat Bellatrix on a one-on-one duel, and now he was untouchable as his.

"You thought I didn't care?" Harry asked blankly, "If I didn't care I wouldn't have brought it up so much," he pointed out the flaw in Voldemort's thinking. "I've read about the families, their importance, and I understand their view even if it is wrong."

"You read Nott's book," Voldemort realized, for a pureblood, he was very…unbiased when writing that book, from a certain view at any rate.

"The sacred families, yes, there was nothing in it about noble families being different from other wizarding families," Harry conceded almost pouting, "I had no idea about that." which irked him something rotten, he hated not knowing information. He'd refused to be ignorant, and had read what he could, when he could, a lot of those books had been copied from the library so that he could read it in the darkness of his own room or the dorm. Nobody knew, he had ensured he wasn't ignorant, but kept it a secret, not wishing for Dumbledore to know…suspecting he had plans for him so he made sure the old fool didn't know anything about him.

"Mmm, the book you'll be looking for is Lord Abbott's book, Legalities of the old Houses," Voldemort explained, "It has everything regarding the old ways, the how's and whys, it's clearly written for a Muggle-born so you might find it rather…tedious with the constant explanation's and the author treating the reader as if they were eleven-years-old." A curl brought to his lips. Summoning the book, he handed it over, knowing that Harry would definitely read it and most assuredly probably complain too.

"Are there flats in Knockturn Alley?" Harry asked.

Voldemort blinked at the non-sequitur, "Excuse me?"

"Flats, are there any in Knockturn Alley?" Harry asked, a frown on his face, "I think I remember seeing some..."

"And when were you in Knockturn Alley?" Voldemort gaped in utter surprise, yes, he'd been through Harry's memories but he hadn't seen everything after all. He was very surprised, honestly, he had no idea why the boy would have risked it.

"Said Diagon Alley wrong, took me to Knockturn Alley, don't ask me how, cus even now I have absolutely no idea," Harry explained, shrugging his shoulders, "It was the day that Lucius was trying to unload your diary on Borgin actually. Trying to get rid of all the dark artefacts because Arthur Weasley was heading the raids," hence the reason he'd put it in Ginny Weasley's cauldron. And that Draco had wanted the hand of glory that was on display if he recalled correctly.

Voldemort nodded, so he hadn't been down there for a specific reason, "Yes, there are flats down there, but most are condemned, the structures deemed unsafe. Nobody that lives in Knockturn Alley can afford the money it would take to fix it. Without funding coming in, I presume the owner couldn't have them fixed."

"Hmm," Harry murmured, "I don't suppose you know who owns the majority of the buildings?"

"I do," Voldemort stated, slightly insulted that Harry doubted him. "Barnaby Babbling, I do believe he's distantly related to the Runes Mistress employed by Hogwarts. What are you thinking?" knowing Harry wouldn't ask for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

"Well, I have the funds, I could have the places fixed, rent them out, more people will live in the magical world…when funds start coming in…I could expand. I mean there is a lot of land in Hogsmeade that's unused, flats would allow for a larger population." Instead of a few cottages that house maybe one or two people. It would ensure more people actually remain in the magical world full stop, instead of living in the Muggle world. It didn't seem like a good idea to him or good planning but the magical world didn't seem to be able to think things through.

"It didn't work well for the others," Voldemort pointed out, "You would need to ensure it would produce a profit before you begin." Even though Harry had more money than he could likely spend in twenty lifetimes, it was…idiotic to spend money with little to no return. "Plus, those who would live down there cannot pay an extortionate rent rate."

"Yeah," Harry mused, remembering who was down there, hags and the like, people who probably didn't get well-paying jobs. He wouldn't be surprised if people were staying in the condemned buildings rent free, squatting really. In fact, you rarely ever saw those deemed 'dark creatures' anywhere, if he hadn't been down to Knockturn Alley…he wouldn't have ever seen one. Although, they do often venture to Hogshead, a place where they were actually permitted to be in, and it was a place that was quite cheap to drink in. "Do I really come across as not caring about the magical world?" he asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Placing the two books on the desk, until he was ready to leave.

"For someone that doesn't know you…yes, you could be perceived as not caring," Voldemort answered with honesty, he detested lying. "It's the manner in which you word things without going into specifics."

Harry nodded, not sure whether he could change his way of speaking, he was just used to giving it how it was. The freedom of being on the Dark side was…liberating and he didn't need to watch his words…trying to reign them in seemed like too much for him. He'd need to look into the properties, find out if there was a profit in buying the buildings, how much it would cost to renovate and find a company willing to do it and give him estimates. "Alright, I'll leave you to your work…I want to work on mine anyway," Harry said eventually standing up, before kissing him without thinking about it, freezing before glancing up at Voldemort, only to find amused eyes gleaming at him.

"Er…is that alright?" he didn't know how to do all this dating business thing.

"You certainly won't find me complaining," Voldemort commented utterly amused, although, he didn't like the reminder of just how young Harry was. He was glad to be his first, but at the same time…it made Harry's innocence more…pronounced. Gripping his hips, and bringing him down onto his lip and allowed himself some free time. "Just as long as we are alone, I'd rather not give my followers a free show." He added after they came up for air.

Harry snorted, "You mean another free show?" he added pecking him on the lips, before standing, "I think everyone got the picture…I wonder how they'll react around me now."

"I have a meeting in ten minutes if you wish to find out," Voldemort replied smugly, eyes gleaming with a vindictive sort of amusement.

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully, it seemed as if he wasn't meant to get those books read at this rate. "Is it just an inner circle meeting or is it everyone?"

"Everyone," Voldemort confirmed.

"They're not as fun to tease," Harry replied almost pouting over the idea, or as much as Harry ever pouted.

"Go on," Voldemort said, lips twitching, oh, Harry definitely liked winding up his inner circle Death Eaters, the only ones that didn't get teased mercilessly was Severus and Barty. Lucius was by far the one who endured the worst of Harry's wicked sarcasm. Not surprisingly, other than Severus, Lucius was the only other one he'd had contact with before he switched sides…and those meetings…nay, altercations weren't exactly…amiable.

Lucius was still smarting over losing his House-elf, as a matter of fact, not that he could blame him, they were rather expensive. With all the private information the Elf knew he could have proven to be a danger to the Malfoy family. He will have learned from that, even at twelve Harry had been a smart teen, accurately able to predict a wizard like Malfoy's reaction to having a diary and an accusation thrown in his face.

Well, if he didn't attend the meeting, then he'd request his presence later. He understood probably more than most how…protective and possessive Harry was of his suite. He remembered his first flat directly after leaving Hogwarts, while he worked with Borgin. Before he had built up his empire from scratch and had more money than almost everyone else. Financing a war was expensive after all, although he did admit if he won any time soon…he'd aid Harry in his latest venture, by pouring money if he needs it to have more properties in Hogsmeade.

Shaking off his thoughts, Voldemort returned to his work, the annoying urge to check and see how much of 'Hogsmeade' was actually belonging to the castle grounds and whether they'd gain the permission to build. He had other more vital things to oversee. For the moment. He did make a mental note to check.

R&R

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 58

Harry walked into the great hall, noticing that Rodolphus looked like a kicked puppy, while his father and brother attempted to stop themselves showing their amusement. Luna was to Hogwarts, the summer holidays were now officially over, and she was off on the Hogwarts express in three hours. Her father could really just apparate her to the school nearer the time and let her stick with them than be on the train. However, Harry wasn't sure how that would work or if she'd actually have gotten in trouble for that, they must need to take the train otherwise a lot of other parents would be doing it wouldn't they? All the pureblood's dropping their kids off at Hogsmeade? He just didn't want to see her bullied, the very thought of it riled him up something fierce.

