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Chapter Text

Lord Voldemort apparated into the meeting room of Slytherin castle, stumbling slightly as he landed. He allowed himself to stand a moment, his head bowed in exhaustion as he waited for the flood of pain from his burnt leg to abate. He quickly straightened, adjusted his stance so that he could avoid putting too much weight on his leg without it being noticeable, and activated the Dark Mark. Some fifty death eaters arrived and he began to speak, long years of practice keeping the weariness out of his voice and manner.

"My loyal followers. We have been making great strides both here and abroad. The inferior and the unworthy will soon bow before our might," Cheers greeted the cliched drivel. He wondered absently how absurd a speech he could make before the cowards and sycophants would falter in their adoration. Great Salazar he was tired. "To that end your reports," He continued when the cheers died down. Lucius stepped forward, bowed and started to speak.

"My Lord, our less conspicuous agents are slowly advancing anti-creature legislation as you ordered. We are also advancing martial law measures in preparation for our takeover of the ministry, though honestly with recent events it is almost too easy. Indeed known members of the light proposed an extension of the letter-screening and ministry-approved Hogwarts curriculum that was enforced under Fudge. We have also recruited two Unspeakables," Lucius knew better than to name the pair in an open meeting and ended his report there with another bow.

As he dismissed Lucius, Snape glided forward, bowing. "My Lord, it is done. Dumbledore is dead," Voldemort felt like he'd been slapped. After all these years, Dumbledore was dead and at the hands of a student. Snape for his part looked jubilant... if you overlooked the paleness of his face and his shaking hands, easily mistaken for fear though the Dark Lord knew it wasn't.

"Ah." So the plan worked. "Young Draco succeeded then?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord." Snape replied with his head bowed in apparent submission. His jaw was tight with anger that Voldemort was supposed to take as jealousy but he knew wasn't. Snape wasn't ambitious enough for that. Liar.

"He will be marked at the next meeting and given command over this year's new squad," Voldemort said simply. He would deal with Snape's deceptions later.

"Thank you my Lord," said Lucius with genuine gratitude, if a liberal amount of fear for his offspring. Snape took the dismissal for what it was and gave Bellatrix the floor.

"We have been conducting hit and run raids along with random attacks and kidnappings of light wizards as you have ordered, my Lord. As I'm sure you've noticed." Here her voice turned smug. "The wizarding population has descended into panic. They fear your name once again," she said with a fanatic light in her eyes. He flicked a cruciatas at her and held it for several seconds.

"They alwaysss feared it," he hissed, neither doubt nor arrogance in his voice. It was simple fact.

"Of c-course my lord." She sobbed more because of his displeasure than pain. "I simply..." She fell silent under her Lord's bloody gaze and stood down. Fenrir took Bellatrix's place with a bow.

"My Lord, we have an oath of loyalty from the Devonshire pack, and I have over a third of the werewolves from the Moorland and Welsh packs. We can expect to double our numbers when the werewolf legislation goes through." Fenrir bowed again and Voldemort waved him a dismissal. The Dark Lord was about to dismiss the meeting when a young man named Ratel—one of the first batch recruited and marked after his rebirth—stepped forward with his head bowed.

"My Lord, we have served you faithfully in the quest for magical purity." He stated with a proud fervor. "Why do we in this most noble pursuit choose to sully our ranks with the filth of werewolves and their ilk." Voldemort sighed inwardly—he wanted this meeting to be over—outwardly he gave a cold yet entertained smirk. Fenrir leaped to the idiot and treated them to screams as the young death eater writhed in pain. He tried and failed to worm away as Fenrir started to bite him with his still vicious human jaws. When it started to appear that things would go too far Voldemort wandlessly threw a revulsion jinx at Fenrir, then a shield charm between him and the twenty-something bleeding and whimpering on the floor. Fenrir leaped against the shield a couple of times which Voldemort allowed for the sake of the amusing terror it caused Ratel. When his blood-lust abated, Fenrir looked towards Voldemort seething with fury.

"Take him to the dungeons, Fenrir. No healers, on the full moon turn him. His attitude will be a pack matter then." His anger gone, Fenrir leered and stalked forward to drag a screaming Ratel into the dungeons. "If there is nothing further," and his tone made it clear it wasn't really a question, "the meeting is adjourned."

He walked, teeth gritted, deeper into the castle while the Death Eaters—those that weren't staying at the castle—walked to the edge of the wards. He made it to the library, selected the book he wanted, and disapparated. He arrived at a small field near loch Lomond, and entered a nearby building protected by a Fidelius Charm. He had created it to essentially be his house on the rare occasions that his personal chambers at the castle were not adequate. It had two rooms, not counting a bathroom, and a hidden vault room. He drew his wand left-handed and took down the half dozen wards and locks on the door, hissing with disgust as he hesitated on the final slash of movement in one of the spells and had to redo it. He crossed the threshold, replaced the spells and set the book, Une Étude du Travail et la creation des Isandisos, on the small end table by an armchair. Then with a sigh of relief he limped heavily into the bathroom.

He shrugged awkwardly out of his cloak and robes, hissing in pain as he jarred his injured shoulder. He sat on the toilet with the cover down and leaned against the tank, glad to finally be off his feet. The bathroom was a relatively simple affair: shower and sink, both with snake's head knobs, toilet, and mirrored cabinet with a silver frame of emerald-eyed winding snakes above the sink. He tried to pull off his shirt only to find it stuck against his ribs. He took out his wand and awkwardly cut around it left handed. Finding his shoulder dislocated he relocated it, biting back a hiss of pain, and cast a cooling charm on it. Soaking the remaining bit of shirt stuck to his ribs, he peeled it away. He examined them to find at least one broken under the charred skin. He cast a spell to set it, but like most healing spells of any serious use, the bone mending spell could not be cast on one's self. He would have to leave it. The curse that had caused the burn damage was such that the magical burn salve he had in the cabinet would take several days to fully heal it, but he slathered it on anyway. He tried not to groan in pain out of habit, though no one was there.

After applying the salve and wrapping gauze around his ribs and leg, he summoned clean clothes from the wardrobe in the bedroom. He then limped out of the bathroom and sat down in the comfortable green armchair in the main room. Taking the book off the nearby end table he started reading. He wanted nothing more than to sleep but needed to reference some details to make sure that everything was ready for his new project. He didn't want unanswered questions and worries interfering with the first good night's sleep he'd had since leaving for Romania almost two weeks before. His head still throbbed from the quantity of endurance potions he'd been taking of late. He should have been elated that Dumbledore was gone, but after hating the man for so long it felt rather anticlimactic and...empty.

He'd just flipped to the next section he'd marked in the book when he heard a voice he recognized all too well.

"Not again."

He bolted to his feet with his wand out, almost collapsing as he put his weight evenly on his injured leg. Avada kedavra. He cast silently and watched in shock as it passed through Harry Potter.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry landed on a soft green carpet and saw Voldemort in all his snake-faced glory leap to his feet in a weird crouch, knees bent ready to move. He tried to throw himself out of the way of the killing curse but was too late; however, it passed right through him without any apparent harm. He 'landed' on the floor, yet felt no impact, and got to his feet. Voldemort, now standing normally, looked at Harry appraisingly and he returned the gaze with defiance. As he stood there, Harry noticed a steadily increasing throb in his leg. Harry's scar split open and he fell to the floor clutching his head, feeling Voldemort's rage and something else flood him. A crutiatas and some other presumably nasty curse passed through him to no effect, and slowly the rage and agony faded.

Voldemort looked at Harry thoughtfully before saying, "I can assume that you are here to use the awe inspiring powers of light to avenge your precious Dumbledore, Golden One?" Harry's scar flickered with fire as that something—annoyance?—flashed again.

Harry had no idea what was going on. This was unlike any vision/dream he'd had before. However the snake did have a point: it appeared he had nothing to lose, if Voldemort could harm him he was dead anyway. Harry drew his wand. "Expelliarmus, incendio, diffindo, sectumsempra." Voldemort threw up a shield, but the spells all went through it and the snake himself to no effect.

Harry had no idea what was going on, but his head hurt and his leg was aching for no reason. He now really looked at Voldemort for the first time since he'd arrived. His enemy was wearing loose black pants of cotton or silk with silver trim and a matching long sleeve top, almost pajamas, with black dragon hide boots. He was white with rage and holding his wand in his left hand, which struck Harry as odd for some reason, though he wasn't sure why. Not wanting to stay in a room with a livid Voldy in case the snake found a way to harm him, he walked toward the door only to find that his hand went though it. Voldemort wandlessly opened the door and sat down as though the simple chair was a throne. Harry tried to walk out but found that he couldn't cross the threshold.

"I guess I'm stuck here until I wake up," Harry said.

Voldemort hissed and Harry's scar lit up with pain.

Half an hour later, Harry was sitting on the floor in boredom while watching his mortal enemy, who was seated in the room's only chair, read a book in some language he couldn't understand. He couldn't help wondering at the surreal circumstances. He also wondered why his leg hurt so fucking much but he wasn't going to alert the dark lord to his pain by examining it. He tried to focus on something other than Voldemort but there really wasn't anything interesting in the room and his burgeoning headache made getting lost in thought impossible. He shifted a bit and reached up to rub his temples, noting a distinct stiffness in his shoulder. Perfect, he thought bitterly.

Voldemort looked up and Harry immediately cast his eyes away in an effort to avoid that bloody gaze. He looked around again. He was in a small room with three doors. One of the doors was flanked by two bookcases. A map of Britain on the wall and a small table with what looked like a chess board occupied the space beside the second door to Harry's left. The wall behind him was empty except for the last door and the blank wall to his right held an unlit fireplace. Otherwise, the only furnishings were the chair Voldemort was currently treating like a throne and the small end table beside it.

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Voldemort appraised his young intruder for a moment before deciding that—throbbing headache or not—this was an opportunity that may not present itself again for a longtime, so...

"So your shepherd is gone and yet you will still walk to the altar as the light's sacrificial lamb? Why? There is no hope for your cause. You would take a meaningless death at the behest of another cowardly, incompetent minister to preserve a corrupt system you admit publicly to loathing." He paused a moment to allow the message to sink into the young martyr's thick skull. "While I kill everyone you care about? One by one?" He asked, his voice low and menacing, leaning forward and ignoring the way it pulled at his burns. Ignoring as well the odd sensation he felt and the way Dumbledore's piercing gaze came to the forefront of his mind.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric, his parents, Dumbledore. The names and faces flashed through his mind and Harry felt his eyes burn as he recalled Dumbledore on the tower still trying to save Draco. Rage flooded him on the heels of his grief.

"By 'kill them' you mean have teenagers kill them to please their bigoted families right?" he grated fiercely. Pain stabbed his scar as Voldemort laughed, high, cold, and cruel, a harsh parody of the carefree sound like the negative of a photo.

"I take it that they are less dead for the lack of my personal attention? Or are you merely disillusioned that a pompous, spoiled, undertrained whelp no older than yourself could kill your precious Albus?" Voldemort sneered. Harry felt the emptiness, the sense of loneliness and loss that had been rather muted over the last few weeks return with a vengeance. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling, and swallowed hard.

"There will always be people who believe in justice to fight you. We will honor him by carrying on," Harry said, wishing he didn't sound so shaky...or melodramatic for that matter.

"And they will follow him to their graves as you will...in due time." Voldemort replied. "Or you could join me in improving this system of apologists, nepotists and self-hating magical restrictions that you find so lacking while sparing your 'loved ones.'" He said loved ones like one would say 'warts'.

Harry hesitated, overwhelmed with the pain of losing Dumbledore suddenly so fresh and raw, like a scab that had been torn off. He wondered for a moment if perhaps he could just give in, live in solace with what remained of his friends and adopted family. Be selfish.

The thought only lasted a moment, though. He knew he couldn't.

"And put them through the living hell that you would turn Britain into? Death would be preferable."

"Supposing that you and yours could live in comfort and relative extravagance?" Voldemort offered seductively. Be selfish, Harry thought. It's your life, your friends. Without Dumbledore you'll probably lose anyway. You'd simply be sparing them a torturous death...

"Unlike your precious pure-bloods I cannot be bought," Harry snarled.

"Then you'll die," Voldemort said simply. "Along with every last person who assists your futile efforts." He smiled and Harry felt an irrational jealousy, a vindictiveness that he assumed came from the snake across from him. Voldemort returned to his reading.

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Voldemort couldn't focus. He'd been staring at the same page for ten minutes. After their short conversation, Harry had turned, scrubbed at his eyes—to Voldemort's sadistic satisfaction—and said no more. Yet still he lacked his normal obsessive focus. It was frustrating to say the least, and while he could have attributed such issues to his physical state he knew that wasn't entirely the cause. He'd been in far worse condition before, it shouldn't serve as quite such a distraction. He just couldn't get Dumbledore's face out of his head or the overwhelming sense of worry and doubt and...

He was already reviewing his plans, trying to find something he'd overlooked, before he realized that it was the boy's feelings bleeding though the mind link. His wand hand twitched with the urge to torture something over the fact the it hadn't occurred to him immediately. He closed his eyes a moment to clear his head. Seriously how did the boy have a coherent thought with all of this white noise? When he opened them he realized with some interest that the teen in question was fading.

Chapter Text

July 5th

Harry woke with a start in his bed at Privet Drive and almost puked. As the sickness faded so did the throb in his leg. Curious, he examined it, yet could find nothing wrong. He closed his eyes and thought over his strange experience, trying to figure out what had changed in this vision. Though he considered the events for hours, he could not figure out why Voldemort had been able to see him. Something must have changed to intensify the connection that much. The only thing that he could think of was that he was coming of age, but that was still several weeks away. Perhaps it did have to do with his magical maturity, but in a physiological instead of chronological sense. It was the best guess that he had until he could ask Hermione or...someone. He sighed and tried to push Dumbledore from his mind as he continued with his chores.

Three days later, Harry was just finishing weeding the garden when he saw a garter snake slither towards the house.

"Hello," he hissed.

"You can speak to me?" the snake replied incredulously. "Who are you?"

"I'm Harry, and you are?" he asked politely.

"My name is Kraxil," the snake answered. "How can you speak to me?"

"It's a long story," Harry said with chagrin. Then on a random impulse he asked, "Would you like to come in?"

"Is there food?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sure I can find something."

The snake hissed agreement and Harry put his hand down to let it slither up. Harry hadn't heard from anyone in the three weeks since the end of term. In fact, his longest conversation had been with Voldemort, and what did that say about his life? For some reason—perhaps it was the Dumbledore's death and the sudden feeling of isolation—he found himself desperate for someone to converse with, to rant to. A strange bone-deep longing that he usually didn't have. The Dursleys largely ignored him nowadays but he wasn't nearly desperate enough to feel bad about it. He retired to his room and fed Kraxil one of the mice Hedwig had brought home.

"So you are a wizard?" asked the snake awkwardly.

"Yes, though I'm underage," he responded in case Kraxil wanted him to cast something.

"Were you the one who released the serpent king?" Kraxil queried in awe.

"No," Harry said simply, assuming it would be awkward to mention being the one who'd slain the basilisk. They conversed for a bit longer before Harry got in bed and Kraxil coiled himself up on the floor. Harry immediately realized that there wasn't anywhere in the spartan room for Kraxil to stay, not where he wouldn't be seen. He considered putting Kraxil under the floorboards but quickly discounted it. Even if the snake could survive there, it would be too much like being locked in a cupboard. Harry couldn't inflict that on another being.

After contemplating the predicament for awhile, he got up and left the room. He sneaked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Going to the trash, he searched though the boxes, grateful that he hadn't had to take out the garbage that day. He selected one that was about a foot by six inches and slinked back to his room. Once safely back in his room, he stowed the box under the bed. He waited a few minutes in case one of the Dursley's had decided to stir themselves from the TV long enough to bitch at him for 'interrupting' their viewing. When it became apparent that he would be left alone, he got the box, opened one end, and placed it back under the bed. The flaps of the open end were pulled to within a couple inches of each other.

"Go on," Harry said with a smile.

"Thankssss," hissed the snake with an undue amount of gratitude. Kraxil then slithered under the bed, into the box. Harry smiled to himself, happy that his new friend was content. It was odd that he would bond so quick with a snake of all things. A disturbing thought tickled at the back of his brain but he fell asleep before he could firmly grab and examine it.

Harry opened his eyes to a tiny room containing only a bed covered in black and silver sheets, a small silver-trimmed black nightstand with a jug on it and a matching wardrobe. He turned and bolted when he saw Voldemort was laying in the aforementioned bed. He grabbed the door knob, opened it and promptly walked into a wall; well, an invisible barrier at any rate. Excellent. Stuck again. He looked back at the bed. It was completely Slytherin, with a silver snake motif headboard and two bedposts made of some black wood, possibly ebony, that ended in carved basilisk heads with ruby eyes. However, it was Voldemort himself who caught Harry's attention. He was lying on his side, body curled in on itself. As Harry watched, a violent shivering racked the older wizard's body, then stopped. Harry suddenly realized that he had touched the door. Perhaps he could...

He sighed before he even finished the thought. Even if he could bring himself to, he had no muggle weapon. Well maybe...He pointed his wand at the monster's neck and swallowed hard, feeling ill. Then he thought about how Dumbledore had also been cut down in the same manner...without remorse...on this snake's orders. He still felt sick but the rage was helping.

"Diffindo," he whispered. Nothing happened. He tried again, a little louder and more precise. A few sparks flew from his wand and Voldemort bolted upright, wand in hand. Harry caught a grimace of pain before it was gone and a second later he hit his knees. Spells cascaded around him, but he didn't notice. His scar felt like it had been slit with a dull knife and it was as though someone was flaying the skin on his ribs. He screamed in agony while rage and an uncharacteristic terror flooded him.

When Harry could finally open his eyes, he looked up to see Voldemort sitting up in bed. While his wand was nowhere to be seen, Voldemort's hate-filled gaze was fixed on him. However, the effect was rather diminished by the glazed look in his eyes, the somehow-even-paler-than-normal skin and the sheen of sweat that Harry could see even from where he was crouched. Voldemort rose and Harry noticed the way his jaw clenched with the motion. As he stood, Voldemort grabbed a bottle that Harry hadn't seen from behind the jug on the nightstand. He drank from it, pocketed it, and walked through the door with what Harry thought was a slight limp. Odd. Harry thought. Why would he be injured? He certainly had access to healers even if he was a poor healer himself.

Harry found himself still crouched but on the other side of the doorway, though he had no idea how he got there. Voldemort sat in the chair that he had been sitting in the last time Harry had dreamed of being there and summoned the book to himself. He perused the book while Harry watched.

About a half an hour later, Harry heard a thump and looked up. He saw that the book had fallen to the floor and walked over curiously. He realized with shock that the dark lord had fallen asleep. On a whim he picked up the book, and while he couldn't understand the words, the diagrams made it clear that it had something to do with staffs. Perhaps this would be useful information for Dumble... the Order he thought. He tried to commit the title to memory.

He looked up again at the monster in the chair and decided that it was extremely disconcerting watching him sleep. He wondered what was wrong. Maybe he's dying of an illness, he thought with a perverse sense of hope. Then again, maybe not, and when will I get another chance like this? He pulled his wand and whispered, "Diffindo."

It went through the snake like every other spell they'd tried on each other. Gathering all of his Gryffindor courage, he slipped over as quietly as if he was sneaking into the kitchen at home. He picked up the heavy snake-motif candlestick on the end table with the intention of bludgeoning the monster. When he tightened his grip, however, his hand slid through it as though he were a ghost and the candlestick clattered to the floor. Voldemort stiffened, a killing curse flying on instinct before he was even fully awake.

As the Dark Lord came fully conscious, he focused on Harry. Harry, who had thrown himself to the ground to avoid the spell, was already back on his feet. He tried not to show his embarrassment at 'dodging' the harmless spell. Voldemort glanced down to see the candlestick, then focused back on Harry. Through the link he felt a string of emotions too fast and subtle for him to individually pick-up. He also felt his own irrational fear of the for now-impotent enemy in front of him though he tried to ignore it.

Voldemort laughed his cold, high-pitched laugh and gave a cruel smile. When he finally spoke, mocking concern dripped from the words like venom. "Tsk, tsk, tsk and in cold blood too? Whatever will your fellow lion cubs think?"

"They'll thank me, I'd assume," Harry responded, trying to make his tone icy.

"As they should, I suppose. If you were actually able to do it, of course," Voldemort said, his demeanor suggesting that the concept was high comedy. "How many of them, however, would do the same in your place? How many wouldn't trade you for their own life? For the right to honestly say it isn't their problem? Why should you be their sacrifice?" he finished, almost cajoling.

"Because no one else will." Tears filled Harry's eyes and his voice shook pathetically, but it held conviction.

"You will die at seventeen for a society that won't raise a hand to help itself? One that spent a year in denial instead of fighting and now offers only knee-jerk reactions and political rhetoric?" he asked.

"The order fights! We'll always fight, besides you haven't managed to kill me yet either," said Harry with an arrogance he didn't feel. Anger flickered through the link.

"Ahh yesss, and the Order numbers what, twelve wizards and a dog?" asked Voldemort.

"Forty-eight and counting," retorted Harry with fierce pride. He didn't show the sting of sorrow he felt at the jab towards Sirius. A lightning quick flash of something that felt too pleasant to be anything good filtered through the link.

"So you and your twelve wizards and a dog, sans Dumbledore of course, will go up against the might of my Death Eaters, werewolves, vampires and dementors."

"We have the giants, the centaurs and the Veela on our side," snarled Harry before he realized what he was saying. Voldemort had not known about the Veela, or for that matter the Order's numbers. He clamped his mouth shut, feeling sick. Voldemort didn't even try to continue the conversation. He merely leaned back in the chair with an expression of disinterest and an accompanying flicker of satisfaction.

After about fifteen minutes, Voldemort shifted from his casual position, sitting up straight and alert. Harry had to stifle a laugh at how much the image reminded him of a dog that heard something. He would have laughed aloud, but he didn't want to start another conversation for Voldemort to exploit. They passed an interminable amount of time with Harry lounging on the carpet and Voldemort sitting bolt upright in what had to be an uncomfortably stiff position, alternately glaring at him and reading. Harry noticed occasional tremors run though his enemy and the way the dark wizard's fists and jaw clenched when they did. He was musing on this at some point when he felt a sting on his face. He opened his eyes to see that Petunia had slapped him.

"WAKE UP!" she screeched. "You're lazier than my sister. Go, go, Duddykins needs breakfast if he's going to beat that little punk in the boxing match tonight."

"Uhnrg," Harry responded eloquently. For a second, Harry almost missed the relative peace and quiet of the house he kept dreaming himself to. Reason then took over, reminding him to be glad that at least he was safe for now. If only he could say the same for the rest of wizarding Britain. A cold stone of worry and guilt settled in his gut. He desperately wished to get out of Privet drive and do something. With a resigned sigh, he forced himself to get out of bed and start the day.

Harry spent the day doing his usual chores and shooting the breeze with K'raxil when he could get away with it. He was in a rather bad mood, partially because of the mandatory ego-stroking that he apparently 'owed' Dudley the 'star' boxer. The other factor was that he appeared to be coming down with something. He was randomly experiencing cold, shaky spells throughout the day, despite the uncomfortable eighty-degree weather; and despite the fact that the Dursleys always underfed him, the thought of food made him nauseous. Getting sick at the Dursleys was miserable, since it meant working sick while being treated like a leper. Fun. So it was with relief that he retreated to his room. More exhausted than he should have been and barely glancing at Kraxil in his box, Harry collapsed on his bed.

That night passed much the same as the previous, except Voldemort simply pretended he didn't exist instead of launching a vicious, if ineffective, attack. Harry had once again arrived in the bedroom. Voldemort had been reading, stretched out in bed, with his back propped up on pillows against the headboard. Harry sat on the floor again and they stayed like that until Voldemort fell asleep. As soon as he did Harry started to notice the periodic shivering. About fifteen minutes later, the dark lord's eyes snapped open and Harry again felt the agonizing wave of rage and terror. This time, though, it subsided almost immediately, leaving him feeling shaky and his scar throbbing badly.

"You didn't try anything," Voldemort stated as though coming to a conclusion. "So...you are neither as suicidal as your mother nor as reckless as your father. Perhaps you are not the consummate Gryffindor that you would have your entourage believe." Harry flashed back to his Sorting what felt like a century ago. You'd do well in Slytherin. He felt his face redden with shame he could hardly argue with the assessment. They died for the cause. He had gotten people killed and now stood talking to the monster they'd died fighting.

"At least my mother died protecting me," he snarled back. Though the Dark lord's expression didn't change, through the scar Harry felt a tidal wave of rage more powerful than anything he ever felt hit him.

The next thing he knew, he was picking himself up off the floor. Voldemort was looking at him curiously, as though he was a strange type of bug. Without thinking, Harry voiced his frustration and confusion.

"Why the fuck is the link so fucking strong all of a sudden?" he wondered aloud. He felt a flicker of surprise and realized that Voldemort had thought he had known the cause.

"Perhaps your precious headmaster was doing something to dampen the effects," Voldemort offered, surprisingly civil. With shock, Harry came to a second realization: Voldemort was as interested as he was in understanding the properties of the link. Harry thought about that explanation for a moment. As much as he hated to admit it, the idea that Dumbledore had tampered with the link without telling him wasn't really that farfetched. The man did everything on a need-to-know basis and somehow his fucking trump-card never needed to know. Old, childish resentment at being left out of the loop burned in Harry. Then he remembered to consider the source and calmed some.

He was about to say something nominal in Dumbledore's defense when Harry woke up in his own room to the sound of a car alarm. He sat up for the next two hours pondering the link and unable to return to sleep.

The next night was different. Voldemort had been sitting in the chair when he'd arrived, still studying. Harry wasn't scared, though. He knew by now that Voldemort couldn't touch him, and—sadly—vice versa.

After some two hours of watching Voldemort read, his head aching with said man's annoyance, Harry stood up.

"So what's the deal with the staffs?" he questioned, genuinely curious. He'd never heard anyone mention them before. "Is your wand too short or something?" As immature as it was, Harry just couldn't resist the temptation to needle his enemy, knowing that there could be no retribution.

Voldemort's lip curled in disgust. "How eloquently stated," he replied, returning to the book. Harry was reminded painfully of Snape, and he felt a surge of murderous rage towards the cowardly Slytherin traitor.

Harry smiled as an idea occurred to him, born of boredom and impotent rage. He took a deep breath before belting out, "WEEEE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE, A YELLOW SUBMARINE..." Voldemort gave a rather complicated wave of his wand. An expression of disgust crossed his face while Harry felt his scar sear with annoyance. Apparently it was another spell that didn't work, whatever it was. For the next ten minutes, Voldemort continued to ignore Harry and Harry continued to sing snatches from whatever British invasion songs popped into his head. He was just about to run out of ideas and repeat his 'set' when Voldemort snapped.

The dark lord leaped up and started firing spells. "Silencio, Crucio, Mutatio Corporis, Ignis Spiritus, Spiritus Percusserit..." He finished breathing a bit faster and glaring at Harry.

"What in our name are you doing?" Voldemort snarled, apparently all out of patience. Pain flared in Harry's scar, more rage but of a slightly different flavor tinting the burn.

"Trying to be as much of a pain in your arse as I can...or find out what staffs are for."

Voldemort hesitated for a bit, then pocketed his wand with his right hand. With his left, he set the book on the small black stand by the chair. "Staves are wands," he said simply.

That made no sense to Harry. Practically speaking, it would be a waste of wood and not cost-effective if they were the same thing. Unless wands were just newer technology, so to speak, which would explain why he'd never seen them in a shop. But then why would Voldemort be interested in them? He asked as much, omitting his musings about Voldie's plans, and felt a flicker of something like surprise as Voldemort gave him an appraising look.

After a moment, Voldemort responded, "There are two main differences between staves and wands." Harry had the odd feeling he was in class. "The first is what they actually are. Where a wand is of course a luppiter..." At Harry's look of incomprehension, Voldemort exhaled and clarified, "A wand is a luppiter or focus. They're designed to channel and direct your energy. A stave, on the other hand, is an isandiso, or amplifier. It magnifies your energies. There are also katals, such as censers, fetishes and totems that help the caster access certain branches of magic." A flicker of impatience and anger went through his scar. Harry took a step back before remembering he was safe, eliciting a small smirk from the Dark Lord. Harry resisted the urge to duck his head in shame.

All of this was fascinating to Harry. Why had he never been taught any of this in school? Why though, had Voldemort added that last bit? It hadn't really been necessary. Not that he was complaining, but it made no sense for Voldemort to be this 'informative'. He was either lying or else had some ulterior motive for telling Harry. However there was no reason to lie about something that Harry could so easily verify. Therefore he had to be setting Harry up, though for what Harry had no idea. As Moody says, constant vigilance!

"So why doesn't everyone just use staffs if they increase your power?" Harry asked. A spark of something like pleasure flickered though his head. Harry suppressed a shiver.

Voldemort hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Two reasons. The first, specifically concerning staves, is about how they function. Wands are crafted for people: they favor a person whose magic is compatible with theirs. They can—theoretically—be made specifically for one person. A stave, on the other hand, is crafted for magic, and can only cast spells in the one to three branches of magic it was crafted for. However, they have the slight upside of working the same for anyone. They can be and are mass produced. The second reason is that isandisos are illegal without a special permit and training in Britain, in Europe actually."

"Oh. Why? How do you get a permit?" Harry asked raptly, completely forgetting who he was listening to.

Voldemort smiled coldly, and Harry felt another small spark of anger chased by something like amusement. "Again there are two reasons. The first is practical: they're dangerous. If you perform a spell incorrectly with a luppiter it simply won't work, or will only half work, as I'm sure you're aware." Harry ignored the dig. "If you make a mistake with an isandiso it can go off target, cast a similar but unwanted spell, or overload in a raw burst of magic. The second reason is fear. There are few enough wizards with the skill to use them effectively, and fewer still in the ministry, that the government feels it's 'unfair' to allow those who can use them to do so."

That seemed reasonable to Harry—Voldemort was scary enough with just a wand—but he said nothing. There is only power and those too weak to seek it. That law must have seemed like the ultimate affront to Voldemort.

"As to how you get a permit?" Voldemort continued rhetorically. "You don't. The only permits Britain issues are for high-ranking aurors to get ministry issued battle staves, since they obviously need something deemed too powerful for the general public to control said public." Well he isn't bitter or anything, Harry thought in amusement. He had to admit, however—if only to himself—that the discrepancy in power was a bit unnerving. Especially when considering situations like Sirius'. "Healers on St. Mungo's staff or attached to the ministry can also apply for permits for healing staves, but that's it." Harry realized a little belatedly that Voldemort's motive for giving him this information was to make him question the ministry's restrictions.

In the pause that followed, Voldemort momentarily closed his eyes just a second too long to be a blink, and Harry noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Harry had almost forgotten how ill he'd been. Harry opened his mouth to ask about the kitles when he felt a force shove him. For a moment he wondered if there was an earthquake or something. Then he had opened his eyes and came face to face with Aunt Petunia. She proceeded to rant about how he wasted her time for a fair half hour while he cooked breakfast.

That night, Harry lay on his bed trying to find the words to write a letter concerning the odd turn his dreams/visions had taken. He looked over at K'raxil asleep in his box. The snake had become oddly comfortable there and Harry appreciated having someone, or something as it were, to talk to. Harry had dreamed himself to that house three nights in a row now. It was enough of a change in intensity and frequency to warrant the Order knowing.

He looked down at the parchment in his hands.

Hey, Ron and Hermione,

How are you guys doing? Are you still at the Burrow? So my dream/vision/things have gotten weird...well weirder. I've had them the last three nights in a row and Voldemort can see me now which is creepy. I can also interact in some ways like picking stuff up but Voldemort can't do anything to me. His spells go right through me. Sadly it works both ways, and the same goes for physical attacks. Anyway, I thought the Order should know about the change. He appears to be trying to make a staff too. I'm not entirely sure why though, other than that it will increase his power. I guess that's reason enough. Yeah Voldy's gonna have a superwand, fun, fun, fun. Anyway, I hope you guys are well. I can't wait to get out of here and get to work. Oh I almost forgot, there is something wrong with him. He's ill or something. It would probably be a good time for the Order to launch an attack.

Hope you're well, Harry

Harry sent the letter off with Hedwig, grimacing at the thought of Hermione's rebuke for not learning occlumency. His stomach churned oddly at sending the letter. A worm of guilt that had nothing to do with his—absolutely not enjoyable-'excursions' and more to do with a sense that he was committing some foul, took up residence in his gut. If he thought about it logically though, he knew he wasn't doing anything wrong. He had told the order everything of import. He stomped the worm and laid back in bed to get comfortable. He should be dreading falling asleep, falling back into that snake hole; yet, he found that he wasn't. He supposed knowing that Voldemort couldn't touch him took some of the horror away, made it seem rather like a movie. He had to remember to ask about the kitles.

Petunia woke Harry the next morning and he went down stairs to cook feeling very refreshed. He realized with a strange pang that he hadn't dreamed at all.

Chapter Text

July 13th

It had been three days since Harry's last dream, and he lay in his bed trying to relax enough to fall asleep. Harry felt woefully under prepared for the task he was set to perform. He had to get in Voldemort's head and outwit him to destroy the horcruxes. The thought was scaring the hell out of him. It wasn't so much that he was scared of what Voldemort would do to him, as that he was terrified of not living up to the wizarding world's expectations. The idea that he would have to try to think like Voldemort wasn't pleasant either.

"You're scared. I smell your fear," Kraxil stated as though it was a helpful observation. It wasn't.

"I'm about to play a game of wits and skill with one of the darkest wizards of all time," Harry replied with a shrug. Feeling ashamed, he added, "It would be like you fighting a basilisk." He had to admit, if only to himself, that it felt good to not have to be the fearless boy-who-lived and savior-of-the-light with someone, even if it was just a garter snake. He wondered for a second if that was why Voldemort kept Nagini around, then dismissed the thought with a laugh. Voldemort was supremely haughty. He had no doubts to share. He liked Nagini because she was a powerful, venomous snake: a mark of his position and bloodline. Harry laid back in bed, closed his eyes, and tried to forget his anxieties.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Voldemort sat in his workshop at Slytherin castle, looking down at the items he had collected in his travels east. The pieces were high quality. They would make a decent prototype until he could create the enchantments he needed for the final product. On the table in front of him lay a hollow stick five feet long. One half of it was red oak for shields and countercurses. The other half was blackthorn for curses. They were magically melded so they flowed into each other seamlessly.

A pair of cores, one made of griffin bone, the other of erumpent horn, lay alongside it on the table. They were carved at one end into a griffin claw and erumpent head respectively. The other end extended in a rod with a hole drilled in the tip. He placed these in the hollow stave so the holes lined up with a hole drilled though the middle of the stick where the two woods melded, leaving only the carved heads showing. Next he grabbed a peg of snake-wood that he'd prepared with a special bonding charm and jammed it through the three holes, gritting his teeth as his shoulder jarred out of place. He watched as the staff glowed light blue at the joint, looking at the finished product with satisfaction. The result was a staff of red oak and blackthorn with a carved bone griffin claw sticking from one end, and an erumpent head from the other. A cobra's head carefully carved on the joining peg stuck straight out from the center like the handle of a tonfa.

Picking up his newly crafted stave, he went into his personal training room to test it. Since there were no witnesses, he took it easy. Ego had no place when training alone with a new weapon and still healing body. Pointing the griffin head left-handed, he fired a simple blasting curse and took out half of the practice dummies, the recoil forcing him back a few steps. Two of the other dummies fired curses and he spun the staff. A shield wall trailed the erumpent's head, twice as thick as it would have been with the same effort by wand. He switched ends again, taking out the other half of the dummies. He ended the set grasping both ends the stave with the cobra's head pointing out, summoning a dozen pythons with Serpensortia.

After a few more minutes he headed back to his quarters. He would certainly need more practice. He would hardly take the staff into battle right now, but it was everything he had pictured it would be at this stage. There was a meeting at the end of the week. He would have a prime target or two to test the stave with if he desired it. He almost smiled at the thought. Sadistic anticipation occupied those thoughts not on battles plans.

HPHPHPHPHPHPH

Monday morning Harry awoke with his scar stinging. He searched his memory and couldn't remember having any dreams, so he focused on the sting of the scar and was vaguely aware of a pleasant glow. It took him a moment to place the feeling. It was the same one he'd had when he'd received his firebolt. Well this can't be good, he thought ruefully.

Unable to get back to sleep he was awake when Petunia yelled for him. When he got downstairs she glanced at him.

"So you actually deigned to get your ungrateful rear out of bed today?" she sneered.

"Yes ma'am," he grated. The rest of the day passed in an uneventful blur of chores. Until about two o'clock in the afternoon, that is. Harry was weeding the garden when a scream pierced the quiet summer morning.

"Aaaarrrrgggg heeeelp!"

Harry ran around the corner of the house to see Kraxil cowering between two of the garden rocks with a fat gray tomcat swiping at him. Harry yelled at it and the cat took off with an extremely pissed yowl. Harry picked up Kraxil, who curled into a tight, motionless coil in his hand.

"Th-thankssss," he hissed, though his voice shook with fear.

"No problem," Harry replied, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Kraxil paused for a moment before answering. "I seem to be unharmed. Again thank you."

Harry smiled, happy that his companion was safe. Even the fear accent was gone. He had no idea why he still had the snake. He assumed that Voldemort's taste for snakes coming through the link was the main cause. That coupled with his own loneliness had probably caused him to befriend Kraxil initially. He couldn't explain why he was letting the snake stay, though. The very idea of a pet snake should have repulsed him. He chalked it up to loyalty. Well, that and the fact that the snake was actually better company than most people he'd met. At least Kraxil didn't judge him or make assumptions strictly based on his being the boy-who-lived. It was pleasant.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

July 21th

The night of the meeting had arrived and Voldemort was exhausted. He'd been working around the clock between training, battle plans and the upcoming election. That aside, however, he was used to keeping such hours. Thanks to his new body didn't need as much sleep as a human. No, his exhaustion was mostly of a mental variety. He had strengthened his occlumency shields, and kept them at peak strength all day instead of strengthening them just before bed. He was operating as though a mental attack was imminent even when he was alone, because apparently it was.

He wondered what had caused the strengthening of the bond, allowing him to see and interact with the boy. Potter had seemed too surprised by the turn of events for it to be likely that it was a conscious move on the child's part. That meant one of three things had happened. One: Dumbledore set it up as a fail-safe to activate when he died. That would be the best case scenario since it would mean there was a reason that he hadn't done it sooner. Inversely he could have been dampening it while alive as Voldemort had suggested to Harry. In which case it would prove detrimental to Harry and/or the light. Two: the boy was being used as a tool in someone else's attack. Three: some external force was acting on the link unbeknownst to all of the relevant parties.

The obvious conclusion was that he would need to know more about the link before he could fix the rather embarrassing and potentially dangerous predicament. He should have studied it immediately, but he hadn't thought that the boy would be alive long enough for it to matter. It had just seemed like a convenient avenue of attack. He allowed himself a tired sigh. One more thing to do.

He realized that it was almost eleven o'clock and he would have to call the meeting soon if he wanted Ratel to experience the full horror of what was being done.

With this in mind, he strode to the meeting room. His leg and other wounds had long since healed, though he still wasn't fully recovered from the accompanying infection and fever. He no longer had the infection; however, he found his endurance and strength hadn't fully returned yet.

He called his Death Eaters and surveyed the room while some sixty Death Eaters entered through the various doors or apparated in.

"For the first order of business: Lucius how goes the election?" Voldemort prompted.

"We have been campaigning extensively. However, it looks like Raul will only get about twenty-five to thirty-five percent of the vote, according to recent polls," Lucius replied, trying to keep his nerves at the failure from showing. Voldemort nodded. That was to be expected. They would simply have to either assassinate, bribe or Imperio whoever did win. He had hoped that they would have more public support, but that would come in time.

"Fenrir, I believe you have a matter to attend to," he stated. The man in question walked forward, still human—or as close to it as he got—the moon having not yet risen enough to trigger the transformation. He was dragging a filthy, bloody, teary Ratel by a dragon hide rope attached to a silver choke collar, hands and feet bound by silver chains. Pathetic. Fenrir threw him to the floor and waited, smiling horribly. Standing out from all the filth was a blood-soaked, poorly wrapped bandage. It had fallen off enough with his rough treatment to show an ugly bite mark already scabbed over, from the day before. After about five minutes, Ratel went from sniveling to full-on sobbing. Fenrir started kicking him to make him shut up. A couple of minutes later, Voldemort lost patience, silenced him, and fired a Cruciatas curse out of annoyance.

The change started at eighteen minutes past midnight. Voldemort watched with his Death Eaters as Fenrir turned, admiring the fluidity with which magic brought to the surface the beast that all humans had within them. Voldemort removed the silencing charm, letting screams and pleading fill the room.

"Oh god, oh god oh god. No. Please no!" cried Ratel

With a changing throat Fenrir rasped, "You got one thing right kid. You're gonna be one filthy wolllllf." He ended howling, and advanced on the silently sobbing young man. Fenrir circled, trying to maximize the fear.

"Noooooooooooo..." Ratel screamed in fear and revulsion as the change started taking effect. It wasn't uncommon for the first few transformations to come on later in the night and take longer to complete. Some silent legilimency showed that the wizard had in his ignorance actually thought that the bite hadn't infected him. The loss of hope was delicious. He transformed slowly, fighting it tooth and nail as his scream turned to pure pain.

Fenrir was now fully transformed. Voldemort moved fluidly through a complex wand motion and silently cast corporea obice, creating a shield wall through which no one could pass but spells could be cast. He then unlocked the restraints. Ratel didn't even try to stand as Fenrir, made cognizant but no less dangerous by wolfsbane, walked forward. Ratel scrambled back until he hit the shield and lay whimpering. Fenrir bent down, biting with as gentle a nip as he could while still breaking skin. A taunt. Fenrir stood nipping, teasing, waiting for Ratel to catch up and the action to begin.

When he was fully wolf, he rounded on Fenrir with a snarl and leaped. Fenrir rolled to the side, spun, and jumped on Ratel's back. Fur flew as he clawed skin off. Ratel howled in pain and with pure wolf instinct twisted around and tried to slash Fenrir's face, but missed. Fenrir rolled off with a twist that threw Ratel off his feet. Fenrir hit him with a growl, biting everything he could reach, and then it was over. Ratel was on his back exposing his stomach, backing down. He accepted Fenrir as his alpha, or at least his wolf did.

Voldemort spelled the silver shackles back on. The bands magically opened, expanded to the right size, then contracted tightly, causing the wolf to howl in pain. Voldemort dropped the shield and Fenrir walked Ratel to the dungeon with the leash in his mouth, looking as proud as a niffler with a bag of gold. Fenrir gave the dragon hide rope a vicious tug here and there, making the younger wolf yelp in pain.

"All of the new initiates, step forward," Voldemort ordered with no inflection. Draco and half a dozen others stepped forward. Voldemort looked at the line of teens with disdain, remembering the state of education Potter had demonstrated. Normally initiations were done in groups of two to five every couple of months; however, this was the new crop of Hogwarts graduates. They were all seventh year Slytherins, with the exception of Draco for obvious reasons.

"Cast the Cruciatas on the person to your right, starting with Draco." Draco's face and knuckles were bleached white with nerves, but he cast the spell and the boy to his right screamed. He held it for several seconds, until Voldemort nodded. The boy struggled to his feet. He was shaking so hard he couldn't even say the incantation. He finally got it right on the third try, his victim shrieking in pain, having been surprised by the sudden effectiveness, and so it went through the other new recruits.

Voldemort watched, using legilimency on both perpetrators and victims. He noted with disgust that with one exception they all screamed and none seemed to have the 'spark' of enjoying what they were doing. Soft purebloods, he thought. It's such a pity magical purity doesn't come with mental fortitude. On the other hand, all of the others performed the spell without an issue. When they had all cast the spell Voldemort spoke again.

"Sever the ring finger on your off-hand."

All the boys blanched, a couple gasped. Voldemort resisted the urge to curse them all in annoyance. He didn't remember even the greenest wizards being so soft during the first war. Slowly, screams filled the room, though the boy who couldn't cast the Cruciatas also couldn't get his Diffindo spell to work, and another simply wasn't trying. Ignoring the screams and moans, he approached the boy who wasn't doing anything. The boy started shaking, some of the defiance leaving his gaze.

"You were given an order. Why are you not obeying?" he demanded.

"I-I-I'm not going to m-multilate myself f-f-for anybody, sir," the boy stuttered.

"Then you shouldn't have sworn fealty to anybody," he replied with finality and walked away, hearing the boy's sigh of relief. He turned to see that despite their pain, the five boys who had obeyed without question now wore incredulous looks. He hid a smirk. He walked along the row, collecting a few drops of blood from each in vials and relishing in how they shivered as he passed. He returned to the dais, looking at the children. All were on the floor writhing, except for the one who hadn't screamed before, who was doubled over whimpering.

"You may heal yourselves." His tone suggested it was an act of great compassion.

Those that were able stared back with fear and confusion. The pride of Salazar, they are, he thought in annoyance, and contemplated just torturing them all until they bled out. That would be a waste of resources though, he reminded himself. He waved his hand, beckoning one of the Death Eaters forward. The Death Eater stopped the bleeding from each boy's finger and gave them a potion to regrow it.

"Consider this your first order: considering you will be going into battle, you should at the very least know a coagulation spell. Assuming, of course, that you wish to leave the heroic deaths to the Gryffindors. They have more enjoyable usssses assss well," he said, exaggerating the hiss for effect. He was pleased to see the recruits shiver.

"Now." On cue, a Death Eater walked up leading three muggles. They were maneuvered and magically bound in front of three of the initiates. Voldemort quickly immobilized and levitated the two boys who didn't perform the finger cutting in front of Draco and the other remaining child. "Cast Avada Kedavra," he instructed with a cold smile. He was careful not to actually cast the spell. In almost one motion the five victims dropped, though he noticed that the boy next to Draco hesitated slightly. They always had so much trouble when it was someone they knew, a friend. He sneered mentally, pathetic weakness.

"You hesitated. Why?" he asked the boy.

"H-h-he was my...we shared a dorm, my Lord," the boy stuttered.

"Ahhh, so he was your 'friend'. My apologies, I was unaware. For future reference do any of you have 'friends' who you prefer not to have to kill?" he asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy.

"I serve you, my Lord, I serve the cause. Nothing else holds value," they stated with one voice. Obviously their parents had taught them well. He silently executed the useless, sentimental boy.

"Step forward and submit unto your Lord." He enjoyed ritual even if it was somewhat inefficient. If nothing else it gave a sense of formality and discipline. It was the same reason aurors stood in formation for events. Draco stepped up onto the raised platform where the Dark Lord was standing and knelt, holding out his arm. Voldemort indicated that he should stand.

"Morsmordre," he intoned, touching yew to the boy's skin. Draco yelled with a voice already hoarse from screaming, but kept his feet. Voldemort transfigured the boy's robes into apprentice Death Eater robes, conjured a mask onto his youthful face, and dismissed the boy. While it was not common knowledge, there were actually three different death eater uniforms. All three were aesthetically identical. However, while apprentice robes were just robes, the standard and lieutenant versions were crafted with a cocktail of enchantments by his artificers. After the other recruits had repeated the process, he dismissed the lower ranks, leaving only his dozen lieutenants, minus Fenrir.

"Severusss." He made the name sound almost seductive. The man stepped forward to meet Voldemort's curse. The potion master would pay for his lies, however useful he was. Voldemort had contemplated using his new staff. However as much as it galled him to acknowledge he didn't know enough about the connection yet. For all he knew Harry could have been watching the entire meeting unbeknownst to him. No while he had no problem with using it to seed fear and doubt in the little lion there was no need to for him to see it's exact make and capabilities.

Snape didn't hit the floor until just before Voldemort needed to lift the Cruciatus to keep him from passing out. It wasn't until he started the fourth round that the man finally screamed. That was fine, the challenge Severus presented was amusing, and although he'd never say it he had to admire that kind of grit. He intensified the curse.

Chapter Text

27th of July

Harry awoke to find the house empty. While this struck him as odd, he didn't question it too much. Returning to his room he retrieved Kraxil and lazed on his bed discussing the war. It felt good to air his worries to someone with no expectations. To his surprise snakes didn't really care what happened as long as there were speakers around. Kraxil had explained that without parseltongues (or speakers as snakes called them) snakes were not given proper respect. Kraxil seemed extremely bothered by the fact that most humans didn't credit snakes with sentience.

Roughly an hour later, he took Kraxil with him and went into the garden. He realized with no small amount of joy that after this summer he would never have to return. It was quickly followed by a small pang of regret as he looked at the flowers. They would probably wither without him. If it hadn't been for Petunia's slave driving, his constant hunger and exhaustion, he probably would have really enjoyed gardening. He had just bent to pluck some weeds when he heard a resounding series of cracks. He jumped, cracking his head on the window sill, and looked around.

He stared shocked at the dozen or so order members who were apparating into the yard. Hermoine ran up and hugged him while Ron greeted him awkwardly.

"Oh Harry we hadn't heard from you in so long. I thought something had happened!" she gushed.

Before Harry could respond, Mad-eye started explaining the plan involving six decoys and a lot of unnecessary danger to people not named Harry. After too little discussion, during which Harry surreptitiously stowed Kraxil safely under his sweatshirt, it was decided. Ron helped Harry pack his meager possessions and they were on their way. As they left Harry realized that he had left no indication of where he had gone. Then he realized that he didn't care. The Dursleys would probably just be relieved until dinner anyway. He found himself smiling as he and Hagrid flew away.

When he finally arrived at the Burrow, Harry immediately secluded himself with Ron and Hermoine.

"Why were you so worried? I wrote," he asked.

They gave him quizzical looks. "We never received any letters Harry," said Hemoine slowly.

Harry thought back. "But Hedwig always came back fine. She was never attacked that I saw." Harry was worried now. Had something been done to Hedwig that he didn't know about? He wished that he knew a diagnostic charm.

"So what's been going on?" asked Ron. Harry quickly recounted the changes in his vision/dreams and what he'd seen, though he skipped over the lecture on staffs and didn't go into detail about Voldemort's apparent illness. He looked up to see Ron looking awed and Hermoine looking horrified.

"Good God, Harry!" she breathed. "You must learn occlumency. This isn't safe!"

"You hung out with you-know-who?" Ron questioned at the same time in a stunned voice.

"Well it wasn't really hanging out. There were a lot of curses being thrown; they just didn't hit." Harry replied, feeling sheepish for some reason. "And yes, Hermoine, I know: The stronger the connection gets the more likely he can use it against me. I'll work on it.

"Harry," Hermoine started sounding like Mrs. Weasley, " this isn't even about the war anymore or even the pain of your scar-though I'm sure it hurts." Good ol' Hermione: always compassionate... and inadvertently patronizing, Harry thought with affection and just the slightest sting of annoyance. "Being in the mind of a madman cannot be good for your psyche. I mean your brain is still developing." She sounded genuinely scared.

He knew that she was making a valid point, however he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but annoyance. He didn't really want to probe that line of thought too deeply. He was aware enough however, to realize that the lecture on staffs was the closest thing he'd had to a civil conversation since leaving Hogwarts. Unless you counted Kraxil. He worried sometimes that he was relying too much on the little snake for companionship. It wasn't his fault though; it wasn't like he had many options. He wished that didn't seem like such a flimsy excuse. Oh well, he was at the Burrow now so everything would be okay. A shout from downstairs shattered his momentary contentment.

"YOUR EAR!" They rushed down to see Fred and George standing in the entrance. One of them was holding his hand to the side of his head with blood dripping between his fingers. Fleur and Molly looked on in horror. Bill was also watching with an almost approving expression on his face. Bill stepped forward and slapped the wounded one on the shoulder.

"Your first battle scar, eh?" Bill asked, smiling. "Don't worry, the ladies will love it...if they stay long enough to get the story." Molly cuffed him and held the injured twin, who tried to wriggle away.

"Oh George. My baby," she gasped. Ron and Bill faked vomiting.

"How is everyone else?" Harry asked, feeling sick.

"Ve lost Moody," Fleur said without care. Harry's stomach dropped.

"How did it happen?" Molly asked.

"Snape, the traitorous cur," Fred snarled, looking downright homicidal. Harry seconded that emotion privately. He would have loved to get his wand on Snape and crucio him til...Harry's scar seared. When his vision cleared he wiped away tears of pain. Seeing everyone looking at him with worry, he forced a smile.

"Well Voldy's not amused with my continued existence apparently," he quipped.

"Pity that." George said with a more genuine if vaguely sadistic smile.

That night Harry lay in bed thinking. He had put Kraxil in a box under the bed with clear instructions not to leave. Harry's mind wandered back to the discussion of magic implements he'd had with Voldemort. If he was honest with himself, it was more of a lecture than a discussion, but whatever. He felt woefully unprepared. If he didn't even know about basic artifacts than how could he compete with the generations of esoteric pureblood knowledge known by Death Eaters like the Malfoys and Lestranges? Never mind Voldemort himself. He was in so far over his head…he caught himself before he got to full panic mode. This is what he wants. He wants you to be in awe, in fear. Harry chided himself. Voldemort probably talked so freely to make me feel inferior. Comforting thoughts but it didn't change the fact that there was a decades-long gap in both knowledge and practical experience to overcome.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Voldemort was practicing with his staff again. Spinning with a snarl, he cast a parseltongue spell. "Agiro Pahssle." A mass of serpents made of water leaped from the small snakewood knob in the center of his staff. He was panting somewhat by this point. Still he continued the routine, pouring all of his frustration and stress into the spells to increase their power. He tried to get lost in the rage and the adrenaline of simulated combat.

Keeping one's mental shields at maximum all the time was exhausting. He'd had a more or less constant headache lately from it. It also didn't seem to be working. He could feel Harry's feelings knocking against the link: annoyance, helplessness, fear, worry, guilt, and worst of all the occasional fuzzy touch of something warm like being licked by a dog. He couldn't thrust them away because they were technically still outside his mind.

He destroyed the dummies with a conflagration curse from the blackthorn end of the staff. It was infuriating. He almost wished he'd ordered Snape to teach the boy occlumency properly, despite the loss of tactical advantage, just for the peace of mind. That was just human weakness talking, however. He cared nothing for emotion. Why should the boy's be any different? Besides, watching him spiral into doubt was rather amusing and it would give him an angle to...tenderize the boy.

Satisfied with his self-training, he left the training room and retreated to his study. He was sweating heavily considering his snakelike body, so he cast a cleansing charm.

He sat in front of the table in his study staring at the strange chessboard on it. It was an exact copy of the one in his Loch Lomond hideout. It was three-tiered with an odd variety of pieces representing the players in the war. The tiers represented the ministry, Hogwarts and Britain in general. He wasn't really paying attention to the layout however, instead he contemplated the progress they'd been making. Thicknesse was doing a good job of infiltrating the ministry now that he'd been imperio'd. Whether or not they would be able to consolidate power quickly enough to get his agenda for Hogwarts pushed through he didn't know. Still, it was their first significant gain in the war, other than Dumbledore's death

Voldemort also had to wonder at the ignevolucrem Harry had cast. As furious as it had made him at the time, it also gave him a very important piece of knowledge. They had either finally started training Harry, or he had finally got some initiative and wasn't going to calmly try to die any more. Well, he can die flailing about with spells then, but he'll still die. Voldemort took a shot of a potion made from Nagini's venom, ashwinder dust, ground ice sage and a bit of firewhiskey, and felt the cold wash over him.

A small flame rose from tip of his wand like a cigarette lighter and he held it over his bared forearm counting. Three seconds and he felt the heat. Seven seconds and he began to feel pain. At twelve he extinguished the wand and examined the mark. The skin was Red and slightly blistered but certainly far less than was natural. Over the next two or three months he should become almost completely impervious to fire. At least if the progress continued at an even pace.

He filled the next few days dealing with the day-to-day operations of the ministry takeover and futilely trying to study the link. Unfortunately, none of the known causes of a spontaneous mental link would apply in this situation. He was simply putting off one of his more self-serving missions. It was already the thirtieth of the month. He knew that the rare downtime wouldn't last and resolved to accomplish the distasteful task tonight, before anything else could crop up to take his attention. Finishing the last bit of paperwork-formally signing the werewolf treaties- he put away the writing utensils and threw on his black traveling cloak.

He walked through the castle even though he could technically apparate through the wards. He had employed a useful bit of now-illegal blood magic to exempt himself from the wards when he wove them. However, he found that his occasional presence kept the Death Eaters from becoming complacent. He also saw no reason to announce those things that could possibly offer an edge since they weren't supposed to be possible. You'd think people would learn: the impossible was what he did. He'd made a lifestyle of it. Soon enough, he thought, allowing a smile to twist his face. He would need all of the enjoyment he could get for the upcoming encounter.

His wing included the study, private training chamber and private workroom. He continued through the heavy and highly enchanted iron door into the war wing. The bulk of the first floor consisted of workrooms, labs, medical and training facilities, two armories and a massive library.

The halls in this area, as well as the second and third floors' 'living areas' where the Death Eaters stayed, were hung with paintings, tapestries and other art. They were necessary trappings to appeal to the pureblood sense of wealth and power. However even after almost two years in the refurbished castle he still felt mild disgust every time he looked at them. While he could appreciate expensive artifacts and tried to surround himself with the best of everything, there was a difference between cost and value.

He sneered at a 'black crystal' torch in the wall. True black crystal torches were difficult to make and combined the effects of Peruvian instant darkness powder with a hand of glory. He had two of them personally and another three in the lieutenants' armory. Those on the walls, while cheaper than the real ones, were still exorbitantly expensive for the sake of it. Proof of wealth for those without the ambition to find or skill to make the real thing. He continued on, bypassing the gaudy dining hall where he met with his lieutenants as though it were a state dinner. He continued through the main meeting hall and out into the antechamber and double doors of the entrance.

Exiting the castle, he cast a disillusionment charm, rose into the air, and headed for Grizedale Forest. Again, he could have easily apparated. However, he'd found since he'd acquired the ability that he rather enjoyed flying. At least when reliance on flimsy and easily tampered-with implements wasn't necessary and practicalities permitted it. Why anyone─especially a typically mortal wizard─would trust those contraptions was beyond his comprehension. He chalked it up to the general stupidity of people.

Landing lightly at the edge of the forest roughly an hour and a half later, he ended the disillusionment. Grizedale was one of several forests where those of his followers that couldn't or wouldn't live in the castle stayed. It only took a few minutes for the dementors' representative to recognize his soul (or lack thereof) and arrive.

Voldemort strode toward the tall, cloaked figure just inside the tree line. He resisted the urge to wrap his own cloak tighter as he felt the temperature drop, lest the figure take the gesture for fear. That was the secret in dealing with dementors: you couldn't be afraid. Easy enough when you were a barely-human immortal, or so the rumors went. There was some truth to that. It had gotten progressively easier the more he tore his soul. However, the nightmares he got afterwards had gotten progressively worse. As far as he had discerned, the soul pieces had some form of contact in the dream realm, and the dementors worked directly on the soul instead of the mind. Something about that thought clicked into place, and his stride faltered for a moment.

Pushing the thought to the back of his mind to deal with later, he formally greeted the dementor with the raspy breathing that passed for their language. Changing back to English and ignoring the chill he continued, "I assume the tribute was to your satisfaction?" He layered as much haughtiness into the tone as possible.

"Hhhhaaa," came the hard exhalation, almost a cough, which was an affirmative to the strange being.

"You have my cloak then." He intentionally phrased it as an assumption. Politeness with dementors got you kissed.

Hhhhaaa," the dementor breathed. It handed him a bundle of material, coarse and ragged. He allowed himself a pleased smile. Despite the unpleasantness of the encounter, it was worth it.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next few days passed in a blur of work and Mrs. Weasley's interrogations. Harry found that the flashes of anger that had dogged him through fifth year had returned, though he could now tell that they were from the link. He guessed that had to do with the other changes. Despite that, he found that he sought the company and closeness of his friends more than ever. He supposed that it was the stress he was under and how he realized that this might his last year with them. He'd been pathetically grateful when they had told him they were coming with him on his hunt for the horcruxes.

On the night before his birthday, Harry lay in his bed with his eyes closed. He tried to ignore the sense of impending disaster that threatened to consume him long enough to fall asleep. It was kind of like the feeling he had last year, knowing Malfoy was going to do something terrible and being powerless to stop it. Only this time it was all of Britain that would suffer. He hated not being able to fight back. He couldn't wait to get onto the horcrux hunt.

He tried once again to calm down. This train of thought was not helping him get to sleep. He tried to focus on some of the changes Hermione had mentioned in the few moments of privacy that they'd gotten. The Ministry seemed in danger of becoming a cure worse than the disease. The legislation she'd talked about concerning werewolf registration and wand restrictions seemed like downright sabotage. Then again he supposed that it very well could be. Surely Voldemort had agents in the Ministry. He shivered slightly, his thoughts chasing themselves in circles until a restless sleep finally claimed him.

When he opened his eyes he stood on a small, patchy lawn. A boy with black hair was kneeling in front of him. Harry realized that this was a young Riddle, eight at the oldest. This was odd, as he has never seen the past in his 'dreams' before. This was more like a pensieve. He walked around to see what the boy was staring at, and saw that he was holding a bloody ribbon. On closer inspection, and with a slightly sick feeling, he realized it had been a small garter snake no bigger than Kraxil. It was now flat and burst, its innards hanging out. For a moment he assumed that Riddle had killed it, an early manifestation of his psychopathy. He then saw the boy's face. There was no glee or even twisted pleasure. In fact, it was completely and utterly devoid of expression… except for his eyes. They burned with an anger so intense that he expected the grass to catch fire. Righteous anger, hatred and a need for revenge hit his mind with all the shock and power of an ice-cold ocean wave.

Then he heard a taunting voice calling over, "Your little pet isn't so scary now, is it freak?"

Riddle walked away, eyes still raging infernos. While he said nothing, Harry's head reverberated with words. I WILL WIN. BILLY STUBBS.

The scene shifted. Riddle was lying on his bed in the dark, perhaps a year or two older. There were footsteps coming down the hall. Fear so thick it felt like he couldn't breathe started to drown Harry. A man walked into the room. Unlike Riddle, he was shrouded in darkness, features hidden.

"Don't," hissed Riddle and neither of them realized he'd switched to parseltongue until the man replied.

"Don't speak to me in the devil's tongue." He approached the bed without hesitation. Harry felt panicked, the magic that always came so easy suddenly nowhere to be found in the flood of fear and adrenaline. Pain, he was helpless, useless, weak. Harry swallowed bile as he looked away, but it wasn't enough to block out what was happening.

"Remember, demon spawn, you deserve this. God punishes the wicked." Harry heard the rough voice even over the screams. He squeezed his eyes closed and covered his ears, but it didn't stop the cascade of fear and shame at not being able to fight back.

After an interminable amount of time, the scene shifted again. A young Riddle was lying on his bed again, only this time he was face-down, shaking and clutching a threadbare pillow. Voices carried from down the hall.

"Don't worry, Amy. I'll get you your yo-yo back," said a boy's voice, full of white knight bravado.

"T-thanks," came the shaky reply, from Amy presumably. Riddle bolted up and hastily scrubbed his face, taking a few deep breaths. A boy and girl walked in, and Harry felt his rage. How dare they just walk in like that, like HIM.

"I'm just here for her yo-yo," said the boy not looking quite so brave.

"I didn't touch her yo-yo." The snarl didn't quite cover the way Tom's voice cracked.

The boy laughed. "You get the switch again?"

I wish, thought Tom bitterly.

The boy shrugged. "It's your own fault you know. It wouldn't happen if you weren't such a creepy little thief. Now give me her yo-yo." Harry felt Riddle's mortification as he got the yo-yo from under the bed and threw it at the boy.

"Get out of h-here." He tried snarling and the two kids left as quickly as they could without running. As soon as the door shut, Riddle collapsed onto the bed and sobbed. Shame, helplessness, rage and plans for revenge the second he could get away with it twisting in his head.

Harry awoke to Ron shaking him, "Oh thank Merlin. I've been trying to wake you for..."

Harry promptly puked on him and the floor. When he'd finished emptying his stomach he cleaned up. Then, after apologizing sheepishly, he took a shower, still shaking and trying to convince himself that it was just a dream.

Chapter Text

Harry finished showering and got dressed in the jeans, t-shirt and jumper Molly had provided. They were ones that Ron had out-grown and they fit him almost perfectly. He then staggered down the stairs. Finding Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, he forced a smile through his pain.

"Do you have any headache potions?" he asked.

"Sure dear, right this way." She walked into the bathroom and took a small red vial out of the medicine cabinet. He took it from her and downed it.

"Thanks." He retreated to his room already feeling it starting to relieve his migraine. Arriving, he collapsed on the bed then promptly sat back up. As desperate as he was to sleep, he dreaded what he would dream about. He tried to convince himself that the terrible nightmares-still so vivid in his mind-were just that. Yet he knew they weren't, and he could still hear the screams and see those burning eyes in his mind.

He didn't know how much time had passed before Ron woke up. Harry still had a pounding headache, despite the medicine, and no desire to eat, but he followed Ron to breakfast anyway. Harry sat at the table and tried to eat the bacon, eggs and pancakes before him. He felt shaky and nauseous, like he was recovering from the flu. The others talked animatedly but he ignored the conversation. He was just about to excuse himself so that he didn't bring them down with his mood when there was a knock at the door.

Mrs. Weasley opened it to reveal a golden-eyed man with air of danger. Excellent Scrimgeour because my morning was just going too well, thought Harry bitterly.

"Good morning ma'am," he greeted and joined them in the dining room. Harry half listened to Scrimgeour. His mood continued steadily worsening as he listened. Then his foggy brain cottoned onto the fact that they had withheld his inheritance, that they had disrespected Dumbledore's last wishes. They'd turned a hero's legacy into a political move when he had done more for wizarding England then the entire worthless ministry put together. He started shaking as white-hot rage overrode his better judgement.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Harry roared as he surged to his feet, his temper finally moved around Ginny to where the minister was rising from his chair and, landed a right hook on Scrimgeour's jaw. Pain radiated through Harry's hand. Scrimgeour lay on the floor with his wand in his hand looking shocked, he'd obviously expected a magical attack. Harry stood panting as the Weasleys and Hermoine stared at him stunned. Scrimgeour calmly rose from the floor and righted his chair.

"Well Mr. Potter, it's good to see where your loyalties, or lack thereof, lie. We will of course be holding onto these items pending your hearing for assaulting a ministry official." He swept out and Harry would have sworn he was smirking. Mortified, Harry returned to his room and locked the door.

He was still sitting on the bed when Hedwig rapped the window with a copy of the Daily Prophet. The headline read 'Muggles in Terror as Dark Mark Hangs Above Small Neighborhood in Sussex: The wholesale slaughter leaving over a hundred dead is believed to have been the work of a small team of elite Death Eaters.' Harry threw it at the wall and fell back on the bed, trembling.

He should have known. The thought repeated itself in his head over and over. He should have known that Voldemort would be on the warpath. Of course there would be an attack. He should have told someone, warned someone, gone out and met them on the field of battle himself... something. He could feel himself starting to panic and took a few shaky breaths. Before he could fully calm down he heard a knock and Ron walked in.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said. However, the devilish grin on his face took some of the force out of his words. Of course, he was still right. The last Harry needed was to be a wanted man. At the moment, however, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

"How mad is your Mum?" he asked quietly.

"On the face of it: furious, but secretly she's wanted to do that since he tried to steal you from Dumbledore last Christmas. Mostly she's just worried about you," Ron replied and Harry cast his eyes down unconsciously in shame.

He wondered with renewed guilt if Ron had seen about the Death Eater attack. He dreaded talking about it. That would eventually lead to explaining how it was his fault all those people died. Ron would find out eventually though, and his Gryffindor courage wouldn't let him avoid the subject.

He retrieved the Daily Prophet and handed it to Ron. As he read, Ron's eyes widened in anger.

"How could the ministry let a huge attack like this happen in a muggle village? A muggle village?" he yelled.

"I could have stopped it. My…'dream'…I knew he would be mad. I just didn't make the connection. I'm so used to only dreaming about things that have already happened…." That felt like the most hollow excuse ever uttered. Harry wished he could pull the words back into his mouth.

"You knew he'd attack Sussex?" Ron's eyes shot to Harry face with a shocked expression.

"No, but I knew he was beyond angry." I would have been too, came the unsolicited thought in Harry's mind. He shoved it away, disgusted with himself. "I should have made the connection that he would go after muggles."

"That would have been useful considering how few places there are in England to attack muggles. I'm sure that would have narrowed it down," said Hermione. Harry looked up to see that she had entered without him noticing.

"Surely they could have magically monitored it or something," Harry pushed.

"If they could don't you think they already would be?" she asked in a soft voice. He found he had a rather large lump in his throat at her calmly factual rebuff. He nodded an affirmative and coughed.

"I just came here to tell you that you're an imbecile for attacking the Minister of Magic," she changed the subject abruptly, though her expression showed there was truth in her previous words. He and Ron started laughing despite the complete lack of anything remotely funny happening. They laughed for the simple normality of Hermione lecturing them. Though she tried hard to fight it Hermione found herself succumbing to whatever had come over them. They laughed until they cried.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Earlier that night

Voldemort woke with a scream. He destroyed the nightstand wandlessly, almost without thought, and strode from his cabin. He walked clear of the wards and apparated to the first muggle village that came to mind. "Lauffeuer!" he roared. Fire leaped from his wand to the first house. He could have cast it silently but he wanted them to know. "Crucio!" A muggle screamed then stopped abruptly.

He strode through the village torturing and slowly killing the muggles as they fled the fire. He flicked his wand lazily at someone on the ground. "Exentera!" He watched as the figure's stomach burst, his entrails falling out. "SäureBlut!" he screamed and a woman writhed as her blood ate through vessels, muscle and skin. She would be nothing but a puddle on some burnt grass in minutes. As his rage was slowly sated he paused a moment to focus. "Qui exemplari-etcanalis- iterum." This was a variation on the standard doppelganger spell. It would create multiple copies all of which would drain a bit of his magic while casting the same spells he was. It was exhausting but in this case worth it.

He heard the cracks of apparition a minute or two later and knew that the Aurors had arrived. "Finite," he ended the doppelganger spell, cast up a Dark Mark, and turned to face his new opponents. Upon seeing some thirty Aurors flooding the neighborhood, he cast a blasting curse at the 'gas pumps' outside of a store for distraction. They reacted as Bellatrix had described, bursting into fireballs that would rival some of the best curses. The Aurors predictably ran towards the explosions. As they bunched up, he pointed at their backs. "Catena fulgur." A green lightning bolt leaped from his wand, striking and jumping between the dozen members of the two squads investigating the explosions. Satisfied, he rose into the air and flew until he cleared the hastily erected apparition wards.

He arrived on the grounds of Slytherin Castle. Realizing that he was still attired in the black and silver cotton he slept in, he transfigured his pajamas to robes. He saw the few Death Eaters still awake at this hour dropping in fearful bows as he walked to the library.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The Weasleys spent the remainder of the day conducting last minute wedding preparations for the next day's ceremony. Far from being in trouble, Harry was treated like the hero of the hour by everyone except Mrs. Weasley and Fleur.

He finally collapsed into bed at almost midnight, exhausted from the day's chores. He tried to stay awake, terrified of the new hell his dreams would cast him into. Despite his best efforts, however, he fell asleep almost immediately.

Harry awoke almost without even realizing that he'd slept. His night had been free of dreams, visionary or otherwise. Seeing that Ron had already left, he went down to breakfast. The festive atmosphere improved his mood greatly, and soon they were all heading outside for the ceremony.

Harry was in the middle of a rather illuminating and upsetting conversation with Ron's auntie Muriel about Rita's book and Dumbledore's past when a patronus in the shape of a lynx interrupted the ceremony.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming," was the message it carried and Harry felt his insides freeze in horror. The ministry couldn't have fallen this quickly. How, it wasn't possible!

He and Hermoine ran to find Ron while Death Eaters apparated in around them. Fortunately, they found him quickly and Hermoine immediately apparated them to a muggle village. They entered a café, ordered coffees, and took some time to assess their situation.

To Harry and Ron's surprise and amazement, Hermoine had anticipated their escape and prepared well. She had an incredible amount of things, including a multitude of books, camping supplies and both wizarding and muggle money, stuffed in her bag.

After escaping the café following a short duel with a pair of Death Eaters, they found themselves at Grimmauld Place. As soon as they got through the jinxes on the door and got inside, Harry's scar started to sear in pain. It felt like someone was cleaving his head in two and he ran for the bathroom. Collapsing on the floor, his vision changed. He was watching Draco torture a man. It was one of the Death Eaters who'd attacked them in the café! He saw the horror in Draco's eyes and in the way his hand shook slightly. Under the torrent of anger Harry was pleased with how the boy was coming along, although he still looked rather ill. Oh well, time would break him of...

Harry felt himself thrown back into reality, although physically he hadn't moved. It took him a moment to gather his senses before he realized, Voldemort had noticed his presence and actively thrown him out. Perhaps there was something important in the vision that Voldemort didn't want him to see? He looked in the mirror; he was ghost white and looked like he had the flu. He splashed some cold water on his face and cast a quick glamour before heading back out. Hermoine did not need to know about that at all.

Harry couldn't sleep that night, so he got up and went into Sirius' room. He wasn't exactly sure why, he supposed he just wanted to feel closer to the man who had been the closest thing to a father he had. Looking around, he stumbled upon a letter his Mother had written to Sirius. As he read it, his eyes welled with tears. Merlin, how he wished he could have known her! He could practically feel the love radiating off the page. Just as he was finishing reading, his scar started to burn furiously, making his eyes water until he couldn't even see the page.

When the burning relented, he wiped his eyes and tried to look for the apparent second page of the letter. He had no luck. In light of the rumors Muriel and Skeeter were spreading, he desperately wanted to know what it 'seemed so incredible that Dumbledore...' had done. After nearly an hour of fruitless searching he decided that it must have been lost years ago. He left the room with dragging feet and his head bowed, surprisingly exhausted.

As he walked down the hall he noticed a door with the nameplate: Regulus Arcturus Black. Harry stared at the sign as realization hit. R.A.B. The locket!

He woke the others and they spent the dawn hours searching until Hermoine remembered that she had thrown it away while cleaning. Harry called Kreacher to see if perhaps he had 'saved' it. They spent the next hour listening to the surprisingly heroic tale of Regulus. Afterwards something about Kreacher's story niggled at him like an itch in his brain. He couldn't for the life of him put his finger on what though.

During the next couple of days Harry felt exhilarated. They finally had a lead on the locket, awaiting only Kreacher's return. Harry finally had something proactive to do and he felt great. Lupin came by on the 4th and brought them up to date on the outside world. The ministry had indeed fallen, and Voldemort for all intents and purposes controlled Britain. Muggleborns were being rounded up and registered. Harry was wanted in questioning for Dumbledore's death, as well as for his assault on Scrimgeour. Basically, everything had gone to hell and they didn't even have a hand-basket.

Lupin also asked if he could join Harry on the hunt, but Harry shot him down. The man should be with his wife and unborn kid. He had no right to go gallivanting off and abandon them. What if he got Lupin killed? He knew how much he wished he'd known his parents; he couldn't do that to another kid. After Lupin left, however, Harry almost wished that he had thought it through a bit more. Hadn't he been worried about his lack of experience? They really could have used an older wizard like Lupin on the team. Well it was too late now. At any rate, he knew he'd made the right decision, even if it wasn't the right one for himself.

Later that day, Kreacher returned and Harry's mood slowly took a turn for the worse. The days became weeks, an endless string of turns staking out the Ministry and dodging the lurking Death Eaters. That was of course broken up by the hours of boredom. The anger and frustration he received through the link grew to an intensity which rendered him rather bad company. It didn't help that Ron and Hermione were often together. He felt rather like a third wheel most of the time. As a result, Harry found that he was secluding himself more and more in the manor's library. He halfheartedly hoped that he'd stumble across something in the dark archive that would help him in his hunt.

His 'talks' with Voldemort had made it painfully clear how unprepared he was for the coming war. A small part of him was hurt and indeed slightly resentful that Dumbledore hadn't prepared him better. He felt rather guilty about resenting Dumbledore, especially now that the man was dead, but he chalked it up to the anger from the link. Spending so much free time around the old books he had begun to understand what Hermione found so fascinating about them. Today he was on his stomach, on the floor, idly flipping through a moderately sized volume. It was bound in grey velvet, embossed with gold and entitled Wandlore: A complete guide to wand making vol II: Cores. Suddenly, he found a passage that caught his eye.

Phoenix feather compatibility: The phoenix feather core is among the best in terms of raw power. It will choose a wizard whose mind is geared towards the scientific and analytical.  These will be  wizards of a  realistic  disposition who are not given to wishful thinking or flights of fancy. A tendency towards finding solutions to problems as opposed to exploiting the possible advantages or simply easing the symptoms is another  favored trait, as  is a desire to push boundaries and  decline to  accept limitation. An aggressive pursuance and protection of one's personal independence and  freedom,  especially in thought and  speech,  is one of the more unsettling traits associated with the feather.

Thinking of the way he had taught the DA and how he had always been rather self-sufficient, he could easily see how these fitted him well. However, he also knew from Dumbledore's lessons how well they fit Voldemort. Though Voldemort's grandiose self-image would negate part of the description. Then again, the wizard could fly without a broom and came back from the dead, so maybe it wasn't really that much of a fantasy. Harry felt a chill crawl down his spine as once again their similarities seemed to stand out like a highlighted passage in Hermione's class notes.

It will usually choose those of great courage. This  especially  includes those who will stand firm in their convictions and strive, even against great  odds,  for their cause . In adversity, those chosen by the phoenix feather  will fearlessly push their limits and sacrifice of their own  persons  for their cause.

While the description was certainly flattering, Harry couldn't comprehend how Voldemort of all people could fit it. Although he supposed blood purity was technically a cause, however disgusting. As he thought about it, he realized in a sense it actually fit Voldemort quite well. After all, it said nothing about the rightness of the cause, only that there was one. Then he kept reading.

A general tendency toward honour or a personal code as well as an aggressively protective sense towards one's clan are also good indicators of compatibility.  However,  unlike with  a  unicorn tail, heart attributes are the secondary characteristics of  compatibility,  with mind being the primary.

Harry's first reaction was that this was absurd. However the book did say that they were secondary indicators. A tiny voice in the back of his mind that whispered about unfathomable rage and a dead snake was steadfastly ignored.

Magic being the tertiary and least characteristic in the phoenix feather  triumvirate,  a wizard of almost any magical pattern can be chosen.  However,  some favour is seen towards those strong in healing spells and combat  magic,  particularly of a defensive variety.

The book continued on through the capabilities, acquisition and proper use of it as a wand material but Harry found himself on edge and unable to focus. Leaving the library, he went looking to see if Ron wanted to play some exploding snap. Hermione had of course brought a pack, because who wouldn't think to bring entertainment when going questing for soul bits? Of course he was glad she had. This horcrux hunting thing wasn't exactly the epic quest of Death Eater dodging and booby-trapped hiding places he'd been expecting. Not that he was complaining...much. Not being able to do anything but bide their time was almost worse than the danger in Harry's eyes.