"Has any post been delivered yet?" Harry asked, moving to his own seat, rather impatient, he'd waited for answers long enough, and he was leaving tomorrow, so he was hoping that estimate would come sometime today. All and any mail that comes in the evening is received by the House-elves and set aside and given over at breakfast unless it was marked urgent. Which his likely wasn't. Nothing

"Nothing yet," Rabastan told Harry, in his normal features, changing forms was as easy as breathing, and he quite frankly loved it. He could go out and not fear his glamour fading or anything of the sort. He spent a lot of time changing his features just for the hell of it. He often wondered why not everyone had elected to take it, including Severus, but he didn't care about taking the potion, having the ability or even wish to change his features. Which by the way he was secretly pleased about.

"Am I that early?" Harry commented, glancing at his watch frowning, the house-elves were usually early before they were ever late at delivering breakfast. Although, Voldemort was usually here by now, but he was stuck in a meeting, so, maybe they were actually going to have to wait until he was done?

"The meal is only served when the Dark Lord is present, unless he specifically asks otherwise," Rabastan regaled him, "Not like Hogwarts which is a set time." A wistful tone to his voice as he spoke of Hogwarts, but it was the same for most other people, except those who did not like school all that much.

"Are you prepared for tomorrow?" Lord Corvus enquired, staring at the youngster that had Tom wrapped around his finger. He certainly got away with far more than any other had in the past.

"Yeah, I can't wait, seriously, it's going to be so much fun!" almost hopping on the spot rubbing his hands gleefully, making no effort to put a mask upon his face. Older pureblood's would be glaring at him at showcasing such indignities, even the younger ones had been encouraged to wear a 'blank' mask so that nobody could take advantage.

"We can see that," Rodolphus said dryly, his lips twitching for the first time since he dropped Luna off home so she could see her father before she got on the train for Hogwarts. "What are you waiting for anyway?" curiosity getting the better off him, barely twitching when his father smacked him on the head for his words. Harry was higher up the hierarchy, he should not be asking those sorts of questions, not to him.

"Pay his questions no mind," Lord Lestrange commented a tiny bit of desperation in his voice as if Harry had transformed into the Dark Lord overnight.

Harry gave the wizard an unusual look, startling a little at his statement, before shaking it off as just the Lord being weird. Adults often were, especially pureblood's until last year he'd only really known the Weasley's and they were hardly the norm in the magical world. "I paid for real estate appraisals through Gringotts, since I'm going to be all over the place, I was hoping to kick start it before I leave."

None of them seemed to be surprised by his words, purebloods were always looking for investments and building up their portfolios to expand their estate. The Lord's seldom had actual nine to five jobs, but they worked tirelessly to ensure that their families all had a comfortable existence along with those still to come. Even Lord Lestrange, Corvus, spent a lot of his time doing so, despite the fact, before his sons got out of Azkaban, it looked as if he was doing it for naught.

"I'm surprised really, there's not much new to invest in," Rabastan told him, as they waited on breakfast rather impatiently, how long was the meeting going to go on for?

"There are if you take risks," Harry replied, twisting his cutlery about, in boredom. "Ugh, if I'm made to wait any longer, I'm heading to the kitchen." Tapping his fingers on the table.

"Patience, young Lord," Corvus chided him with an amused lilt to his voice, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Patience has never been one of my virtues," Harry grinned, "It's likely how I passed as a Gryffindor so long."

Everyone laughed, it was something they shouldn't forget, but often do, that Harry was a Gryffindor, or sorted there at any rate.

"Merlin, my parents were often of the same mind regarding me," Corvus said fondly, "I was rather hot tempered despite my father's teachings. It helped stop the anger at the small things, but the big ones rendered me mute with rage that just couldn't be contained."

Harry nodded, completely understanding, "Did it cause you any bouts of accidental magic, though?" giving him a pointed look.

"Once, but you see, when you begin Hogwarts, you're not supposed to have bouts of accidental magic. It's seem as something…shameful back then." Corvus revealed, "I was fortunate that it happened amongst mostly only family."

Harry straightened, a 'what the fuck are you talking about that's bullshit' look upon his face, as he stared his upper lip raised along with his eyebrow. "That's bullshit." Not believing it for a second.

"I agree, wholeheartedly," Corvus nodded, "There was even talk about giving the heirship to my younger brother, such was the perceived shame of it."

"People are bloody stupid," Harry said shaking his head utterly befuddled, "Foolish beliefs."

"Even if they wanted to, our uncle didn't live through infancy." Rodolphus told him, perhaps it was the will of the gods for their slander, at the belief that his father was lesser for a bout of accidental magic.

"They wouldn't have much liked me then," Harry scoffed ruefully, "The amount of accidental magic I did…I'm surprised the Ministry didn't actually come and visit." It was a long list of accidental magic; he'd been foolish not to realize what he was doing long before he did.

"I'm not sure my parents loved or even liked any of the children they had." Corvus said in bitter amusement, "They saw it as a mere duty, we were raised by nannies practically our entire childhood. I cannot say I remember a single happy memory of them, they were pretty miserable people." He hadn't wanted to have children and be like that with them, it was a fear that his wife had to rid him off.

"Likely happened more than we can fathom, should be grateful for that I suppose otherwise we, each of us, wouldn't be here." Harry said wryly, how could anyone have come to love someone, when it was a damn contract? A marriage contract telling you how many children you must have? Few were lucky, some likely became friends and fond of each other, but for the majority they just went through the motions, it was a sad existence really.

Things have changed through, even amongst the pureblood society, how many contracts were made these days?

Corvus gave him a crooked smirk, the Dark Lord had once said something similar back in the day, when he told this very tale himself. It was naturally known now that anyone that still had explosive magical incidents after they joined Hogwarts…were libel to be extremely powerful, and it was no longer seen as shameful but something to be admired. Parents strutted around when it happened, power meant more than anything in families.

"Are they still alive?" Harry asked, it sounded like they were dead, but it might just be the wording due to the fact the wizard cut off all contact? It truly could be anything.

"Oh, no, they died of Dragon Pox during the pandemic," Corvus revealed, rather quite young especially for wizards, but he'd felt nothing but relief at their deaths. His siblings that had passed away, he grieved for though. His fathers fault, he'd gone to Paris after being told not to travel due to the restrictions, foolish man had created an illegal portkey there and back. Not even three days later he begun to get sick, and by then he'd passed it on to everyone else. He'd survived by the skin of his teeth.

"Dragon Pox pandemic? Was that the sixties?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing as he fought to recall everything, he'd heard about it but there was glaringly little.

"1892," Corvus corrected, "But there have been outbreaks but none quite so bad, the inoculations to prevent Dragon Pox work to an extent, thus there's less deaths, although a lot did not give their children the potion, finding it unnecessary which explained the increased death statistics during the third outbreak."

"There was one in the sixties though," Rabastan let him know he was quite correct on that front.

"Thought so," Harry replied grinning, "Not sure where I've read it about admittedly." Scratching his chin as he thought some more but ultimately shrugged and gave up, nope, nothing was coming to him.

"Are you going to do some training today?" Rodolphus questioned him, "In preparation for the tournament?"

"Why? Do you want to duel?" Harry asked sounding far too eager for Corvus' peace of mind.

"A friendly one," Rodolphus was quick to state, grimacing at the memory of Bellatrix losing her magic, nobody had gone near Harry since, not wishing to be given the same treatment.

"Very friendly," Corvus added, before perking up as the food and drink appeared on the table, he was very pleased, and was quick to pour himself a cup of coffee. The divine smells of breakfast and coffee and fresh squeezed oranges permeating the air, hmm, bacon, yes, he'd have some bacon and sausage today.