Chapter Text

Harry woke with elation. They were finally ready, today was the day. They would infiltrate the ministry, get the locket and start making some actual progress. He felt like he'd had a draught of euphoria. Bounding down the stairs he ran smack into Hermione.

"Oh, sorry," he said, laughing.

"Uh, it's ok….you seem happy," she replied, sounding unaccountably worried.

"Well of course, why wouldn't I be?" he asked, wondering why she sounded so accusatory. Observing her unkempt hair and pale complexion, he sobered.

"This isn't a quidditch match, Harry. We're breaking into the Ministry of Magic. We could go to Azkaban." Her voice trembled slightly in fear but her scowl reminded him of Ms. Weasley.

Giving her a brief nod, he went down to the dining table. Ron entered a few minutes later and they ate in subdued silence. Ron glared at him occasionally over the table. They had tried without success to get Hermione to stay behind since Lupin had brought news of the Muggle-born registrations. Ron still blamed him for not being able to convince her.

After breakfast they finagled their way into the ministry and were almost immediately separated. The Ministry, now under Death Eater control, appeared to not be running all that smoothly. Then again, Harry thought to himself wryly, when had it? Ron was almost immediately conscripted to fix some flooding in a random office and a little later Umbridge herself hauled Hermione away to take notes for her. Harry wished they'd come up with better disguises. After finding Umbridge's office empty of their objective, Harry managed to find Ron and they went looking for Hermione.

On the way something suddenly caught his eye and he paused. On one of the small, museum style display stands that decorated that section of the Ministry sat a small scepter. It was silver with a teardrop shaped blade at each end. At the wide part of one blade was mounted a large white pearl, with a small black pearl next to it on the shaft side. On the other blade the arrangement was reversed. Somehow he knew that this was an item of immense power and he wanted it badly. Ron gave him a tug and he came back to the present, looking over at his friend. Ron gave him an odd look and immediately let go. Harry followed him down the hall.

After reuniting with Hermione and a short conversation that resulted in Umbridge being stupefied and them acquiring the locket, they made their escape. If he survived this, Harry thought, he really should do something about his anger management. On their way out, they passed the scepter again and Harry grabbed it off the stand. Alarms sounded, frighteningly close, and they ran faster. Hermione looked furious and he assumed Ron did too, though he couldn't see his face. He couldn't have explained why he grabbed the scepter, other than the fact that he felt it was too powerful to pass up. Anyway, Death Eaters controlled the Ministry, so he rationalized it wasn't really stealing.

They narrowly managed to escape the Ministry workers searching for them and apparated away the second they had cleared the wards. Unfortunately, they also brought a Death eater with them and promptly were forced to re-apparate to the world cup field.

While Hermione tended to Ron's splinching wound, Harry examined his prizes. First was the glass orb of Mad Eye's eye which he'd taken from Umbridge's door. His throat tightened slightly as he looked at it and he quickly stowed it in his mokeskin. Had he not known it would be helpful in avoiding Death Eaters, he'd have taken the morbid trinket to Moody's grave and left it.

Next he examined the scepter. One of its curving blades hooked forward and the other back towards him. He could feel a strange power thrumming through it, like holding two magnets side by side. The end with the larger white pearl and −thankfully− forward facing blade seemed attracted to him such that he had to lock his arm to keep the back of the blade from smacking his face.

Last he took out the locket. After checking that Hermione was still fussing over Ron, Harry opened it. Standing on the locket was a small version of Riddle like the one he'd seen in Dumbledore's memory applying for the DADA job, though somewhat younger. He thought again about the magics Riddles knew, the things he'd done, and felt his insecurities flood him. For a moment, his worries consumed him, killing the buzz of adrenaline he'd been riding since the infiltration. He came to himself as the image spoke.

"Who might you be, wizard?" asked Riddle in a measured tone.

"Just someone who's interested in rare artifacts. You looked interesting," he answered ambiguously. He figured that the less the locket knew, the better. Riddle glared.

"I ssaid who are you," the image hissed.

"And I said: I'm no one." The almost overwhelming sense of inferiority that had latched onto him made his reply sound more pathetic than he'd intended.

"Yet you sspeak the noble tongue, sso who are you?" Riddle asked again, the impatience and anger clear in his voice, along with something else Harry couldn't quite identify. Harry realized suddenly how much of a difference the mind link had made in his dream conversations with Voldemort. He also began to realize that this was probably a very bad idea and tried to remember what had possessed him to open the locket in the first place.

"I'm…" Harry hesitated, trying to think of a proper response that wouldn't reveal too much. "I know your primary form," the phrase popped into his head unbidden. "He formed a sort of bond with me..."

"He would do no sssuch thing," snarled Riddle, his calm, confident voice rising for the first time.

"It wasn't intentional…no one really understands what happened," Harry explained, not wanting to make the image hostile. He might be able to learn things from this bit of Riddle if he played his cards right.

"Oh." If Harry didn't know better he would have sworn he heard embarrassment in the tone. "The Prime shouldn't be so careless. I didn't think we'd have been so careless," Riddle trailed off almost as though forgetting Harry was listening. It struck Harry as odd. Submission and self-deprecation were not normally in Riddle's demeanor, to put it lightly. Indeed outside of the one speech at the graveyard, he had never known of Voldemort to admit a mistake or indeed to feel he'd made one.

Harry was still contemplating this when something caught his attention. He lifted his head to see Hermione heading over. He quickly forced the locket shut and stowed it in his pouch. Both actions took more effort than they should have. Hermione was almost to him by the time he'd closed the pouch. For a moment he was scared that she'd noticed, which was a perverse thought in itself. They were friends after all right? He immediately felt guilty and at any rate it seemed he was worried over nothing. Her expression was absent and her face a mask of worry, clearly directed at Ron. He felt a stab of bitterness at that, immediately followed by shame. So often nowadays he felt like a third wheel he almost wished he was conducting the hunt alone, despite how fervently he'd wanted company in the beginning.

They settled down to dinner around their veiled campfire. Harry noticed that Ron was sitting a little farther away from the fire than he and Hermione were. As he ate he also noticed that Hermione was shifting uncomfortably as she nibbled her own meal. When the tension was so thick that Harry thought he could see the air crackling with it, Hermione finally spoke.

"So Harry, what was that thing that you took from the Ministry?" she asked. Harry produced the scepter from his moleskin.

"I'm not really sure why I took it. It was kind of an impulse," he said, feeling suddenly self-conscious now that he had to acknowledge the act. Ron gave him an odd look while Hermione examined it.

"Hmmm, these runes..." Harry leaned closer to see her point to some faint scratches he hadn't seen before.

"They're slightly different from what I'm familiar with... older perhaps, or maybe a regional dialect. As best as I can tell it says 'Weaken the dark, cast back the light'. Perhaps it's a defensive tool: something that will weaken the magic of an opponent," she theorized. "At the next town we come to I'll try to find some information on it."

Harry felt a rush of hope and renewed determination. "That would be an amazing help against Vold—" Harry started.

"Don't say the name!" Ron yelped, white-faced. Harry glanced at Hermione, startled. She looked back nervously. Then they both looked at Ron.

"I'm sorry, but it feels like a jinx or something. Can we just call him You-Know-Who?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore said fear of a name―" Harry started.

"That did Dumbledore a load of good didn't it?" Ron retorted. "Just―just show You-Know-Who some respect, will you?"

"Respect?" Harry repeated, earning him a warning look from Hermione. In the back of his mind, however, he couldn't help but wonder if Ron was right. After all, hadn't he been having similar thoughts? Hadn't Voldemort out-dueled him when he wasn't even at full health? Harry shook his head. No, Voldemort was a coward and a killer, and Ron was a coward too if he wanted to respect the serpent.

"Harry, would you get the tent?" Hermione asked out of the blue, obviously changing the subject. Harry complied while she cast a suite of spells over it and the surrounding area. They helped Ron in and got settled down for the night.

"Do you have it?" asked Hermione.

"What? Oh right." He pulled the locket out of his mokeskin.

They looked it over, but for the life of him Harry could not get it to open again. He went to sleep frustrated.

That night he dreamed of Gregorovitch.

Harry was startled awake the next day by Hermoine rushing into the tent.

"Harry look at this!" she cried in a panicked squeak. She clamped her mouth shut when Ron shifted in his sleep, settling instead for vehemently stabbing with her finger at the paper she was holding.

It took Harry a moment to get his glasses and focus on what she was showing him. When he did he felt panic well up inside him like a cobra preparing to strike. She was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, how she acquired it he neither knew nor asked. It was hard to miss the bold-type headline emblazoned on it: Break in at the Ministry of Magic. Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse Assassinated.

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Ever since the idea had occurred to him when he'd been meeting with the dementor, Voldemort had become more and more certain that Harry was a horcrux. The problem had now become whether he should renew his efforts to convert the stubborn whelp, or simply kill him and cut his losses with the soul piece. The problem with pushing the boundaries of magic as far he had was that there were no textbooks to consult when one needed answers. Which was why, after interrogating and killing Gregorovitch, he had apparated to a rural wizarding village in northeast Russia.

He had long ago heard rumors of a custom in some Russian wizarding communities involving legal horcruxes to create 'soul-mates'. He'd never looked into it, since the idea of entrusting a piece of one's soul and immortality to another human seemed downright imbecilic. However if there was any information to be found on his distasteful circumstance, it would be there.

He spent the next several hours hunting through the local records and interrogating various people under a glamour, claiming to be a historian. At the end of his search, he had obtained no new information and was desperately itching to curse the whole town into little bloody balls of entrails. The only good thing he'd found out was that he was on the right track. The villagers he'd questioned and legilimensed all knew nothing about the subject. The sort of nothing that screamed of mass-memory manipulation, and very clumsily done at that. It was more like what one would see in muggles that saw a loose dragon than what would pass for use on a wizard. Any villager smarter than a giant would be able to tell something had been done, though none of them seemed to care. It was down right uncouth.

It was almost like they wanted to forget, which given the subject matter wasn't too far fetched. He now sat in the village square, eating food he'd brought from the castle while he determined his next move.

Another few hours of searching and interrogating led him to a secluded and unplottable hut some ten miles from the small town.

He knocked on the door and was answered by an elderly woman of indeterminate age. He introduced himself under an alias as a researcher of archaic magics and started interviewing her with liberal use of legilimency.

"So I understand that you and your husband are among the last practitioners of 'Ritual dusha svyazyvaniya?'" he asked with genuine interest and feigned politeness. He had a small traveler's stone in his pocket. It would make his words sound Russian to her ears and hers sound English to him.

"That would be correct, although I must say I'm surprised that you've heard of it at all, much less of us," she replied.

"Yes, well, I've been studying the old magics for quite some time now," he said, with a touch of pride. He was supposed to be a lowly researcher, after all. "It confuses me somewhat however, that it seems the others here are all too happy to forget such a powerful magic."

She snorted. "They see it as a black spot in our history, like slavery. They fail to see the beauty of the bond. There is no deeper intimacy." She sounded sickeningly sentimental.

"So if you don't mind me asking: what was the process?" he replied, hiding his disgust at her response.

"Well…you could do it with anyone, but it was almost always married couples who did it, and of course you could only do it a maximum of two times," she began. "We had vendetta law in those days." His legilimency supplied an image of her congratulating a friend on the death of a woman who'd stolen from her. "So if it was possible, the man would usually kill someone whom he had a right to and his wife would then kill his sacrifice's wife. If that was not possible for any reason, there was a supply of orphans under the age of 3 months. Food was short in those days and most of them would have died slowly and painfully anyway." A pale flicker guilt and a vague, time-faded memory of her kill came from the legilimency. He curled his lip in disgust at the human weakness.

"Oh, they were better off that way than as wards of the state," she explained with a sickening smile, having misinterpreted his expression as being directed at her act rather than her guilt. As he had assumed she would he was trying to stay under the radar after all. Normal people were concerned with things like infantide. Her mind added an image of a trial or hearing of some sort with a dozen or so wizards all looking at her with revulsion.

"And the effects?" he prompted.

"Other than the obvious one of immortality unless both partners are killed?" she asked rhetorically. "Well there is the link. It's not really a mental link, it's deeper than that. You can't occlude it completely, although with practice and concentration you can block all but the barest impressions. You can't lie to each other, and the blocking I mentioned requires far more concentration than normal occlusion. It breaks down quickly in times of distress or physical harm, serving as a sort of automatic call for help. The red fang –elite aurors−would form a bond chain for that purpose. With practice and familiarity with your partner you can do other things, too. Mental communication and lending physical or magical strength were the most common." The interview continued, but she seemed to not have any more relevant information.

He had been intending to leave her alive, but for some unfathomable reason her very existence enraged him. He forced himself to make conversation until her husband came home and two quick Avada Kedavras ended the centuries-old pair. He returned to England musing on what he had learned and trying to decide what do with his unfortunate horcrux.

Chapter Text

"Why would Vol...You-Know-Who assassinate Thicknesse? I thought he was their man?" Harry questioned, speaking the hated euphemism through gritted teeth in deference to Ron. Hermione shrugged, her face pale.

"I don't know. I thought the same thing. I suppose this means things will get worse for the muggleborns. I wonder if they knew we were going to the ministry? Maybe they wanted to set you up," she theorized.

"Hmm... maybe, but nobody except the Death Eaters knew it was us. The article doesn't mention us either," Harry considered, equally confused. A part of him wanted to consult the horcrux, but he pushed that thought aside. It probably wouldn't tell the truth anyway.

At that moment Ron came out of the tent, muttering about the lack of bacon and breaking Harry out of his musing. Hermione wordlessly handed him the newspaper. "Bloody hell! They're going through Ministers faster than the Cannons go through keepers," he exclaimed.

They conversed a little longer over another foraged meal, but gained no new insights. Shortly after breakfast they broke camp, and Harry realized with a sick feeling that he'd left Kraxil at Grimmauld Place.

"Damn. I just realized I left something back at number 12," he said.

"You can't really be thinking of going back!" Hermione's eyes widened as she realized that was exactly what he was planning. "That's suicide!"

"It's important," he tried to justify, but it sounded lame even to his own ears. He couldn't very well explain to them about the snake after hiding him for so long.

"What was it?" asked Ron.

"Just a book," Harry sighed, thinking of the tome on wand cores. Hermione's eyes softened a bit.

"I'm sure we can find another copy," she responded in a soft tone. Harry gave up. He couldn't risk his friends over a snake and they would never let him go alone. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he could sneak back without them noticing. But Hermione was right, it would be suicide, they surely had Death Eaters watching the place. Then again, with the invisibility cloak…

"Harry!" Hermione's worried cry broke into his thoughts, and his head snapped over to look at her.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Yeah I was just thinking," he replied.

"I said do you one have the things?" Her furrowed brow betrayed her worry. He gave himself a quick once over—horcrux: check, silver-bladed thing: check, moody's eye: check—that was everything. Except Kraxil, he thought with a pang of guilt. Hopefully the little snake could just stay hidden until it was safe.

"Yep. Here." He handed her the weapon and she put it into her own bag. The eye was safely in his mokeskin pouch and the locket was on his person.

Once they had finished clearing the evidence of their presence they apparated to the outskirts of a small market town and re-made their camp. When they were done Harry went in search of food under the invisibility cloak. The next hour was a blur of finding dementors, failing to cast even a wispy patronus and running for his life. When he arrived back at camp he gave a brief account of what had happened. Hermione with her usual brilliance quickly identified the locket as the culprit and removed it from his person. The rest of the afternoon passed calmly and ended with an amicable meal by the fire. Harry took first watch while others went to sleep.

As he sat in the dark, keeping lookout, he thought back to the feelings of emptiness and despair that he'd felt as the dementors had come at him. He recalled something that had tickled the back of his mind the day before and since been forgotten. 'I didn't think we'd have been so careless,' the locket had said. It didn't fit with its creator's arrogance. Pieces fell into place in Harry's head like gauging the fastest path to a snitch. Filled with a sudden surety, Harry retrieved the item from his mokeskin skin. After a bit of debate, they'd decided that it wasn't safe to sleep with it on. Hermione also felt it was a bad idea for Harry to wear it again so soon, so into the mokeskin skin it'd gone. That way Harry could keep it with him without actually touching it, until Ron relieved him. Again it opened easily for him.

"You again," said the locket. Harry thought the annoyance sounded feigned, but maybe that was his imagination.

"You're Doubt!" Harry stated emphatically, his voice a bit too loud in his excitement over the eureka moment.

"I'm what?" he responded.

"You're his doubt," Harry stated, calmer now that he'd made his revelation. "You're his doubts and… fears and….his inferiority about being a half-blood," he said, knowing he was phrasing poorly. Indeed he hadn't meant to say all of that, hadn't even thought of it until he started talking. Yet he knew instinctively-or perhaps it had something to do with the link-that he was right. Although it was too dark and the figure in the locket too small to really see details, he thought its eyes widened as he'd spoken.

"From what you say, we're the most feared dark wizard of your times. I dare say we have no reason for doubts," replied the locket haughtily. However something about it rang false to Harry's ear.

"No. You got where you did, got through Hogwarts, by being cautious." Harry fleshed out his theory as he spoke, remembering what he had learned of Voldemort's past from the pensieve lessons. "Now he's arrogant to the point of foolishness…making mistakes. You'd have known better…but he carved you out. Deliberately…I didn't even know that was possible. He... what? Thought you were a bad thing?"

"Just because you can't comprehend our reasoning does not make us foolish," the locket snarled. "However, you are…partially correct. I was detrimental, unnecessary. We got to a point in our power where pathetic muggle imperfections like fear were useless," it continued, calmer now. Harry didn't doubt that he detected a note of shame in the later part of the statement, though he didn't think anyone without his prior knowledge would have heard it.

"I think you protest too much," he noted cheekily. He never heard the reply.

Pain seared in his scar and he was standing in a dark room similar to the great hall at Hogwarts. A Death Eater cowered before him. Rage flooded him, a desire to hurtsomething. "Crucio,"When he lifted the curse, he asked rhetorically, "Do you have any idea how much this will ssset our timetable back?" His voice was like shadows sliding over steel. "Bring me Luciusss."

Harry opened his eyes, once again himself. He looked at the locket. It was on the ground and closed now, though he didn't think he'd closed it.

Going into the tent he shook Hermione and Ron awake. "V-you-know-who is mad, like livid. He asked for Lucuis," Harry explained. He only realized he was shaking when Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "I could be wrong, but I don't think this new assassination was in his plans."

"Well we shouldn't make assumptions, but I'd tentatively agree. Lucius is his man in the ministry, after all. It would make sense that You-Know-Who would find him responsible," Hermione agreed.

"Do you think the Order was behind it?" asked Ron.

"I doubt it. It's not our style, but that would be the best case scenario." Hermione replied after considering for a moment.

"Well we can't do anything about it right now. I'll take watch," said Ron matter-of-factly. Harry couldn't help but notice that Ron seemed to take an extra couple of steps around him, as though wary of getting too close.

"Oh hang on." Harry remembered suddenly. Ron hesitated as though he'd rather keep walking, but couldn't find an excuse. Harry quickly retrieved the locket from his pocket and handed it over. Ron took it and hurried out. Harry looked up to see Hermione looking at him strangely.

"Why was that not in the mokeskin skin?" she asked, accusation in her tone.

"Oh. I was trying to see if I could get it open. Something to keep me awake, ya know," he lied with only a second's hesitation. That was getting way too easy.

"You shouldn't do that alone. It could be dangerous," she scolded, but she let it drop. They laid down and took their turn sleeping.

After several days of boredom, hunger and horcrux-induced animosity, they'd had a rather bitter argument with Ron over possible horcrux hiding places. Though he said nothing, when Harry was explaining why Hogwarts was a prime hiding place he again felt a small worm of pity for riddle. The same one that he'd felt when Dumbledore had been giving him his lessons, only magnified by what he'd since learned. He found afterward that he wasn't entirely sure that his anger at Ron had been his own. Maybe it was, maybe it simply wasn't on your own behalf, hissed a traitorous voice in the back of his skull.

It was that night that he realized he'd again forgotten about Kraxil. He thought on it for the length of his watch but couldn't come up with a plan that would be remotely workable. Hopefully the snake would be able to keep himself hidden.

Over the ensuing weeks, the tension between them increased. This was not just thanks to the futility of their search, but also the scraps of news they got. Usually through the overly laudatory Prophet, sometimes from other sources, but always in the same vein. They had mixed feelings about the first major news they had gotten:

War Hero Jack Ferguson Takes Over as Minister of Magic

Third generation auror Jack Ferguson, who was responsible for the imprisonment of five Death Eaters following the attack on the ministry two years ago, has gained the position of Minister of Magic. He was voted in via the martial law general election exemption of 1772 by a 35-13 vote of the Wizengamot. Wizarding Britain is overjoyed to have a strong and storied auror take the reigns in this time of crisis.

Hermione had expressed distaste at the lack of a true election but they had agreed that it was far from the worst thing that could have happened. Several days later it was followed by:

Yet Another Attempt on MOM's Life Prompts Action.

After an attempt to assassinate the new Minister a mere two days into his term, MOM Ferguson has appointed a special cadre of the Fackelträgers as his personal body guards. For those of you who do not follow foreign affairs, the Fackelträgers are an independant German based auror force that hunts dark wizards, tries to stop all misuses of magic and provides aid to any nation that requests it. As this was obviously an inside job, several former members of the ministry, presumed sympathizers have been removed from their posts and detained for questioning by the Fackelträgers.

The provided list of dark sympathizers had about thirty wizards, including a couple of Notts, Macnair, and a Yaxley, along with two Longbottoms, Ron's dad and many more with no apparent rhyme or reason.

"Oh," Hermione breathed. She had flipped to another page announcing the repeal of the muggleborn registrations. "This isn't good."

"Dad," Ron whimpered, completely oblivious to the conversation. Hermione wrapped an arm around him.

Harry looked at her in shock but she quickly continued. "I mean the repeal is good but they're just switching the witch hunt to purebloods instead of actually going after the people responsible." Harry was about to retort that purebloods were responsible when he looked at Ron, white-faced and drinking his morning tea with a shaking hand. Harry held his tongue.

After half an hour of uncomfortable silence, Ron had stood shakily. His eyes glistened as he spoke. "I h-have to go to my family. Make sure..." his gravelly voice trailed off and he disapparated without another word. Hermione had been angry until they switched possession of the locket. Then she'd wept.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Voldemort stalked past the ostentatious decorations and into the general armory. The attempt to imperioFerguson had been thwarted by his new bodyguards. Contrary to what had been released to the gullible masses, the Fackelträgers had been there in secret from the start. He couldn't believe that the moron had actually been dumb enough to involve them. Unless, of course, he was merely an agent himself. The whole thing, including Pius' assassination, reeked of Nikovich. The man, rich and powerful as he was, seemed to lack the long view of his father. On that note, he would need to find a way to get better intelligence from the Ministry until he could reclaim control.

Draco and the four members of his new squad were donning their chosen armour and other accoutrements. Normally he would consider the task of briefing—and putting a little fear into the fresh recruits—beneath him. It usually fell to Snape or Lucius. However, even if either were available, the boy was far too comfortable with both for it to have the proper effect. Belletrix and Fenrir he flatly didn't trust not to damage the goods and no one else really had the reputation to create the right effect. Regardless, this was an important mission. Thus he could deign to give it a personal touch.

One month. One month his people had been imprisoned: he needed their numbers. Not to mention the many others that had join them in Azkaban merely because they were purebloods. Now therewas a recruiting tool. He laughed coldly at Vega's lack of strategy. Draco looked up and fell to his knees in a bow so quickly he was vaguely surprised it didn't break them. He held his face expressionless. That never got old, although it was rather more satisfying when it was a powerful wizard like Dolohov or Snape.

"You are aware of what I require?" he asked.

"We are to raid Hogsmeade for the purpose of distraction, my lord," Lucius' whelp replied.

"You have not contacted anyone outside of your squad?" he asked, though he knew the boy had not left the castle.

"N-no my lord," he answered, and legilimency bore it out.

He nodded. "You will arrive at 1:15 am." Orders given, he strode out, returning to his chambers to prepare.

He had planned this breakout for two weeks, he would leave nothing to chance. That meant going personally. His blood sang with anticipation of the battle as he donned his dementor's robe over his heavily enchanted standard ones. His wand ever in its holster, he slid his stave through the two leather rings on his back, charmed to hold it. It rose over his shoulder like the hilt of a great sword. Salazar knew the Fackelträgers would have staves; it was as good a time as any to use it. He retrieved a black crystal torch and strode out onto the grounds, passing the covered cage housing the little snake that had been recovered from Potter's safe house. He had already gleaned any useful information from it, but he suspected it may still have a use. The boy seemed to have a strangely strong bond with it.

Arriving on the grounds, he surveyed his troops. Two squads: one to be led by Dolohov, the other by Bellatrix. They would apparate into position and wait while he apparated to Grizedale and flew in with a cadre of dementors.

"Remember, kill no prisoners…yes even the blood traitors," he added when the statement was greeted by a murmuring hiss. "Perhaps they will change their tune now that they have seen what the muggle lover's actual aims are." They calmed slightly at that and there were a few stifled chuckles. "Are any other clarifications necessary?" he asked in a tone that said they'd better not be. "Take your positions." He apparated away last.

Half an hour later, Voldemort touched down on Azkaban with a handful of dementors. Dolohov's group had started creating chaos on the grounds and were dueling rather too many Fackelträgers. He paused a moment to make sure Bellatrix was assaulting the front gate, before taking his crew to the side gate otherwise known as the 'corpse' gate. It took several seconds longer than he'd anticipated to break the locks and wards. They had apparently heightened security recently. Not enough, of course.

Once they'd breached the door, he was satisfied to hear the sounds of battle near the main gate. He had set it up so that he would not get close enough to affect his own people with the dementors until the last moment. Moving along the narrow halls, he began unlocking every cell he came to after a quick check of occupants. No need to release certain enemies, after all. To those that were his men he handed out spare wands that he'd brought, with instructions to move back along the corridors and kill only Fackelträgers. Essentially covering his advance. The dementors would sense if any came too close. He moved relatively unmolested until on turning a corner he found half a dozen Fackelträgers.

They quailed before his dementors, casting retreating patroni. As he had expected, they didn't distinguish him from his 'companions' under his robe. He laid into them, dropping half with killing curses before they could recover from their complete surprise. Confronted with staves that could cast dual patroni, his dementors had now been driven back, but he retreated in step with them. A conflagration curse roared towards him. Why was it always fire lately? He stepped smoothly behind a dementor, who of course didn't even notice it. Stepping diagonally so he was on the other side and ahead of the convenient dementor with his stave already out, he countered.

"FurcaFulgur!"a blue bolt leapt from his stave and broke apart in a spray. All three of his targets fell. He cast killing curses at them all as he walked by. Why take chances? He then sheathed his wand, which he'd switched to his left hand to draw the stave. He grabbed his stave two-handed. At his mental command the bonding charm deactivated. That was something they didn't put in the mass produced ones, he thought with a viscous grin. Blackthorn half in his left hand and red oak in his right, he moved on.

As he turned the next corner he realized something was wrong. There were far more Fackelträgers than there should have been. As the spells started flying he realized something else. They were aiming! With the torch strapped to his shoulder they shouldn't be able to see anything. Regardless Bellatrix's squad must be almost to this part of the prison, they could pin them in the middle. He spun and fought, dodging behind dementors while timing his retreats and presses with them. He aimed his spells high and used mass area curses to avoid their battle armour.

This was far more intense than he'd anticipated. He should have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers minutes ago, but the narrow corridors made their numbers more of a detriment than a boon. His greater mobility, thanks to using charmed robes instead of true armour and moving cover in the form of dementors, also helped to shift the odds. Still he was now having to counter patroni as well, and he'd already lost two dementors.

Sweat slicked his hands and rolled down his back. He felt the strain in his muscles vaguely under the rush of adrenaline. He blocked a curse, then stepped behind a dementor and watched it get pinned to the wall by a rhino patronus. He raised the red oak a mere millisecond too slow and was flung back against the wall with a bludgeoning curse. Stunned, he raised the red oak, but through the half formed shield he saw the last two Fackelträgers fall.

He got to his feet as quickly as he could as the two death eaters advanced with their wands out . He would kneel before no one. Bellatrix's face was a contortion of rage and pure ecstatic blood-lust, her partner by contrast fairly reeked of fear.

"Move!" he snapped. They moved.

When they broke out onto the grounds, they found half a dozen Fackelträgers alternately shooting at shadows and dueling the rescued Death Eaters. They took them by surprise and easily killed most of them, capturing two alive. He took a quick count of the rescuees: twenty-five with at least ten his own. At his order, en masse they cleared the apparation wards. Voldemort flew, ostensibly as a show of power to the rescuees. In truth there was no way he could walk more than a few steps without showing his fatigued, beaten state, however slightly.

He apparated directly to his chambers. There he downed a dose of quick-acting painkiller, courtesy of Snape, before he apparated back onto the grounds. He strode almost effortlessly into the great hall, feeling the potion work as he walked. Upon entering he took another quick headcount, this time to appraise their losses: too many. Factually, it was a strategic failure, however he spun it for the Death Eaters.

"You served well tonight. We will wait a moment while our guests are taken to their new rooms," he smiled a viper's smile as Laxton and Mulciber led the two prisoners to the dungeon.

When the pair returned alone he continued his speech. "As those of you who have served me long, well know and as those new to the ranks have now seen: We take care our own. No prison can hold us, just as no law can restrain forever the natural magic which courses through our pure veins," he paused a moment, feeling his audience's fervor. They were still running on adrenaline from the mission. He could have whipped them to a frenzy of blood-lust if he chose. Not tonight though, still he relished the power a moment before continuing.

"We must however remain cautious. The Fackelträgers have earned their reputation in much the same way that you have. They are a far more ruthless and skilled opponent than the Ministry ever was. They have nearly unlimited resources and when we inevitably crush them it will be a victory not just for our cause in Britain but for the whole of Europe," cheers and howls rang out.

"You may go to your homes, so that you may be ready when next you are called to serve," he dismissed. "Bellatrix, Dolohov, stay." The others filed away. The two named followed him to a small office he used for private meetings. He could sense their fear even without turning around. When he did look at them he said nothing, letting the moment drag. Let them sweat.

"What went wrong?" His voice was calm but a threat of torture underlaid every word.

"We were attacked from behind," said Bellatrix. At the same time, Dolohov said, "Half my squad fled." Voldemort repressed the urge to sigh. What in Salazar's name...

"Dolohov firssst," he ordered, fingering his wand.

" A-a-as I said, everything was going well... then those Germans started casting insane stuff from those logs they carried a-and…They could see us despite the black crystal. Half our number just fled. A pity; it was a bracing fight." The last sounded almost wistful, although Dolohov was obviously favoring half a dozen injuries. "We couldn't fight them directly, so most of us hid and sniped. Part of them broke off but the rest had us pinned down."

He waited a moment and Bellatrix took up the story. "That was when they took us from behind. As you know, they decimated our squad. Only Laxton and I survived." The pride and disdain practically oozed from her. He didn't need the legilimency he was using to know what she was thinking. You see what I risked? My prowess in battle? Favour me. Favour me over him!

"Your persssonal conduct during the battle appears to have exemplary, both of you." He waited until they visibly relaxed, then he dropped the other shoe. "However, Dolohov, you know that you are responsible for the conduct of your men. Bellatrix, go to the infirmary." He turned his gaze back to Dolohov as the door shut behind her. "You may join her when your due is paid." Dolohov took the first curse stoically. Then the screams rang out. Voldemort kept the session short and Dolohov was soon off to lick his wounds in the infirmary.

Voldemort went to his wing and apparated to Loch Lomond, taking down the wards as quickly as possible. He entered, replaced the defenses, and stripped off the dementor's cloak, torch and other items. He locked them in the vault before going into the bedroom. He didn't even bother tending his wounds. He knew none of them were too serious, though had it not been for the charms on his robes he'd have had internal injuries. It took a fair amount of his remaining restraint to lower himself to the bed instead of simply collapsing. Every inch of his exhausted body was aching. He reached over to the night stand, grabbing and drinking a replenishing potion. He carefully rested the stave next to him on the bed and fell into a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry watched from behind while a six-year-old Riddle looked out the window in his room at the orphanage. It was night, but the yard was lit with lanterns. Bodies were being moved from a small shed on the grounds to an open grave. Riddle left his room and went outside. He walked up to the adults currently lowering the bodies all into the same grave.

"Whatcha doin?" he asked.

"Oh shit. You're not supposed to be here! Go back to your room," said a burly man with a gravelly voice.

"But I wanna know whatcha doing? What happen' to 'em?" repeated Riddle.

"Look. These kids, they got sick and died so we are burying them," said another man with a sigh. "It's natural. It happens to everyone. Don't be sad."

"I'm not sad," Riddle replied as the man led him back to his room and closed the curtains. When he left, Riddle peeked out through the curtains. Their rooms would be filled as soon as the quarantine was lifted. In a year or two, when the grass had regrown, there would be nothing to mark the spot, nothing to say they had existed at all. The boy swallowed hard and Harry felt fear creep down his spine.

That will not be me. Harry felt the words that were not words so much as intense, image-laden feelings fill his head. I will not be cast aside. I will leave my mark on this world. Determination accompanied those words in such force that Harry could practically feel the course of history bend to it. Somehow, and the determination faded to fear and horror.

Harry watched now as a slightly older Riddle sat in the Hogwarts library surrounded by papers and books. Family archives, English history, ancient bloodlines, student records... even old Daily Prophets. He rested his head on his fist, eyes closed. A muggle, a filthy muggle and a witch so weak she doesn't deserve the name. Abraxas was right. My blood doesn't hold a candle to ancient houses like the Malfoys and Blacks.So much for being special; so much for leaving my mark, he ranted mentally, making Harry's head ache.

How'd Abraxas even find out, and why'd he have to tell all the second and third years? I was no threat to him. Harry's eyes blurred. Because he could, because why not, because it amused him. That's how it works. You know this, you've done it, Riddle argued with himself. If only they were so easy to scare as those little orphans.He sighed. Then again most of his year seemed sort of moronic. I don't feel like he was an inferior breed. Harry watched him stand wearily. Perhaps if I studied harder, read into wizarding history and theory, maybe I can make up for the deficit in my education and blood.

Riddle looked like he did in the diary. He walked up to a gravestone in a secluded part of a cemetery. It read:

The Reverend Samuel McNeil

Devoted follower of our Lord and Savior.

Loving brother and mentor.

1885-1942

He cast a spell and dirt flew from the grave. He levitated the corpse inside and inspected it, then cast it aside to partially shatter against a grave.

"No, Nooo!" he screamed. Raw magic lashed around him, destroying gravestones and annihilating trees. Harry felt cheated and enraged, self disgust and bitter disappointment overwhelmed his mind like an undertow. He also felt his own fear at the raw power of his future enemy, even without refining experience. Finally, Riddle sank to the ground exhausted, panting with exertion. Harry felt loneliness, abandonment, fear and a dozen other subtle things join the tangled mess in his head.

Slowly Harry noticed his breathing slow, becoming more controlled. His shoulders shook occasionally with hitches. He watched as the boy wept silently. An occasional sniff or shake was all that betrayed his weakness to Harry's vantage point. Momentarily forgetting who the teen was, he closed the short distance between them and tried to lay a hand on the boy's shaking shoulder. He grasped air. He stood next to the teen as though offering moral support, although he knew the other had no idea he was 'there'. After an interminable amount of time the breathing returned to slow controlling breaths. The boy sniffed, wiped his face, took a few more even breaths, then stood. His wand out in a hand that only shook slightly, he cast spells to dry and clean his robes and hands. Harry saw the panorama fading as Riddle walked away.

When Harry awoke to a worried Hermione, he was disgusted with himself for his instinctive desire to comfort the monster in his dreams.

"Thank goodness, I've been trying to wake you for ten minutes!" Her voice was pitched higher than usual.

"M'sry," he apologized.

"You were dreaming about You-Know-Who," she stated.

"His past," Harry admitted, bitter disgust still on his tongue. He wasn't sure whether or not it was his own or residue from the dream. Then he realized that it was coming fresh across the link and shuddered, pushing it to the back of his mind.

"That's never happened before. Should we worry?" Her face said she'd already come to a conclusion about that. Harry realized with a moment of horror what this might foretell and scanned his memory of the dreams.

"No… anyone who he could take revenge on, he already has," he replied, relaxing.

"Revenge?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah, it's complicated," he skirted around the question, not quite sure why he didn't want to explain. Maybe it was that he feared the ensuing discussion about what else he'd kept hidden. She opened her mouth to respond then closed it and moved to pack up with a frown.

They spent the next several weeks wandering uneventfully. Then one night camping in the middle of nowhere-forest number fourteen-they heard branches breaking outside the camp's wards. Hermione quickly retrieved the extendable ears from her pack and gave one to Harry.

"They are here!" snarled a low, male voice which Harry found vaguely familiar.

"Then why can't we find them?" asked another.

"Perhaps they warded their location," replied a third calmer voice, which was also vaguely familiar to Harry.

"They're only foals," snorted the first. Harry grinned from ear to ear and got up, walking toward the sound.

"No Harry, wait!" Hermione cried out, but he was past caring. He was just so glad to finally have found some allies.

"I wouldn't underestimate them," replied the calm voice as Harry left the camp and crossed into the tree line.

"Lumos," he lit his wand. A few seconds later he was surrounded by five centaurs. He recognized Firenze (the calm voice), Bane (the one who insisted they were there) and Ronan (who hadn't spoken). The other two were a young dapple-coated male and a dainty— for a centaur —bay female.

"Ah! Harry Potter!" Firenze cantered up and dipped his head to him. Harry caught the looks of disgust on Bane and the young male.

"It's good to see you well. We have some things which we must tell you." Harry heard something odd in the tone, and looking more closely he realized that the centaur was covered in half healed wounds.

"Come with me," Harry said.

"One moment," replied Firenze. He trotted a little ways away and conferred with the other centaurs. Firenze returned shuffling his hooves awkwardly.

"Ronan and Camber will stay here and keep watch. The three of us will come with you," he said, dipping his head.

"Uh... ok sure," Harry said.

"You can bring them some food," he added, taking in their visible ribs and paler-than-remembered complexion.

Firenze's face relaxed slightly. "Ah, thank you," he said, an undue amount of gratitude in his tone.

A few minutes later, he settled by the fire with Firenze, Bane and the young filly, Fois. Bane and Fois wolfed down the meager fare. Firenze ate slightly slower, but Harry could see the hunger in his eyes and knew he must have been trying to be polite.

When they were done, Firenze looked at Harry and he saw the centaur's eyes were bloodshot and shadowed.

"Two weeks ago, we were approached by an envoy from the Ministry," he began. "This has happened before in our history, though rarely in the last fifty or so years. It never bodes well. We were told to go live on a designated section of land. That night they brought portkeys for us to use. We of course said no. They responded that if we didn't comply, it would be an act of aggression. We took a quick vote and the answer was still no." He paused for breath. When he spoke again Harry thought his eyes might have been shining from more than firelight.

"Where they came from I don't know, but suddenly they were all around us. We fought hard." Some pride entered his voice. "I know we dropped a few with arrows, but there was only s-so much we could do against wands." He paused again with a shaking breath.

"They killed Mangorian and many more besides, we retreated." He lowered his head. "With the help of Professors Sprout and McGonagall, we escaped and regrouped in a nearby forest. There were only ten of us th…there. We split up and have since been looking for you. We haven't been able to contact the Order, though I'm sure McGonagall has. We have come across other centaurs and they all tell the same story: every colony attacked at the same time. I regret to inform you that many of our number are turning to the dark. The lesser of two evils, I suppose." He looked away but Harry saw the resignation and shame. He had probably been thinking about doing the same. Harry felt a pang of abandonment, but he couldn't really blame the centaur for taking care of his own.

Firenze swallowed hard and turned from the fire. "We must go, but before we do Bane has a message for you." He looked pointedly at the other centaur. Harry looked over as well and realized that Fois was wiping tears from her face.

"The stars say that there are friends to meet in places you've been. People wait for you who you must find, one under Mars, the other bearing knowledge. The stars don't get much more specific than that, but even a wizard should be able to make good use of it if he cares to listen." With a snort, Bane turned, kicking up dirt as he sped into the night.

"I'm sorry about that. He…" Firenze began.

"No, it's okay. Maybe if wizards didn't make themselves so dislikable…." Harry interrupted. He grimaced, hating the ministry and prejudice and the whole damn world. He saw the other centaurs off and returned to face Hermione's silent disapproval for his leaving the camp.

Since they had no new leads on horcruxes, he and Hermione spent the next week cautiously visiting places that they used to frequent. When Harry slipped into the Hog's Head under the invisibility cloak, he finally found what they were looking for. Harry almost broke cover on seeing Ron sitting at a table drinking a butterbeer.

"It's me. Go outside and prepare to apparate," he whispered as he walked by. A minute later they were back at their most recent camp. Harry grinned from ear to ear while Hermione cried and practically assaulted Ron with a hug.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking all over for you guys. I thought you might be…well I'm glad you're okay," Ron said with a shaky smile.

"What's happened? Where have you been? Is your dad okay?" asked Hermione before Harry could respond.

"A lot, everywhere, and you wouldn't believe me if I told you. What about you?" he responded happily.

"About the same but let's start with you," she said, grinning with Harry.

"Well as you know, I went home and it was bollocks*. Mom was panicking, we had to keep Ginny at school to keep her safe. It was…bad. Anyway, after a few weeks we were kind of settling down. Mom hadn't stopped trying to appeal to the ministry but she wasn't getting anywhere. So all of a sudden, Dad just shows up in the middle of the night! He claims that You-Know-Who broke into Azkaban and just released almost everyone. Just like that!" He sounded astonished.

"It's not a bad PR tactic," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Well, we spent a couple hours talking. He said the aurors ,— the few that were left anyway —asked him to wear something called a suppression collar." Hermione gave a little gasp. "They said that as a pureblood he had to if he wanted to keep working at the Ministry. He said he refused and into Azkaban he went as a You-Know-Who sympathizer. Anyway after a bit he told us to run." Ron held up an issue of the Daily Prophet. It had the faces of the wizards who had apparently been broken out with the headline.

BREAK OUT AT AZKABAN

Ten-Thousand Galleon Reward for the Capture of These Dangerous Dark Wizards

The article went on to say: Anyone aiding these fugitives will be subject to their punishment as well.

"Things are getting bad, Harry." He swallowed. "People are wearing these suppression things, owls are being monitored, and people are leaving the country. The Order has more or less disbanded since most of us can't find each other. No one has any idea where Lupin or Tonks are. It's…"

"Bad?" Harry finished for him.

"Yeah," Ron said with a small grin. He handed them a pamphlet. "This was published about a week ago, but the last time I saw Tonks she said she'd already been forced to register, and that was right after I went home."

New Policies to Safeguard Loyal British Wizards.

To protect the wizarding public from the unnaturally powerful and potentially insidious influence of disloyal purebloods, the following measures will be enacted until the end of the war:

All wizards/witches must make an unbreakable vow of loyalty to the Ministry of Magic and to the laws governing proper use of magic.

All pure-blood witches/wizards—defined as the product of two untainted magical parents— must receive an equalizing collar to moderate their magic to normal levels.

All mutations -parseltongues, metamorphmagi, seers etc.- must sign up for registration and treatment.

All tainted creatures - werewolves, vampires, veela etc.- must sign up for registration and danger mitigation treatments.

Non-human subjects of Britain must receive an emissary and liaise with the ministry in order to remove any danger caused by their population and ensure their loyalty. Compliance will be the duty of the emissary.

Failure to comply by the end of the month will constitute treason. By order of War Minister Furguson and Wizengamot.

"Add to that what the centaurs said and this must have gone into effect well before they published," said Harry, sickened.

"Centaurs?" Ron sighed with a scowl. They quickly caught him up to date.

That night on watch, Harry opened up the locket and recounted recent events.

"I hope you're happy," he said when he was done. "Now your precious purebloods are on the ropes with the rest of us and for what?"

"This was never what I wanted," the locket said, its tone cold. "Yes, those in power can do as they will, however…some judgment is required. The wizarding community loses much in the estrangement of other races. Katals alone if they were not banned would be almost non-existent in Britain because of it. So much knowledge would be lost, it is unacceptable." Harry wondered again what a katal was and made a mental note to ask the locket when he had less pressing concerns.

"Yet it's the direct result of your actions. You made people so desperate that they would sacrifice their freedom just to be safe," Harry replied in disgust.

"If they choose safety over freedom, then they deserve what they get," he sneered. "However, the magic that will be lost would effect all wizards, not just this dross. The Fackelträgers have a stiff grasp on western Europe as it is." There was resignation in the tone. It startled Harry, it seemed so incongruous coming from that face.

He thought for a moment. "These Fackelträgers …what do you know about them?" he asked.

The projection shrugged. "I know they're not a good thing, bent on control and power at the cost of everything else. They are behind most of the more draconian laws in Western Europe, both on use of magic and on muggle secrecy. They've existed since the days of witch burning, sweeping in to offer 'assistance' to nations in times of trouble, and then make a power play whenever a country or ruler is weak enough to accept. Since Grindlewald was defeated, no one will let them within fifty kilometers of the border, but most of the damage was long since done. For all intents they rule most of the wizarding nations west of Germany," he finished. Harry thought he heard a trace of dejection in the voice and a wave of worry coursed through him. He couldn't tell if it was his own or just the horcrux's effect, or both.

"So they're powerful?" he asked though he knew the answer.

"Untouchable, and well resourced, too," the locket replied with finality.

Harry knew the dread he felt now was his own. "How do we fight them?" he asked.

"You don't." The locket shut itself. Harry was left alone in the dark with his thoughts.

It was mid-November. A full moon glinted off the frost and a light dusting of snow had started to fall in their latest camp. They had still had no luck finding horcruxes or ways to destroy them, and after the initial elation of having Ron back their moods had soured again.

Harry was relieving Ron on watch at midnight when they heard the sounds of cheering and saw firelight in the distance. He woke Hermione to tell her.

"We should check it out," Harry said. "I'll go under the cloak. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, break camp and get as far away as you can."

"Or we could go with you," said Ron, exasperated.

"Only two of us can fit under the cloak. You know that," he replied.

"I'll go. You guard the horcrux," said Hermione, and with that they walked toward the firelight. The sounds of cheering got louder and after several minutes of picking their way through the forest by wand-light they came upon a group of robed wizards— perhaps thirty or forty —yelling and shouting. Under the noise of the crowd they could hear the muted sounds of a struggle, some creature or creatures snarling and growling as though from a long way away. Harry and Hermione stopped in tandem, knowing they couldn't get much closer without risking tripping an alarm. Harry signaled Hermione to wait, left the cloak with her, and started to climb a nearby tree for a better vantage point. When he was fifteen or so feet up, he stopped and looked towards the light. What he saw made his hands go slack and he had to clench them quickly before he fell.

The crowd was gathered around a shimmering blue dome which must have carried some sort of sound dampening ability. Inside, two werewolves howled, snarled and bit at each other with bestial abandon. Around the dome lay a dozen cages where more wolves threw themselves against the walls, struggling to get out.

Harry watched in horror as the fight came to an end, one wolf fell and the other continued mauling it. One wizard in gold robes threw stunners through the dome at both participants and the winner fell unconscious as well. The dome disappeared and the gold wizard, accompanied by two in silver robes, approached the fallen fighters. All three had their wands out. The gold one clasped silver hobbles on the 'winner' and bent over the other for a moment. He stood and levitated both bodies to a cage and locked them in. He woke the winner, who then proceeded to munch happily on his less fortunate opponent. Harry felt bile rise in his throat and tried to fight the nausea.

"For our next match we have Sparky versus Thor. Please place your bets before the one minute warning," Gold cried out. Harry watched as he and the two silver robes went to a cage and stunned the occupant. Gold then opened the cage door and a silver robe levitated him to the open circle. The silver then stood guard over the werewolf while Gold and his other companion repeated the process. Then the three wizards left the circle and the dome went back up.

"One minute warning," called Gold as Harry climbed back down. He rejoined Hermione.

"Let's go," he said curtly. She opened her mouth to question him but quickly shut it, realizing the prudence of getting safely away first. They made their way back to camp where they found Ron pacing, his jaw clenched. Once there, Harry filled Hermione and Ron in on what he'd seen. Ron's face went white and Hermione's contorted as though she were about to either cry or vomit.

"We can't do anything tonight," she rasped, already back to analysis and planning. "The werewolves themselves will be as much of a danger as the wizards."

"We'll have to go by day," replied Harry. That they were going to do something about the sick entertainment hadn't needed to be discussed.

"They probably go underground after the full moon, so that will only give us two days to work with," Hermione noted, lining up the facts.

"We should take turns tonight scouting, get as much information as we can," said Harry.

"Right. I'll take first watch, then relieve Ron on guard and you can take a turn scouting while he sleeps," Hermione decided.

Harry wanted to protest. He didn't want Hermione to have to see what he'd seen, but he saw her logic. He doubted he could've dissuaded her anyway. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, however he fell almost immediately into a deep nightmare-wracked slumber.

Hermione woke him at their standard shift change. She looked at him with haunted eyes, but her jaw was clenched resolutely in her 'S.P.E.W face'. She handed him a paper. He took a quick look and saw that it described the locations of guards, how long the average fight lasted and how long breaks were. She had also noted that the crowd had dispersed after the last fight at two-thirty-five.

He was about to leave when she stopped him. "Hold on." She pulled out her wand. "longeconspectu," she said pointing at his eyes.

He felt pressure behind them like a sinus headache and warmth. When it faded, he realized his vision was much sharper. He blinked a couple of times, then removed his glasses which had no effect. He smiled.

"Thanks," he said, putting his glasses away for safe keeping.

"It should last six hours," she replied with a small smile of her own. It didn't reach her eyes.

Harry picked his way back to the tree and watched. There were six guards that he could see, verifying what Hermione had written. Gold and the two silver robed wizards were also there. Not much happened, and he caught himself almost nodding off a couple of times. At five o'clock he saw trio doling meat to the caged werewolves. The pieces looked like deer but were too large. He cursed Hermione for improving his sight when he realized it was actually centaur, so 'rare' the fur was still on.

He looked away for the blissfully short time that the creatures ate, trying to remind himself that the humans these werewolves were had no idea what they were doing. Things went quiet again until the moon sank. The wolves transformed back, screaming, biting and thrashing against the cages in pain. He saw something that made his veins pound with anger even while his heart seemed to stop. Sitting in the cage of the werewolf that had 'won' the first match he'd seen... was Lupin.

Chapter Text

Dawn broke, frosty and glistening, as Harry made his way back to the camp. Hermione nodded to him as he walked past, to enter the tent and wake Ron. He shook Ron's shoulder, his friend's eyes snapped open and his other hand grabbed Harry's wrist like a vise. For a moment Harry saw fear in his eyes before it faded into recognition.

"Mhm sorry, bad dream," he rasped.

"It's okay, guess it's mine turn anyway," replied Harry with a forced laugh. He had resolved not to tell them about the centaur meat but the image was burned into his eyes.

They gathered around the fire pit, and Hermione renewed the heating charms on their clothes. She got out some mushrooms that she'd gathered recently and started spicing them with pepper, chili powder and other things from her bag. Harry swallowed, and took a deep breath.

"We need to do something about the wolves," he ground out.

"I thought that had been established," Ron replied.

"They have Lupin," he stated flatly. Hermione squeaked and Ron drew a sharp breath.

"Af-…after breakfast. After breakfast w-w-we'll come up with plan," she said eyes shining. "Don't worry we'll get him," her S.P.E.W face was on despite the tears.

Hermione and Ron ate while he picked at his own mushrooms, and brooded. Maybe it was just locket he was now wearing, but he couldn't think of any way the situation could end pleasantly.

Either they fought the Fackelträgers and lost or by some miracle they won. He wouldn't claim to be a strategic genius, but even he knew they couldn't fight the war on two fronts. He wasn't idealistic enough to believe that whatever remained of them would be able to face the death eaters after that. Especially considering that others, like the centaurs, would be turning to the dark in response. The alternative of letting the Fackelträgers deal with Voldemort, while somewhat tempting, would end with them in power; which returned to the problem of deposing them only then they'd be firmly seated.

"Well?" asked Hermione. Harry started and looked around.

"Huh?"

"The plan?" she huffed, brow furrowed.

"Oh yeah, of course sorry," he tried to order his thoughts.

"It's okay," she said quietly, squeezing his shoulder.

"Uh I guess we go take a look around, try to take out the guards as quietly as possible and get to the cages," he offered.

"Maybe open the cages first?" Hermione suggested. "They could help fight and since the wolves don't have wands I doubt they are magically protected," Harry considered.

"Okay, you guys go for the guards, I'll take the cage," he decided.

"Let Hermione take the cages," Ron spoke for the first time. "You're the better duelist and if there is magical protection she can probably get through faster," he continued bluntly.

"True enough," Harry shrugged. There was silence for a few minutes; the image of centaur, extra-rare glued itself to his brain again.

"Shall we go now?" Hermione asked, again shaking him from his dark reverie.

"Right," he stood stiffly, feeling the weight of responsibility. He could barely believe he'd been celebrating his 18th birthday less than six months ago.

Harry made sure he had the locket and Hermione shrunk her bag, scepter included. Shortly the three of them were on their way, wands out and concealments on, to where they had seen the werewolves the night before. Hermione halted him with a hand on his chest and pointed up the tree, which they had used as a vantage point. She quickly scurried up since his vision had returned to normal. She came back down half a minute later.

"There seem to only be two guards," she reported.

"Nice," hissed Ron and Harry smiled grimly. They might actually manage this. They spread out around the clearing. Harry tried to keep count in his head-

'151, 152, 153,' When he reached two-hundred they would attack, '162, 163, 16...'

Across the clearing he saw a faint red glow hit Ron's guard.

"Bollocks! Stupify!" he snarled, stunning his guard before he could raise an alarm. He ran into the clearing, hoping that Hermione was well on her way to the cages under the invisibility cloak. He sprinted in and took his place by Lupin's cage to guard Hermione while she hopefully worked the lock. Looking at Lupin curled sleeping in the corner, naked, the cage reeking of blood and human filth, he swallowed down bile, dry heaving slightly. Then, realizing that the man would probably freak a bit when he woke, he pointed his wand.

"Silencio," He whispered. The cage door fell open and he went inside grabbing his former Professor. Lupin started awake with a silent snarl then blinked a few times and shook his head. He mouthed silent words but Harry thought he saw the lips form 'dream'. He felt his eyes prick as he shook his head 'no'. He poked the man hard then himself hoping to convey his realness. Signaling for silence he whispered.

"Recuperabit,"

"Thanks," Lupin rasped. Harry tried to avoid his hollow eyes. Exiting the cage he saw that Hermione had gathered another two men and Ron was finishing silencing the ones still caged. Ron looked over and pointed to the tent where presumably the trio and the four remaining guards were sleeping. Harry nodded and followed. They slunk over, for just a moment Harry envisioned just torching the tent, they deserved it well enough, but no. He shook his head violently. That was just the locket talking. They slid through the flap.

"Stupify," They said in unison. Harry had tried to make it a whisper but anger raised his voice. Even as the red light hit his and Ron's targets another man bolted upright and cast a blue jet of light at him. He ducked and responded instinctively with a shield while Ron stunned another guard. The blue light ricocheted off the shield, then the man was yelling and the other occupants of the tent were casting spells. Harry and Ron ran for their lives.

"Impedimenta!" Shouted Harry spinning around long enough to aim then dodging away from a bolt of gold.

"Expelliarmis!" Ron fired blindly over his shoulder and was on target enough to make two of the pursuers duck. They ran on, Harry throwing a few tripping jinxes with a quick glance. Finally they reached the rendezvous point at the tree where they were supposed to apparate and dodged behind it.

Harry had no time to react- as the red light hit him in the face, he dimly recalled hitting the ground and then...nothing.

When he awoke he was hanging from chains in a dank, reeking cell. The only light was from a torch which came through a barred window hole in the door.

"Ah you are awake," came an aristocratic, proud sounding voice from just outside the door. "I just wanted you to know, when you grovel at the Dark lord's feet and beg for your filthy, degenerate life, that I was the one that put you there."

"I will never grovel," Harry snarled at the voice. He tried to ignore the faint sense of almost relief he felt at being Voldie's prisoner and not at the Ministry.

"Oh you will," The voice stated smugly before the sound of footsteps signaled they had walked away. His head throbbed and Harry felt bile in his throat as he wondered if his friends had been killed instead of taken. After all he was probably the only one with a 'bring him alive' order on his head. He thought of something and heart racing reached up without any thought of surveillance to find the locket still on his throat. He exhaled, tried to relax and to think. An idea which had been fermenting in the back of his mind since this morning, if it had been this morning, was coalescing- forming itself into a sort of plan. A distasteful plan that made the bile rise again in his throat and tears of shame prick at his eyes, but a plan. He would make sure his friends were alive, and then if they were he would play his gambit.

He had no idea how much time had passed when a voice broke him out of his semi-conscious state.

"I suppose it's futile to ask you to join me again," Voldemort asked rhetorically.

"Are my friends alive?" asked Harry ignoring the question. Voldemort hesitated and Harry felt himself shaking in his chains slightly as the tension grew.

"Assuming they were?" he asked. Harry could sense amusement of all things filtering through the link and shivered. He swallowed and blinked a couple of times.

"Take me to them. Assuming they are ok we need to talk."

Voldemort hissed and Harry felt his rage through the link and in the pain enveloping his body. 'Oh right he can curse me now,' thought Harry wryly as the Cruciatas lifted.

"Where were we?" asked Voldemort, playing the cordial host again.

"Look I want to talk, but not until I know what happened to the people I was with," said Harry blinking and telling himself it was the curse making his eyes water. "Otherwise torture me," he felt annoyance and resignation through the link.

"The werewolf we caught, the Weasley, and the mudblood are fine, though they won't be for long if you displease me. The other werewolves you were with ran," as far as Harry could tell from the link it was the truth, and if it wasn't, well he would find soon enough.

"I propose a truce," Harry grated his throat aching with his heart at the words.

"...," he was still speaking but no sound came, suddenly his shackles released and he fell to the ground on his hands and knees. He tried to stand quickly as the door opened and Voldemort walked in. He would not bow before that monster if he had any ability to fight it. A strange feeling, like having gravel rubbed on him, washed over his skin and he found himself immobile though he saw no spell or wand. Voldemort concealed and levitated him. He floated down the lushly decorated halls; disgusted with the gaudy wealth, everything wrong with pure-blood culture seemed distilled in the monster's lair. At the same time a niggling thought at the back of his mind said that it was odd; not Voldemort's style. 'Because you've studied his interior decorating taste,' the rational part of his mind countered. They arrived in a room very similar to the one Harry kept dreaming himself to but with several bookshelves lining the wall, a rather lush black and silver carpet and a tapestry between the shelves on either side.

Harry was left rather ignominiously on the floor, still immobile, as Voldemort strode to the chair. It was black hard wood, carved with snakes on the high back. Ruby-eyed dragon's heads were carved on the arms, it was a throne, though spartan and uncomfortable looking.

Voldemort watched him silently from the throne, blood red eyes mirroring the rubies in the carvings. It took Harry a moment to realize that he wasn't completely immobile, but could move his mouth. The rest of his body was still frozen, his knees and back ached from the contortion.

"You could let me stand," he said. Voldemort smirked slightly. He flicked his hand, and a slice tore open on Harry's shoulder.

"I could," was the reply. 'Right what was I thinking,' thought Harry wryly. He was surprised to feel a slight longing for the dream realm. He tried to shake his head in disgust, and remembered he couldn't. What was wrong with him, thinking fondly of the sadist's 'company'.

"Neither of us wants the Fackelträgers in power. Neither of us has the numbers to have more than a miracle shot at chasing them out. I propose a temporary truce, bound with an unbreakable oath. We would each handle our own people and would do no harm to each other's…forces until we agree to end the arrangement, when the Fackelträgers are defeated I assume, or at a certain time. The last would keep us from extending the agreement for selfish purposes," Harry took a breath, and realized he was shaking, not from fear, but from nerves. That was his only play and there was a good chance Voldemort would see no reason to accept. There was a long pause, Voldemort sitting unmoving, an odd glint in his eyes. Muted feelings slid through the link, contempt, anger, annoyance.

"So you style yourself the next Dumbledore?" his cold laugh sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "Chess-master, peace-broker, friend of all, savior... fool. What makes you think for minute that your...twelve wizards and a dog, would be anything I'd want much less need? I took down the ministry in two years I will do the same here. You can serve me on bended knee or you can die in a cage," confidence, and a touch of pride flooded the link. Harry exhaled shakily he had one last move.

"What makes me think that?" he asked rhetorically, trying to layer as much bravado into the tone as he could body-bound on the floor. "You told me," he hesitated; a muted flicker of surprise touched the link. "Look at my neck." Voldemort stood and strode towards him, wand out sneering. He flicked his wand in a complicated, practiced motion. Harry felt like he'd been dipped in ice water, black particles like smoke rose from his chest. With another flick, Harry recognized it as the summoning spell, the locket floated up its chain breaking around his neck and flew to Voldemort's hand. The second it touch his hand dull pain brushed the link and Harry watched it fall to the ground.

"CRUCIO!" Harry screamed unable to even writhe until, blissfully, he passed out.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Voldemort wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his robe, and picked up the Horcrux. He walked over, unlocked the door to his armory/artificary, entered and dropped it into a warded lock-box. Locking the box he returned to his study, replaced the wards on his armory, and retrieved the boy-who-really-needed-to-die. He stood in the hall outside his study, the boy levitating beside him; and touched his mark summoning Dolohov.

"Return this to the cell," he said, dropping the charm and letting the boy fall to the floor. Dolohov obeyed, Voldemort returnedto his study, and retrieved the Horcrux. He sat in his chair with the Horcrux in its box on the end table. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had never expected the boy to make an offer like that without copious torture. He needed to know what had changed, which meant finding out what the Horcrux had told him. Carefully, his left hand still throbbed from touching it, and the ghost of the Cruciatas through the link sent small jolts of nerve pain dancing down his body.

He opened the lock-box and levitated the Horcrux out, and set it on the floor several feet in front of him.

"Heshhha hesssey," he hissed in parseltounge, open now. The locket opened, the small projection appeared. Simultaneously he drew a quick breath, pain raked the inside of his chest like claws, and he felt his lungs tightened as though a metal band were wrapped around them. He exhaled, and for a fraction of a second panic threatened his composure before he drew another breath. Slow, measured breaths, there was no danger. He levitated the locket towards him so he could see the figure better. The pain increased, like a creature trying claw its way out of his chest, but breathing didn't get more difficult so he ignored it.

"What did you tell the boy?" He asked low and dangerous a voice to make any mortal shiver.

"I told him the history of the Fackelträgers as far as I knew it," replied the Horcrux, immediately recognizing his older form.

"And why, do tell, would you give information to our enemy?"

"I wasn't aware he was an enemy," the pain of admitting ignorance was poorly hidden.

"Yes you ignoramus, he's an enemy, as of six months ago he's THE enemy!" Voldemort snarled.

"You realize you're insulting yourself right?" asked the Horcrux smugly.

"Crucio! Argh!" Voldemort bit off his cry of pain, and stood jaw clenched. His breathing ragged with rage, a thought sliced through like an arrow. "I can curse the boy without sharing the pain except through the link why," he filed the thought away. The Horcrux was laughing, Voldemort exhaled.

"Why did you tell him?" he grated again, thanking every deity he didn't believe in that they were alone.

"I saw no reason not to. He presented himself as someone who was bonded to us, he wanted to do something I saw no reason not to help...he was right about one thing though enemy or not: The Fackelträgers are our fault and getting rid of them even now, much less once they're entrenched, will be nigh impossible," the Horcrux spoke calmly though Voldemort noted with disgust a hint of defeat in the tone. He raised his wand to curse, thought better of it and levitated the Horcrux back to its lock-box. With a snarl he threw it against the wall before rising to put the box away, he knew no damage would come to it.

He returned to the chair deep in thought. The new developments presented two problems, first was that the new information cast doubt on his hypothesis that the boy was a horcrux. The other problem was that as much as it galled him to acknowledge he―Horcrux him anyway―was correct, the Fackelträgers would be a problem. Yes, he could torture the boy into compliance or threaten his friends, however, that would likely take time and even then, would be less effective and more problematic. If the boy was actually on his side people he would never otherwise be able to ally with would flock to them. There would be no issue of sabotage from the boy or his people and he wouldn't be fighting a war on two fronts or rolling a dice against the Fackelträgers' far greater numbers.

There shouldn't be any real downside, at worst they would end up back where they started before, whoever it was behind the assassination―Nikovich most likely―had thrown that bag of sand in the potion. If he played right he might even be able to weaken the order while he was at it. Of course they'd be doing the same, but there was no one left on that side with a strategic cell in their likely non-existent brains. 'Yes this could work well,' he decided. Soon he would take the time to stash the Horcrux away, personally this time. For now, there was more research to be done. He headed for the library.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry woke up in his chains his entire body ached from the Cruciatas and from being locked into such an awkward position. Panicked he realized he couldn't feel the locket. Twitching in his chains he discovered that it was indeed gone. 'Well that failed,' he thought bitterly. He'd played his gambit, prostrated himself to his mortal enemy and for what. His eyes pricked and he hung his head in exhaustion and defeat. He tested the chains wondering on a mode of escape, but none seemed likely.

After an hour or so he found his mind wandering. Oddly enough he was thinking back to the dream room, the oddly comfortable, informative conversation he'd had with Voldemort. It seemed odd the differences between the slightly self-effacing, sane, even friendly locket, The relaxed, knowledgeable and driven version he'd spoken to in his dreams and the mad sadist he'd just presented himself to. All parts of the same creature. He thought of Voldemort shivering and ill, the symptoms mostly disappearing when he woke. 'No, not disappearing,' he corrected himself, 'concealed.'

It occurred to him that since that was the only time he had seen the dark wizard look remotely relaxed, almost human it must have been a rather annoying intrusion for Harry to randomly show up there. He wondered vaguely amused why, with the exception of the first night, he always seem to arrive precisely when Voldemort presumably least wanted him.

Since the link had changed, with that one exception, he had shown up when Voldemort was sick and the dreams he had seen had largely been hellish nightmares. 'Well if anyone deserves it,' thought Harry. Then he remembered the ache in his leg that night which had gone away when he'd woken, the stiffness in his shoulder. He remembered finding something odd about the way Voldemort held his wand, left-handed. Today when Voldemort had used his wand it had been in his right. Indeed he couldn't remember it ever not being now that he thought about it. His shoulder had been stiff; if it was ghost pain from the link than Voldemort had been injured. Meaning that in every instance of the heightened link there had been something, a chink in the armor so to speak. Meaning that perhaps the reason for the change was simply that his guard was 'down' and with it his occlumency.

It was strange until this summer even with Dumbledore's lesson he'd thought of Voldemort as an entity, a force of nature. Yet he could still be ill or injured. He remembered the anger he'd felt when he'd made that jibe at Voldemort's mother, the dreams, the random sparks of jealousy. He remembered his intense want for companionship over the summer and wonder perversely if it been a ghost from the link. He shook his head, grateful for the ability to do so, no Voldemort was soulless or close enough. There was as much sense in trying find humanity there as in Fluffy. Anything that may have been there he'd chosen to tear out. He tried his chains again with a snarl. Not much to do but wait and hope for a chance to escape. He forced his parched throat to swallow and added water to the list of things to hope for.

Chapter Text

Harry groaned as he returned from semi-consciousness at the feeling of a presence. He opened his eyes and twisted in his chains when he saw Voldemort enter his cell. He fought to suppress the swell of fear he felt and drew himself up in an attempt at dignity.

"Hello boy," Voldemort hissed in contempt but Harry felt something like approval in the link. He tried to hide his surprise but a flash of anger told him he'd failed.

"Hello," Harry replied. His friends' lives likely depended on this truce and he wasn't going to risk that just to prove his bravery.

"Are you trying charm?" Voldemort asked in a caricature of being flattered, "How very Slytherin of you."

Harry glared at the floor embarrassed, "Like I said I want a truce."

Voldemort watched him for a moment then continued as though Harry hadn't spoken, "Then again we both know there's more than a little snake in you."

He'd said it like an insult but again Harry felt the whisper of approval. As usual he received no outward indication but he felt surprise from the link, he was getting better at determining what was link and what thoughts were his own.

"You don't see that as an insult."

Harry forced down a wave of shame and tried to sound confident, "It's more that you don't."

"True enough."

Harry was surprised that he'd acknowledged the 'compliment' but changed the topic, "Are you here to torture me?"

Voldemort's smiled coldly, "Not today."

Harry relaxed slightly in spite of himself and that smile turned downright predatory.

Voldemort flicked his wand, the chains clanged as Harry flinched but they merely disappear and he landed in a heap, unharmed except for bruised knees.

"You remember the way to the room you were in yesterday?"

Harry nodded.

"Walk."

Harry strode the gaudy halls and felt to his surprise and distress Voldemort's agreement. He had to learn to shield his thoughts, who knew what insidious thoughts had been planted in his head simply from being connected to the monster much less the chance to be intentionally manipulated…again. He could feel Voldemort's smugness at that, Voldemort didn't think he could do it and it only strengthened his resolve.

"Why do…"

"Silence!" Voldemort snapped.

Harry cringed a little in spite of himself braced for a curse. The smugness he received was too much though and just to prove to himself that he wasn't scared, he tried again.

" Why do…"he was still speaking but no words came out. A flick of Voldemort's wand and searing pain tore through him, he clenched his jaw against a scream and when his vision cleared he found himself on his knees.

"You will obey me."

Harry glared at him.

"Move!"

He didn't and more pain followed, so intense that it made him nauseous. As the shaking stop and he rose back to his feet though, he realized that the feeling he was getting from the link wasn't rage or even pleasure but frustration.

Realizing that at the moment he had little choic and little to lose but pride he moved.

They walked the rest of the way in silence and Voldemort took his wand off Harry long enough undo a selection of who knew what locks and curses on the door before hissing 'open' in parseltoungue and gesturing for Harry to go in.

Voldemort relocked everything while keeping an eye on Harry though he was under no illusion that he could have done much even if he had his wand.

Voldemort flicked his wand.

"Beware what you say, this room is relatively secure but the rest of the castle, you never know who may be listening."

Harry's anger faded slightly which was irrational but knowing that there had been a reason behind his mistreatment made it slightly better. He felt an odd sensation he couldn't really identify from the link.

"Is it safe to speak like this?" Harry hissed.

"If necessary," Voldemort hissed back. Something in the link took the edge off the curt reply and Harry was deeply curious about it.

"Why do you decorate like that if you don't like it?" Harry asked.

A long pause followed but no curse and Harry had just started to relax when he received a reply.

"Appearances are important to purebloods. It suggests that by following me theywill acquire wealth as well."

The word pureblood dripped with disdain but the answer itself was of more interest and also explained why he didn't want Harry to say anything.

"Not that I'm advocating it but wouldn't you just kill anyone who cared?"

The link held smugness as usual but there was a heavy undercurrent of pleasure and Harry shivered, disgusted with himself even if what he'd said was simple fact.

"I could, but wars are rather hard to conduct without an army. As I said it's an efficient recruiting tool."

Harry supposed that made sense, if one was only concerned with practicalities and not ideology.

"You may prove to be surprisingly entertaining."

Another shiver ran through Him, that seemed like a very bad thing,"I'm thrilled."

Harry yelped as fire scorched its way across his chest.

"You will show respect."

Damn he had almost forgotten who he'd been 'chatting' with.

"So now I believe you wanted an unbreakable oath? " Voldemort asked rhetorically as he sat in his throne. "Do you have a plan for the phrasing."

"That we should harm neither each other nor the other's people until such a time as the bond should be dissolved also that we will not attempt to control each other's…forces. It should last until we defeat the Fackleträgers or…a year from today? "

"I would add that you must appear subservient while in front of the death eaters."

Harry shook his head vehemently and felt irritation through the link.

"Agree or I will kill this thing," Voldemort said, sounding bored as he removed a piece of black and silver cloth from a cage like Hedwig's to reveal Kraxil. Harry's chest tightened both at the memory of Hedwig and in fear for the little snake. Then he remembered the dead snake in his dreams and rage roared through him. How dare he? Voldemort knew exactly what that felt like how could anyone do something like that?

Cold high laughter rang out, though anger tore across the link, "I'm beyond such concerns. Agree or it dies."

Hatred filled Harry and he almost said screw it to the whole thing, the idea of aligning with this monster sickened him, but too many people would die or worse if he couldn't make it work. A chill crept through him as he wondered if the idea of the truce had even been his own. Then he remembered that Voldemort couldn't lie to him…he thought.

"Did you put the idea of the truce in my head?"

"No," the anger in the link meant something, what though, Harry was at a loss for.

"Release Kraxil and my friends and I'll agree."

"You're hardly in a position to negotiate," the link said that wasn't the entire truth.

"Really?"

Voldemort raised his left hand and clenched his fist. Harry fell to his knees as an invisible hammer blow hit his chest.

"Really."

"Just Kraxil then," he almost said please before he realized how laughable that was.

"No."

"He means nothing to you and…if we're going to do this isn't it better if I'm willing?"

"One way or another you'll be willing."

Tension crawled through the link in sharp contrast to Voldemort's confidence.

Damn it what kind of argument would work here? How did you appeal to someone who cared for nothing but themselves? Well that and power, remembering their earlier conversation he was hit with a spark of inspiration.

"Please I'm going to have a hard enough time getting the order to go along with this, some proof...anything to prove this isn't a total surrender would really help."

Voldemort said nothing for a long moment then opened the cage with a gestureand flicked his left hand. Kraxil flew towards Harry as if he'd been physically thrown.

"Aaaaahhhh"

"No!" Harry yelled and in his panic he must have done wandless magic because the little snake slowed to float gently through the air.

Harry scooped the snake out of the air, "It's alright you're safe now."

He caught an odd disturbance in the link but couldn't identify what it was.

"Shall we?"

Harry stared a moment before remembering why they were there.

He didn't need the link to sense Voldemort's annoyance as he place Kraxil on the floor, "Stay."

"What do I do."

"Reach out your hand."

Harry did so hesitantly, his hand shaking and Voldemort's mouth twisted in disgust as he took it.

"Wait!"

Voldemort's red eyes flashed, matching the annoyance in the link and he dropped his hand.

"For while the truce is…active? No killing innocents or torture."

"You're serious?"

"I can't be involved in that."

"Define innocents."

"Anyone who's not a Fackleträgers," Harry replied in a 'duh' tone

"You are aware that people outside of an organization often sympathize and assist. Spies? Voluntary combatants? Artificers?" Both tone and link conveyed disgust.

"Don't kill innocents how hard is that?"

"It's a war and the oath has to be worded precisely."

"How about…uh don't kill anyone not directly involved in the war effort except in self defense."

Voldemort shook his head, "I won't make an unbreakable vow on such a blurred statement especially as it would include the actions of my death eaters. War is not that clear cut. I will do what I can to minimize the loss of innocent lives for the duration of the truce but I won't put it in the oath"

Harry could sense no lie but those were vague words at best, "Then no truce."

Voldemort nodded, "Then I'll return you to your cell."

There was disappointment in the link but also resignation he would not move and Harry knew full well that no good would come of him rotting in his cell while the Fackleträgers and Voldemort fought to rule.

"Fine but regardless of the outcome when vow ends I will not renew it if there is needless death."

Voldemort's triumph was noticeable only in the link but sickened Harry nonetheless.

"As for torture it is another matter of war. Surely you don't believe that your precious Aurors never did the same."

Harry knew enough about Moody to not even try to argue, "At least allow me to talk to anyone before you do so? If they are an ally of the light I might be able to convince them ..."

Voldemort gave a cold laugh and disdain coated his words, "If it's feasible."

"If at all possible," Harry countered.

"Any more requests," Voldemort asked in a tone that said Harry was fast burning through whatever patience he had.

Harry thought a moment before shaking his head and another whisper of approval brushed his mind as they clasped hands again. How strange was that, Voldemort's hand was cold as a corpse's and he could feel tension in the link as he bonded himself again, voluntarily to his parent's murderer

Voldemort waved his wand in a complicated motion.

"So how is this going to work?"

"We will start with raids we don't have the numbers at the moment to do more. In several months we should be able to move in a few well-chosen skirmishes. You still have mudbloods in the ministry?"

"I don't know, the order was more or less disbanded after the Fackleträger decree," Harry said. He instantly realized two things, first he probably shouldn't have admitted that and second that he had no idea how to conduct a war just be a soldier. What the hell had he been thinking.

Voldemort smiled then, "I see you are finally aware of your position."

Harry swallowed wishing that he felt more sure of himself, "You need me or you wouldn't have agreed to the truce."

"Need? No. It is however prudent."

Harry sighed his eyes burning a little as the weight of responsibility hit him. He was seventeen why did all these lives rest on him and why had Dumbledore put him in that position?

"I suppose it'd be futile to suggest that you offer up your forces and walk away. You owe them nothing," Voldemort offered, it sounded believable, even companionable but the link carried only disgust.

Harry straightened and tapped his temple angry, "Don't play me."

Voldemort snarled, "How dare…"

"Ah trying to get me to curse you and break the oath? I must say I find myself pleasantly surprised, you are quite cunning for your age."

Harry blinked, "Sorry to disappoint that hadn't occurred to me. I'm simply tired of being lied to."

"It has been a long time since any other than Albus has spoken to me so plainly and lived," a sinister, threatening hiss, yet the link carried something not necessarily displeased. "For the sake of the war effort however I must insist that you keep such youthful outbursts to this form."

"What does that have to do with the war?"

"If my followers hear you speak so, they will get ideas, which will likely lead to attempts to kill me which in turn will lead to a severe thinning of the ranks,"the words were sharp and grating in Harry's mind.

"And in return?"

"Don't test me."

Harry swallowed and tried to put aside his impulse to do just that, even he knew it wouldn't achieve anything good.

It occurred to him suddenly, that he had no idea if Voldemort had actually done what he claimed.

"I did as I said, but if you're concerned ask a healer to run a diagnostic on you." Harry cursed himself as he realized that he had held eye contact during most of the argument and Voldemort had probably just legilimensed him. Then again with the link he supposed it might not have mattered.

Either way Harry sensed no deception from the link but decided to take the whole thing with a grain of salt.

"You're learning," Voldemort hissed smugly though there was a hint of something under it in the link almost...

"What do you regret so much?" Harry asked before he could think it through. Voldemort raised his wand before checking himself. Well that answered the question about the spell.

"Why ask?" anger soaked the link through.

Harry remembered something from the pensive lessons, remembered how he had felt what felt like a lifetime ago, talking to a snake in a glass cage the first kind words he'd heard in months.

"Why refuse to answer?" Harry asked genuinely curious.

Voldemort watched him expressionless as ghosts of surprise and confusion flitted through the link.

"Habit and prudence."

"Now that just makes me more curious,"Harry replied and annoyance in equal measure, Harry found it strange how often the two were paired.

"Tell me, why have you switched to Parseltoungue?"

"Why should I answer if you won't?" Annoyance, impatience and a twitch of the wand, then the link went as still as a pond.

"An exchange of information then."

Harry felt a smile creep across his face at the tiny victory, "You first."

"No."

"You won't answer then."