"Huh, does that mean he's not having breakfast?" Harry wondered, as he begun to pile a load of food onto his plate, his appetite was triple what it used to be. He was more than making up for lost time. "Oh, by the way, have any of you seen my snake?" he called him his snake but really, Aadarsh spent nearly all his time with Nagini out in the wild, only occasionally coming in, particularly when it was cold, preferring to heat up in the enclosure he had set up for him.

"Is he lost?" Rabastan squeaked, so sue him, he was terrified of the two snakes, he was pretty sure they liked to toy with him too.

"No, but I did see Nagini and he wasn't with her, it's just unusual considering he wasn't in his enclosure." Harry told him.

"Are you taking him with you?" Rabastan asked in surprise, his gaze wandering as if he could spot the black snake.

"I haven't decided," Harry confessed, "I'm just going to ask Aadarsh see what he wants to do, he likely will want to stay." He wasn't anything like Nagini or Hedwig. Too independent, even Voldemort was surprised by how independent he was. He'd expected the snake to be a little like Nagini, but their bond was clearly more special, and it wasn't because of the Horcrux since she'd been that way before he turned her into one.

"I honestly forget you have him," Corvus asserted, "He certainly doesn't make his presence known," unlike Nagini.

"Doesn't help that he's tiny compared to Nagini," Harry laughed softly, eating breakfast, pleased to see that the mail pop in on a silver platter. It had a Gringotts stamp, it was the information he'd been after. Hopefully it would be a good investment, bring in money and actually help people, it was a good project idea.

"Isn't every snake?" recalling her devouring a human being as easily as breathing, there was truly no other familiar suitable for the Dark Lord and just as intimidating as him.

Harry painfully swallowed the mouthful of bacon and scrambled egg before laughing, "True that," he pointed out, claiming the mail, he flipped through it all, most of it was, unsurprisingly, for Voldemort but there were two pieces for him, one for Lord Lestrange and one for Rodolphus. He handed them over, and set his aside, making a mental note to ask Voldemort where the heck his snake was, surely, he should know where he was especially if he was within the wards – which he would be – the estate was teaming with an abundance of wildlife, even with the werewolves having claimed their spot at the very edge of the woods at the bottom of the estate.

"Hmm, this is something I must deal with immediately, please excuse me," Corvus said, wiping his mouth and setting his remainder of his breakfast aside. His gaze upon Harry, proper as is always, he might be a Lord in his own right, but Harry was also a Lord and a consort and highest up the hierarchy at the moment.

Harry seemed bewildered for half a second, before he inclined his head, smart lad that he was. "Of course, I hope it's nothing bad,"

Corvus inclined his head, electing not to reply, before he took off out the great hall.

The brothers watched their father leave, slightly worried, but not overly so, it wouldn't be the first time he'd received missives and had to go deal with whatever it was. Such as it was being the Lord of an estate as old and big as the Lestrange estate. He'd tell them eventually should he so desire.

"So, a duel?" Rodolphus questioned, after they'd finished their breakfast.

"Sure, give me two hours, meet up in the training room?" Harry suggested, standing up.

"I'll be there in the training room," Rodolphus agreed, and with that confirmation, Harry was gone with a quick goodbye. He was rather looking forward to it, Harry had been taught by Severus, the Dark Lord, he'd even seen the Flint's and Dolohov giving him pointers. Truly, he was going to be a challenge, and he hadn't had one in a long time.

"You might want to get some exercising done before then," Rabastan laughed, smacking his brother on the shoulder.

It was an enormous relief not to have Bellatrix anywhere near them, and knowing that she was secure meant he could relax a bit. He'd spent so long tense and alert just in case she came along without them knowing. They'd been doing it before Azkaban and they'd took it right back up again after they got free without a second thought. He'd resigned himself to helping his father and brother for the rest of their miserable lives or when Bellatrix finally got them killed. He hadn't honestly seen any other outcome; it was just something they were used to. Then Harry started getting his own back, disowning her, leaving her literally nameless and his brother suddenly free. Going so far to argue and defend them against Bellatrix.

"Funny," Rodolphus huffed in annoyance, "I've been training every day!"

"Ha! Lies!" Rabastan laughed, smacking his brothers head, "You were taught to lie better than that!"

Corvus hid a smile behind his coffee, sighing softly, pleased with how life was going for once. Yes, he owed Harry a great deal more than he could express. Hmm, giving him the book that had been returned to his family from Borgin and Burkes would be redundant since it had been copied – with pages missing out of it which hadn't happened in his home! – so, that was out. He wasn't sure if any of the books in the Lestrange library would be useful to him, especially seen as the Potter and Black estate likely had everything between them.

He would think of something.

"Gerroff!" Rodolphus said through an aborted laugh, shaking his head at his brothers silly antics.

"Do you know what the meeting is about, Father?" Rabastan asked, changing the subject, staring at his father curiously.

"I can't say I do." Corvus confessed, his brow furrowing a little, trying to recall if Tom had said anything, but he honestly couldn't recall any mention of it.

"I wonder if Harry knows," Rabastan pondered, it wasn't often that breakfast was served due to a meeting overrunning.

"Do not harass him for answers," Corvus stated firmly, giving his youngest a pointed look.

"Master wants Heir Rodolphus and Master Rabastan in his office right away," the house elf informed the two wizards, before popping away before they could get out affirmations of hearing the orders. The brothers glanced at one another, before looking at their father in befuddlement.

"Go on, don't keep him waiting," Corvus prompted them, as he sat back, continuing to drink his coffee, having every intention of having a second and finishing off his book next to a fireplace, soaking in the warmth. Warming charms just weren't the same as the sound of a crackling fire or the warmth – to almost too warm – that comes with sitting by the fire.

The brothers agreed, bidding their father goodbye before they made their way towards the Dark Lord's office. They weren't the only ones there; Barty and Severus were just ducking into the office as they made around the corridor. It was the Dark Lord's public – lower level – office and not his private one he had on the upper level next to his bedchambers.

"Hmm, I do wonder what's happening," Rodolphus murmured quietly as they made a quick work of the hallway, reaching the Dark Lord's office in record time.

"Only one way to find out." Rabastan quipped, before they both took their seats. "Do you know why we've been called?" only asking due to the fact the Dark Lord wasn't in his office at the moment.

"I have an inkling," Severus spoke, despite Rabastan looking at Barty when he asked that question.

"Doubtful," Rodolphus said dismissively, playing his usual games to get answers without asking.

Severus just smirked at him; he very rarely played the games the others liked to play so much. If they thought for a second, they would know why themselves, it was common sense. However, he had come to learn that logic didn't go hand in hand when it came to wizards, especially magically raised children.

Barty just rolled his eyes, honestly, sighing dramatically, his gaze focused on the door, knowing the Dark Lord would be there momentarily. He was never late, although, to be fair, the house elf had not given a time or date, just to make their way to the office immediately. They two were definitely impatient, different from how they used to be for certain, but still a hint of impatience in their personality.

"Good you're here," Voldemort stated as he stepped into the office and immediately shut the door, wards flaring up ensuring secrecy for the meeting, as he always did when it came to meeting anyone.

A rueful look appeared on all their faces, as if they had the guts to actually outright avoid the meeting.

They valued their lives thank you very much.

"I want four of my inner circles to become Harry's bodyguards for the duration of his participation in the duelling championship tournament." Voldemort stated seriously, he didn't need to explain why he wanted to use his inner circle, after all Harry was worth it.

Barty sniggered, "How did you manage to get him to agree?" presuming his Lord had asked him, but he reckoned his Lord had indeed asked. Their relationship seemed more of a partnership, both compromised to the best of their abilities, and he was rather envious of their relationship.