Harry realized that he felt a bit of pleasure at the whisper of approval in the link and shook his head to clear it. He could not let himself be manipulated by the link again.

"I could say the same."

Harry's jaw dropped, "I'm the Gryffindor besides we both know I can't occlude you even without the link."

"One you're talking to the Dark Lord in Parseltoungue how much of a Gryffindor are you? Two I trust no one. Lastly we are equally aware that the link gives you the same ability or you wouldn't be doing this in the first place."

Harry felt a small twinge of something he didn't want to call pity. The last though intrigued him how did Voldemort know? Was it inference, legilimency, the link or did he know more about the link. Harry decided to try to find out but now wasn't the time.

"Fine. Say that you will answer and I'll go first."

"That is dangerously close to a demand."

Harry almost snapped back that he couldn't torture him now but reined himself in, that wouldn't help and he'd probably pay for it one way or another, "Please?"

"You could give Severus lessons in sarcasm. He'd never dare speak to me so brazenly. I will answer."

Harry could practically see the eyeroll thanks to the link and felt a little vicious pleasure at hearing the traitor spoken of so dismissively. He settled on the floor as he'd gotten used to in his dreams, Looking at the throne he remembered that this wasn't a dream and exactly how wrong everything had gone. Then again there was no harm in learning what he could even if it was propaganda.

"Guess I'm still a little Gryffindor after all," his voice cracked a bit but he hoped it wasn't noticeable in the hissing dialect. "So instinct I guess. I usually start speaking it when I hear it, I usually don't even notice."

"Why did you continue once you did notice?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm not really sure…I guess I wanted an answer…you seemed more comfortable talking like that so…I figured I was more likely to get an answer that way…I didn't really think about."

There was a long pause, "You have good instincts."

Grudging respect wormed through the link like oil and Harry felt sick, "It's only natural to be polite when you want to hear what someone has to say."

"Civility is by definition manipulation."

Harry blinked, "No it's just…nice."

"That's not only untrue but contradicts what you just said."

"No it doesn't. You can be kind to someone without wanting anything…well maybe you can't but actual humans…"

"You're still naïve but there's potential," Voldemort replied with a whisper of pleasure and anger in the link.

Harry glared a little but figured that 'Naïve' probably meant 'not evil' and kept silent.

"So?" he tried when the silence stretched.

"I don't know."

Harry felt indignant anger rising but the link didn't give the slightest hint of deception, in fact the only thing he caught was the barest whisper of…shame?

"How can you not know?"

Anger flashed through the link but Voldemort actually shrugged, "It's a…side effect you might say of darkmagic."

Harry almost laughed and gave a little snort.

"What?" Voldemort hissed and Harry had the image of a cobra flaring its hood. The blood drained from his face before he remembered the oath, if it could be trusted.

He swallowed…well no one had ever accused him of having an overblown sense of self-preservation, "It's just…it's weird seeing you shrug…it's so human and you're not…sorry."

Muted anger, "You still do not believe the oath was real."

Harry cocked his head, "I believe it enough to be talking."

"And yet you apologized so clearly you still think I intend to harm you."

"Well I'm not an idiot I'm sure you could find a way around the oath if you wanted to but no it…just sort of slipped out," Harry replied feeling his face heat.

"So soon you forget that we're enemies?" there was a strange…shakiness perhaps was the best word to the link and he suspected it was important.

Harry sighed disgusted with himself, then decided to go for broke, maybe it would get the niggling doubts out of his head, "It's just that….I don't know…"

He felt impatience in the link and it wasn't helping him marshal his thoughts though he tried to hurry.

"I guess…I hated you for so long but it was just like…this force…like badluck. And then…." He trailed off realizing that he'd almost said too much. "When we talk like this and you're not trying to kill me…it's interesting…I've never had a conversation like that with anyone…Well Hermione but she's a bit…"

"Weak, idiotic, simple…"

Harry snarled, "Don't insult her… She's saved my life more times than I can count she's just…idealistic I guess."

Voldemort gave that blood chilling laugh, "The potion calling water wet."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Voldemort's mouth twisted in something approximating a cruel smile, "You'll learn the folly of that soon enough."

An odd moment passed where the conversation was over and yet somehow Harry wasn't in a hurry leave despite the tension and Voldemort hadn't tried to dismiss.

He suddenly remembered and blurted out, "I've been meaning to ask. What are Kitals?"

"Kah-tals." Voldemort pronounced carefully, though the link far from being filled with annoyance at Harry's lack of education was surprised.

"They are made out of items that contain the magic of other magical creatures and as such, allow the wizard to access the magic of that creature. For example the fingers of a house elf can be turned into vitus haret or commonly 'power sticks'."

Harry swallowed his immediate visceral disgust, feeling Voldemort's amusement at it. Something odd occurred to him, when the locket had referred to other magical races it had done so in those words and with a tone of respect, "Why do you work with other races if you hate them so much?"

Voldemort's hand twitched and Harry flinched before he remembered that Voldemort shouldn't be able to hurt him…theoretically.

"They are useful, even manure can be used for compost."

The deception was obvious in the link if not anything else.

"You're lying."Harry trailed off sensing the tension in the link.

"As I've said purebloods need their appearances. There is only power and those too weak to seek it. Other magical races are powerful it would be short sighted to not ally with them. Though I do find house elves vile,"Voldemort replied.

"I have to admit I don't really understand it myself but it makes them happy."

Voldemort smirked at that.

"Everyone has that thing they want on an immediate level and on a long term one. Find that, offer it and you can make them do anything."

Harry shivered then sighed suddenly exhausted he felt like he spent the day around dementors,"I can leave?"

Voldemort nodded, "Gather your forces I will contact you when it's time to move."

Harry nodded, "I'll need my friends."

"You may choose one."

"I need them all."

"No you don't."

"I really do."

"You may choose one or you can all rot in the cells."

Harry snarled but could see there was no getting out, "Hermione then."

Voldemort nodded, "She'll be waiting for you."

"Uh one other thing. Hermione had a bag with her could I have it? There was a cloak of invisibility that I'll need it to move freely."

Voldemort nodded and with a gesture of his hand floated it out of the bag where it lay in a corner and over to Harry.

"Thanks," he said without thinking and bit his tongue.

Harry picked up Kraxil, turned and left, before he could make his situation worse. Folding the cloak as he went and slipping it into his robe he turned down the gaudy hall, stroking Kraxil.

"I'm sorry I left you," he hissed gently. It struck him that Voldemort had probably done the same thing and felt the same disgust, perhaps had even conversed with Nagini. The thought should have disturbed him but all he felt was a vague sense of irony.

"It'ssss alright. You came back, you sssaved me."

Harry felt like dirt even though he was immensely relieved that the little snake hadn't held anything against him, in fact that almost made it worse.

"You should be mad."

"Why you don't owe me anything. If anything I owe you." Harry choked back a sudden sob. "What'sss wrong ssspeaker?"

Harry shook his head and tried to swallow, "N-nothing it's…I'm happy to have you back."

"I'm glad to be back massster."

"Kraxil," Harry choked out.

The little snake raised its head to look him in the eyes.

"Please don't call me that."

"Yesss ma…"

"Harry…just Harry."

"Yessss Harrraaaahh."

Harry gave a watery smile, "Close enough."

It then hit him that he would have to find a way to explain everything to Hermione.

He met her where the stairs led down to the dungeon. She was dirty her clothes torn and he gasped. She shook her head but her eyes wide and fearful glistened with tears.

"It's okay Harry it's just from when we rescue d the werewolves. They didn't…do anything."

Harry let out a breath and embraced her only realizing when he pulled away that there was a death eater standing nearby.

"I was instructed to lead you outside the wards," the wizard said roughly and he got the distinct impression that the man didn't approve of the order but he led them on regardless.

Harry wondered if Voldemort might be facing those assassination attempts anyway. It appeared that his followers weren't going to take to the 'truce' any better than his own friends. At least he didn't have to worry about his friends killing him.

He wondered what that must be like to know that one misstep and everyone would pounce to tear you apart. It was rather similar to his own situation with the wider public, Rita Skeeter immediately popped into his mind but at least he had people who he knew would never turn on him.

That line of thought gave him an idea though, it likely wouldn't come to anything but it wouldn't cost him anything to experiment a bit provided he was cautious after all the meeting for the oath had turned into a surprisingly long conversation, if nothing else maybe he'd learn something. His time in the gaunt library had given him a thirst for more knowledge.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Death eater saying, "You can apparate from here."

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and he yelped as the sickening sensation of side-along apparition hit him.

Harry straightened, still queasy to find himself in Diagon alley. Harry followed Hermione until they were in Fortescue's. Harry ordered two scoops of 'Viridios mint' whatever that was and sat down across from Hermione at a booth.

"God Harry did th…are Ron and Lupin…" her voice broke and Harry reached across the table to place a hand on her shoulder.

"No they're fine."

Hermione looked up and blinked in surprise before wiping her eyes.

"How do you know? Have you talked to them?"

"No but…"

"Harry…what's going on."

"Voldemort told me they were alive and the link would let me know if he was lying."

Hermione blinked again and her face darkened, "Are you sure or do you think that's just what he wants you to believe?"

That hadn't occurred to Harry and he paled noticeably, "In this I have no reason to think otherwise. He doesn't have any reason to kill them, they're more valuable alive."

"'Valuable'?" Hermione gasped.

"I just mean that's how he'd see it."

Hermione looked at him sharply, "So why did he release us?"

Harry looked at the floor, "I arranged a uh…truce I guess until we can take out the Fackletragers."

Hermione squeaked, "You did what!? Good god Harry no…I mean how do you even…You-know-who's going to turn on you the second he can."

"Probably but we swore an unbreakable oath so there's only so much…speaking of which I need to find someone who can run a 'diagnostic' spell just to double check."

"I can but…" tears fell down her face and his heart ached to see it.

"I'm sorry Hermione…it seemed like the only chance we had."

"He tortured you,"

"No. Well a bit but more for…fun I guess he wasn't trying to get anything."

"I t-told you, you should have practiced oc…occlumency."

"Hermione please," Harry's voice cracked a little, "Would it really be better to live under the Fackletragers?"

"No but…"

"Do you see another way to defeat them?"

Hermione shook her head, "But what would Sirius say…Dumbledore?"

"I don't…They would…" Harry's breath hitched in a harsh sob. "They would be disgusted B-but…They…Hermione they're n-not here and…I…I'm doing the best I can I j-just…I don't know what the h-hell I'm doing and I…I've g-got all these people r-relying on me and…I really think this is…I just don't see any other options."

Hermione embraced him awkwardly over the table and they cried in each other's arms.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLVLV

Voldemort sat on his throne and spun his wand idly between his fingers. The boy was proving interesting, while he hadn't wanted to kill the horcrux it was only a single one, he could have afforded the sacrifice. However the boy might have some potential, he seemed curious enough and, contrary to the arrogant little boor his eyes in Hogwarts claimed, he seemed eager to learn and even had a bit of wit.

He hadn't really thought turning the little lion was a serious option but he was beginning to strongly reconsider. The rather humiliating episode with the candlestick proved that and now a truce uncoerced, simply because the boy could see the pieces on the board or more accurately had manage to get the guillible horcrux to explain the board. He wondered if there was a way to torture a horcrux without harming the creator.

Yes going forward he would be making a concerted effort to bring the boy over. That and searching for a way to block the link, yes it was supposed to be impossible but so were plenty of things he could do. It couldn't be allowed to stay as it was, the boy would wind up knowing things he shouldn't and not being able to lie would prove a problem on several levels. Perhaps he could bring the boy around honestly but there were things that the deatheaters could not know and while he didn't think the boy would be dumb enough to try holding it over him, though the boy also seemed to lack a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Worst case scenario he'd left himself ample loopholes in the oath to take care of the problem.

Idly he summoned the bag they had found on the girl. Looking inside he drew out a weapon the white edge slashed towards his face and he twisted out of reach. Forcibly holding the weapon at bay, he flicked his wand to envelop it in a stasis charm and leaned in to examine it, reading the old-Germanic runescript. 'Faded shadow of the night, pale reflection of the light'.

'Salazar,' he breathed. He'd thought it a replica at best but it appeared to be the genuine article. A yin yang blade was rare enough and this one 'Schattenlicht' was one of the most powerful ever created. It had been among half a dozen items he was eyeing in the ministry musuem for when they took over.

How the boy had obtained it he would have to find out, perhaps it'd been given to him? That fit with his suspicion that Dumbledore's little lamb was finally being trained now that the wizard couldn't stop it. On the other hand who would have wielded the dark half? That suggested that the boy had a powerful ally waiting in the wings in which case the most likely options were Nikovitch or Sabre.

If it was Nikovitch it stood to reason that Harry was actually on the side of the Fackleträgers or at least temporarily allied. While the link didn't provide him with the ability to tell if the boy was lying as he didn't have a piece of the boy's soul, he was an open book to legilimency unless that in itself was an illusion.

He carried the weapon into his armory and dropped it into one of the lock boxes before lifting the stasis.

He would examine it later.

He moved toward the meeting hall, contemplating the best course of action. He could make the boy pay for his lie or he could continue playing along and hope to use the knowledge to trap the trapper. If everything went according to plan he might be able to take out two enemies at once.

For now…

He reached the great hall, touched the dark mark of a death eater in attendance for that express purpose and waited for his army to appear.

"Narcissa I want you to take two others and the veela corps. Distraction only we want to draw attention to the ministry meanwhile, Lucius instruct your heir to move his team on the quidditch match at Hampshire that should draw the aurors, remind them that they are only to create a diversion not a massacre."

"Yes my lord," a dozen voices intoned.

"Then let it begin!"

He spotted only the usual suspects displaying falsity cheering to toe the line rather than out of genuine confidence. Well...they would learn soon enough. Wrong, wrong, so wrong.

It took a moment for him to realize that it was just the horcrux.

Of course this was largely a delay tactic. The boy would need time to gather his people and he couldn't reveal the alliance before he was certain that it would hold. Of course he could have simply forced the boy to take the mark and been able to recall him at will but he had a good chance of genuinely turning the boy and that would be a far greater coup on several levels.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry and Hermione strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade they held hands playing at being lovers and trying to look as innocuous as possible in case the Fackleträgers were watching, Hermione had convinced him that they should keep a low profile until they knew how the Fackleträgers felt about 'the-boy-who-lived'. He was ridiculously grateful for her presence and squeezed her hand, he didn't know what he would have done if she'd turned from him, as she had every right to do.

He wasn't exactly sure what his next move should be after gathering the order. He had a thought that perhaps he could do some damage from the inside of Voldemort's forces , but for one he had to assume that he couldn't lie to Voldemort any more than the reverse was true. Hell he couldn't have lied to Voldemort regardless, the past proved that he simply wasn't a good enough occlumens.

He could simply not go back but that left them back where they had started with the Fackleträgers. He sighed and Hermione squeezed his hand with a worried look.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered.

Tears welled in her eyes, "Niether do I but we're free and that means we have a chance."

Harry nodded, "We're still in the fight."

They entered the Hog's head and nodded to Aberforth before taking their seats. After about ten minutes the ancient wizard moved over to take their orders.

"What brings you to a place like this?"

"We were looking for some old friends they…tended to frequent your establishment," Hermione offered brightly.

"You're really bad at that," Aberforth chuckled darkly. "That said I actually have seen some of the people you're talking about. A few are still doing alright in that den of inequity. Some of the others I'm sad ta say are with the ghosts."

Harry paled but Hermione nodded brightly, "Thank you. We'll have two butter beers."

"And a firewhiskey," Harry cut in, unsure of why he'd even said it. Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

Aberforth just shook his head and return with the drinks. Hermione looked askance at her dirty glass while Harry sniffed his own drink and felt his nose burn. Yikes. He was actually supposed to drink that?

Hermione tried to hide a smile in a small sip at her butterbeer and Harry gulped his drink because he didn't really have much choice at that point. He began coughing and accidently spit out half of it.

He gasped wiping the liquid away with his sleeve and half expecting the cloth to catch fire.

"Damn."

Hermione laughed behind her hand. It was good to hear even at his own expense. They hadn't laughed in a long time.

With a sigh he rose and they walked out.

"Where are you going?" he asked as Hermione set off.

"He said some of the order members are at the shrieking shack," she said with her 'did you really not understand that?' look.

He nodded and followed her silently, when the exited the Hog's head he ducked into an alley and drew the invisibility cloak over them.

They then proceeded to the shrieking shack. Hermione knocked politely on the rickety wooden door.

After a long tense moment it opened a crack to reveal Bill Weasley with his wand trained on them.

"Who's there?"

"It's us." Harry said.

Bill nodded grimly, "Go in and take it off."

Harry obey and under the threatening wand and entered to find Mcgonagal, Doge, Diggle and another witch and wizard he didn't recognize crammed into the small space, surrounded by blankets and pillows and the like obviously they had been there for a while and weren't planning to leave anytime soon.

"Potter!" McGonagall cried in shock as they took off the cloak.

"Hey," he said sheepishly. Your savior's here. God he hated his life some times, he felt so inadequate standing there about to announce what would, to them appear to be surrender.

"Forgive me," Bill whisper and Harry found himself in full body bind. The unknown witch moved her wand in a complicated graceful pattern.

"Egritudo," she watched him with an expression of deep concentration then gave a little gasp.

"What is it?" McGonagall asked her voice tight.

"There are no spells active on him except for an unbreakable vow."

McGonagall's lips parted slightly and she lifted the binding and the other witch repeated the process with Hermione.

"Harry what's going on?" McGonagall asked.

Harry sighed and explained what he had done. Despite his best efforts, his voice started shaking.

The unknown witch walked up and slapped him. Hard. Harry looked up desperately trying to blink back tears to see the witch glaring at him, her own tears beginning to fall.

"How dare you? You dishonor Dumbledore's name. No his whole life! I prayed that you were alive I…I," she broke down sobbing.

Harry should have felt sympathy but the first thing he felt was a wash of rage. How dare he? How dare they? He was all of seventeen. How dare they put this on him and then get mad when he didn't perform to their expectations? Why should you be their sacrifice?

As he remembered Voldemort's words his anger disappeared and all he felt was shame. He knew he had a responsibility, had for years and he'd failed to live up to it. They had a right to hate him.

"I'm sorry," he said. The witch snorted and turned her back on him.

"Wh…"McGonagall swallowed. "What does the oath entail?"

He laid out all the terms haltingly.

McGonagall nodded stiffly, "Then we must work with what we have."

Harry sucked in a breath and fought the urge to breakdown over her simple acceptance.

"I'm not saying it's the right choice by any stretch but I understand why you did it."

"We can't fight a war on two sides," he whispered.

McGonagall nodded her grudging assent.

Chapter Text

Harry woke to find a small spread of sandwiches laid out in the cramped shack and that Fred, George and their parents had joined the already crowded quarters.

"Hey Harry!" the twins greeted, they sounded happy but their eyes were sorrowful.

"Where's Ronnikins?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry again laid out what had happened, wondering how many times he would have to. When he'd finished Mr. Weasley was ghost white and Mrs. Weasley let out a heart-rending sob even as she rose and embraced him.

"What a horrid choice," she bemoaned, sniffling into his robe. He hugged her back, shocked that she didn't hate him for choosing Hermione.

"How could you?!" George roared.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, "At least he's still alive."

"Thanks to Harry," Mr. Weasley added in a choked voice.

"That isn't what I mean…" George began.

"How could you betray us?!" Fred finished.

Harry tried to explain and over time, with some help from their father, the twins calmed but they were no happier with the situation than the others had been.

Harry understood, he wasn't happy with it either. When it was all done he calmly excused himself, pulled on his invisibility cloak and wandered up toward the cave where Sirius had hidden. God Sirius…what would he say? Harry knelt on the rocky floor and sobbed.

That night they went their separate ways, breaking into groups to move to different safe houses; McGonagall and the wizard Raoul took Harry and Hermione to one safe house while the others broke off in their own groups.

XxXx

With McGonagall's help they had eventually rounded up twenty Order members, the rest had either turned them down or couldn't be found. Every time Harry saw the betrayed sobbing of a witch or the damp-eyed hatred of a wizard his heart broke a little more.

Shacklebolt today was the last and of course it was being the hardest, the auror's face was expressionless as tears streamed down it.

"Harry I have a duty as an auror. If we cast aside our principles when things get difficult then they are not principles."

"What is it worth if you serve under the Fackleträgers?" Harry asked, his voice breaking.

"It's better than working with dark wizards," Shacklebolt replied, still with that infuriating calm.

"When the Fackleträgers are gone the war will continue," Harry argued.

"At what cost? We will not be the people we were if we side with them."

"You think the Fackleträgers are better?" Harry shot back, his voice growing high and cracked as he gestured at Shacklebolt's suppression collar.

"Yes, when this is over we can fix our government and these will come off. Will the dark marks?" Shacklebolt had asked, wiping away the tears.

"I don't have a mark! I'm not a damn death eater!"

"It's not on your arm. It's on your soul."

Harry sighed his breath hitching as he started to cry, "I'm willing to give my life to defeat Voldemort. I'll give my soul if that's what it takes to defeat an equal threat."

"No one asked you to fight Voldemort, your fate is a horrible one but your connection to he-who-must-not-be-named is just that. The Fackleträgers are a political problem."

"Y-you're right. No one e-ever a-asked, you demanded it. Whether I want it or not these people look to me and demand that I save them, you don't get to tell me that I have to fight one enemy but can't fight another."

"We can when that fight will bring ruin to us all."

"No you can't, you can simply choose not to fight with me."

That night Harry lay in his 'bed' if a spare robe to cushion the floor of another nameless safe house and a blanket counted. He sniffled into the pack that he was using for a pillow as he tried to sleep.

He wondered if he should seek out Voldemort for whatever came next, the idleness was making everything so much worse. He didn't want to think about the things he'd done, he just wanted to move forward, do what he had to do. See what selling his soul had bought him. His breath hitched in a harsh gasp and he felt a flash of anger he recognized as from the link. He smiled through his tears if the link worked in reverse Voldemort must be having a grand time right now. He wondered what it was like for the monster to feel the echo of what he was feeling now.

He woke the next morning wishing that he could go back to sleep, hide in his dreams where Dumbledore lived and the Order was whole and he'd never betrayed everything he'd ever cared about.

Instead he took a few slow breaths because he felt near a panic attack and when he had calmed, forced himself to his feet and walked into the house's small kitchen to join the others.

"Hey Harry," George greeted.

"Hey," Harry sat down to a breakfast of scrambled eggs courtesy of Raoul. He made small talk but wasn't really focused on the conversation. Finally with a slight growl he rose.

"I'm going to town for a bit - I need to get out. I'll be back by dark."

With that he left, feeling the others' eyes boring into his back. He pulled on his invisibility cloak and slipped out. He was done waiting for Voldemort to stop jerking him around.

He realized as he walked that he had no idea how to actually get to the castle. Leave it to him to not be able to find the bastard he'd been avoiding for three years. He had seen no sign that the Fackleträgers had ousted Voldemort's people in Hogwarts though, so with no other leads he apparated to Hogsmeade and moved into the secret passage in Honeyduke's.

He moved quickly through the tunnel, exited into his old home and wondered again at the fact that for both he and Voldemort it had been the first place they could call home. An even more disturbing thought popped into his head; given what he'd seen in those dreams it'd probably been the first place either of them had felt safe. Well at least until Voldemort kept trying to attack him but even then he'd still felt safer in Hogwarts than anywhere else and he'd had people who'd cared about him.

And Voldemort hadn't, he could hear Dumbledore's words in his head as though the man were standing beside him, 'Could it be that you're feeling sorry for lord Voldemort?'. Harry shook his head even though he knew he was alone. Always alone even in a crowd.

He moved through the echoing stone halls, hoping that he would find one of the Carrows before Snape. He still wished he could curse the traitor into oblivion.

"Who goes there?"

Harry cursed himself as he saw Alecto drop the disillusionment charm that had concealed her, wand trained on him and a sick smile on her face.

"How lucky I am," she whispered, swaying up to him like a jungle cat. "Should I kill you here or have you come to surrender?"

Harry blinked, apparently his 'arrangement' wasn't open knowledge.

"Actually I was hoping that you could take me to your master," Harry replied trying to sound confident.

Alecto laughed, "The Dark Lord is everyone's master you just don't know it yet."

Harry tried not to flinch at the words, wondering how close he was to that already, "Just take me to him, please?"

Alecto blinked at that and barked a laugh, "Aren't you little lambs so very polite?"

Despite the gravity of his circumstance Harry chuckled a little, embarrassed.

"Habit?" This was too surreal.

"Keep your hands where I can see them."

Harry obeyed and watched her touch her wand to her dark mark and speak, "The boy requests an audience."

"Dryad hill," Voldemort's voice hissed quiet and commanding.

"Yes my Lord," she turned her wand on Harry and he flinched for his own wand as the body bind flashed toward him and bounced off a shield.

"Wandless huh? It seems you have grown."

In truth Harry was as surprised as she, it hadn't been a conscious spell but he smiled anyway, reaching for his wand.

Carrow sighed, "Much as I would like to duel you, you might die. I need to bind you so we can apparate."

Was she scared of him? Why would she care if he died? Then it clicked, Voldemort had told her to bring him wherever that hill was, it was failing her lord that scared her. For a moment he felt a swell of pity for the human in front of him that was little more than a whipped dog.

"You don't have to bind me."

"You have to be joking."

Harry forced a laugh he had no idea why the death eaters hadn't been told and aware of how precarious his own position with the Order was decided not to seek trouble for once. Besides she wouldn't kill him she had to follow orders. An army of cowards wasn't much of an army. Unfortunately he couldn't gain anything either if he were to attack her it would serve no purpose and only leave him who knew where with Voldemort and he wasn't too keen on betting his life on priori incantatem again.

He felt the binding land and the odd sensation of shivering in disgust with out actually being able to shiver as her cold hand clamped on his wrist, then he was being squished through that tube of toothpaste and damn apparition while bound was even worse than regular side-along. He fell to the spongy ground and smelled leaf litter.

"Leave usss."

"Yes my Lord." He heard a snap as she disapparated and rose to his feet.

"You have succeeded?"

Harry shivered he was not a death eater. This was a necessity and no more. Thinking it didn't make him believe it any more.

"Yep."

The blood red eyes narrowed.

"I see that your precious headmaster failed to instill in you an understanding of a 'plan'. If we are going to work together you must obey. "

"That wasn't part of the agreement," Harry replied flatly.

"No but I was under the impression that you intended to win the war as much as I. To do that plans must come together flawlessly," there was rage in the link but his tone was calm if condescending. It actually reminded Harry of how teachers tried to kindly correct Neville after he'd made the same mistake yet again. He was caught between being deeply offended and stifling a laugh.

"And I'm sure if I came up with a plan you'd just jump to my bidding?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Hhhssss! It isn't obedience. In the highly unlikely event that you were to conceive of a plan and we agreed to use it I would fulfill my part because it would be counter to my own interest in winning the war to intentionally sabotage it."

Harry blushed and looked at the ground, he hadn't thought of it like that.

"This changes things slightly. I will need to present you to my Death Eaters tomorrow night. You will behave appropriately as dictated by the oath. After that we will plan our next move."

As though they hadn't already been planning. Well he'd mostly been freaking out but he had no doubt that the dark lord had been doing little but planning, "Define appropriate?"

The dark lord glared but Harry felt something like intrigue and almost pleasure in the link, "Don't speak unless I speak directly to you. Use proper titles, show no open defiance."

"You intend to humiliate me," Harry said bitterly.

"Only if you make me," no deception. "On the contrary I intend to present you as an ally as I did the Vampires. Provided you act accordingly."

"I will act like you say provided that I can call you Voldemort when we talk like this," Harry countered. His pride and loyalty to Dumbledore made him want to say 'Tom' but he knew that would be going too far. Or maybe he was just scared, even made toothless by the oath, the monster in front of him made him feel insignificant and vulnerable.

Surprise filled the link though the snakelike expression betrayed none, "Why?"

"Because we are supposed to be on equal footing. We can't defeat the Fackleträgers alone."

A flash of anger, "A small concession."

Curiosity lingered in the link and in truth Harry was also curious why he'd made that request but it seemed important.

"I…want to…I want to remember that I'm not one of your dogs."

"Aren't you?" There was something approving in the thought though.

"No. I will never be like Carrow."

"We'll see."

I won't, Harry thought desperately as terror seeped into his bones.

"A word of caution. Show no weakness in front of the death eaters. If you wish to live you will need their fear. "

Harry nodded as the pieces clicked together, "That's why you have that house." A twitch of something, quickly suppressed, flickered in the link.

"I enjoy solitude no more."

"No. That's not all of it," he replied slowly following his logic trail, he remembered crying in the room of requirement after Dumbledore's death and his next words came without thought, spoken from the heart and experience, "You need somewhere to …let your guard down, everyone does."

Voldemort flicked his hand and fire scorched along the ground as Harry leaped back instinctively even though it would have missed him by several feet.

Voldemort walked close and grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to meet the blood red eyes, he could feel the echoes of the searing pain touching him caused Voldemort yet he saw no hint of it in the snake's eyes. Harry tried not to tremble, to remember that for all the show of power Voldemort couldn't hurt him and in fact if he could push him to the other would die for it.

"Do I look like 'everyone' to you?" he hissed.

"No." Harry panted for breath and tried to meet the snake's eyes without fear. "I didn't mean it like that. Legilimens me if you don't believe the link. I just…I know…I've felt like that…I assumed. I guess I was wrong."

"You 'guess' correct," he shoved Harry's face back to bare his neck.

They stared at each other and Harry hoped his instinctive fear wasn't too obvious.

"So is there anything else I need to know?"

Voldemort watched him a moment longer then let go, anger scorched the link but it was at his own mistake not Harry. He handed him a small silver snake that looked like a bracelet charm, "It's a dormant portkey. To activate it say 'My Lord'"

"It's okay you can call me Harry," the words slipped out.

"You understand that if you say something of that kind in the presence of a witness, I will personally torture your redhead until he can't remember his name?"

Harry nodded his throat bone dry.

"Now we have wasted enough time. What is the strength of your forces?"

"A dozen witches and Wizards," Harry replied undercutting his numbers.

"So we'll call it thirty."

Harry tried not to betray anything and wondered if this was proof that the lie detection of the link worked both ways or if he just sucked at this.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry…about what I said early about the house. I hadn't meant to insult you."

In the short time he had actually been having discussions with Voldemort he'd never seen him speechless but if the silence was up for interpretation the absolute shock in the link wasn't.

Harry tried to project his own confusion in the link.

Curiosity and anger warred and curiosity seemed to win, "Why would you apologize?"

"I felt like I should."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Uh…I'm not really sure honestly," he didn't need the link to sense the disdain and contempt, "I just…like there are a bunch of ways I could insult you I mean you're an insane murderer, you're a sadist, …I mean we're on different sides, we want to kill each other so obviously I could insult you but…Even if I'd been right that isn't something I'd intentionally insult someone about."

"Idiot! I am asking why you are apologizing when I haven't forced you to submit."

Harry shrugged.

"Because I wanted to," he replied wondering why he felt bad about accidentally offending a monster who would have happily seen him and his friends dead.

"Be quiet."

Harry could feel the ghost of a headache and obeyed. He could pick his fights and there was no point to this one.

"Can I ask something?"

"What?!"

"Why do you surround yourself with whipped dogs? What is the point of having people who're terrified of you?"

"They're obedient. I don't have to worry about them destroying a plan because they think they know better."

"But they aren't loyal."

"No one's loyal."

"My friends are. Even through this," Harry gestured at his dark counterpart, his voice cracking. "They've stood by me."

"They need you," Voldemort replied disdainfully.

"It's more than that. We need each other but there's no loyalty."

"There can be need without 'loyalty' there can't be 'loyalty' without need. What you call 'loyalty' is simply the weak's natural gravitation toward power. No more than animal instinct. How fast did those 'loyal legions' turn on your Headmaster when he was dead and of no more use?"

The truth in that stung and he had no argument. So wait…

"Then what about that little snake?" he asked. He'd been wondering about that since Voldemort had threatened Kraxil.

"What snake?"

"The one from the dream. The one Billy Stubbs killed?"

Surprise. "What about it?"

"You avenged it."

"He touched something that belonged to me. That requires retribution or else people would keep doing it. In much the same way the Fackleträgers will keep doing what they do until the cost becomes too high," he explained annoyance at Harry's stupidity clear both in tone and link.

"I felt your anger, that wasn't possessiveness," Harry argued wondering how far he could push his curiosity.

Annoyance flashed in the link and Voldemort gave a slight twitch that might have been a shrug…or a desire to kill him on the spot who knew?

"As I said dulled memories are a side effect of some of the magics that have made me what I am." That wasn't entirely truthful.

"Isn't it kind of…counterproductive to be doing stuff that fries your memories if you're all about magical knowledge?"

"Do not sssspeak as if you know me! I never said they damaged the memories. It's simply…if you think of a normal memory as…" Harry felt frustration as he searched for a way to explain then took a step back as a flash of intense rage hit the link before disappearing like someone had flipped a switch.

"They are simply pure information, the memory of the event without any obscuring impressions."

"Except in dreams?"

Tension filled the link and Voldemort fixed him with a deadly glare.

"Are you here for a lesson in the intricacies of dark magic?" he sneered.

Harry's initial instinct was a vehement denial but he remembered their talk about staff laws and well what harm was knowledge?

"If you're offering," he replied, expecting to get shot down.

Voldemort eyed him appraisingly, "There are some dark magics that can obviously," Voldemort spread his arms and pride filled the link, "make one more than human."

Harry wanted to argue that but instead thought over the pensieve lessons, "Like horcruxes or the resurrection ritual?"

Surprise. "Yes those would both be examples."

"Dumbledore told me."

Anger. "Ah. So you knew what the locket was and still chose to speak to it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I wanted information."

"That's not all of it."

Harry hesitated but figured it wouldn't do any damage, "I'm not really sure why I opened it…I just did. I dunno maybe I wanted to learn more…like I said I find our conversations informative."

Intrigue. Just a whisper but there.

"You're curious."

"Not at all. I simply…want to know what going on."

"Dumbledore told you exactly what he decided you should know and nothing more."

"He didn't have time."

"He led you to slaughter."

"No," Harry denied even though it was certainly feeling like that this summer.

Voldemort laughed, "You want the truth from the snake's mouth."

Harry didn't reply to the taunt, feeling Voldemort's increasing glee at his discomfort.

"You are a horcrux."

Harry gasped but could feel the truth of the words, Voldemort was enjoying this, more than he'd enjoyed anything in a long time.

"Dumbledore knew that to kill me you will have to die. He led you here."

On some level he'd known…not about the horcrux but that he would have to die. The prophecy was part of it but some how deep down he'd suspected he wouldn't walk away from the final confrontation. He turned away as a tear slid down his cheek despite his best efforts to stop it.

"So that's the link?" he asked his voice quavering.

"Yessss."

"So this truce…you actually need me alive?"

"Need? No, when the Fackleträgers are defeated I assume we will go our separate ways. However should you decide that you don't want to die…"

"I'm not afraid to die," Harry snarled, "Unlike you."

"I can't be killed, unlike you."

"We'll sssee," Harry replied.

"When the time comes," a soft pop sounded.

Harry turned to find Voldemort gone. He let out a sigh, exhausted and double checked that the little snake charm was still in his pocket. He wasn't sure why he was so tired but for some reason talking to Voldemort outside of dreams was worse than a quidditch match. There was so much he wished he'd asked about the link and he cursed himself for being too thrown to think straight. Oh well. He'd have another chance - the war was just beginning.

Chapter Text

Harry paced the rough wooden floors of the safe house restlessly.

Finally he turned to McGonagall and dropped the hand that had been toying with the end of his Gryffindor scarf, "How quickly can you round everyone up?"

"It would take less than an hour. Dare I ask why," there was worry under the dryness of her tone.

"I have an er…meeting tonight. I'm not sure what will happen and we may need to act quickly."

McGonagall nodded stiffly, "Do you know where you'll be?"

"Not really."

"We will do what we can but…"

It took Harry a moment to realize what was going on, "I won't be in danger. At least not unless something goes very wrong. I just…We may need to move quickly."

"You are awaiting orders," McGonagall sounded like her worst fears had been confirmed.

"No I don't take orders!" Harry winced, "I'm sorry it's just…it's not like that. But we do have to agree to a plan, that's what an alliance is right?"

McGonagall's glare softened, "'Alliance'? I thought it was a cease fire?"

Harry looked away, "The whole point is to combine our resources."

"Harry…do me a favor, whatever happens however well things might go, do not for a second, think that you aren't being used."

"Well I'm used to that right," he looked down, embarrassed by the bitter retort. "Don't worry I know I'm out of my depth I just hope that I can use him a little in turn."

"That's a fool's gamble."

"Maybe but if I could see any other choice I'd take it."

"And if I saw another way I'd make you," she replied with fire in her voice. "I don't."

"I'm sorry," Harry said though whether for his own actions or the circumstances he didn't know.

"I think we all are."

Harry went to his room and sat on the robe that served as his 'mattress', wishing he had a book though he doubted he could have concentrated. He dreaded the coming meeting, forced to play submissive like he was back with the Dursley's, except instead of knowing that rules on underage magic were the only reason they could treat him like that, he knew the only thing keeping him alive was the oath.

It occurred to him again that he could simply play Peeves and wreak havoc but as always he dismissed the thought. Really the only thing to do was make use of the arrangement and hope that by the time the year was up he would have acquired the knowledge and skills to give himself a fighting chance.

As he was turning this over in his mind he felt something warm and for an absurd moment thought he was being called to a DA meeting, before he realized that it was the little charm. Protean on a portkey? He would have to ask Hermione about that when he returned.

He pulled it out and stared for a long moment not wanting to bow to Voldemort's petty whims but with little choice. It seemed that in the end he never had a choice, he was always being moved into position by other people or fate itself.

He took a steadying breath and hating himself with every fiber of his being, hissed, "My Lord."

The familiar tug pulled at his stomach and had a sudden flashback to the tri-wizard tournament, his hatred of Voldemort burned like wildfire at the memory.

He found himself deposited in a forest and saw the turrets of a castle in the distance. He moved toward the castle where he'd been held prisoner and tried to carry himself with confidence, it wasn't something he had much practice with.

He arrived at a stone wall broken by massive double doors of black wood, inlaid with carved silver snakes and paused, feeling very insignificant. He could feel a sort of ominous pressure on him. He wasn't welcome, or maybe life itself wasn't welcome, it was the exact opposite of the feeling that he got from Hogwarts.

"Open."

Nothing happened. Harry sighed, feeling like an idiot.

"Salazar." "I am the heir." Harry screamed and fell back as a bolt of green energy hit his arm and shot up it sending searing pain from his elbow to shoulder. He leaped back to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his system. The adrenaline faded as nothing happened for several minutes and he clutched his arm close as the pain began to register. What had that been? Was there a limit on the number of attempts you could make? There weren't a lot of options so he braced himself and tried again anyway.

"Pureblood."

Nothing happened, he relaxed a little and wracked his brain. He'd been taught by Dumbledore. He had a piece of Voldemort's soul, the thought still made him nauseous. Surely he could figure this out.

"Power." "Voldemort." "Immortal." "Nagini."

Harry kicked a stone in frustration, so the humiliation was to start already?

"Hello."

Harry jumped about a foot and turned, wand out, to find Voldemort floating in the air behind him, his own wand also drawn but relaxed at his side.

Harry lowered his wand, painfully aware of Voldemort's pleasure at his reaction.

He glared before realizing how dumb he probably looked, the anger in the link turned into a sort of dark amusement.

After a long stretch of silence with Voldemort floating there like a dementor, Harry finally gave in to impatience, "Are you gonna let me in?"

Voldemort's eyes flashed and Harry tensed instinctively.

"Remember you cannot speak like that in front of the death eaters."

"Really?"

Rage.