Severus' lips twitched in amusement at Barty's words as he watched the Dark Lord himself wondering if they'd get an answer.

"I started off suggesting twelve guards," Voldemort told them, his eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. He'd known Harry would protest vehemently against them, only agreeing with a significant reduced number. "He's agreed to four, do you want to go? I'll have two backups to replace two of you at least once a month so you may alternate. And this an assignment that you can choose." Making it clear they didn't have to go, but he was asking them first because they were the best and Severus had sworn a vow to look out for him making him the number one suggestion that had immediately been on his mind.

"Why not? I don't have anything better to do," Rodolphus declared, his letters to and from Hogwarts would take longer, but that was it. Keeping himself busy would have the year going much faster so that he would feel like he'd be seeing Luna sooner. Plus, this would get them out the castle and actually do something. Sure, they had the ability to morph into whoever they wish, and could maintain their anonymity they hadn't had many missions from the Dark Lord since they escaped Azkaban.

"How long will the tournament last?" Severus asked, a frown on his face, the idea of leaving behind all his projects wasn't exactly appealing, however, when it came to protecting Harry, he'd do it, even if somewhat grudgingly.

"Four months," Voldemort answered almost immediately, it gives the contestants a chance to recuperate and heal without overwhelming them with duels. "Then there is the tour they do for another month. Five if you include that." He had no doubt Harry would at the very least be one of the finalists.

Severus arched a brow, "That long?" it was a significant amount of time, nearly half a year, just for a tournament? Shouldn't it be a mere month or two?

"It's a world duelling championship contest, wizards and witches from all over are participating, naturally that takes time if you're only having one or two duels per day." Voldemort explained dryly, there were one hundred and ninety-five countries in the world, there were at least three or four from each country. If it was just a month, Flitwick would be able to do his job and participate in the tournaments but he could not.

"I presume he won't be using a Portkey there and back and remaining there the entire time?" Barty asked, almost jumping in glee, the idea of visiting all these countries and all the magical communities and markets it was…simply amazing. He had to go, there was no way he'd turn this assignment down, and to see Harry in all his glory fighting someone that wasn't his Lord or the few Death Eaters that weren't afraid to hurt him? Count him in! He was so there for this.

"That would be a costly endeavour, so yes, he will be remaining there for the entire duration that he's in." Voldemort explained, it wouldn't be costly for them, but the more he used them, the greater the chance of being detected by Dumbledore and his ilk. They would know which country he was in, and which area when they got the tickets – and they would in a bid to snatch Harry – but the circuit ensured their contestants safety. Their measures impressed even him, so they'd find it difficult to get to him, but adding in four guards? It would be nigh on impossible. He'd also have an emergency portkey wrapped around his neck at all times. He couldn't deny Harry his desire to spread his wings and see the world, he'd done exactly that himself after he left Hogwarts. The selfish part of him wanted to keep Harry in the castle, where he knew where he was and safe at all times.

He also knew it was the quickest way to want Harry to run, for Harry to lose that spark of his.

The only real option was the duelling tournament.

"Do you think father will be alright with us both away?" Rabastan pondered, he wasn't getting any younger after all.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, was there something wrong with Corvus? Perhaps it was time to have a talk with him just to be sure. He'd already lost the rest of his original knights of the Walpurgis; he didn't want to lose Corvus quite so soon. He should have at least another fifty years if he was careful and more.

"He's fine, you worry too much," Rodolphus waved off Rabastan's concern, despite the fact, he often found himself worrying about his father too. They'd been in Azkaban nearing fifteen years, so it had been very jarring to see their father so much older than before.

"Alright, I'm in," Rabastan agreed, but he'd make sure his father was alright with it before he left, luckily, they had loyal house elves who would ensure he was safe. He truly wasn't on his own ever. "I assume we're leaving tomorrow? or is it late tonight?"

"Very early tomorrow," Voldemort told them, "Six o'clock is when the Portkey activates, and it will take you to Ireland so the first stop isn't quite so difficult."

"Please tell us it's Cork! They have the most divine magical market, father took us when I was fourteen, the food's delicious, and the area is just seeped in magic, I loved every second of it." Rodolphus said, it was one of his favourite holidays he must confess.

"Considering you won't be home for potentially months, pack appropriately, both warm and cooler clothes since ultimately, if Harry advances the countries will get hotter or colder depending on location. Take enough money with you, not all countries have access to your own account at the main branch of Gringotts." Voldemort continued, ignoring Rodolphus' comment for now, "And take enough potions with you, a lot of the champions take their own healers so it won't be odd. I'd rather someone of our choosing would ensure Harry's safety and not someone bought who would then compromise Harry's chances of winning." And yes, these things happened, try as they might, something always slipped through the net. Human error, the ability to bribe and accept them.

Severus inclined his head wholeheartedly agreeing to that service. As if he would allow an inferior healer to tend to Harry. Sure, he wasn't officially a healer, but he was good enough, if he'd tried to pass the medical exams he would do so with flying colours, Grant had often suggested he do just that, but he'd never been interested in taking them and putting another Mastery under his belt. Why do that when he had no interest in being a healer? His desire had always been to be a potions master and that is what he'd done.

"Two of you will be on duty at all times, you may decide which and when," Voldemort stated, "If anything happens to him…do not return here or I will kill you." His eyes flashed angrily at the mere suggestion of such a thing happening. It made him…want to rage against everything. He had Harry, and he would not lose him. Not for anything. Not by trying to cage him, not by losing him to Dumbledore's Order.

Barty and Rabastan blanched, paling drastically before vehemently nodding their understanding. Severus and Rabastan weren't remotely surprised by his declaration and grimly nodded their awareness of his orders.

"You may leave to gather everything you'll need, be here for at least five forty-five." Voldemort told them, effortlessly dismissing them. Barty lived here, so he likely only needed to go to his own room to pack, but Severus, Rodolphus and Rabastan had rooms here but lived half their time in their own homes.

The four of them paid their respects before leaving the Dark Lord in his office.

Sighing dramatically, the things he did for Harry, standing up, he left his office and made for Harry's bedroom/office. It was more of an office nowadays with Harry spending his nights with him. Something else he would need to get used to in Harry's absence. Sleeping on his own again. He had only just gotten used to a body sleeping next to his own without the urge to curse first ask never.

The door was open, a sign that Harry welcomed company – usually Luna's – but it had become an area where everyone converged recently. He pushed open the door further, finding it odd to see it so quiet again.

"Hey," Harry said, smiling in welcome before he turned back to whatever he was doing at his desk.

"What has you busy now?" Voldemort asked, approaching Harry, standing behind him.

"Remember me asking you about Knockturn Alley and who owed the properties down there?" Harry asked, leaning against Voldemort. He would definitely need to get some sleep tonight, and a lot of it, with a duel and some flying, he reckoned he could get to sleep early.

"I do," Voldemort agreed, peering down at the estimate from Gringotts, "Ah, so is there a profit to be had?"

"Yes, but it will take a while to see any profit, everything is condemned, it should have been torn down decades ago. Babbling should be killed for allowing anyone let alone children reside in those buildings." Harry said derisively.

"Just say the word and he'll be no more." Voldemort replied, a sadistic gleam in his gaze, "Nagini hasn't eaten in a while."

"You really should, he's a disgusting piece of work, I mean look at it," Harry said showing him one of the many pages that had come with Gringotts' investigation.

Voldemort had to concede it truly was abhorrent living conditions he had allowed people to live in.

"I want to help them, but I'm not sure whether to buy the tents for them, so they can use them while they wait…or if I should put them up somewhere, in one of my properties maybe?" Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to think of what would be best.

"That's actually a perfectly acceptable idea, I will ask the others if they would be obliging to donating a tent to aid in your endeavours." Voldemort stated.

Harry laughed, "Like anyone would deny you?" amusement almost causing him to bust a lung. However, it would help them, and they would all be able to afford a new one push comes to shove, so he didn't nix the idea. "I'd like it if you did."

"Then consider it done," Voldemort replied, and he considered that conversation done with too. "You have four guards, Barty, Rodolphus, Rabastan and Severus have all agreed to accompany you."

Harry was pleased that those that were coming he actually got along with, other than say Crabbe or Goyle or Nott or Avery for Merlin's sake. They didn't trust him, he knew, they might never trust him but he wasn't going to lose sleep over some of them not liking him. He was just grateful he wouldn't need to endure them while they kept him safe. Although, it was a shame he was dragging Sev from his bat cave, but he didn't even attempt to ask for someone else, he trusted Severus more than anyone else, so of course, he'd want him there.

He wasn't unaware of the danger he was placing himself in, but he refused to live in a gilded cage. He was genuinely excited to be competing, he'd found something he wanted to do, something he was good at and he'd be damned if he didn't try and reach his potential.

The only other thing he really enjoyed was teaching Luna along with the others. It had been a lot of fun, and according to Luna he was really good at it. Maybe one day he'd become a DADA tutor. Like Professor Flitwick, he used to be a duelling champion, now he was teaching at Hogwarts.

The Order wasn't going to be trouble forever after all.

"Do you have any more meetings today?" Harry asked.

"I do not," Voldemort replied, "Why?"

"I'm going to duel Rodolphus, after maybe we can go get some lunch, you didn't have any breakfast." He admonished Voldemort, having no fear or qualms about doing so. It truly helped having a good relationship with the house elves, so he knew he hadn't eaten this morning.

"I do not need a mother-hen, Grant when he's here, is bad enough," Voldemort hissed, his chest rattling under Harry's head, almost like a rattlesnake, the idea amused him to no end.

Harry laughed, "It's what people do when they care," he told him, "Something I've only recently learned myself." True enough, who knew he'd get the care he needed on the so called 'dark side' that only wanted him dead years before?

Voldemort said nothing, just stared down at Harry with a thoughtful look on his face.

Harry summoned a house elf to bring Voldemort some food he could eat, while he finished off his letter to Babbling. Threatening to expose everything he had done to the poor residents of Knockturn Alley if he didn't sign over the land – and properties – to him immediately. He wasn't giving him any options to manoeuvre around him. He would sign it or Harry would expose him, and the best thing about it, he had the ability to do so. Anything and everything attached to his name would have everyone's attention. The fool would be stupid to ignore his word. He even added a few threatening words that were quite innocuous on their own, at Voldemort's behest.

"That will do." Voldemort agreed handing it back over, while finishing off his cheese sandwich.

Harry snorted, "I don't know…some people are just that stupid they couldn't tell they were being threatened even if there was a wand pointed at their face." Which was strange since Ron was intelligent enough to win at chess even against six- or seventh-year students while at Hogwarts. He could recount the amount of times Ron had been insulted and didn't respond the slightest. Or when Hermione insulted Ron or Draco to their face while neither reacted.

"That certainly cannot be denied," Voldemort agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he'd had his share of those incidents when he was at Hogwarts and yes, even after he'd left. Although, he had far better ways of showing his displeasure than empty insults. The Cruciatus curse for one. The only one in fact. He did need his followers alive after all.

Harry set everything back into place, including the ink pots, he would be bringing everything with him. He would still be writing letters and keeping up with everything despite his moving locations. "Do you know where the mail boxes are?" which were as described, mail boxes, his mail would be forwarded from the estate to his location – or rather the boxes location – so he'd have answers to Babbling's doings soon enough. He'd send it back through, and his mail would be posted presumably by the house elves.

"They're in my private study, in the cupboard." Voldemort told him, standing up from the bed, having eaten his fill and feeling better for it. "I'll retrieve it for you." One would naturally be remaining in his office while the other went with Harry.

"Drop it off here, I'll meet you in the training room," Harry said, pressing the ring into the melted wax sealing it properly. He'd altered the design, creating his own unique signet ring, a lightning bolt, something that was uniquely him, he didn't care that everyone else saw it as a sign of hope.

A/N – yep, this is entirely new! I did say there would be new unread chapters for you to enjoy! I do still have a lot of stuff (chapters that aren't posted and likely won't be in their entirety) I will be adding here and there. Boy it's weird trying to remember what you've not written into this version of the story yet lol and my gosh the urge to write my HOD/HP story is so strong but I persevered lol forced myself to get writing this and I'm pleased with the outcome! So, will Harry win his first tournament or will it be a few years before he gets into the finals and become a finalist? And just what will the Order do to get Harry to retaliate with extreme prejudice this time around? Definitely something I have time to think on since it won't be happening so soon this time around ;) I also need someone for Barty unless I just leave him without a significant other...I mean some people are like that...hmm now that I'm thinking it perhaps I should R&R please

Chapter Text

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 59

Antonin made his way to the training room, hearing the duel before he even saw it. He knew better than to interrupt any duel, let alone the Dark Lord's or his partner. There weren't many people there, he moved closer to Barty and Corvus who he could actually have a conversation with. The youth of today they were far too quick to anger, and frankly, emboldened with a little power. They saw it as something to enjoy, not a life's work, which is how he saw it. Trying to change the magical world wasn't something to be enjoyed.

"How have you been?" Antonin asked Corvus, his bulk making everyone in the vicinity look extremely small.

Corvus smiled at Antonin, truthfully the two of them were the last of the original Walpurgis' they'd been through the worst of it in order to bring direction to the world. It hadn't been easy, only the older generation would truly understand them. that's not to say they weren't grateful that the next generation was helping grease the wheels so to speak. "I'm well. How are you?" Antonin had been ensconced in Azkaban, along with his sons, all of them had suffered horrendously on that dastardly island.

"Getting there," Antonin murmured, he'd never confess even if he did find it difficult. "Never took you one for enjoying the duelling." Which was true enough, he'd long ago given up watching the duelling, muttering that it was a young man's sport. Except of course, when his sons were doing battle, then he watched to make sure they survived.

"Harry is family to Lord Lestrange," Barty commented, a rueful grin on his face, as his gaze never once wavered from the duelling figures. "He's going to obliterate any opponent they put in front of him." his mind already going to the dozens of other duelling competitions that were going on all over the world.

Antonin arched a brow, curious despite himself, "Related how?"

"Two generations back, Marcus Lestrange changed his name to Marcus Evans, and his wife gave birth to Lily Evans," Corvus confessed quietly, it didn't have the stigma attached to it, not like it used to, but people still weren't exactly proudly proclaiming they had squib children whom they sent into the muggle world. To think if they'd just kept the child the Lestrange name wouldn't be close to extinction.

Antonin grunted his understanding, staring at the boy, "He's good I'll give him that," which he'd already said a dozen times. He'd seen him fighting, he truly was amazing, he fought like the Dark Lord, but different enough that they could surprise each other. They'd developed their own unique fighting style, which was unusual when you learn from someone, you tend to pick up their habits.

"Yes, he is," Corvus murmured, to think if his family hadn't gotten rid of Marcus they'd have a Black, Lestrange, Malfoy and Potter combination in the family. He very much doubted the boy would boast to being a Lestrange or even a Malfoy. Hell, there was more chance of him agreeing to be a Lestrange than a Malfoy, oh, the boy hated the Malfoy's. Easily done though, each generation of Malfoy's just got more smug, superior, and nobody had the time for them. Young Draco was the worst; he didn't even have the magical talent to back him up.