"If you want to live out the year. Also if you want to avoid that thinning of the ranks."

Harry huffed.

Voldemort flicked his wand and the world became muffled as he floated past Harry to touch down in front of the door.

What did you do! Harry yelled but no sound came out. Harry took a step toward the Voldemort but the dark wizard flicked his wand again as the doors creaked open.

"What was that?" Harry yelped relieved to hear his own voice.

"I deafened you temporarily," both tone and link conveyed annoyance over the fact that Harry couldn't figure out something so obvious.

As he followed Voldemort through the castle, Harry made a mental note to be more ready to defend himself, just because he couldn't be directly hurt didn't mean that those 'non-harmful' spells couldn't cause him harm anyway.

Once they were settled in the throne room, Voldemort spoke, "So my next objective is to undermine the country's faith in their new masters. I want you and yours to recruit."

Harry was about to say something about not following his orders but it did sound like a good plan and sniping for the sake of it wasn't going to get him very far.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Attack some major establishments to demonstrate for the people how incapable the Fackleträgers are of protecting them."

"The oath said…"

Voldemort hissed and rage burned through the link, "I know what I agreed to! Rest assured I have no intention of killing my recruits."

"You're recruits? Then why are my people doing the recruiting?"

"Much as you may wish to deny we are on the same side now your forces are mine."

"No they aren't."

"You may have command however in the sense they their strength will further my objectives they are mine so the point remains."

Harry sighed and nodded.

"Once I have built up my numbers we will begin making small hit and run raids on Fackleträgers emplacements, then seeing how they react, I'll have an idea of how best to arrange my forces for a final strike."

Harry nodded again he didn't really know anything about this except what he'd gleaned from watching the order and Voldemort for the last two years. Still he saw no glaring problems, but then he supposed he wouldn't.

"So when's the meeting?"

"Whenever I call them," Voldemort replied with a cold smile.

Harry settled on the floor as was becoming his habit.

"What is that?" Harry asked as he watched Voldemort examine the chessboard like contraption and nudge a couple of pieces slightly.

"It's a scout's board, it keeps track of the status and location of the players in the war."

"How?"

"How?" the reply was condescending but Harry also heard surprise, which was weird usually he needed the link for that.

"Yeah how does it work? Or don't you know?"

"Childish insults aside, there's a piece of the person or group represented by each figure inside it. By opening the conduit," he flicked a hand and a few pieces shifted minutely, while one glowed faintly red, "I can update it in real time."

"That's not the truth."

"Not the whole truth. I have a method to keep it from being traced back so no one can use the conduit to find the castle. That I will not reveal but the explanation is accurate."

Harry nodded impressed despite himself, deciding that it was best to try to keep such information coming he replied, "I've never seen one before. Thanks for explaining."

"They are rare but not unheard of. The concealing method was my own creation though, so don't think to find it in a book."

A hint of pride whispered through the link.

Harry nodded again and a bold thought struck him, "May I talk to the locket?"

"No."

Harry cast about for a way to convince him and remembered Slughorn, "Look I…don't know a lot about this stuff but the locket was…cautious. If it thinks the plan is good I'll trust it."

Harry cast an eye at Voldemort's wand, he was toying with it a bit, obviously itching to curse him and Harry swallowed, reminding himself that he was safe.

"I'm not going to agree until I hear what…that part of you has to say."

He saw a muscle in the snake-like jaw twitch and annoyance filled the link. Score. Harry not to smile. Though he was curious as to why Voldemort was annoyed rather than flattered. Either way he moved to one wall. Another deafening spell fell on Harry and he growled silently, it must have been wandless, he had no indication of it being cast.

Harry quickly forgot his annoyance as, after a complicated series of wand motions, the wall slid apart to reveal a side room filled with boxes and magical artifacts of every shape and description.

He felt a ghost of pride in the link.

Voldemort raised a hand and a small box floated up to it, he then flicked his wand and the wall returned.

Another complicated wand wave caused the box to open and the deafening spell lifted a second later.

Voldemort moved his left hand and the horcrux rose up to float between them as he returned to his throne.

Harry noted the complete emptiness of the link and wondered if the locket was interfering somehow.

"Open."

The locket opened to Voldemort's command and Harry saw the image of young riddle appear. A bit of anger touched the link and Harry realized how much Voldemort must hate not just seeing it but showing his former self to Harry.

"Hello," the locket said allowing a slight smile.

"Hey, long time," Harry replied. He'd missed the locket a little and wondered if that was something to do with being a horcrux himself.

"Your 'friend' want's your opinion on a battle plan," Voldemort sneered.

"I have no 'friends' surely you know that," the locket retorted

"And yet you greet him as one."

The locket looked away, "He's pleasant to talk to. I've been in that thing for an inordinate amount of time. A philosophical discussion does not necessarily beget affection," the locket sneered the word with utter disdain, "as you are quite aware."

Harry could feel Voldemort's ire growing, but instead of answering he relayed the plan. Harry felt an ache growing in his chest and like water leaking from a bucket he could sense wisps of pain in the link.

"You alright?" Harry asked. The words had just slipped out and he was instantly ashamed but he was also worried what would happen to him if something went wrong, he had next to know idea how the link worked after all.

The locket tensed slightly and rage coursed through the link.

"Your thoughts on the plan?" Voldemort demanded of the horcrux, ignoring Harry.

"It sounds fine, we're not half as inept as he would have had me believe. Why didn't you just curse him into a bloody puddle?"

The pain and rage in the link were growing in equal measure and Harry struggled to take a deep breath, fighting panic.

"We are defeating the fackletragers first then I do believe I shall."

"What…did…I do…wrong?" Harry gasped.

Voldemort hissed in rage but the locket answered, "You insulted us."

"H-how?" damn he was really starting to get scared now…he couldn't get enough air and it was a sort of primal fear he'd never felt, despite all of his deadly encounters.

Voldemort closed the locket before it could answer and instantly the pain was gone to just a slight ache from the link.

Harry gave a gasp of relief.

"Satisfied?" Voldemort asked as he put the horcrux away.

"Yeah but what the hell was that?"

"An effect of being too close to another soul piece."

"That didn't happen the last time I talked to it."

Anger and surprise. Wait did that mean…

"So that was just an echo of what you were feeling?"

"I would assume it was more than an echo if it was that bad."

"That's a lie but whatever. There has to be a way to block this," Harry said thinking aloud.

A whisper of something touched the link too fast for Harry to catch but it was positive which meant nothing good for him.

"It can be occluded to an extent but more than that is supposed to be impossible."

Harry's face fell and he quickly schooled his features into what he hoped was indifference.

"I intend to rectify that," he continued smugly, "I assure you I do not wish to hear your useless emotions. I would be willing to see that you have at least enough skill to manage to block that."

"I won't train under Snape," Harry shot back, though he was happy for the chance of a little privacy if Voldemort had half the insight into his mind that Harry did into his.

"Ah yes you have some childish animus towards him?"

"That and you had him kill Dumbledore!" Harry hissed angrily.

A mix of muted impressions ran across the link but mainly Voldemort wasn't happy at all.

"You didn't know?"

"I knew he was lying but I had yet to determine about what. He lies so very much after all."

"You can say that again,"Harry replied bitterly. Voldemort laughed high and cruel and he felt surprise in the link. He was more than a little surprised himself to be agreeing with the man however shallowly.

"It's time. You first." Voldemort said and Harry felt nothing but annoyance in the link as he rose and moved out into the hall, realizing too late that he had obeyed without question.

Voldemort hissed angrily as they moved down the hall, "Don't be so nervous they'll sense it."

Harry froze and saw Voldemort turn down a side corridor that Harry hadn't been down before.

"They'd attack me?"

"My word will protect you but it would be better for everyone if it didn't come to that."

"Why?"

"Because then the more ambitious will go after you in secret. It would be a great offense to them to have someone so weak elevated above them, particularly you."

Harry shivered.

"Only the powerful survive. Never forget that."

Harry nodded. He didn't agree of course but this was the snake's world so he wasn't about to argue.

"Stop that!" Voldemort hissed sharply.

"What?"

"That feeling, it's disgusting."

Harry realized with his own disgust and anger that he'd actually felt safer, a little more confident, at the advice, even though he knew Voldemort was merely serving his own ends.

"Don't forget the oath," Voldemort warned, a clear threat in his tone, as they entered a large meeting hall.

Harry nodded and tried to imagine that he was walking onto a quidditch pitch. He realized that he felt tension from the link too, Voldemort assuming Harry was going to ruin this somehow.

For some reason he suddenly had the deep desire to prove him wrong.

Two Death Eaters were standing at attention on the far side of the room, one of them trotted up and knelt, head bowed with one arm extended to bare the dark mark. Voldemort touched the mark and the Death Eater's face contorted as he fought the pain. Disgust coated the link, though whether at the Death Eater's reaction or Harry's instinctive pity he didn't know.

Voldemort moved toward the head of the room and Harry for lack of anything else to do followed. Voldemort conjured an ebony throne and with another wave of his wand, transfigured the arms into carvings of open-mouthed basilisks heads. Maybe…Harry wasn't actually sure if that was a transfiguration or a charm, it seemed to have traits of both. Perhaps it was merely an illusion? Somehow he doubted that.

Either way Voldemort settled in it as the Death Eaters began to enter. Harry stood at the side of the throne feeling bloody awkward and wished that he looked less like a dog tied out by its owner.

"Ah my faithful…and not so faithful followers."

Harry felt a collective shiver of fear run through the assembled wizards.

"As you can see we have a new ally. Kneel boy."

Hating Voldemort with everything he had, Harry knelt.

"Rise!" Harry stood, glaring at the man for forcing him to humiliate himself, as a cheer roared through the assembly.

"The boy will be leading his forces in concert with you my Death Eaters. You will follow no order from him. However to interfere with his or his forces actions is to interfere with your Lord's."

"Is that clear?" silence. It didn't seem like a good silence but then it was a Death Eater meeting. He doubted anything good had ever happened there.

Voldemort swept his murderous gaze over the ranks.

"Dear Bellatrix you have doubts?"

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward and if looks could kill she would have been far more effective at ending him than Voldemort had ever been.

"It's just…why not simply kill the boy and take control of his forces?"

"For the same reason we do not do so to the vampires. They are a cohesive unit under an, admittedly unwisely, trusted leader. There is no reason to destroy that and waste time rebuilding."

"But my Lord…" Bellatrix trailed off in horror.

"Are you questioning your Lord?" Voldemort asked, locking eyes with his follower.

"No, no of course not my Lord!"

Voldemort turned languidly toward Harry, his wand at ease in his hand on the basilisk armrest.

"Act as though we're discussing a matter of great importance and respond in Parseltongue only," Voldemort ordered.

"What?" Harry asked genuinely confused, but sensing in the link that this was highly important.

"Exactly. Now make your ressssponse longer. Like you're making a point about, shall we sssay persssonnel."

"Okay. Why exactly are we doing this?" he began then, realizing that he should say more continued. "And can't we at least talk about something important?"

"One can you perform occlumency at all? Two can you perform a cruciatus. If your life depended on it?"

"Not really and same but…maybe if it was Snape."

"Useless," Voldemort's annoyance and tension were clear in the link. "For the rest of the meeting make eye contact with no one but myself. Now laugh and give them the coldest smile you can."

Harry obeyed without question, his own fear fed by Voldemort's tension. Though he was careful not to make eye contact, he could sense that the fear and uncertainty in the assembled Death Eaters had gone up a few notches while they'd been talking.

"Bellatrix, Severus approach."

The two in question obeyed of course and knelt with their heads bowed, Bellatrix was visibly shaking.

"Crucio!"

Bellatrix gasped then after a moment screamed loud and long. When Voldemort finally lowered his wand, he looked to Severus and Harry caught a split second but very pointed look.

Bloody hell.

"C-crucio," he cried, his wand pointed at his old tormentor. Nothing.

"Crucio!" he tried again. Like your life depends on it. Snape tensed for a few seconds then relaxed and raised his head to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry looked away as Voldemort snapped, "Lower you head!" and flicked his wand before Snape even had a chance to obey.

Snape arched back, his teeth bared in pain but Harry wasn't paying attention any more. He had caught a glimpse of Snape's face before Voldemort stepped in and had seen the single tear trailing down it.

Voldemort alternated torturing the pair for a while and despite who the victims were Harry still felt ill. He had almost forgotten what Voldemort was, it wasn't a mistake he'd make again. He couldn't have forgotten those screams if he'd wanted to. The pleasure from the link made it worse, Voldemort was enjoying the show, eating up the pain and fear.

"Don't be so repulsed," Voldemort ordered conversationally.

"I kind of can't help it."

"Do it or you're dead the second a Death Eater thinks they can get away with it."

He dropped the curse and Bellatrix fell into a heap panting while Snape froze completely waiting for his next turn, taking shallow breaths.

"Rise!" they did and Harry could feel them both trying to burn him alive with their eyes.

"Rejoin!"

They returned to their positions in the circle.

"Reports,"

Half a dozen Death Eaters gave accounts of everything from vague reports of the ministries activities to the positioning of werewolves to foreign recruitment efforts.

Harry tried to follow it all, but none of it had any bearing on anything he could do something about. Still for future reference it seemed like a good idea good to stay on top of events. It did make him feel a little less in over his head to hear the same information as the monster beside him. For a moment the memory of trying to spy on order meetings popped into his head along with the childish anger he'd felt at being left out.

Finally Voldemort stood.

"Dismissed."

Voldemort did not move from his position so Harry remained where he was too. When everyone had left but the two Death Eaters who had returned to their station on the far wall, Voldemort turned and walked from the room. However instead of turning toward the throne room he led the way to the exit.

"Walking me home?" Harry asked cheekily to take the edge off his residual fear.

"Hardly," Voldemort answered as though it'd been a real question. "I have my own affairs to attend and it made sense to show you to the edge of the wards. Besides it will give my Death Eaters something to think about if we appear to have plans they aren't privy to."

Voldemort was hedging, Harry could feel the slight misdirection but he didn't press it, just remained wary.

"What was all that about in the meeting?"

"Making them wary and hopefully respectful of you, though you managed to ruin it with your inability to do a simple cruciatus."

Harry had the ridiculous urge to apologize but instead said, "You must have known that before we allied, I am the chosen one."

Disgust poured through the link, "I thought you naïve and unwilling, not incapable."

Harry was stung even though he knew the reaction was absurd.

"You will need to learn occlumency."

"I told you I won't work with Snape."

"Nor do I wish you to. I will train you personally."

"No!"

Voldemort's wand hand twitched, "It's not my preference either but circumstance forces our hand."

"What makes you think I'd ever agree to letting you rummage around in my head?"

"Because if you succeed I'll release your werewolf."

Chapter Text

Harry apparated back to the safe house and headed straight for the sleeping area.

"Potter," he turned to see McGonagall coming from the living room.

"Everything's fine. I'm going to sleep."

"What happened?" she asked tightly.

"Not much," then remembering how unpleasant it was to be kept out of the loop added, "We will be doing recruitment."

"We've already recruited everyone willing."

"Voldemort's going to try to scare up some hold outs," Harry replied realizing how harsh he sounded.

"Raids," McGonagall said lips tight with anger.

"No deaths. "

"And how did you arrange that?"

"By making it clear that the alliance is contingent on a lack of civilian deaths."

McGonagall's mouth tightened in obvious disapproval he couldn't blame her, it wasn't much of a reassurance.

"Were there a lot of civilian deaths in the first war?"

"Yes why?"

"Just wondering," Harry replied feeling disconcerted though he couldn't place why he'd assumed that after all.

With that retreated to the sleeping area to lay on his robe 'mattress' and think. He had to do it. That was the only conclusion he could come to. After all he could hardly turn down an opportunity to rescue Lupin and he did want to learn to block the link.

While the idea of willingly letting Voldemort Legilimens him was worrisome it wasn't as though he couldn't just do it at will anyway. Really there wasn't much down side and he might even learn something like he had about Snape, though likely nothing crucial.

Harry sighed and fell asleep, his dreams filled with shadowed shapes, screaming and serpentine laughter.

The following days dragged by in boredom and monotony, Hermione spent most of her time reading and Harry eventually fed up with having nothing to do approached her risking the wrath of interrupting.

"Hey…" Hermione lowered her book glaring at him. Bloody hell she could give Voldemort a run for his money there, "I was just wondering…are there any books about…I don't really know what to call it…soul magic?"

Hermione who'd brightened at the word 'books', blinked, "Harry…"

"I need to do research. That's all," Harry explained cutting her off.

Hermione stared at him for a long moment.

"I don't know any. Perhaps I'm not the 'person' to ask," she added coldly.

"I trust you though and…surely you know something."

Her eyes softened, "I really don't I'm sorry."

Harry nodded.

A knock sounded at the door and he went to answer, glad to get out of the awkward situation. Taking a look at the foe glass he opened the door and in walked Tonks.

"Hey!"

"Harry!" she yelled hugging him. "I'd heard you were here but I didn't..." her voice cracked, "I'm so glad you're alright."

"We looked but we couldn't find you," Harry explained.

"Yeah I went into hiding when they ordered that all metamorphmagi wear stasis bracelets as well as the suppression collars."

Harry nodded.

"Have you heard from Remus?" she asked. He could see the worry in her eyes despite her chipper demeanor.

"Yes. Voldemort has him."

She gasped.

"But I have a chance to get him out soon and he hasn't been tortured."

"H-how do you know."

And yet again Harry explained the circumstance of his capture and freedom.

"I could help you with the occlumency," Tonks offered, "I'm not great but I could show you the basics."

"No thanks. I…have an arrangement," he had little doubt that given what was in his mind training with anyone else would swiftly end the alliance oath or no. He wondered again at the pensieve training and the things he'd learned from the dreams and locket. The locket was actually companionable and in the penseive lessons Voldemort had seemed saner, more dangerous for it but still. A thought was beginning to form in his mind he just needed to know more about horcruxes. He wished that he could ask if Dumbledore had talked to the ring then remembered, Ginny.

Tonks was watching him with an odd look, "Harry are you sure the oath is air tight?"

"No in fact I'm fully aware of a couple loopholes but I think this'll work."

Tonks shook her head, "You're too brave Harry, there's a time for caution."

She turned to catch a coatrack she'd almost knocked over.

"The Fackleträgers ended that."

Tonks sighed and for the first time Harry could see how tired she looked.

"Lupin will be so happy to see you."

"Thanks Harry. Be careful."

Over the next week reports of small raids began to crop up, the paper didn't report it but word of mouth claimed that the dark mark had been sighted in each area. There were in fact no reported casualties only a large amount of property damage. In twos and threes they ventured out apperating around the countryside to talk to people and try to convince them to join. A surprising number agreed and before the week was out they'd almost doubled their numbers.

Word also got back to them from a ministry coworker of Mr. Weasley's that twice Fackleträgers had been caught in their homes and tortured.

Harry felt ill but he remembered the wording of the oath as though it'd been burned into his mind and it had specifically exempted Fackleträgers and Death Eaters from the no torture section.

He felt the disapproving glances of the others for the rest of the day though, regardless of if they were even looking at him.

"McGonagall?"

He asked after dinner.

"Yes. Is there anyway I could contact the Weasleys?"

"You could send a patronus."

"How?"

"Simply think of the message and recipient as you conjure it."

"Thanks."

Harry thought very carefully then concentrating on 'please meet me at the three broomsticks. Noon three days from today.' Cast the spell and watched in shock as a small silver snake slithered away.

"What was that?" Raoul's voice sounded from behind him.

"A patronus," Harry replied trying to sound casual. He slid his wand into his pocket to hide the shaking in his hands.

"It's a snake?" Raoul asked angrily.

Harry tapped his scar, "From the curse."

"Ahh of course, my apologies I just wasn't expecting it."

"No one does," Harry said forcing a smile I certainly didn't.

"I bet not," Raoul laughed.

Raoul continued on his way for a recruitment run with Tonks and Grenda and Harry left with only McGonagall walked out under his invisibility cloak into the forest .

When he'd gone about a mile he found an oak tree with a hole in the roots, "Kraxil!"

A moment later the snake slithered from its temporary home, he still felt like crap for making the little guy stay out here but the snake hadn't complained and Harry kept a disillusionment charm on him to hide him from predators.

"Hrrraaahhh!" the snake greeted happily.

"Hey, it's good to see you," Harry replied scooping up the heat hazed looking area that was his friend.

"You too," Kraxil nuzzled his cheek with his head.

"You're not going to believe this but my patronus is you now."

"What's a patronus?"

Harry blinked before realizing that there was no reason for the snake to know and he explained the spell.

"You're right. I don't believe it."

"What?"

"I find it much more likely that your affection for the heir is the reason for the change."

Harry's jaw dropped even though his first thought and fear at seeing the patronus had been that it was an effect of the horcrux some how taking him over, "Affection? We may be allied but I have no 'affection' for him."

"You are the only one who speaks to him as an equal except Nagini."

"That's just because of the truce what would you have me do submit?"

"No but you also tease and banter and more surprising he returns it in kind."

"It's not…I have to be civil and I want to kill him all that tension has to come out some way," Harry replied defensively.

"You are the only one except Nagini to speak with genuine kindness," Kraxil added pointedly.

"I'm polite but I wouldn't call it kindness."

"You apologized, none other I've heard has done so except out of fear."

"I see no reason to add more conflict to the alliance," Harry attempted to rationalize.

"Did you bring mice?" Kraxil asked suddenly.

Harry had honestly forgotten but he kept several on hand and drew them out the frozen tidbits and cast a quick spell to thaw them before feeding them one by one to the small snake. As he did so he furiously ran over his recent interactions with Voldemort and reminding himself that he'd had practical reasons for anything that could possibly be interpreted as 'affection'.

Suddenly he felt the snake charm warming. Perfect just abso-bloody-lutely perfect.

Setting Kraxil down with an apology he disapperated.

This time the great ebony doors opened at his approach and he made his way through the corridors to the throne room only to find Voldemort standing outside the door.

He turned and led the way down the hall and down a spiraling stone staircase. Harry was about to make a wry comment about how cliché the 'lair' was but clamped his jaw. Voldemort was his enemy regardless that there was a worse one at large.

They soon entered into an undecorated room maybe fifty feet square. A selection of practice dummies standing on the floor and a wood cabinet hanging on one wall were the only furnishings.

He saw a pensieve that he'd missed at first sitting in the middle of the room among the dummies. Voldemort waved his wand and the dummies collapsed into discs on floor, metal discs sandwiching a compressed bit of fabric.

"Deposit any memories you wish to protect in the pensieve."

Harry blinked, "How?"

"You've never done it before?"

"No."

"Severus didn't have you do so."

"I wish."

"And you agreed?" Anger.

"I didn't realize I had a choice I didn't even know what a pensieve was until I got curious and fell into his memories. You're angry for me?"

"Hhhss. I'm angry that I overestimated you. I thought you too intelligent to agree to this without protection."

"You offered Lupin how could I not agree?" Harry realized a second too late that he'd said too much. The link was far too happy for his liking.

"You are weak and pathetic even for a lion. What if I had learned where you're followers were hiding you would risk them all and your entire cause for one of your number?"

Harry glared at the floor.

"While we are in alliance you will attempt to think things through and you will store any memory that I request here."

"I do think things through and it depends on the memory," Harry shot back knowing he sounded a little petulant.

"Focus on the memories you wish to preserve and touch your wand to your temple then deposit it. Make sure you maintain concentration and the memory is unbroken."

Harry did so depositing the safe house locations and the names and faces of order members along with Kraxil's accusations, hoping that the pensieve was secure but knowing that if it wasn't the memories would just be viewed in training anyway.

"Now blank your mind and prepare."

Harry did his best.

"When you're ready meet my eyes."

Harry raised his head grateful for the chance to prepare and Voldemort's eyes seemed to glow a brighter red, surprise struck the link and he saw the same expression on his instr…ally's face.

"What?"

"Nothing. Prepare yourself again."

Harry was ridiculously curious but not wanting his mind torn into he did as instructed before meeting Voldemort's eyes.

A long pause and the memories began to come to mind. His dementor fed memories of his parents dying, interactions he'd had with Voldemort coated in his own guilt, Dudley chasing him, Dudley and friends beating the hell out of him, him meeting Kraxil. He realized Voldemort wasn't letting up. He should have assumed that and tried harder to blank his mind, then he tried to get angry and force him out, he was about to raise his wand in an attempt to disarm him when the raid of memories ended abruptly and he saw Voldemort standing in front of him hatred burning his eyes and the link.

"Again." Voldemort dove back into his mind and Harry quickly tried to forget his confusion and blank his mind. But still the memories surfaced, memories of the pensieve lessons, the memory of him destroying Dumbledore's room after Sirius' death. His hatred of Snape, he focused on that , still other memories appeared in the background.

Harry opened his eyes, he was laying on the stone floor.

"What happened?"

"You passed out."

Harry grunted and rose to his feet.

"We won't be able to make any more progress today."

Harry nodded. He could feel wisps in the link, a desire to kill and fear. Wait fear? He hadn't felt that since his dream trip.

"Uh did I do something wrong?"

"Other than exist?"

That stung more than it should given that they were mortal enemies.

"So is there anything I can to not fail at this?"

"Practice blanking your mind every night and remember to not allow any Death Eater to perform Legilimency on you."

Harry nodded.

With the memory of the Dursley's still burning in his mind with renewed pain Harry looked into the blood red eyes, "Look I know you have that whole thing about power and the weak but that doesn't make it okay for the strong to take advantage…"

"Hhhhsss. Even Albus knew better than try to dissuade me from my path."

"No I know that…I just mean…I've been there and what was done to you it wasn't right. Adults are…"

Murderous rage tore through the link, "Do not for a moment think I'm like you. Every one of those bastards paid in their turn. If you are too weak to take your revenge that's no concern of mine."

Harry shook his head, "I'm…"

"Think it and I'll see that you die screaming."

Harry swallowed the rest of his sentence.

To Harry's shock the anger in the link seemed more at the world at large than at him in particular and under that was something...complicated. Had it been anyone else he would have called it insecurity but...

On a whim he decided to try something, "So I...don't really like not knowing what's going on and...I wanted to do some research on the link but I asked Hermione and she didn't know any books that might help. She suggested that I ask you."

A long pause followed.

"Come," Voldemort turned and led the way to the throne room and Harry noted, disturbed that the link carried dark amusement rather than pride. Once they were inside Voldemort cast the deafening spell yet again and opened the side room. The spell lifted and Voldemort ordered, "Go in."

Harry did so unsurprised to see that unlike the Malfoy and Black homes most of the relics looked like junk and trinkets similar to the Headmaster's office. His throat burned with the memories as Voldemort followed, keeping an eye on him. Harry looked around, taking in the sights despite not knowing what any of the items did, and made his way to the book case against the far wall. It felt very odd having the evil wizard behind his back but he didn't think there was any danger here and was careful not to touch anything that might be warded.

"You'll want the ones titled 'Pe sufletul spart' and 'Magiya dushi i uma samogo temnyye"

"What?"

Voldemort gave a hiss and Harry jumped about a foot when he placed a hand on his shoulder to push him aside. Voldemort pulled two battered tomes off the shelf and handed them to Harry.

"Uh thanks but I can't read these."

"Russian ad Anglicus"

"Ow!" he yelped tensing as Voldmort smacked him on the forehead with his wand. He was ready for a fight, his own wand already in his hand braced for immeasurable pain but nothing happened.

He gestured for Harry to leave the room, "The Russian words will appear as English to you for the next few hours."

"Thanks but ask next time," Harry muttered rubbing his forehead.

Voldemort smirked, "Learn to do it yourself then. I'll of course require that you stay here while you read."

Harry hadn't thought of that but it seemed reasonable enough and he knelt on the floor of the throne room.

"You knew exactly what I was doing, it amused you. So why did you give me the books?"

Voldemort contemplated Harry for a moment before answering, "Because on the off chance that the link didn't feed you all the answers there are times when it's beneficial for people to think they can play you."

Harry paled at that, "and the rest of it? that's not the only reason."

"People rarely have one reason for doing anything."

"And."

"I believe between Albus and the link you have more than enough information."

The words were cold maybe slightly annoyed so Harry was stunned by the bitterness in the thought and something else, that ghost of regret that he'd felt when they'd argued about the oath.

He wanted to ask but knew he wouldn't get a straight answer, Voldemort might not even be able to give one. He wondered what the man would have been like fully intact, it was becoming clear to him that he'd lost more than just bits of soul and humanity with every horcrux.

Harry just nodded and settled down to read. The book was fascinating which surprised him and also immeasurably creepy which did not. He hadn't even gotten to the part about horcrux but was instead on a passage about soul link spells and one that could force people to feel certain emotions even to the point of making them attack allies.

"A word of caution."

Harry looked up annoyed at having his concentration broken but he could feel a sort of cautious approval in the link like he'd passed some sort of test.

"If you think to learn about the link do not trust any book. As far as I've ever found none refer to anything beyond a single horcrux therefore they may or may not be accurate."

"Thanks but it's still more than I know now."

Voldemort simply waved his hand in a 'carry on' gesture so Harry did though he wasn't blind to the bitterness filling the link.

After a few more pages Harry got fed up, "You're distracting me."

"I shouldn't expect that you'd be comfortable in my presence but you understand I wish to keep those books in sight they are rather difficult to find and I have other demands on time."

"Well no," Harry replied realizing the oddness of the situation, "Actually I'm perfectly comfortable it's just you're so angry," he tapped his scar.

More anger added to the link and Harry cursed himself for being an idiot, like Voldemort cared. Hell he'd just touched the scar the monster'd left trying to kill him.

He read on for a while, forcing himself to concentrate. Hermione would have been proud.

Voldemort eventually moved his wand to open the door and in slithered Nagini.

She slithered up to Voldemort and opened her mouth to deposit a small bag.

"Thank you Nagini."

Though the words might have been as false as when he said 'dear bellatrix'. The link held a whisper of genuine affection.

"Do you have a problem with Nagini?"

"I have a problem with him massster."

Harry realized that he'd been staring, "N-not at all. Sorry."

Nagini sniffed the air and slithered over to Harry. Her upper third rose off the floor a few feet to look down at him as she sniffed again.

"He sssmells like prey massster."

"Indeed."

"May I eat him?"

"Not yet."

"When."

"In a year perhaps."

That was a lie. Did that mean he had no intention of feeding Harry to the snake or intended to sooner?

"A pity, " she lowered herself to the floor and slithered back to Voldemort and up around his shoulders. Harry could feel contentment and a hint of relaxation in the link.

Harry rose from where he'd been sitting and approached the throne, feeling tension in the link he raised his hands.

"May I?"

"May you what?"

"Pet her?"

Voldemort nodded and Harry reached out his hand to stroke her head as he would Kraxil's. She closed her eyes in appreciation and remembering suddenly he pulled a couple of left over frozen mice from his pocket.

"Hang on and I'll warm these up."

"I like them cold," Nagini said and snapped them from his hand. Pain flashed in his hand and he clutched it.

"You wouldn't have gotten ssscratched if you hadn't flinched," she hissed.

"Bloody hell," Harry inspected his bleeding hand, "I need an antidote!"

"Relax. She can choose to use her poison or not."

"Oh," Harry replied calming as amusement filled the link.

"A Gryffindor terrified by a scratch?"

"And feeding a snake?" Nagini added her master's amusement echoed in her tone.

"I thought I was dying! I saw what your poison did to Mr. Weasley," Harry hissed back hating both of them.

"The man at the ministry."

"Ah. He was tasty."

Harry hissed in pure rage.

"Now Nagini we are allies," Voldemort replied though it had an oddly playful tone and there was only amusement in the link.

"I would suggest faster allies Massster. Still I truly didn't mean to bite you cub and I appreciated the food."

Harry sighed, "I can hardly blame a snake for doing what comes natural. Just…don't take them from my hand next time?"

"Understood. Though if I may say you taste very good."

"Please don't," Harry replied thoroughly creeped out.

Harry sat back down to return to his book.

"Don't get blood on it!" Voldemort's sharp hiss turned Harry's head and he actually laughed.

"What's so funny?" Nagini hissed irate.

"Just…I dunno I find it kind of ironic him saying not to get blood on something."

"He has a point."

"Nagini," Voldemort's tone was full of warning.

"My apologies Masssster."

"Episky," Harry cast the charm quietly followed by one to clean the blood away and settled back to his reading.

"There will be a meeting shortly. You should leave before my Death Eaters arrive."

"I'd rather attend," Harry replied despite his fear he didn't want to be out of the loop and the less plotting done away from him the better, enemies close and all that.

"Until you can perform occlumency to at least some extent it would be better for both of us if you avoided the death eaters."

"But if I master occlumency I can attend?"

"If."

Harry rose with a mixture of relief and frustration but understood that nothing good would come from the death eaters seeing into his mind and though a part of him wanted to take the risk he knew better than to push the issue.

LVLVLVLVLVLVLV

After Harry had left, easily observable in view mirrors set up around the castle Voldemort allowed himself a smile and reached up to pet Nagini.

"He really is a hatchling."

"You take pleasssure in toying with sssuch sssmall prey Masssster?" his horcrux asked with a hint of disapproval.

"No it's beneath me. It's irrelevant though I will need to dispose of him soon enough."

"Why isss that?"

"You like the boy?" he asked disgusted.

"I don't dislike him."

"Hhhsss. You disappoint me Nagini."

She dipped her head a bit, "Yet you allow him to sit here and you converse with him as you have only ever done with me."

"It would have been useful to have him on our side. However as I said, the alliance must come to an end."

"Again I asssk why massster?"

"He knows too much." The horcruxes were bad enough but if the boy ever breathed a word about him being a half blood nothing good could come of that. That said he had seen nothing in the boy's mind to suggest that he knew the kind of power his knowledge held. Still it was a risk to let him live and Salazar only knew how many he'd told.

On the other hand either torturing or breaking into the boy's mind to find out wouldn't be an option until the vow ended. He could secure an extension of the oath but if the boy refused he'd have tipped his hand. On some level he knew he was overracting, angry that his enemy knew his great shame. Either way he would have to wait to act.

"Time to see the fish I caught. You may hunt if you wish."

"Thank you master."

Voldemort headed for the training room as Nagini slithered on her on way out to the grounds.

Once at his destination Voldemort dove into the memories. The first few were obvious, locations of safe houses, handy but they would likely change before he had any desire to attack. Order members, more useful and he committed them to memory Harry would certainly need these back before he destroyed the operation entirely.

Then came a scene of the boy in the woods talking to a disillusioned snake, presumably the one Voldemort'd recently returned. The snake accused the boy of 'affection' and the boy's denials struck him as well as the snake apparently, as ringing false. He would have been shocked had he not felt the appreciation bordering on respect in the boy's mind during their lesson, had he not felt the horrid sincerity in the link as the boy tried to excuse Voldemort's own human weakness as a child. What did surprise him was the small snake's assertion of his own reciprocation. Surely he'd put effort into changing the boy's allegiance but it had hardly bordered on affection any more than his act for the Smith witch had. Of course it was understandable that the snake would be taken in by his act but snakes were usually good at seeing through deception and the snake had been fully aware of what he was.

He left the training room and was about to head for the meeting hall when he saw Nagini slithering up the hall.

"The boy hasn't left."

Voldemort sighed in annoyance but figure in truth it was for the best, the boy would likely be caught by Fackletragers and imprisoned for his lack of suppression collar if he couldn't find his safe houses.

Voldemort triggered the boy's charm and opened the doors as he approached.

"Hey," the boy greeted sheepishly through he'd drawn himself up as though to convey confidence.

"Why are you still here?" he asked hiding his distaste at the disrespect, the boy would pay soon enough.

"I don't know where I was supposed to go? You put a memory charm on me," the boy sounded annoyed but fear touched his voice and flooded the link.

He was almost impressed by how well the boy controlled his fear, those soft little purebloods could learn a bit.

"I didn't though perhaps I should if you continue to forget your place."

The boy actually rolled his eyes, "My place is as an equal it'd be nice if you stopped forgetting. I guess all that magic really is frying your mind."

He hissed in annoyance, "And it would seem that Severus was correct at your congenital inability to retain anything but the most basic spells. My mind is fine as I have explained the effects do no damage to any actual information, you on the other hand left your memories in a pensieve."

The boy paled, "Oh. You looked at them?"

So the boy wasn't as naïve as he sometimes appeared. That was a good sign.

"Of course," not being able to lie really was limiting he should redouble his efforts on that front, he would have little but downtime for the next few months.

The boy shuddered, "I suppose that in your view it's my own fault for forgetting." The boy sounded more tired than angry or afraid.

Voldemort was surprised by the words but nodded as he turned to lead the boy back to the training room.

"Has anyone else seen them?"

"No."

"What are the chances that you would give an oath to not use the information."

He briefly considered exchanging it for the information he was a half blood but decided it wasn't worth it. For one the boy didn't appear to know it could be a weapon and handing him the information would be more dangerous than saying nothing and for another those who'd had been in Hogwarts with him had known and kept his secret out of fear and shame. If more found out he was powerful enough to render it a non issue. His initial rage burning down to a more calculated reaction.

"None."

"You seemed to go to an awful amount of trouble to hide your wounds this summer. I could tell the Death Eaters."

He wished fervently that he could curse the boy perhaps a nice disembowelment or a flaying…slowly…applied body part by body part.

"They wouldn't believe you even if you did. They think me a god and I act…accordingly."

"I could offer them to veriteserum me."

"But you wouldn't."

The boy sighed as they entered the room, the boy approached the pensieve and looked back questioningly.

"You see the folly of needing help? The power it gives people over you?"

The boy huffed again, "You don't have to worry about that kind of thing with normal people."

"Really? As I recall everything has a price."

"Not one that would cost lives."

"You're arguing degrees not fact?"

"I'm arguing that normal people don't look for every possible angle to dominate people."

"Because they are either too stupid to or they already serve a master who protects them."

"Just tell me how to get the damn memories back."

"No."

The hesitated. "Please tell me."

Voldemort allowed himself a laugh, "No."

The boy rolled his eyes, "Please tell me…my Lord."

"Without the eyeroll or sarcasm," he was enjoying this more than was really befitting but castlelife admittedly bored him.

"If it bores you so much why are you so hell bent on ruling everything?"

"Because with freedom anything is possible and I have the time to wait."

The boy sighed again, "Please tell me my Lord."

Voldemort nodded, "Simply catch the memories on your wand and return them in the same manner you removed them."

"That's it?" the boy's annoyance were clear in both the link and his voice.

Voldemort nodded and the boy disgruntledly followed the instructions.

When the boy was done he stalked out of the room.

"You know we'll change safe houses."

"I'd have been disappointed if you didn't."

The boy huffed, angry now but likely at his own mistake.

The boy stopped stalking down the halls and hissed in a bitter tone, "Don't you ever get tired of always being a symbol, one slip and everyone's waiting to jump?"

"I never slip."

"Even if that were true it wasn't what I asked."

"No. Though I take it you have and that's the real reason you jumped at the idea of the truce."

"I took the truce because it was the only option I saw. But yeah I'm tired, they expect us to be something more than human but are ready to turn the second we do anything that doesn't fit their plan. Even though they chose to follow."

"Never speak to me like that again!" he snapped at the boy's attempt at false camaraderie, at his own desire to believe it. "I am more than human. I chose this life you did not we are different."

"No. You chose it for me I never had any say. Not until now." The boy was sounding more confident, warming to his own idea as he spoke, "I don't want to be a pawn anymore."

The worthless boy sounded like he was about to cry but there was power behind his words, determination.

"Why are you telling me this? Go cry to one of your precious 'friends'."

"They wouldn't understand. Besides…I sort of just realized."

"You're how old?"

"Better late than never?" though given the annoyance in the link it was clear that boy thought he was expecting too much.

Voldemort said nothing and kept walking.

"You know I should thank you…I've learned a lot here."

"You think me so easily flattered?"