"Speaking of family, where are your boys?" Antonin enquired, usually when Corvus was here, the boys were always around. He didn't blame them, they'd lost over a decade of each other's lives, so naturally they'd gravitate towards one another. He wished he could do the same. Unfortunately, it's unlikely he'd ever be surrounded by his entire family.

"They're packing up to guard Lord Potter on his journey," Corvus explained, he'd rather they didn't go, but it would be a good way to test out the Metamorphmagus potion's veracity, he couldn't keep them confined forever, they needed to begin their own lives. Perhaps they might even find a witch and start families, one can only hope. Although, it was highly unlikely for Rodolphus, no, he'd never marry again, not even if Bellatrix somehow passed away. It was his fault.

"Of course, the tournament," Antonin declared, he had actually agreed to be the backup guard so that Barty, Severus and the Lestrange brothers got to return home now and again. He was informed that he'd likely take Severus' place randomly, if he ended up with a desire to brew or invent a potion. When the muses called you heeded it. "I'm one of the backups."

"Do you know who else is?" Barty asked, the Dark Lord hadn't informed them of anything lately.

"I don't," Antonin answered, he'd been alone with the Dark Lord when he requested/demanded his services. It was no surprise he was asked, he was one of the best. You had to be in order to gain entrance into the Dark Lord's inner circle.

"How often will we rotate?" Barty mused thoughtfully, not truly believing he'd get an answer.

"The Dark Lord is thinking fortnightly to monthly," Antonin stated, "But I may…" pausing when Barty cheered loudly, upon seeing Rodolphus' entrance along with his brother.

"Go Rodolphus!" Barty cheered with a devilish grin, well aware that Rodolphus and Harry were going to be duelling next. Only to wince when Rabastan smacked him on the back of the head with an eye roll. "Ouch! That hurt!" he grumbled, but the grin never left his face.

"Good," Rabastan said, with a snort.

"What took you so long?" Barty asked, it couldn't have taken them that long to pack up, with a few spells it took all of five minutes even if you summon everything else you might need individually.

"We were hunting for all our tents, father asked us to get them all," it was Rodolphus that spoke, sounding just as confused as he felt. "We aren't going to be sleeping in tents while Harry stays in a hotel, are we?" arching a brow.

"The Dark Lord is seeking people's old tents, something to do with Harry's projects in Knockturn Alley," Corvus explained, only slightly surprised that they hadn't realized why he had asked them to seek out their tents to aid those less fortunate. He didn't mind if he didn't get the tent back, he was too old to go camping much these days, and if the boys elected to, they could buy a new better one.

"Right, he's demolishing the old decrepit houses and flats," Barty said enthused to be talking about it. "They don't even deserve to be called that, really. The tenants will need somewhere else to live, and there's a massive field just down the road, Harry bought it, and he says he'll turn the field into an allotment once the flats are built. It's only flats he wants built, no single houses, there's not really enough room there, I have to agree with his decision."

"None of the tenants are going to be able to afford any of that fancy shit," Antonin declared, they were just going to end up homeless and out of a decent property. Presuming that Harry would be like everyone else, making an area better, and then putting new people in and upping the market value of the homes.

"I've seen the schematics, they're basic, small but whole, much better than the way they are at the moment," Barty confessed, and he had seen how angry Harry was that the landlord hadn't kept them in better conditions. He doubted Harry would be doing anything nasty, they would be able to afford it, right? Harry wouldn't make properties that would be useless to the people who lived there? He made a mental note to himself to discuss it with Harry.

Small to a man who was used to living in manors of course.

Harry cared, cared enough to help the unnoticed people of this society and lift them up, not ground them down to dust. He knew how it felt to be invisible, to feel unwanted, to be ignored, shoved in a cupboard and forgotten. He honestly wanted to kill the asshole who was letting people he stole – and it was stolen they weren't worth shit! – live in squalor.

"You ready?" Harry asked, panting outrageously, as he approached the group.

"The tents," Rodolphus said, handing over the three he'd found belonging to the Lestrange's, he'd had everything removed that wasn't originally there including the family crests, one was orange, one was black and the other was red. All different sizes, but they all did the same thing.

"Three? That's brilliant, thanks," Harry said a deep appreciation in his voice, "I expected to have to buy a few to be entirely honest with you." Even if he'd known none of them would really want to disappoint Voldemort by saying no. That and he couldn't see those who support Voldemort actually having a tent. Only to have people giving him tents all day, he had a load of them, he only needed one more to have enough for all the tenants. He didn't care if he had to buy that single one, he was really happy, he snorted just imagining everyone's reaction that the bad guys – evil – were the ones helping the less fortunate.

Barty snorted, there was no way anyone would deny the Dark Lord anything, he'd bet his wand that half of those tents were brand new, some likely went cheap the rest likely worried the Dark Lord wanted to use it and bought extravagantly. "I take it you'll be sending the tents tonight, before we leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I will be," Harry agreed, inclining his head at Dobby who handed him a goblet, he greedily drank it, until that moment not even realising how thirsty he was. "You want to come?"

"Sure," Barty agreed, and likely at least two others would be sent too. "Hopefully we can nip into Borgin and Burke's shop as well."

"Speaking of that shop, thank you, for the book and the cabinet back, that particular piece has been in the family for over a century." Corvus said, he had been seething furious to have found it missing if he was honest. He had known it had to be a Auror, but his sons had consumed most of his thoughts, and the cabinet had just sailed out of his mind. If Rodolphus and Rabastan hadn't been arrested he would have ensured whoever took it paid a very heavy price. It was unlikely the one who sold it to B 's was the one who originally stole it. Nobody was that stupid. It was in dozens of his ancestors portraits. He did not insult Harry by attempting to repay him.

Naturally he failed to realise just how…spectacularly stupid people could actually be.

"You can just head out to Knockturn Alley if you wish," Rodolphus suggested, "Although, you might want to wash first, lest people actually do think you're one of them." it was rare the plumbing actually worked down there, and most didn't even poses a wand either.

Muffled snorts and laughter pealed out of people at Rodolphus' suggestion.

Harry just smirked, it took a lot more than that to insult him, he did however, sniff his pits absently, "Eh, not too bad yet. However, you're not getting out of the fight, I want to see what you're made off."

"You have enough energy for another match so soon?" Corvus asked, eyeing Harry with an indecipherable look.

"I'll be fine," Harry replied, he was used to working on empty, well, not anymore, he guessed, things were different now. However, he used to be able to do it all with a whole lot less. "Don't worry I'm not going to turn him into a squib or anything like that." Belatedly realising it was a legitimate concern others might have.

Corvus blanched, huh, clearly it wasn't something he'd been concerned about after all, oops. "Well, I am now." the elder wizard confessed.

Harry laughed, but shook his head, "Come on, Rodolphus, it's time,"

Rodolphus, Harry came to realize, was as sneaky and underhanded as Tom when they duelled. He was quite quick, but Harry reckoned he could be quicker. He knew a lot of spells, and some of them Harry had never heard of, likely spells from the Lestrange grimoire. Rodolphus would have beaten him for sure, if he had been just a little faster.

"Now I have to shower," Harry confessed, while panting outrageously again, his hair completely soaked with sweat atop his head. Stretching his hand in and out ensuring his severed fingers were reattached properly, now that had been a particularly vicious spell, he made a mental note to memorise it. "Good match." Smacking Rodolphus' shoulder who winced in pain.

Rodolphus glared at the fucker, that was the shoulder his spell had dislocated thank you very much. It was honestly more of a dull throb now, but still, that pat felt like a million knives digging into his body. His glare didn't once let up, as Harry left the training room.