"It wasn't…I was being genuine."

Voldemort spun and locked eyes with the boy. The boy didn't flinch, didn't even seem to want to, nobody but Albus had done that in a long while and he quickly found the truth in the statement.

"Disgusting."

"You've helped me out. I don't have to like you to be grateful."

"I've helped you to achieve my own ends," he snapped immediately realizing he sounded far too defensive.

"It doesn't matter. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

He didn't delve the feeling that response gave him, his assertions to the contrary he suspected that his horcrux torn mind wouldn't provide him with an answer. He was fairly sure he didn't want an answer.

He felt the boy's eyes on him and looked to see the boy was staring in open shock like an idiot.

"It's been a long time since anyone's genuinely thanked you for anything hasn't it?"

"There is no such thing. Gratitude is merely a desire for more favor."

"It's not…" the boy gave up and sighed. "Sure whatever. Why lead people who don't even have basic respect?"

Voldemort laughed, "You and Albus are the only people in decades who have shown anything but perfect respect and lived."

The boy shook his head, "Showing respect is different from respecting someone. I showed Severus respect but I never respected him."

"You respected him out of fear but it's respect all the same. The reason doesn't matter."

Again the boy shook his head, "The reason is all that matters."

"Fear is simply a respect for power."

"I respect the things you can do but I don't fear you," the boy explained haughtily.

"Because of the oath."

The boy didn't reply.

"Does Severus often cry during torture?" a sick feeling filtered through the link and it struck Voldemort with a horrific sort of familiarity. He dismissed the thought as an oddity of the link.

"Only if I specifically intend it. In fact he makes a point of not doing so."

"Why was he last…time then?"

"I neither know nor care. Human weakness is not something I'm subject to and have no desire to understand."

"Yet didn't you gather the Death Eaters by preying on their isolation and frustration and fear?"

"I no longer need to rely on such ephemeral tactics."

"No longer need or no longer can?"

He opened his mouth to hiss a reply then thought better of it.

"You lost some of your ability in manipulation when you carved out the bits of your humanity."

"What humanity. I never shared in your mortal weaknesses."

"I know for a fact that isn't true, not even to the extent that Dumbledore believed it to be."

Voldemort sensed a death eater or more accurately their dark mark, approaching and flicked his hand to open the door to them. How had this uppity boy's teachers possibly refrained from cursing him to bloody pulp. At least he wasn't dumb enough to say such things openly. Voldemort would have fun when the year was up and that wasn't something he'd been able to say in decades.

He took a step toward the boy and the boy instinctively backed up hitting the wall as shame filled the link.

"You believe me to be so weak? You should be proud. I will take perssssonal pleassssure in torturing the missssconception out of you when your year is up."

"I'm honored," the boy responded dryly despite the fear flooding the link and filling his scent.

"My Lord?"

He turned to find Lucius kneeling, tremoring slightly with fear though he was trying to hide it.

"What is so urgent that you must interrupt your Lord?"

Lucius raised his head to speak and Voldemort saw that he was darting his eyes at the boy nervously. That was a good sign, he had thought that walking in on that scene might create the image he was looking for. It probably would have been better if he hadn't been intimidating the boy but regardless it seemed to have had the intended effect. Well intended secondary effect the boy still didn't have a proper fear in him…yet.

"My apologies my Lord I wasn't aware that…"

"Get to the point!" he moved his hand subtly towards his wand and the aristocrat flinched, swallowing hard. Bloody hell the boy had more spine than his 'hardened Death Eaters' it was disgusting.

"An old ministry contact informed me that they expect the rebellion to be ended by the new year. It seems that one or more of the light side's," he sneered the name, "new additions handed over all the purebloods in their ranks to receive suppression collars only they were sent to Azkaban, as were fittingly the informants for refusing to give up the 'sympathizers'."

Voldemort whirled on the boy something unidentifiable and painful slid along the link and the boy's eyes were filled with tears. Of course they were, the boy was going to get himself killed before they finished their mission.

"Dismissed," he ordered and the Death Eater rose and swept away.

"Did you make no attempt to vet the recruits?"

The boy shrugged, he looked ill, "I wasn't really involved in it much really. M…the others from the first war knew what they were doing so I left it to them."

Voldemort stared at him in utter disgust, "You are literally the poster boy of the light. What is your value if not in recruiting!"

He watched the boy obviously struggle for a response, "I can fight," he said finally.

"You have good instincts but in an actual all out fight?"

"In the grave yard…"

"I'm not talking about a duel you ignoramus. I mean an actually dirty battle. At that who have you dueled without conveniently linking wands?"

"We've taken out enough Death Eaters that you must be aware of my abilities."

"Yes. They won't stand up against an organized force like the Fackletragers and more over the rest of the 'order' doesn't share your aptitude."

"I can train them," the boy asserted all happiness and defiance.

Voldemort nodded, "See that you do and fix your recruiting procedure."

"I don't take orders from you."

"You do now since you're clearly incapable of thinking for yourself."

The boy hissed his annoyance.

"Now leave. "

The boy looked ready to argued but obeyed though judging from the link it was more out of shame and something soft and grotesque than fear.

Voldemort moved into the meeting hall and called his servants to him.

Chapter Text

Harry apparated to the safe house angry at himself for forgetting the damn memories and more so for the fact that some of his fo…order member had been betrayed.

How could he let that happen he should have…what? Veriteserumed all the recruits? That wasn't completely accurate. Legilimensed them? He didn't even know if there was a Legilimens among the order.

He really had no idea what he was doing, surely he should at least know who in the order was capable of what, and have a training regimen and some sort of…what had Voldemort called it? Vetting?

And he had to get them out of Azkaban, he couldn't just leave them there. But then…

"I take it you've heard?" McGonagall met him on the lawn in front of the house.

"Yes. Who was it."

"Diggle, Hestia Jones, Alicia Podmore and Hestia's cousin Jenny."

Harry swallowed trying to think straight. Diggle and Hestia had been his escorts away from the Dursley's and he'd…

"We have to get them out."

"How Azkaban is impregnable and that was before the new administration."

"For godssake Voldemort can do it and he doesn't even give a shit about his followers! Are you all so incompetent that we really can't put something together to save our friends!" Harry roared.

McGonagall's eyes went wide with shock at his outburst, her lips pressed tight with disapproval.

Harry looked at the ground shocked at his own reaction, "I'm sorry I didn't mean that. It's just," he sank to the grass, "This is my fault. "

"Goodness Harry," he jumped at the sound of Hermione's voice behind him and turned to see her walking out of the woods with some herbs, "I think there are Fackletragers who don't know how much you like…you-know-who. You might want to shout it again."

"We're in the middle of no where," he muttered childishly knowing she was right, Voldemort would never have made a mistake like that…He shook his head clear, damn link screwing with his thoughts with it's illusion of kinship. Voldemort was a madman and if there had ever been anything of caution there he'd carved it out long ago.

The thought did make him want to learn more about Voldemort in the first war though and talk to Ginny. He was becoming more and more interested in the changes that the horcruxes had wrought. However much he may have hated Snape he wasn't a man who would easily bend his knee to sheer powermad intimidation. Harry was growing more and more certain from simple inconsistencies as much as the link, that there was literally something missing from the equation. If the locket represented fear and caution what else had he carved out.

A part of him wondered what it even mattered and why he was becoming obsessed but Dumbledore had thought it mattered so it must. Which also brought to mind the odd way Voldemort reacted whenever Dumbledore was brought up.

You would think a power crazed fiend would be gloating about arguably his greatest victory and yet he didn't. That might be to preserve the alliance but for one Harry was certain Voldemort didn't care, likely didn't even think about such niceties and two he'd been like that before the alliance.

"Harry?" Hermione asked gently.

"Oh sorry I just remembered I have a meeting with Ginny in two days I was thinking about everything I needed to ask her."

"Oh," Hermione replied with a worried glance at McGonagall.

"What do…actually can we go inside I want to discuss something with you two," Harry said rising and heading for the door.

The two witches joined him at the table and he waited for them to get comfortable before asking his question, "What do you think we should do to keep this from happening in the future?"

"Perhaps an unbreakable oath?" Hermione offered.

"Maybe put that would scare off a lot of people," McGonagall replied.

"We could have a sort of innercircle that takes the oath and then the others we could give Veriteserum and put safeguards in place so the risk of betrayal is lower?" Harry suggested.

"'Inner circle' like the Death Eaters you mean?" Hermione asked, disgust in her voice.

"No just…a way to protect the members we know are loyal."

Hermione shook her head, "You really need to learn to occlude the link."

"Tell me about it," harry replied bitterly.

"Are you even trying?" she asked completely off topic and in that infernal maternal tone. He felt a flash of rage from the link which didn't help his mood at all.

"Of course I'm trying, in fact I just came from a lesson!" he snapped which reminded him he would have to move all the safe houses, though he doubted that Voldemort would try anything until the year was up.

"A lesson? With who?" Hermione asked. Judging by McGonagall's steely gaze she already knew.

"Who do you think?" Harry knew he was being overly aggressive but he was tired of everything he did being second guessed. Especially when he kept doubting his own choices anyway.

"Wh…no Harry…good god," Hermione breathed in horror, "You must see what a bad idea this is. Obviously…You-know-who is just using the link to…"

"To what? Convince me that I need the thing you just said I needed? You know what the funny thing is? You keep saying I need to learn occlumency, Dumbledore kept saying it, even Severus for whatever that's worth. Yet Voldemort's the only one who's actually tried to help. "

"He's not trying to help you Harry, how dense can you be? He just wants the excuse to rummage around in your brain."

"He can already do that, legilimens remember? Plus the link makes me an open book anyway. Besides even if that weren't the case, he genuinely wants me to be able to block the Death Eaters."

"You don't seriously believe him!"

"He can't lie to me," Harry sighed, tired of constantly having to mention that little fact as he tapped his temple. "At the moment we both want me to learn."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

I don't, I really don't and I'm terrified. "In this I do. Now as for recruitment…

"Do we even have anyone who can make Veritiserum?" Hermione asked.

"Can't you?"

Hermione blushed, "Sometimes I haven't entirely mastered it. It's a very…"

"Try. Worst case scenario I can get some from Snape."

Hermione paled, "Harry I really don't think we can trust him there are many ways he could sabotage it and the risks…"

"He won't know it's for us it will be fine."

"You're suggesting trusting you-know-who instead?" McGonagall asked incredulous.

"In this yes. He's the one who wants this done. He'll give me the real thing," Harry replied with certainty. The witches looked angry but said nothing.

XXX

At the appointed meeting time Harry arrived at the three broomsticks and located Ginny, sitting at her table. She was stunning despite the bags under her eyes, her skin was still flawless and though she wore a shapeless robe he'd seen her in her form-fitted quidditch plate and could imagine what was underneath.

"My eyes are up here."

Harry colored, "Sorry. I just…I've missed you."

Ginny sighed but was hiding a smile then her eyes widened slightly.

"What do I have something on my robe?"

"No it's just you seem…different," she said and Harry imagined a hint of awe in her tone.

"How so?"

She thought a moment, "Confident."

He blinked, he could barely remember what confident felt like, the half-blood prince's book, he almost gagged, had made him feel confident with Slughorn that was probably the last time or maybe when he was on the mission with Dumbledore.

Yet she was right. Maybe it was just not looking over his shoulder for people trying to kill him, that was pretty nice now that he thought about it. Or maybe it was just knowing what was going on for once.

"So what did you want?" there was an edge of something in her voice that he didn't really like but he wasn't sure what it was.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about your experience with the diary?"

Ginny paled, "Harry I really don't…"

"It's important," he cut in, taking her hand.

"O-okay. What do you need to know?"

"What he was like…if anything stood out to you…different from the p-real Voldemort?" he wasn't sure why he didn't say 'prime-form' but it seemed like it would make things more difficult.

"Well…like I said he was charming, friendly but that was obviously an act…" she tears shone in her eyes as she tried to remember and Harry felt like a bastard and thought about just ending the conversation but then she continued.

"Towards the end…he always tried to get me to share secrets…especially stuff I'd done wrong but towards the end he kept fishing, asking if I'd ever betrayed anyone…been attracted to a muggle…weird things like he was looking for a specific answer and sometimes…"

"What?" Harry pressed hating himself.

Ginny swallowed hard, "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"Sometimes…toward the end…I mean I was pretty out of it but…the writing would change."

"Change how?"

"It'd get…spidery…less precise…I don't know how to explain it?"

"Like his hand was shaking."

"Yeah maybe…that doesn't make sense though. Anyway sometimes he wouldn't reply for a day or two after….I didn't like it," she finished with no small bit of shame.

"It's al'right Ginny," Harry said hugging her.

She nodded silently and gave a choked little gasp…"Um sometimes I'd dream…I didn't think anything of it at the time but when I found out what the diary was…"

Remembering what he'd learned about dreams connecting soul pieces Harry sat down staring raptly.

"Are you okay?" she asked and Harry felt his insides twist when he heard a bit of fear in her voice.

He tried to calm down, "Yeah this just might be really important is all."

"Oh…well it might have just been a dream."

"What did he look like?" she described riddle to a T and Harry smiled, "No this is definitely important."

Ginny's face was a mask of horror and he took her shaking hand up again.

"Okay well…again you probably won't believe me but in the dreams sometimes…he'd look at me…and I'd swear he looked sad."

Harry blinked, he hadn't been expecting that. Then he remembered meeting the soul piece. He'd barely even glanced at the body, been gloating and cold and Harry had taken it for simple callousness but there was another explanation. He reflected on Dumbledore's lessons, and any changes he could think of directly following Voldemort's last school years, he couldn't come up with any but that didn't invalidate his theory. He wished he could talk to the diary again.

"Thanks you've been a big help."

Ginny blinked, "Okay though I'm not sure how," she said shakily and wiped at her eyes.

"I want to know as much as possible about my enemy."

Ginny nodded but looked worried, "Be careful Harry."

"You too," Harry replied wondering how much her parents had told her and how much she'd gleaned.

They said their good byes and hugged, she really did have nice breasts somehow both firm and soft and…

"Harry!"

"Sorry," he said releasing her sheepishly.

"No you're not," her lips twitched as he shrugged helplessly.

xxx

A week of recruiting and vetting and feeling miserable about keeping some of the recruits out of the loop passed before he was summoned to the castle again. He almost felt relieved, a break from the monotony was welcome and he was finding the company of his friends…awkward. They rarely talked unless it was shop and when they did it was always with a wariness on their part like they weren't sure if it was really him speaking.

He arrived at the castle and met Voldemort in the training room without incident.

"More occlumency I assume?"

"Don't ask obvious questions it makes you look like more of an idiot than you already are."

Harry tried to tamp down his anger as he went to deposit his memories for whatever that was worth. To his surprise it wasn't as difficult as he would have expected. Perhaps the nights of blanking his mind were actually helping.

They set up, he met Voldemort's eyes and for a long moment nothing happened, he felt an odd sensation that he took as his mind being probed it grew more intense and decided to focus on that feeling. There was approval in the link and he felt a bit proud in spite of himself. The memory of getting into Gryffindor floated to the surface. He tried to focus on nothing but more memories followed, Hermione calling him smart, Dumbledore congratulating him on his success in getting Slughorn's memory.

No this had to stop. He'd beaten Voldemort once in a battle of will, because he'd had a reason to fight. What if someone's life depended on this, like Sirius' had…

Harry picked himself up off the floor.

Again they clashed mentally this time he was prepared focusing on his need to throw off his attacker to... He winced in surprise as his tailbone jammed up his spine and blinked around to find himself on his arse.

Voldemort's disgust was clear in the link.

"I'm trying!" Harry snapped, angry at his failure.

"Which doesn't count for anything in life."

Harry had no retort for that but the anger faded a bit as to his surprise Voldemort relented.

"You keep thinking about your loved ones, handing your opponent openings , you should rid yourself of such distractions."

"Thanks but I prefer my friends alive, I suspect dementors and inferi don't make great conversationalists."

Amusement whispered in the link and Voldemort inclined his slightly in acknowledgement, "You hardly need consider someone a 'friend' to carry on a conversation as you are currently proving."

"They tend to be more willing to talk if you they don't loathe you."

"Really? I usually find people more willing to talk when chained to the ceiling by firehooks," Voldemort smiled.

"Right because when I said 'conversation' I obviously meant interrogation," Harry said shaking his head, somehow the darkwizard's attempt to shock seemed more amusing than scary, perhaps because it'd been such an obvious attempt.

"The distinction is in means not ends."

Harry realized in shock that for the first time the link held genuine pleasure, not sadistic glee at getting one over on Harry or approval that he wasn't an idiot this time but real enjoyment. It was something that wasn't notable until it was there but now the lack was jarring. He realized, feeling a little ill that the torture comment hadn't been a bad attempt to scare him but Voldemort's idea of being playful. What worried him more was that he'd been having fun too.

"If you say so," Harry replied chilled, the link turned cold as well.

"I'll take that as your acknowledgement that you are wrong. I believe we've gotten off topic."

"It wasn't acknowledgement I just know arguing is a waste of time."

"Wise," Voldemort taunted. Harry huffed and worked to clear his mind as he sensed Voldemort readying for the next round.

Again he tried to defend, this time with a generic save people vibe and again he was overrun by a cascade of memories of the people he'd lost. The next round his hatred for the man who'd taken them from him utterly destroyed his concentration and he had no kind of defense.

"Focus!"

"I'm finding it rather difficult at the moment," Harry hissed back. He noted the anger and something else in the link obscured by it.

"Figure it out. Do you think my Death Eaters will wait for you to be prepared? No. They will strike at the last moment you'd want, when you're exhausted, when your guard is at its lowest."

"Give me a sec," Harry hissed viciously.

Harry felt his chin lifted as though by a strong wind and Voldemort dove into his mind. For a moment he held the dark wizard off with sheer rage then memories, rage at Sirius' death, Dumbledore's, the angry tears he'd shed. Then deeper rage at himself for his mistakes.

Voldemort broke off with a hiss and slowly Harry's vision cleared.

The link held an edge to it but Harry couldn't decipher what, feeling disoriented and with a quickly forming headache.

"Your enemies will not afford you, a moment to 'collect yourself'," Voldemort sneered.

"No shit," Harry shot back bitterly.

"Again."

Harry prepared himself, trying to put aside his anger and looked up but it went no better.

The spots slowly cleared from his vision and he braced for another attempt.

A whisper of approval slid through the link but Voldemort only said, "We're done for today."

"What'd I do right?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"Nothing. You failed utterly at every attempt."

Harry hissed in annoyance, his instinctive happiness at the silent praise replaced by annoyance that he'd felt it in the first place.

Harry turned on his heel and stalked to the door feeling Voldemort's anger at his leaving without being dismissed. Well if the man wanted to kill him let him try worst case they'd both die.

He walked into an impenetrable wall, a simple obstruction charm. With a sigh he flicked out his wand to counter, it did nothing. He tried a dispelling charm, nothing.

Bloody hell.

He turned with an involuntary thrill of fear to face the dark wizard he was now trapped with.

Silence, a dark amusement in the link haunted his thoughts.

"What?" he asked and was shamed to hear a tremor in his voice knowing logically that he wasn't in any serious danger thanks to the oath.

"We will start serious raids soon. You will be leading your own people in a few so I can assess their skills and strength."

"I'm not risking my people on your whim."

Voldemort hissed at his defiance, "It's hardly a whim." He pulled a blank sheet of paper from his robe and held it out. Harry tried to summon it but the other merely held tight.

With a snarl Harry approached, as soon as he touch the paper a list appeared.

"Pick out three targets and commit them to memory you have roughly nine and a half minutes."

Harry looked over the list trying not to feel rushed and picked out a werewolf fighting ring, something called a centaur ranch and the Hogsmeade 'watch'.

A few moments later Harry yelped as the paper burst into flames.

"What did you pick?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"Well if you for example picked the werewolf ring I have three packs that would be rather displeased if they weren't allowed to join in."

Harry glared feeling as though he'd been tricked though there wasn't really a reason to be upset.

"I would need some kind of guarantee that they won't kill innocents on my watch."

"Beyond the oath?"

Harry ran over the words in his mind and nodded, "They'll be under Wolf's bane?"

"Unfortunately, there would be no other way to avoid 'friendly' fire."

Harry nodded and then remembered something.

"My…the people in Azkaban the ones who were betrayed, I need to get them out."

Voldemort gave a cold laugh, "You expect me to clean up your mess?"

"No of course not just…tips?" Harry asked suddenly feeling about ten years old and a particularly stupid ten at that.

Voldemort said nothing and Harry decided to play on his ego, "You've already succeeded in breaking people out and under the Fackletragers."

"And what do I get in return?"

Harry blinked, "Uh…PR? That's why you released light wizards the first time right?"

"Yes but now I have a perfect recruitment machine."

Harry cast about desperately for something to offer and came up blank, "I can promise the services of Fawkes," he blurted.

Voldemort said nothing and Harry felt curiosity in the link.

"Fawkes is a phoenix," Harry said already regretting the offer. He felt the dar…Voldemort's interest go up a few notches.

"It will obey you?"

"Yeah."

"You're lying."

Harry sighed he hadn't even felt the legilimency though his headache was getting worse.

"I'm not certain but I think it will obey."

Voldemort nodded, "If you come through I will give you what you need."

Harry nodded relieved and apprehensive at the same time.

"You may go."

That night Harry dreamed despite blanking is mind, perhaps it was an after effect of having his mind repeatedly torn open.

This time the memory came with no impressions, in fact his mind was completely blank. He was grateful for that Riddle rushed through the halls into the infirmary.

"Is it true?" he panted.

"I'm afraid so," the nurse answered.

"God what could have done such a thing?" Riddle gasped in feigned horror.

"Whatever it was the teachers will stop it," the nurse replied but there was a tremor in her voice and Harry saw Riddle's lips twitch with the beginnings of a disgusted sneer at the line before resuming its mask of 'horror'.

"M-may I say good bye?" he asked with a tremor that Harry was impressed by as a fellow wheedler, as it had been in the pensieve he wasn't trying too hard, even managed to sound like he was holding back emotion, it was utterly believable.

The nurse blinked, "I hadn't realized you were friends…"

"Well we weren't really…not really different house and all but as…" Riddle made show of swallowing hard, " prefect I feel responsible…" he swallowed again and the nurse nodded sadly.

"Of course but don't blame yourself even the teachers don't know what happened…"

Riddle turned away as though to hide tears and Harry saw the disgust in his eyes.

"This way…" The nurse said and he followed to a hospital bed with the curtains drawn.

He clasped Myrtle's hand, "Can you give us a minute?"

"Of course…" the nurse said then added as she walked away, "There's no shame in grief Tom."

His eyes flashed in rage and a bitter smirk twisted his lips. When the nurse was well out of ear shot Harry saw an odd almost soft look enter the killer's eye.

After a long silence he leaned down and whispered , "I'm sorry." Harry blinked as riddle rose and left, dragging him along. What the hell had that meant why was he sorry? Had he cared about her?

Riddle ducked into a bathroom and fell to his knees, vomiting into the toilet, he wiped his mouth and leaned back against the stall wall , shaking. He made a small sound that Harry almost mistook for a sob before he realized that it was a bitter chuckle and the teen forced himself to his feet disgust and anger in every inch of his body language.

Harry woke with a start but he didn't feel nausea he usually did, he cast about for potential victims but there wasn't anyone that came to mind and random innocents would be protected by the oath. That left two questions one: why were there no impressions associated with the dream? Had it been tampered with? He highly doubted it, and it wasn't as though there simply hadn't been any impressions, it was obvious that what ever Riddle had felt he'd felt something so…he had no idea. Two: What the hell had been special about myrtle?

He would simply have to go ask her. Not now though, it was too soon and he didn't want it to be obvious that he was looking into Voldemort's past, then again he would have to do it before the next lesson or it wouldn't matter.

He sighed and went back to sleep.

The next day he woke and gathered Mcgonagall, Hermione, Callum and Tonks.

"So which should we hit first?" Harry asked after explaining the mission, he wished Shacklebolt was there. He could see their distaste at the fact that this was Voldemort's plan despite him highlighting the fact that he'd picked the missions himself.

"The werewolves," Hermione said shakily.

Raoul shook his head, "I don't fancy going into battle for the first time with a bunch of You-know-who's wolves."

"Don' be chickenshit," sneered a burly wizard with a Scottish burr named Callum.

"He has a point," McGonagall said with a steely gaze and Hermione nodded.

"Okay so werewolves last?" Harry asked and he fought to keep his voice steady. He saw Hermione brush a tear away and knew that like him she was thinking about what those poor people were going through.

"Let's start with the watch, I was just at Hogsmede they only keep eight on guard at the most. It should be the easiest target," Raoul said. Harry bristled at the way he seemed to be taking command but tried not to show it, he didn't want command anyway. Never mind that he'd seen more combat than the young man had likely ever imagined, Harry knew little about leading people.

Tonks suddenly rushed into the safe house, "Look at this!"

Harry took the flyer she held out, "Bloody hell!"

"Harry!" Hermione admonished but he was staring at the wanted poster, his own moving face staring back.

Harry crumpled the poster in his fist.

"Thanks for the warning," he told Tonks wryly and she gave him a sad smile.

"Now where were we?" Harry asked. McGonagall gave a sad smile of their own while Callum laughed.

"Thar's the spirit 'arry!" he roared.

Hermione gave a shocked little yelp, "Harry you're not seriously thinking about going on the raid still?" she asked in her 'are you a complete idiot?' voice.

Harry rolled his eyes, "You don't seriously think I'd hide here while you all fight? That's a slytherin thing to do. Actually Voldemort led from the front at the ministry and the Azkaban raid. It's a Severus thing to do."

Raoul gave a bitter little laugh, "You're trying to one up You-know-who? That's a fast path to a shallow grave."

"Literally, I'm pretty sure you have it backwards ," Harry laughed as though it were an inside joke but fell silent when he saw the others staring. He'd gotten a little too used to the rapid fire, occasionally over the top sniping of the castle apparently. "Seriously though when do I not have people out to kill me? It's fine."

"I didn't sign up to follow a madman." Raoul said.

"I may be mad but the other choices are tyrannical and murderous," he quipped.

Raoul blinked but gave a small bitter smile, "Fair point."

God these people were too easy.

"So how are we doing this?"

"Um we attack?"

"Okay," Raoul said patiently, "How?"

"Uh…well you say they have eight so we jump four in pairs and then group up?"

"That should work," Raoul said sounding impressed.

"Are we taking prisoners?" Callum asked.

Harry hesitated it hadn't occurred to him that they might have to kill but they weren't really equipped for prisoners and sending them to Voldemort would be worse than just killing them.

"Does anyone know memory charms?"

Head shakes greeted him. Damn.

Harry sighed, "No prisoners then."

Hermione squeaked, the others just looked grim except for Callum who had a smile spreading across his face. Harry smiled too and tried to convey confidence he didn't feel, knowing instinctively that was what they needed.

Two days after their little war council Harry, Callum, Raoul, McGonagall, Tonks, Fred and George were getting ready for the coming battle.

One of the twins smiled at him nervously and Harry laughed, "It's weird to be going into a battle by choice."

"Yeah," Harry said but he was happy, he was tired of always running, it felt good to be in control of his own destiny for once. He just wasn't sure about being in control of other peoples. He hoped everyone would be okay.

The seven of them apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade up on Sirius' hill. With a nice overview of the village they picked their targets.

"We'll take him," George said gesturing to one of the inner road guards.

"You sure?"

"Yeah we've been wanting to test out a new stink bomb."

Harry laughed because of course they did.

McGonagall and Tonks took the outer guard on the other main entry point. Raoul and Harry would take the outer on the twins side and Callum got the last inner guard. Then if everything went smoothly they'd rush to the towncenter and pin the remaining four between their two groups.

They apparated down to their points and Harry came out of the disorientation with a full body bind flying from his wand as Raoul struck with a force curse. The frozen solid body crashed through the wooden shop wall behind him.

"Well done," Raoul said. Harry bristled slightly but nodded.

"You too."

"Thanks."

Harry was yanked from his feet and hit the ground in a heap as a spell shot over their heads. Raoul, on the ground next to him rolled over, leaned across him and shot a curse back toward where the twins were fighting. Raoul got up and Harry scrambled to his feet as the twins ran up.

"Sorry 'bout that," George said.

"You guys alright?" Fred added.

"Yeah I'm fine," Raoul said as he broke for the town center. Harry followed at a dead sprint, feeling like an idiot for being saved. He smiled as he saw the other three coming down the other end of the street but his heart sank as he saw only two Fackletragers.

"Fred George, hold back and watch our backs."

"Aye." They called back.

"Expelliarmus," Harry cried only then realizing the risk of hitting their own people inherent in his plan. The Fackletrager easily blocked his spell with a silent spin of his staff.

"ardenti sanguine!" Callum screamed at the other, only for the Fackletrager to thrust with one end of his staff. A wall of green energy struck Callum's spell and reflected it. The Scot dove away with a yelp.

"Comitialibus!" Tonks yelled and the Fackletrager who'd blocked Harry's spell was hit in the back and fell twitching and spasming violently.

"Petrificus Totalus," Harry cried as Raoul shouted, "Fulgur!"

The two curses hit at the same time and lightning coursed over his frozen body.

"Harry! Look out!" One of the twins cried and Harry whirled with a protego, just barely blocking an incoming spell as Fred felled the Fackletrager with a levitated rock.

"There's reinforcements coming!" he yelled.

"Retreat!" Harry roared and in seconds they were all collapsing onto the grass outside the safe house.

Harry rose shakily his adrenaline fading and his nose filled with the smell of burning flesh. That had been nothing like he'd expected, he'd thought going with a plan would feel smooth clean but if anything it felt more chaotic than just scrambling for his life. He'd felt completely wrong footed while Raoul had been calm, composed and...

"My god are you okay?" Hermione cried rushing to them.

"We're good," Harry said exhausted with a smile more tired than victorious.

"Yeah we arrghgh!" Raoul cried falling back to his knees.

Harry rushed to his side, he may not have liked the guy but he had saved Harry's life.

Harry gasped, the back of Raoul's robes were torn and burnt and the flesh beneath had been blackened and blistered around the edges.

"That bad?" Raoul asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied in a choked whisper and he saw Raoul pale.

Hermione, as their de facto mediwitch took a look, "Oh my god. How were you walking."

"Stiff upper lip?" the Frenchman joked with a wan smile. Harry saw Hermione blush, gritted his teeth and tried to remember that you couldn't hate someone who'd saved your life.

He glanced at the wound and almost wished it had been him, then Hermione would be fawning over him and he wouldn't have to feel sick with guilt at getting Raoul hurt. Harry walked away, angry…angry because it was easier than examining the other feelings he had. The aches of battle were making themselves known and he went into the safe house to collapse on the couch with a sigh.

Why hadn't that felt like a victory? It'd been a victory. He was still contemplating when he heard the cries of battle outside.

He shot to his feet and rushed outside on aching legs to see his friends fighting with four Fackletragers. Hermione and Callum were standing guard desperately over Raoul.

"Expelliarmus!" his spell was easily blocked and one of the two Fackletragers attacking Raoul. He sidestepped as one of them shot a silent spell at him.

Spells fell around him and he saw Callum take a hit and fall to one knee still throwing spells.

McGonagall fell unconscious and he cast a shield over her before turning on her attacker but he was quickly forced back, the staff being more powerful spell for spell than his wand.

A little bat landed on one of Fackletrager's head and he fell under the onslaught as spells swerved from their path to hit him. Harry side stepped another attack and shot a stinging hex at the wizard advancing on him it was blocked and he silently cast a body bind on one of the wizards attacking Callum.

Fred and George ganged up on another Fackletrager and brought him down as a hex hit George in the back. Harry hit the last one with a shivering hex as Hermione hit him with a sleep charm and the battle ended in a ringing silence, the air thrumming with magic.

"How did they find us?" Hermione asked shakily.

"I don't know but I need to bring them to the castle before they cause more trouble. Fred, George can you keep them under guard until I get back?"

"Sure."

"Is McGonagall alright?" he asked. Hermione said nothing but began CPR. Oh god.

"I'll go to St. Mungo's" Tonks said shakily and disapperated. Harry swallowed and blinked back tears as he struggled to compose himself.

Then he touched the little snake charm, and hissed "My Lord."

The doors opened as he arrived and he rushed through the halls to find the master of the castle. He almost ran into Lucius and remembering himself immediately looked away.

"Watch where you're going," he said imperiously.

"Yeah sure have you seen Voldemort?"

Even looking at the death eater's chest he saw Lucius wince at the name, "No our lord's been away from the castle for several days."

Harry was stunned that hadn't occurred to him and he suddenly felt…almost abandoned as absurd as that was. He swallowed his rising panic.

"Damnit. Okay look can you grab another death eater and come get some prisoners."

Lucius said nothing and Harry flicked his eyes up to see the aristocrat blinking in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because I have prisoners and no where to hold them and if you don't, I'll tell Voldemort that you hindered the war effort."

Lucius glared and Harry remembered to look away.

"Stay here," Lucius said.

A short while later Lucius returned with Dolohov.

Harry rushed outside and realizing that he'd have to side along said, "I should probably take you one at a time."

"Not confident?"

"Not at all."

Dolohov opened his mouth to argue but Lucius just shook his head.

"Leave Dolohov here you said you had multiple prisoners I can bring them and he'll take them to the dungeon."

Harry almost argued but it sounded like a decent plan and meant one less death eater around his friends.

Fighting back revulsion Harry clasped his surprisingly muscular forearm and apparated.

Fred growled when he saw who Harry had brought and the twins raised their wands. Harry made a gesture to lower them and the twins ignored him.

"It's okay he's just here for the fackletragers." Harry said embarrassed. They relaxed a little but kept the wands drawn.

Lucius seemed unconcerned and warily approached the Fackletragers where they had all been gathered and magically bound. He grabbed two and disapperated, then returned to secure the other two.

"We're gonna need a new safe house," Fred said deadpan.

"What tipped you off?" Harry asked dryly.

Chapter Text

Two days later Harry was lazing in an armchair in their new safe house. It was a brand new one, not on the previous list thanks to the attack. More than a little guilt ate at Harry like a worm he really should have admitted to his mistake with the pensieve. That was hardly his biggest problem right then though. Their first mission had been a disaster. McGonagall was still in Saint Mungo's but had thankfully regained consciousness, Raoul's burn was slowly healing. Callum despite a little lingering stiffness, that he adamantly denied, was recovering well from his broken arm. The twins meanwhile had returned to their family's safe house.

God he'd screwed up. He had completely let his guard down when they'd got back to the safe house. After all why not it was a 'safe' house, that was kind of the point. Yet it had almost gotten his friends killed. His decision, his mistake.

Raoul walked into the den, "Harry can you come outside a sec?"

"Sure, why?" Harry rose.

"It'd be easier to show you."

With a sigh Harry followed him out. Voldemort stood ten feet from the door, he smirked at Harry.

"What the hell!?"

"If you want that incompetent tortured I can arrange it."

"Why didn't you warn me?" he yelled at Raoul.

"Finite."

Raoul blinked. "Harry what are you doing here? I was just…" Raoul turned and gasped when he saw their 'guest'. He whipped out his wand but his hand was shaking so much he dropped it. Pale with fear Raoul, watched Voldemort with a look somewhere between 'defiant stare' and 'rabbit pinned by a cobra's gaze'.

So Raoul wasn't as perfect as he seemed. He smiled slightly.

He took a step toward Voldemort.

"What the hell are you doing here? Other than scaring my people?" Harry realized he should probably be wondering how Voldemort had found the place but somehow he wasn't surprised.

"I heard you were in trouble and came to render assistance."

"Right, seriously why are you here?"

"Lucius said you needed me and since you provided prisoners I decided that it might be worth my time to keep you alive."

"Since you got your prisoners it must have been obvious that I was no longer in trouble."

"Perhaps I was merely curious what could make the great boy-who-lived come to me."

"I get that you were an orphan but didn't anyone explain that gloating is really annoying."

Rage flashed and disappeared from both the link and his expression.

"It also occurred to me that perhaps there was more that you hadn't shared with Lucius," Voldemort said in the tone he used in Death Eater meetings.

Harry sighed, "No I just needed to send the prisoners somewhere."

"Then why specifically ask for me?" Voldemort's eyes narrowed

"You know why, besides…if I ran into Severus I would probably try to kill him." Harry glared. Voldemort was just trying make thing awkward for him with the order. Arse.

"He has that effect, I'll have to demand that you restrain yourself though."

Harry glared, "What about...legilimency."

A flicker of annoyance and Voldemort produced a pair of glasses. "These will serve provided you don't maintain eye contact for too long and the legilimens isn't very skilled."

Awed Harry put the glasses on. "I can't see shit. This is almost as bad as no glasses."

"Then find something better." another flicker of...it wasn't straight annoyance but similar.

Harry huffed. Then a thought killed what little pleasure remained. "What do you want in return?"

"It serves my ends."

Harry was suspicious but it tracked and he sensed only the tiniest sliver of deception along with a bit of...confusion? What?.

"Don't waste my time for anything that doesn't actually require my presence again."

Harry glared his imperious tone. "You don't have a problem with me ordering your Death eaters around?"

"Obviously there are limits but if it's something for the war effort then it's mutually beneficial."

"I can't reciprocate."

"I don't need your people."

Harry's face heated with shame, "What…What about the oath we aren't supposed to interfere in each other's forces."

"I'm explicitly allowing it of free will it doesn't constitute interference."

Harry nodded still suspicious but again he felt no deception, "Thanks."

"Hsss I merely don't want you wasting my time on trivialities."

"Right."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed but then he looked past Harry and Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I think you're lackey wants to leave," Voldemort said pointing at Raoul.

Oh oops. Harry turned, the wizard was still frozen, his face a mask of fear and revulsion.

"Hey you don't have to stay if you don't want."

Raoul's eyes snapped onto him and Raoul took a step back.

"Wha…oh…sorry man," Harry said and repeated himself.

Raoul nodded and stepped wide around Harry as he returned to the house.

"I think he's scared of you."

The link was full of dark amusement.

"Yeah thanks for that."

"Hss what have I said about that."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I was being sarcastic."

Voldemort's eyes flashed with anger. "You will need that fear sooner or later, you are still my tool, I expect you to be useful."

"We are equals by the oath, I just provided you with four prisoners and I do not need fear to lead."

"Equal by what measure? You believe yourself to be my equal, shall we duel when the oath ends?"

Harry's mouth went dry but he shrugged. "Is there any other way this ends."

"Perhaps by the end of the war you will realize how infantile your world view is."

There was an odd soft quality to the hiss that Harry didn't know how to interpret. The link provided a sort of tiredness, the dark wizard was fully aware Harry wasn't going to change. What confused him was why Voldemort was giving lip service to it.

"There's the prophecy anyway."

Surprise in the link, though none showed on the darkwizard's face. "Hmm? Your precious Dumbledore never told you?"

Harry sighed and looked down. "Told me what? Was the prophecy a fake? Or not actually about me?"

Tears pricked his eyes and he gritted his teeth, mad at himself for giving Voldemort the satisfaction. There was pleasure in the link of course and even in the sadistic twist of the other's mouth.

"So much doubt." He said it with such feigned sympathy that it reminded Harry of Umbridge. An image of Voldemort in one of her cardigans conjured itself in his mind. Harry doubled over cackling. Then realized that was probably a very bad idea and struggled to contain himself, wiping his eyes.

Voldemort was glaring at him, the link filled with anger and confusion.

"Explain yourself." Even in parseltoungue the hiss sounded deadly.

"Ssss…I could but you wouldn't understand."

"You truly think there is a concept that you could grasp that I can't?" Voldemort sneered as rage hammered the link.

"Love, loyalty, friendship, kindness…"The words slipped out in the heat of the moment and Harry tried not to flinch, he had nothing to fear after all.