He noticed a pale shaken Draco Malfoy staring vacantly at the duelling platform.

"Say they were both equal in terms of status and all the hierarchy stuff," Harry did not glance at Barty, he did not want him thinking this was why he was asking, he was genuinely curious."How does that get sorted out?" he really should probably be reading all that pureblood etiquette books he'd been given but it was so boring. He and Tom were similarly titled, weren't they? He didn't ask despite the fact that Tom was walking alongside them with nobody except them any the wiser, well, nobody was any the wiser that he was walking with Tom and three high ranking Death Eaters. They looked just a little older than him, and nondescript. Nothing about them stood out, and that's how Tom had wanted it actually.

"It's rare that two families would marry of their heirs to another heir of equal standing," Rodolphus confessed, a thoughtful frown on his face, "They usually like to ensure that they pick someone…lesser as to not take from their own family legacy." So, they could bully their own expectations upon.

Barty nodded in conformation, it was true, "I can't recall anyone of equal standing getting married actually, not male or female."

"Closest I can think of, would be Orion and Walburga's marriage," Rabastan confessed thoughtfully, as they moved through the cobbled stone lane towards Knockturn Alley.

Harry threw them an incredulous look at what he was hearing, "They were not in equal standing. But No wonder everyone looks miserable, they bloody are," he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation. Making sure they didn't marry their kid off to someone with equal standing, people weren't commodities, for Merlin's sake, they deserved to experience love, to be happy not just marry for the expectations of their 's like they were stuck in the 17th century.

"Not all marriages are bad," Rodolphus admitted, although he looked pained doing so. "Some are exceptionally lucky," thinking primarily of his own parents and the Malfoy's, Narcissa and Lucius had a contractual marriage, and they were happy and well suited together.

"So, are marriage contracts still a thing?" Harry asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

"Parents still have a great deal of say in who their child marries, yes, but contracts…not so much, it's becoming an obsolete practice. It may have something to do with the decline in births in magical Britain." Rodolphus informed him, which was true in the magical world in India, now those parents still have a say in all part of their child's life. They were still sold off for hefty prices, any embarrassment the family still killed off their children.

Unbeknown to him, the muggle side still carried out that particular practice.

"Mostly threats to disinherit them which would leave them penniless and nameless," Barty imputed drolly, he should know, he had been threatened too many times to. count. "That threat always works wonders, I don't believe I've actually seen any child defy their parents to the extent they allowed themselves to be disinherited for love."

"Sirius," Harry pointed out. "You went to school with Sirius' father…and probably the rest of the Black's…Sirius has explained his family tree to me a few times, and it always gives me a headache trying to work it out there's like dozens of Regulus', Orion's, and Sirius'," obviously exaggerating a little, but not by much, they really did reuse the names a lot in the Black family. "There was a lot of Black's back then, eight or nine, right?"

"Seven, they never include the squibs as family," Voldemort told him with blunt truthfulness.

"Marius Black," Harry nodded, yes, Sirius had told him about Marius, although he hadn't explained his exact relation to him. It was before his time and with how messed up the family was, expecting Sirius to know exactly who Marius Black was to him was asking a lot.

Rodolphus blinked in utter astonishment that Harry knew this piece of information. Then again, he doubted Black cared about any secret shames to the family. He hated the Black's anything to embarrass them further he'd do it.

"Correct," Voldemort nodded curtly slightly surprised, he'd only ever heard it uttered once, but it had been a slip-up. Even the eleven-year-old heirs were never to mention 'the squib', including his name and everything else about him. He understood the desire to hide the shame that stained the family name, but they brought it on themselves. It was something he understood now, but before he'd just assumed they were weak, unworthy of being wizards. The desire to find two squibs and see if they could produce a magical offspring was strong. It was definitely something he wanted to observe for himself, the prospect of it was rather thrilling."And now there is only one." And in all likelihood Sirius Black would die without an heir.

Harry was pleased to see everyone lined up on the field, facing the raised platform, waiting on him coming. The sound of children crying, laughing, screaming and shouting didn't bother him. Kids would be kids, they didn't know volume control, at least he knew they weren't harmed by their families if they were, they'd be reacting very differently indeed.

"First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming," Harry called out putting a Sonorous charm on his throat, so that everyone could hear his words as he stepped up onto the raised platform. "Now you all received word that the properties were going to be demolished in two days. I know you've been worried about what you're going to do, but I worked tirelessly to figure out a way to ensure comfort for all."

Moving in a loose circle, Tom, Barty, Rodolphus and Rabastan stood close by, they looked very casual but Harry knew each of them could have their wand in hand within seconds. Nobody here would survive any attempt on his life. Not that anyone looked ready to fight, they all looked worried, some even scooped up their children and held them tightly, as if trying to elicit some sort of sympathy from Harry, to not leave them all homeless.

Voldemort smirked, finding their attempts at manipulation funny, especially considering the lengths Harry had already gone for them.

"This entire field has been secured, you cannot leave the muggle exits," Harry continued, "So, until the new properties are put up, which will take roughly six months…" pausing at the cried of horror, shock and despair at that realisation, calls of what were they meant to do, how do they live? Were called out, some yelling that he was leaving children homeless.

"If you'll let me FINISH!" Harry shouted, causing everyone to quiet down shocked by his yelling, it did scare a few of the children who did begin to cry. "I have gathered up two dozen magical tents, they all have EVERYTHING you'll need, some are bigger than others, which will be given to those that need it most. All I ask is that you please, please leave them in good condition as you received them."

There was naught but stunned silence as they digested exactly what Harry just said. The relief that followed was not only visible but vocal, the sighs of utter relief was prominent.

"When I call your name, one of us will erect your tent, and set it up, it will be yours for six months, I better find them in the same condition…otherwise I will not allow the new properties be used in the same manner." Giving them all a grim warning of the consequences of their actions should they destroy the tent. "Accidents happen, I understand, I don't mean that, but any disrespect won't be tolerated."

Harry inclined his head to Tom, who had the first five tents in his pocket, they all had the same number of rooms. So, without further ado, with a couple of flicks from his wand he had the tents situated, and spelled so they couldn't move, not even under the harshest of winds, nor the most torrential of rain would get inside. A lot of the noise from outside would be muted as well, and with the families own spells, they'd safeguard it for their families with ease.

"The Brown family, to number one!" Harry called out, now that was a big family, sixteen members, grandparents, their parents, the couple, and their two children. Their clothes were all threadbare but lovingly mended. "I put two buckets of wool and new knitting needles inside, all sorts of colour, you'll love them." He said quietly to Eve, she was the one he spent speaking to in the beginning. He'd seen how low her knitting bag was, and how worn the needles were, how sparce everything was, they ate well at the expense of everything else. They put their family first and he admired that. She'd even commented on the blanket she'd been doing being her best work and loving the colours, he had peaked into her mind and found out that she sold the items to help her daughter and grandchildren.

"Oh, thank you, young man," she said, looking moved to tears, he was such a nice young boy, his parents would have been proud of him. perhaps she could actually make something for the house and not have to sell it for food, she was getting on in years and her hands weren't as good as they used to be. She didn't like using spells for her knitting, she wasn't powerful enough so it always went wrong.

The two kids shrieked, before coming racing out, "Is this for us!?" awe eclipsing their features, staring wide eyed at Harry, aware that he was the reason they were here.

Harry nodded, "It is, always be good to each other," ruffling their hair, the siblings were very close to each other, and Harry rather envied that, his understanding of the word family came from the Dursley's and he knew it wasn't meant to be that way. It didn't take them long to race in shrieking that it was for them that Harry had gifted them. Dobby had picked well then, he'd told him the ages since Harry honestly wasn't sure what on earth any magical child played with at their ages.

Voldemort arched a brow, "When did you have the time to get all that?" knowing it was likely going to be the same for most of the tents.

"I got Dobby to get a bunch of stuff; I put it all in when I was looking through them all and deciding who was getting what." Harry informed him with a grin; with Dobby it hadn't taken long at all. Those kids would never forget what he did for them; they'd remember it for the rest of their lives and these people? They'd like him for something he had actually done, not because he was seen as the Boy-who-lived. If he could make their lives a little easier for practically pennies compared to everything in his vaults then he would do it. That was all Harry wanted, to be remembered for something other than being the Boy-Who-Lived. The myth that Dumbledore had spent a decade perpetuating.

"Second tent is for the Burke family!" Harry called out, now that family was just a tad smaller than the Brown family. Fourteen people, Mr and Mrs Burke had six children, sextuplets, Mrs. Burke had two sisters who lived with them to help with the children, along with both Mr and Mrs Burkes parents. All cramped into a three, bedroom property, they never once complained, they were just grateful to have a roof over their heads. They weren't the main Burke family that had served Tom for years, or the ones that had married into the Black family, merely a cousin branch. The brothers hadn't gotten on at all, so the families had never met, even after the patriarch/Lord of the families had died.

Voldemort continued un-shrinking the tents by their numbers – which were stamped up top of the triangle at the top of the tents – as Harry called out the family names. A thoughtful frown upon his features, he hadn't expected Harry's dedication to become so profound. It was almost as if Harry was making a point, but part of him could only ruminate with vexation that nobody had done anything like that during his time when he most definitely would have needed it. Still, there was no point to thinking too hard on that one, he got through it and he was stronger for it and he needed nobody else.

Harry nudged Tom, giving him a sombre knowing look, he couldn't say they'd been through similar childhoods. He hadn't been sent back into a war-torn world, with every possibility of death. The magical world definitely failed all those magical children, and they ought to be ashamed of themselves. However, he had been shoved into the muggle world to be abused, by the very same man who had sent Tom to that war-torn country.

"Right!" Barty called out for Harry so he could send the next family into their tent.

"Mackenzie family, tent eight!" Harry called out after checking the paper he had in his hands, which showed which tent number, how many in the family and the family name. Truly having House-elves did wonders for getting things done really quickly.

"Hmm, the wards have tripped," Tom murmured quietly, "I'm going to go have a look." Giving Rodolphus and Rabastan a look, that they were to stay here and protect Harry. If it was anything, they would know to get Harry out of there immediately. They had to, otherwise everyone here would pay the price, and it wasn't something he wished to see happen. Harry would needlessly blame himself; no good deed goes unpunished is a good saying for a reason.

"Done!"

"Donaldson family, tent nine!"

"Done," Barty was speeding up, erecting his last tent, Rodolphus and Rabastan were putting up the ones they'd gotten shrunken down. They did not bad actually, there was only a small gap between fifteen and sixteen numbered tents.

"Rodolphus go make sure Tom's alright," Harry ordered him, "Alright guys, listen up! Smith, tent eleven! Ewan, tent twelve! McKellan tent thirteen! Edwards tent fourteen…and Craig tent fifteen!" only stopping when he noticed that Rodolphus hadn't moved.

"Go, what are you waiting for?" Harry asked frowning, when all Rodolphus did was move closer to him, all but in his personal space.

"I'm not leaving you here, I'd rather you get annoyed at me, than the Dark Lord kill me for disobeying him." Rodolphus declared seriously, whispering vehemently into his ear.

Harry sighed utterly exasperated, "He didn't give you orders." He pointed out perplexed, although it could have been earlier, he guessed.

"He doesn't need to." Rodolphus declared sagely, a single look was all it took, they knew how the Dark Lord thought and what he demanded from them without the need to speak. They had been following him for decades (even if half of that was spent in Azkaban) it was something that wasn't easily forgotten.

Harry grumbled to himself, "Fine, just keep an eye out," wrinkling his brow, as he walked away from them, focusing on the last of the families and getting them situated.

The lone tent at the end was for all the single wizard and witches, once he returned from the tournament he'd see about getting them appropriate clothing. The pureblood's probably had loads, and if they didn't, they could donate just as they had today. He wondered if it was right to do that, since he had evidence that they would deny Tom nothing…but he shrugged his shoulders in the end they wouldn't ever be hurting for money.

Glancing back as he moved, nodding absently at the incessant 'thank you's' from them, giving a smile as well. "I wonder if Remus would be willing to teach them…" a thoughtful look on his face.

"He's back, you can quit worrying," Barty said, judging Harry in the ribs causing him to hiss, they were still delicate thank you very much. "Sorry," muttered apologetically.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Tom as he returned, he didn't seem bothered so obviously it wasn't something bad.

"An Order member saw you in Knockturn Alley, with us, they attempted to follow us but were thrown off by my Ventus spell," Voldemort said dryly, he was still stuck there as a matter of fact minus the memory of them. "I suppose we should consider ourself lucky he didn't go and inform them before returning." It would have been disastrous, the people of Knockturn alley would have paid the price. Not that he cared, but he cared that Harry cared. Considering he was going to be out duelling to win competitions it was a good thing it hadn't been disastrous.

"Does he seem powerful?" Harry asked cautiously, glancing back at the families all going to the other tents talking animatedly with their neighbours and friends.

Voldemort arched a brow, slightly confused by the question, "I cannot say, but you know as well as I most people in Dumbledore's order are…adequately powerful."

"They could have sent a Patronus message, is all," Harry pointed out, he had delved and watched the memories of the Order from Severus and any others he could get. Wanting to memorise everyone in them, so that if he came across any then he wouldn't be caught off guard. Tom and the others made sure he knew all their names as well.

"They would have been here by now," Rodolphus mused thoughtfully, it was true, they would have been. Like it or not, the Order always responded swiftly to any threats during the war. It's why they always thought there was a spy within their ranks, them getting there so quickly was always suspicious.

"I'd rather not risk it, let's leave the way we came, swiftly, so that they don't bloody attack the people I'm trying to help," Harry said, already moving in that direction before the others. If anything happened to them or the tent's he swore he would end the Order entirely, root and stem. Luck it seemed, was on their side, since nothing happened on their way back home. He'd make sure everyone kept an eye on his settlement while he was away. Keeping them all safe, while making sure the business he had hired to demolish the buildings did so carefully and professionally.

A/N – yeah, I didn't write the duel between Rodolphus and Harry, I'm going to have a heck of a time writing out duelling scenes when I write out Harry competing which is going to be annoying enough as it is! None will ever beat Harry/Bellatrix duel anyways LOL I brought it on myself, but I wanted to have time go by quicker so they're adults for the next stages of my story (I had them way too young!) it's my fault really for starting it when Harry was what…fourteen? But I wanted Sirius and Harry to have some sort of relationship (it isn't anywhere near as strong as I would have liked but better than in the books lol) so yeah, this is pretty much a whole new chapter and it will be like that until I've roughly written a year or so into the story.

It's funny, someone was looking for the story in my Facebook group (it sounded so familiar it took like 5 mins to click that it was mine HAHA!) that got this muse going again, it's funny what can do it truly! I'm actually looking forward to being able to add in that information about Antonin Dolohov and his sister (it's that bit they were remembering!) perhaps put a few more plot points in it before the actual scene *grins* okay I managed to get it written in two days! Oh, it's so rare these days that I can get enough written in two days to get anything posted! I'm well chuffed to bits! R please and remember if you want to read the original it's on my facebook group, its my penname added with 'group' at the bottom. I'm determined to get this all posted soon though while the muse has been renewed!