Instead of anger though the link was filled with disgust. "I understand the concept as I understand the concept of a tail yet I remain unconvinced that I need one."

Harry chuckled and bit it off at another glare. "Come on that was funny."

"It's fact."

"What?"

Voldemort shrugged and again Harry was immeasurably creeped out. "If you spend enough time talking to snakes they will invariably try to convince you of the utility of a tail…Why are you smiling?"

Harry blinked and realized that he was in fact smiling. It faded, "Ssss… I guess I was enjoying myself."

"You still haven't answered the original question," Voldemort's voice was cold as ever. The link carried some sort of wrongness that Harry couldn't decipher.

Harry thought for a moment before remembering what the argument had been about and snickering. He was about to add 'humor' to the list of 'concepts' but realized he was wrong, it might be dryer than cremated bone but the dark wizard definitely had some concept of humor.

He sighed. "Look a thought popped into my head and it was absurd so I laughed can we leave it at that?"

Suspicion grew in the link and Voldemort grabbed him by the chin and forced their eyes to meet. He tried to blank his mind and even succeeded for a few seconds.

Voldemort released him and the link carried something that Harry only call freaked: a sort of revulsion and aversion and some other things.

"I see you've been practicing."

Harry tried not laugh at the obvious subject change. "Not well enough apparently. Do that again and I'll punch you."

"It takes time and by all means, one way or another it will end with you dead."

Harry took the out. "Yeah? How long'd it take you?"

"Less than most. Now you wished to know what your headmaster hid this time?"

Oh, right. "Yeah."

"Prophecies are meant to be indestructible. The fact that it broke during the fight at the ministry means it's quite literally broken."

Harry blinked. "Broken…So it's meaningless now?"

"Yes," Voldemort hissed impatiently. "The more interesting question is why? What happened then that changed it?"

Harry stared for a moment.

"What part of that do you fail to comprehend?"

"Hsss I understand I was just trying to figure out if it was weirder that you go out for divination or that you're asking my input."

"Hsss Divination is useless outside of prophecy and apparently of little use even then. I merely researched that aspect upon learning that there was meaning in the breaking of one. And I was speaking rhetorically."

Harry cocked his head, the link reflected the defensiveness in Voldemort's words which was just strange but Harry didn't feel like arguing so he ignored it.

"So why did you keep trying to kill me?"

"General principle."

"What?"

Voldemort said nothing.

"Wait…you did it because the Death Eaters needed to see you defeat me?"

"Among other reasons."

"So then this really doesn't end any other way."

"No it doesn't but that isn't the reason, the Death eater's could accept turning you as a great coup."

Harry sighed then a thought occurred to him. "Uh…how did the fackletragers track us back?"

"Surely you could ask one of your loyal followers."

"Yeah it's just…"

"You don't trust them?" he didn't need the link to sense amusement in that hiss.

"Of course I do!...it's just…"

Intrigue slithered through the link, "You can't let them know you don't know. You need them to respect you, trust your judgement."

"Ugh like you don't do the same for the death eaters, just tell me." Harry huffed as his face heated.

"The difference is that I can actually deliver on what I've made them believe, they do expect that eventually."

"Okay I get it, you think I'm pathetic. Tell me please?"

Voldemort laughed. "Everything has a price, what are you offering? "

"What do you want?"

"Nothing in particular, but perhaps you will offer something of interest?" he said doubtfully.

Harry knew that was a bad road to go down and shook his head. There was approval in the link and Harry tried to pretend the warm pride he felt in his chest didn't exist.

"What happened to wanting the war effort to succeed?"

"You will either ask someone else or you'll figure it out on your own."

Harry blinked, he was a complete idiot. "Right I'll do some research."

Voldemort nodded. "Try protocols of magical law enforcement in the German ministry, official edition."

"What?"

Annoyance and impatience. "It's a book."

"Oh…right."

Silence fell.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Voldemort did first.

"Your next lesson will be at ten pm two days from now." He disapparated without a sound.

Harry looked around for a moment expecting an attack. Instead his gaze caught the setting sun in all its gold and red glory. It made him sad somehow. With a sigh he turned to enter the safe house.

"We should pack," Raoul said and left the den with two witches Harry knew only by appearance. Only Tonks and Hemione remained.

Harry shook his head, the other two were always following Raoul around like pets. The part that really burned was that he couldn't blame them. What had he done so far except get rescued and expose their hiding place? Even the prisoners had just been luck and resulted in far too many injuries.

Plus he still had people in Azkaban that he had no idea how to help. The pleasure he'd taken in Raoul's fear and susceptibility to the imperius made him feel ill now. The latter could likely get them all killed and the former merely showed that he had a functioning brain.

Harry flopped on the couch and noticed how Tonks leaned away practically onto Hermione's lap.

"Uh harry…" Hermione began.

"Yeah?"

"What'd you talk about?" she asked with a nervous smile.

Harry realized that from their perspective a half hour of him hissing with Voldemort probably seemed a bit scary. Maybe more than a bit.

"Nothing."

Hermione gave him a look that was half fear, half glare.

"We talked about the oath, how I should interact with Death Eaters should I have to again, the prophecy and the concept of humor, oh and he apparently shares your opinion that I should read more."

Hermione gave a little squeak. "I uh well…that is pretty universal advice but…seriously…you were out there a long time and you talked about…nothing?"

"Uh…well it wasn't really nothing like I said he said I could use the Death eaters for basic stuff so I don't waste his time which will give me more flexibility and he told me about the fact that the breaking of the prophecy means it's no longer true…"

"Wait…he said that? That doesn't sound right."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't feel any deception in the link."

"Maybe he found a way to block it, besides couldn't he simply be wrong? If he believed the information it wouldn't be deception."

Harry laughed. "If he'd found a way to block it I'm pretty sure he'd have made sure I could to, not a huge fan of my thoughts and feelings. I'm also pretty sure that he wouldn't have said anything unless he was certain." Then again the locket did have at least most of his sense of caution…doubt niggled at the back of his mind.

"Even Dumbledore was wrong on occasion," Hermione's voice had a surprising edge of anger to it.

"He had a wider margin for error."

"Right because saving wizarding Britain is something you can just keep trying until you get it right?" Hermione growled.

"No but…" for him it wasn't a matter of survival. We all knew he was human even if we occasionally forgot it. Harry couldn't bring himself to say any of that though, even just thinking it made him feel guilty.

"What is wrong with you? It's like you admire You-know-who or something."

"No! It's just…the link means I don't have to second guess as much."

"Unless he's found a way to manipulate it again."

Harry looked down seeing the logic in her words.

"Another thing, if You-know-who was angry about you wasting his time why did he just spend almost an hour talking to you about what you claim to be nothing?"

Harry opened his mouth then closed it and racked his brain. "I have absolutely no idea."

LVLVLVLV

Nagini slithered along the floor from her spot by the fire as soon as Voldemort apparated into the study.

"You've been to see Cub."

"Hsss what have I said about calling the boy that?"

"That it's 'cloying and sickens you' Master."

Voldemort flicked his wand.

"Hhaaaasssshhh," she hissed in pain as ring of scales five wide sloughed off her back to reveal raw skin beneath.

"That was creative." Her hiss was thick with pain.

"Forced molt curse. Next time I'll do your head."

"You're in a foul mood."

Voldemort glared at the insubordinate serpent and raised his wand threateningly. She lowered her head in submission with a disgruntled hiss.

"As you pointed out I've been dealing with that idiot for the last hour."

"Prohibetur scientiae singularis virtus efficit," he hissed and stalked into the vault room.

He selected a pair of books one on soul magic the other on mental spells and re-locked the room.

"And you had to do that? Two days after the fact?" the infernal snake hissed.

"It had to be done eventually. I can't have him wasting my time, as you are, on such trivial matters and it will help in my efforts to turn him if he knows the truth of the prophecy."

"Right. It's got nothing to do with the fact that you just spent the last three days dealing with dementors."

Voldemort flicked his wand again and she hissed in pain as a small strip of scales fell from just above her eye.

"You could just tell me to be quiet," she muttered.

"Would you obey?"

She settled at his feet disgruntled.

"Did you ask about the little snake?"

"No."

Nagini hissed the equivalent of a sigh.

"I must say I find this new 'affection' of yours disgusting."

"I can't exactly help it."

He glared at the borderline insubordination but she was at least partially correct, in hindsight using a living horcrux when he'd carved out his sense of loyalty had probably been a bad idea. However had he used an inanimate object it would have been more susceptible to being misused as the locket had been. In the end it had really been the only option and Nagini had been the only suitable vessel animate or inanimate available.

He settled in his throne and leafed through the book on soul magic until he reached the section he sought. Then with a quick spell to allow him to interpret Russian, he repeated the process with the other tome and began to compare.

So it seemed that the horcrux link worked something like an overflow, automatically opening at any sort of high stress. However it worked on principles more similar to mind magic therefore it would theoretically be possible to shield it. At the expense of one's general occlumency shield, maintaining both to any degree would be near impossible but…he smiled. It would definitely be worth some experimenting.

"Who's going to die?" Nagini asked bored.

"The boy, at a time of my choosing."

"Hsssss."

"Is that sadness?"

"Of course not." She sounded disgustingly morose.

"Liar."

"He had good mice and blood."

"You're so easily bought?"

"You sold out for good conversation at least I…"

"El estante," he stabbed the air with his wand, drew it straight to the right and stabbed again. Whatever else she was going to say was replaced by hissed shrieks and he watched with scholarly interest. He'd been wanting to compare his newly invented 'rack' curse to the cruciatus for a while now.

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry was getting itchy. The unending hours of boredom were making him sympathize with Sirius cooped up in Grimmuald place even more than he always had. The downtime gave him little to do but brood on his mistakes and the undeserved anger he felt towards Raoul.

It also left him wondering about Hermione's point, why had Voldemort wasted his time chatting. Harry wasn't arrogant enough to believe that Voldemort found his conversation that interesting and surely if Voldemort just wanted to feel superior he had death eaters for that so…

To save his brain from chasing itself in endless circles he decided to go to Hogwarts, talk to Myrtle and see if he could find any clues concerning how to find Fawkes.

It was good to have been formally introduced to the Death Eaters and not have to worry about being 'caught' anymore. Though he still wore his cloak just so he didn't have to answer any awkward questions, he strode confidently through the halls. His heart ached as he sidestepped a first year moving between classes and wished he was doing the same. Who'd have thought he'd miss school work.

Soon enough he'd made his way to the infamous bathroom.

"Myrtle?"

The ghost floated out of her stall wiping her eyes and sniffling.

"Harry? Why would you come here? Surely not to see me." tears started rolling down her face again and he sighed.

"Actually yeah. I want to ask you a couple of questions."

"About what?" she sniffled suspiciously.

"A-about when you died if that's okay."

"That…would be lovely. Sit, sit!" she floated down to float cross legged a few inches above the floor.

"Uh…I'll stand I think,"

Her lip quivered and she sniffed.

"Alright, alright…." He dried a section of the floor and settled down trying not to grimace.

"So what do you want to know?" she simpered.

"Uh…do you remember a student named Tom Riddle?"

"Yeah he was a year ahead of me. Popular. H-he…d-didn't like me" she burst into tears.

Wonder why? Harry thought before he could stop himself. He found her annoying, he couldn't imagine Voldemort's antipathy for her. She was the antithesis of everything he stood for. It was what made his actions in the dream-memory so strange.

"He found me crying in the hall once and said 'typical mud-blood, if you had any brains you'd know how useless you're being.' E-everyone always said how nice h-he was but n-not to poor Myrtle n-no of c-course not."

That struck Harry as odd but he supposed that everyone had a bad day and future dark lord or not he'd been a teenager he must not have quite perfected his mask. That or perhaps he simply hated weakness so much he lost control.

Myrtle sniffled some more and wailed and Harry forced himself to remain in the rising water.

"B-but…the weird thing…he came to see me…a-a-after I d-died…he said he was sorry," the tears subsided and she touched her chin in thought. "I always wondered why."

You and me both, Harry thought.

"You have no idea why? You had no other meaningful contact with him."

"N-no…but…I swear he teared up."

"Wait what?"

"Well I mean…a little bit… Serves him right for mocking me."

On one hand she was probably just seeing things from her own messed up, overly sensitive perspective. On the other he supposed it wasn't completely impossible especially given his violent physical reaction. Harry groaned this wasn't answering anything.

"So you don't know why he apologized and you were in no way close?"

Myrtle shook her head whimpering.

"Well thanks a lot for trying to help," he said and she gave a wan smile. His spirits lifted slightly and he spent a few more minutes trying to console her before he left.

He scoured the library, wishing that he knew more about its lay out and after almost two hours found a book on phoenix care. He carefully removed it, tucked it under his cloak and slipped out.

Chapter Text

He spent that night in the safe house reading and found that: 'though a wild phoenix may return from its self-imposed exile if someone it formed a deep bond with were in dire straits', short of actually hunting and catching it there was no way to intentionally call it back.

Harry sighed and flopped on his makeshift 'bed' closing his eyes. The day had been a complete waste. He rubbed tired eyes and looked up to see Hermione standing over him with her patented 'we-need-to-talk' look.

"Eh?"

"Where were you today?"

"Research."

"What exactly were you researching?"

"Voldemort's past and trying to find out if I could get Fawkes back."

Hermione grimaced. "Do you think maybe you should…stay away for awhile, you're getting kind of obsessive."

He tried to swallow down a knee-jerk defensive reaction.

"Well he is supposed to be my mortal enemy and his…"he bit off what he was about to say, it would have made it sound like he was intimidated. "I'd say a little obsession in finding a way to win is a good thing."

"Information is never a bad thing," Hermione admitted. "But Harry you're not acting like you-know-who's your enemy."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

Hermione glanced around as though seeking inspiration then met his gaze and swallowed. Her face grew stern, like a life time ago when they skived homework.

"I mean that if I didn't know better and was looking at it as an outside observer I wouldn't think You-know-who was your enemy…Harry I'd think he was your mentor."

"What!?" Harry yelped bolting up.

Hermione gave a helpless little shrug.

"You take lessons from him…"

"We both need me to learn occlumency, it makes no sense to turn down the offer." For some reason he didn't mention the glasses, speaking of did that mean he wouldn't be getting more lessons? He really didn't want to be stuck barely able to see whenever he was around Death Eaters.

"You speak of him as someone you admire…"

"When have I ever done that?"

"The Azkaban raid? Immortality?"

Harry snorted. "The first I was making a point that he's evil and we needed to do better for our people. The second was a joke."

"You carry on long, apparently voluntary conversations…"

"We're allies, we occasionally have to discuss plans."

"Then why in parseltoungue if it was so innocent?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Habit from the castle and there are some things he won't discuss except in parseltoungue."

"Like what things?"

"I dunno..." Harry cast about for a running theme. "Stuff he doesn't want the death eaters to hear, like about the oath."

There was one more prevalent theme too, anything remotely personal.

"If he doesn't want them to know that gives you leverage."

"Yeah if I want to get flayed alive when the year's up!"

"Unless it strips the death eaters from him or better makes them turn on him, you have serious leverage, besides he hasn't managed to kill you yet."

"And what would that achieve? For one thing I'm not entirely sure it'd be that devastating a blow and even if it would, we actually do need the death eaters to have a chance in the war or I wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

Hermione sighed. "I just don't think this is healthy for you."

"I thought you were supposed to keep your enemies close."

"Provided that you remember they're enemies. He killed your parents Harry, Sirius, Dumbledore," her voice cracked. "What would they say?"

"They'd hate me. We've been over this. As soon as someone comes up with a better idea…" Harry fought to keep his voice steady.

Hermione stepped up and hugged him. Her soft breasts squished against him slightly under her sweater and he decided that while Ginny's were slightly bigger, Hermione's were definitely adequate. It would have been a real toss –up if not for her constant mother henning and the fact that he wouldn't get in Ron's way.

They broke apart, Hermione left and Harry fell asleep to nightmares of the coming battles and everything that could go wrong.

By the time he finished breakfast the next day Harry was itching to move but the others still needed time to heal.

With nothing better to do Harry approached Hermione and asked her to put a glamour on him.

"Why?" she asked.

"I have to go to diagon alley."

"Why?"

He hedged, knowing that she wouldn't approve of him trading for Voldemort's assistance with Azkaban. Like she had a better idea. "Supplies."

"Send one of the others, they won't be recognized. I could go!."

Harry glared at her and stalked away, feeling her frown bore into his back. Tonks was more helpful and properly disguised he apparated to Diagon alley and entered the menagerie to see about getting a phoenix.

"Do you have any phoenixes in?"

The shopkeeper laughed in his face. "No, we don't." the tone heavily implied idiot.

Harry stormed out of the shop, slamming the door. The guy didn't have to be an arse, he could have just said no. Still fuming Harry headed down the alley to flourish and Blotts.

A spell shot by scorching his robe. It was the first of many. Spells cascaded all around him and he dove into a niche between two shops and cast a shield.

As spells crashed against it he saw no fewer than half a dozen uniformed Fackletragers in front of him. Oh hell, he struggled to maintain the shield. Casting another shield as soon as the first failed he yelped as another spell scorched his shoulder.

He couldn't disapparate without losing the shield and he couldn't hold it forever. He was stuck, struggling to come up with something, anything to break the stalemate.

Perhaps if he could survive long enough someone would come…one of the staff wielding Fackletrager blasted through his shield and he was thrown into the wall behind him. He fell to ground stunned. The alley exploded in flame and the body of a Fackletrager, still screaming as he burned, flew by. The Fackletrager's arm struck Harry as he struggled to his feet and his robe caught fire. He extinguished it. Then he sprinted down the burning street, wand raised in front of him. He glanced behind him, a Fackletrager took aim. A lance of liquid fire speared his enemy through the chest.

He heard laughter, bonechilling in its cruelty. A dark robed figure stood in the road maintaining a crackling electric shield with a short scepter while the other hand swept a black scepter in an arc. The people in the alley fell coughing blood as choking black smoke filled the air.

Then Voldemort disappeared and Harry felt himself being side-alonged, a vice-like grip on his arm.

Harry lay on the ground where he was dropped, he choked on smoke, clutching his shoulder. Less than a minute later Voldemort reappeared, grabbed Harry and dragged him through two more apparations. When he finally let go Harry dry heaved for several moments before he got control of himself and looked up.

"What the hell? There were innocent people there!"

"Which was why I was forced to return." Rage accompanied the thought. "The better question is what were you doing there?"

Harry swallowed down residual nausea and remembered that if any innocents had died the oath would have kicked in.

"Looking for a damn phoenix."

"Idiot. Even a mudblood would know that you can't buy a tame phoenix."

"Well I do now," Harry muttered bitterly. "What were you doing there anyway."

Voldemort ignored him and strode away. With nothing better to do Harry trotted after him.

"What? Why were you there?"

"I was looking for something."

"Well did you find it."

"Yes and no."

Harry growled. "Why did you save me?"

Voldemort turned to look at him. Hate burned in his eyes and scorched the link. "You are still useful unfortunately. I can't let you die yet."

The dark wizard walked on and fitted together the two scepters he held. A light blue glow enveloped the join and they fused into a single two tone staff.

"Cool," Harry breathed before he remembered himself and grimaced. The rage in the link faded a little as annoyance and amusement joined the mix. "Where are we?"

"It doesn't matter, move."

Harry trotted faster and tried to tamp down his rising temper.

"Look can you at least…"

The air crackled with energy as Voldemort twisted the staff and raised a shield. Spell pelted across it. He apparated away.

"Protego!" Harry cried but the spells fell where Voldemort had been several yards away

Green light blazed among the trees. Harry recovered from his surprise and bolted into battle wand raised. He came upon only Voldemort standing over two dead Fackletragers. Voldemort turned on him and Harry raised his hands.

"Whoa!"

The pure battle focus of the link turned to curiosity as Voldemort lowered his staff to point at the ground. Harry smiled and pocketed his wand. Voldemort appraised him, like an interesting artifact and Harry shifted his feet, disturbed.

"Use the serpent to return to the castle and stay you're due for a lesson." Voldemort said, the curiosity was still there but he didn't pursue it and HArry didn't volunteer anything. Harry obeyed because any other option would just be cutting off his nose to spite his face.

He arrived at the castle and and approached the massive doors. They didn't open, of course they didn't. He had to admit the bastard knew how make a point…and an entrance.

He cast a warming charm on his robes and leaned against the door waiting. Harry sprawled flat on his face when the door finally did open. Harry cursed a blue streak as he picked himself up and made his way to the training room.

"Prepare yourself," Voldemort said when he arrived.

Harry took a moment to collect himself. Then the assault started as usual Voldemort broke into his mind, backed off, started again. Harry tried focusing on his loved ones but again he felt into nothing but a wave of guilt inducing memories.

When his vision cleared he was kneeling on floor gasping for breath tears flowed down his face and he fought down a sob. God. He dragged in a ragged breath, wiping his eyes, begging anyone listening to let him get a grip. However he looked up he saw Voldemort straightening pain in his eyes.

Harry rose shakily to his feet and tried to clear his mind. Confusion and pain ran in the link.

"How do you function like that?" Voldemort asked and Harry thought there was a hint of awe in his voice.

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to it I guess."

Hesitance…then. "Do not trust that to work on anyone else. I suspect that's...that would only succeed on someone you are a horcrux to."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the tip." He said it sarcastically but was genuinely grateful.

Voldemort dove into Harry's mind and this time he tried just blanking everything out. After a few minutes the memories came but Voldemort broke off almost immediately.

"You changed tactics."

"You said what I did woul..." Disgust. Harry thought a moment and changed his words. "Might not work on the death eaters."

Then again from his perspective it hadn't really worked on the dark lord either. The link was a mess, curiosity, defensiveness, calculation as though he were arguing with himself.

"And yet you had a way to inflict pain that wouldn't violate the oath. Admittedly merely a headache but still I doubt there's a wizard in Britain who wouldn't take advantage knowing there could be no retaliation."

"That's…" Harry bit off his initial reaction of pity, feeling like an idiot and traitor. "One I'm guessing there would be retaliation when the year is up."

"I already intend to kill you slowly."

"And two It wouldn't accomplish our objective. I'm not a sadist I don't inflict pain for fun."

He felt shock in the link and took a wild shot.

"No. Not even on you."

"Why?" anger and confusion.

"There'd be no point. Pissing you off probably isn't in my best interest oath or no and self-serving or not you just walked into fire to save my ass."

"Weak then," he said as though pronouncing a death sentence and disgust flooded the link as he dove back into Harry's mind.

Harry hissed in anger and blanked his mind again. When his vision cleared he was on his knees again, head pounding. His earlier nausea flared up too.

"It isn't weakness to want to repay a kindness." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Hsssshh you said yourself that you're fully aware it wasn't kindness but self-interest."

Harry didn't understand why the dark lord was so angry, more so than when Harry had actually hurt him.

"Look as long as we've been in this arrangement, you've actually done nothing but help me. I'm not going to return that with cruelty."

"It's what the weak deserve!" the dark lord hissed harshly. Harry felt the link shift as Voldemort realized his mistake.

"Since when has anyone got what they deserved in life?" Harry asked almost to himself.

The anger disappeared as, to Harry's surprise the Darklord laughed. "The powerful live, the weak die. There's no more to it than that."

"D-Dumbledore died."

"There's more to power than raw strength. He miscalculated."

"Why did you apologize to Myrtle?" Harry struck on impulse.

"Who?"

"The girl you killed with the basilisk."

Voldemort's expression twisted with rage. "That wasn't me. I killed him a long time ago."

Harry sighed. "Fine why did Tom apologize?"

Silence.

"Come on I'm curious," Harry said whined teasingly.

"And I care why?" His tone was cold even by parseltoungue standards so Harry was surprised to feel dark amusement in the link. He decided this was something like a game.

"An exchange of information then?" Harry asked with a smirk as he remembered Voldemort's words from months before.

Voldemort appraised him for a moment. "Why don't you hate the filth?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected anything so personal. He thought a moment. "I hated you instead. Everything that happened in my life I could blame on you."

"You act rather odd if that's the case," Voldemort said it like a taunt but there was genuine curiosity and something else undefinable in the link.

Harry shrugged. "I guess It's hard for me to hate someone I'm working so closely with. When the oath ends and you go back to killing my friends I'm sure I'll get over it."

"You've never wished for revenge on them?"

Harry thought again. "No. Well I mean petty stuff but not like you mean."

"Why?"

"When I was young…" He paused ashamed, then remembered that dream. "I was scared, I just wanted to escape."

He met Voldemort's eyes, daring him to say anything but to Harry's surprise he saw a hint of understanding in the scarlet eyes.

"And now?"

"Now…they're muggles…it wouldn't even be a fight."

"That would be the point."

"It's…" Harry struggled to find a way to word it then hit on something that was not only true but he realized Voldemort might actually understand. "It's beneath me. I'm better than that, better than them."

The older wizard was silent a moment.

"He was young, weak," Voldemort hissed softly. It took Harry a minute to realize that Voldemort was answering Harry's earlier question. "He used a tool for a specific task, lost control and killed the girl. It was a great failing and he believed himself to be unworthy of the tool."

The link was aggressive and ready like a coiled snake

"That doesn't explain why he apologized to the girl." He almost slipped on the pronoun.

Anger in the link.

"Hssshh. In his naiveté, he believed that only those who'd wronged him deserved to die."

"He felt guilty?" Harry gasped in shock.

"I killed him for a reason."

"A pity, I might have been able to respect him."

"Clearly I made the right choice then," Voldemort's hiss dripped disgust like venom, but Harry felt a flash of sadness at odds with the words. It disappeared almost immediately.

He struggled surprise off his face.

"Why so surprised? You find that callous?" Voldemort taunted, amused.

Fuck it, he had enough death warrants what was signing one more. "I'm not surprised by that. I'm surprised it makes you sad."

"It doesn't." Pure rage accompanied the thought.

"Then what? Because something did."

Voldemort was in his mind again, memories surfaced and were cast aside as he tore through it and Harry's head split open with pain. He tried blanking his mind, it did nothing to slow the onslaught, in desperation he conjured thoughts of his loved ones but each was countered with his own memories of the guilt he felt over his part in their death or his grief at their loss.

Finally the pain lessened slightly. Harry looked up from where he'd fallen, heedless of the tears streaming down his face and feeling unaccountably betrayed. Voldemort glared down at him with murderous eyes, jaw clenched against his own pain.

"Do not forget who I am!" he raised his wand.

"The oath!" Harry yelled.

"Doesn't apply to memory charms."

"I'm pretty sure that's harmful," Harry hissed in panic.

"Not physically." Harry could sense a sliver of doubt in the link.

"You're gonna to test it?" Harry tried. "I'll end the alliance if you do!"

A long moment passed frozen in time. Then the Dark Lord slowly lowered his wand.

"Get out of my castle!"

Harry struggled shakily to his feet.

"Wait I…didn't mean anything, I was just curio—"

"Out!"

Harry turned and bolted out of the room, up the stairs and down the hall. He paused only long enough once he cleared the wards to disapparate.

Chapter Text

Hermione met him at the door.

"Oh Harry." she gasped and embraced him. He shook in her arms from the headache, and exertion and just maybe a little fear.

"What happened?" she asked fear in her voice.

He opened his mouth to answer then pulled back and got himself back under control. Everyone was nervous enough without him panicking them.

"It's nothing. I just…Voldemort and I got into an argument. I guess it just threw me a bit, it's fine now. Sorry to scare you."

"God Harry…does that mean the alliance is over," she sounded a little relieved. He hated that he would have to crush that. If they had any chance of surviving the Fackletrager takeover he had to make the alliance work.

"I don't know, but for the war's sake I hope not."

"Are you hurt?" She hid her disapproval well but it was obvious to Harry .

"No. Of course not." He forced a smile. Thank god for the oath.

"Ah thank god!" She hugged him again and led him to the couch.

"What did you argue over?" there was something hopeful, almost hungry in her look and the way she asked.

"Uh…something personal actually."

Her expression froze. "What? I figured it'd be about…well you know methods or something."

"No, the oath covers that stuff." It hurt that she still thought he would be going through with the alliance if innocents were in danger.

"So he what insulted your parents or Dumbledore or something?"

A strange sort of guilt gnawed at him and he hesitated before admitting that he wasn't provoked. "No uh I…crossed a line."

Hermione blinked. "What kind of line?"

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? If they continued their lessons Voldemort would know everything he told her and somehow he didn't think Voldemort would like if he shot off about that particular interaction. Why he felt like he should honor that was beyond him but he did.

"We have a…professional arrangement, I asked a personal question it was out of line." he realized as he said it that it bothered him though he couldn't fathom why. Probably a horcrux effect.

Hermione cocked her head, her expression clouded with worry. "What kind of personal question could you possibly ask him."

"What does it matter?"

"Because I find it odd that you'd seek advice from him." Her words and face were both full of accusation.

"I wasn't." Harry laughed. "He wouldn't have been pissed about that."

"Then what'd you ask?"

Damn Hermione and her curiosity. Not everything was her damn business. He remembered then that she couldn't Legilimens him, at least that he knew of.

"I implied that I wasn't afraid of him. He apparently felt the need to fix that." It sucked having to tell her a half-truth, but she deserved it for her nosiness damn it. Like that justified it.

"You're an idiot," she said half teasing half worried.

"You two sure agree on a lot." He smiled. Just like old times…almost.

She swatted him and he laughed as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

LVLVLVLVLV

Voldemort stared out at the assembled Death Eaters, "Draco's team will provide a distraction, targeting muggle villages in the north while Dolohov and Lucius lead their units against Gringotts."

"My lord?" Yaxley asked timidly. Perfect he was itching to torture something.

"Yesss?"

"Can we kill. This quaffle and snitch stuff is pointless."

He flicked his wand. Yaxley went rigid and screamed as his body was stretched by the rack curse. Voldemort listened to the crack as his shoulders and hips dislocated…crack knees…Who knew Yaxley could hit that pitch? Yes he like his new creation.

"Sssooon but not yet. Not until I am absolutely certain that the light forces are ready to move in tandem."

He dropped the curse and continued the meeting over Yaxley's moans. No one was dumb enough to try healing him. Voldemort hid a satisfied smile, respect and skill kept him alive and he still had both. The meeting ended an hour later and he dismissed the Death eaters. Yaxley would find someone willing to heal him eventually, Voldemort might or might not torture whoever that was.

He walked out of the castle and took to the air, flying under the light of the crescent moon until he reached the centaur enclave. The lead centaur knelt grudgingly to him and he slashed his wand in a razorwind curse. Thin lines of blood appeared on the massive draft horse-like creature. It hissed in pain and the others limbered bows and pawed the ground in nervous anger.

"Learn some respect. I came to inform you the 'star-colt'," he hated that term but it was what they called the boy. "Will soon move against the tracks. Stand in readiness." That had been obvious in the memories he'd raided.

"We will." The leader snorted in anger.

"See to it." Voldemort took to the air again. He didn't head straight back to the castle, but instead landed amid a small stand of yew. He cast an alarm charm without thought and turned to look out over the lake at the bottom of the slope.

The yews made for the perfect soil and the bodies buried there would be primed to join the lake's inferi when the time came. The cold wind blew his robes around his feet and he exhaled.

Life never tasted so sweet as when he was surrounded by death, standing literally atop his enemies was just a bonus. He allowed himself a smile.

It was good to get out of the castle, necessary as it was he loathed being stuck in England. Still he was wasting time, a pointless indulgence. He turned and severed some blood creepers, careful not to damage the yew they were coiled around. They would be useful in several potions.

That done he took another moment to look out over the lake. It looked pristine and he smirked knowing that the inferi that resided there had poisoned it to the point where wildlife wouldn't even approach and not so much as a weed still lived within its waters.

He ended the charm, apparated directly to his throne room and hung the vines to dry before moving to his workshop. That little brat and the infernal link would need to be destroyed as soon as possible. He wasn't even sure why he had reacted that way to the boy's stupid comment. After all he knew that the boy would have a healthy fear of him were it not for the oath. So why did his claim of a lack of respect bother him, even for second?

Perhaps it was an effect of the link? Some trace of the boy's infernal weaknesses infecting him? He gritted his teeth and picked up the small dark blue and purple glass orb resting on one of the tables. 285 days to go.

His wand glowed light blue as he wove the complicated pattern, chanting. "Ferrea claustra."

He carefully drew the bead of light over the glass orb, crisscrossing the thin filiments of light into an intricate spiderweb pattern.

"Finite."

The light on the tip of his wand disappeared and with a gesture he floated the orb into the air and gently lowered it into a small cauldron prepared with a hardening potion.

It entered sizzling slightly and he dropped the levitation charm with a slight smile, this time it would…A crash split the air and he turned his face aside as shards of exploded glass pelted the shield he'd raised.

He hissed in anger and dropped the shield. Another two weeks to create another orb but first he'd have to find a way to see that it survived the strengthening process.

What was he missing? He stalked the castle aiming for the library when Dolohov and a young Death Eater from his team approached. They dropped to one knee in bows.

If only he could get the boy to do that. 284 days, 23 hours.

"Rissse and sssspeak."

They did, the younger of the pair a bit shakily. He could smell the man's fear rolling off him in waves.

"We found a small house, little more than a shed, but heavily warded and treated with the utmost secrecy. There are never fewer than five guards."

He had no need to ask how they'd found it. Dolohov had been in charge of interrogating the boy's prisoners.

"What does it conceal?"

"He didn't know," Dolohov said and a tremor of fear entered his voice. Voldemort twitched his wand hand just to make the man flinch.

"You don't suspect a decoy?"

"Yes of course. But this is the first serious target we've found since the ministry takeover and both veriteserum and Legilimency bear it out."

Voldemort nodded.

"You performed well. Dismissed."

He could sense Dolohov's pleasure as the pair retreated and he continued on his way. Research first, then when the prisoner had lain in his own blood and vomit for a while, when the numbness had faded to agony. Then he would verify Dolohov's report.

HPHPHPHP

As Harry prepared to move against the centaur track he racked his brain to prepare for every possible event. He was deeply concerned with whether Voldemort would have some trap prepared for Harry's people. Some form of vengeance for Harry overstepping. He knew he would likely pay for getting so personal but he hadn't thought about how it might affect the order.

They were right, he was an idiot.

"Hey Harry, thanks for letting me take the lead," Raoul said.

"No problem. You earned it," Harry said. He'd gotten over his resentment, if Raoul gave his people the best chance to survive, then Raoul would lead.

"You know it's not like I have some great talent or anything. I took the war and tactics elective in history of magic at Beauxbatons."

"Oh." God the man was even annoying when he was trying to be nice.

"I could give you some of my old text books. If you want?"

"I'd like that. Thanks." Harry's jealousy faded again. He paced into the woods to clear his head away from the others and cursed the link for making him so egotistical. He hoped Voldemort would find a way to block it. Because apparently he was a damsel incapable of just helping his damned self. He quickly ended that metaphor. Of course he wouldn't have had the first idea where to start anyway. He kicked a rock. Then hopped around quite certain he'd broke a toe. Fuck everything.

He limped back to join the others and as soon as he saw them remembered his more immediate concern. He approached Hermione.

"I have to do something. Do you think you can make sure everyone's ready for tonight?"

"Of course." There was doubt in her eyes. Wonderful.

"Thanks."

He'd waited until the last moment to give Voldemort as little time to prepare a trap as possible. Not that it was likely to help. He shook away the pessimistic thoughts. This was getting ridiculous, he was turning Voldemort into some kind of supernatural figure. Evil and powerful as he was he was human. Well okay not really but even he wasn't that good.

He returned to the woods. Five days and he still couldn't figure out what nerve he'd struck. The sensation had been gone from the link so fast… All he had said was a half joking shot about respecting 'Tom'. Had that been it, simply the memory of who he'd been? No they'd been talking about the past for a while and if Voldemort cared he hid it extremely well. Regret for the things he'd done to himself? Unlikely he seemed proud of his 'accomplishments' and made a point of bragging about his immortality.

He was still contemplating this as he hissed the password at his little portkey.

The doors of the castle opened at his approach which was a good sign. He wandered the halls cautious of eye contact but the only Death eaters he saw, to his surprise, stepped wide of him and seemed no more keen on eye contact than he did. Harry smiled to himself with everything going on it felt good to get some respect.

His eyes widened and he actually halted in his tracks, what was he thinking? That wasn't respect, they were wary of him for some reason, but how was that something to be proud of? Oh right they were enemies, murderers and torturers. He moved on feeling a little better, they deserved a taste of their own medicine, besides it wasn't like he'd done anything to make them wary.

Then why were they?

Eventually he arrived at the throne room and after standing there awkwardly for a moment unsure of what to do, he raised his hand to knock.

The door opened before he touched it and he walked in. The door locked behind him and he found Voldemort with Nagini wrapped around his shoulders and a stack of books on the small stand by the throne.

Voldemort didn't look up from the book he was holding. Harry waited in silence, he didn't want to make his situation worse.

"What do you want?" Voldemort asked finally.

"Haaasshh…I just wanted to say we're moving on the centaur racetrack in Nottingham tonight."

"I will have the centaurs in position at ten tonight." There was surprise in the link though the dark lord showed none.

"Hassh than—" He broke off remembering how much Voldemort hated that. "Hey listen…if you want to torture me or whatever it's fine but…don't take my mistake out on my friends."

Voldemort laughed high and cruel, "That is a very good way to get your friends tortured."

Harry blinked.

"You just told me that it would hurt you more than directly harming you."

"Bloody hell."

"While that was probably a horribly transparent attempt to maneuver me into breaking the oath, I truly have no intention of sabotaging my own efforts. Your people and operations will receive no interference until the end of the alliance," Voldemort said smugly.

"I wasn't…wait…the link doesn't tell you if I'm being deceptive?"

Rage flooded the link, so intense that Harry took an instinctive step back.

"Legilimency is enough."

Harry nodded not about to argue that. "But magically why doesn't it work both ways?"

"You have a piece of my soul. I do not have a piece of yours."

"You agreed to the oath without knowing that I didn't have ulterior motives?" Harry asked too surprised to stop himself.

"Everyone has ulterior motives and as I said Legilimency serves me well enough." Anger threaded through the link.

Harry just nodded agreement, he felt a prodding on his mind and tried to blank it.

"Hey get out of my head!"

Slight surprise touched the link but Voldemort ignored him. Harry's head throbbed, he'd have a headache later.

"It's a good sign that you could sense me."

"You think I didn't suck at something? I'll alert the Daily Prophet."

Something flickered and disappeared in the link before Harry could identify it.

"Do not reveal to your enemies how to hurt you," Voldemort's icy hiss would have sent shivers down Harry's spine once.

"I thought we were allies? I was trying to keep the plan from falling apart. Also I thought you were angry why are you giving me advice?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Voldemort smirked. "You may not be hopeless after all. Assume everyone is an enemy, even your 'friends', sooner or later they will use your weaknesses against you."

"Mine won't!"

"Even under torture?" the smirk turned into a cold smile when Harry didn't answer.

"You still haven't answered my question," Harry said bitterly.

Voldemort said nothing for a long moment and there was...wariness in the link. "Why did you rush to the fight?"

"What fight?"

"Hssss in Finland."

So that was where Voldemort had dragged him. No wonder it was so cold.

Harry shrugged. "Habit I guess I'm just used to having to protect my friends."

He could practically hear the gears of time grind as the words left his mouth. Deafening silence fell.

"L-like I said force of habit this is a weird situation. Besides we're on the same side that's how it works in war right." Right? He slipped into English in his panic

"When there is incentive, you had none," Voldemort said slowly.

"It's war, I mean the Death Eaters do the same thing right?" Harry wasn't sure what bothered him more, the defensiveness in his voice or the fact that he was comparing himself to Death Eaters.

"Yes. But only because Death in battle would be quicker than what I would do to them if they didn't." A sadistic smile and pleasure in the link. Voldemort was far more comfortable with this direction of the conversation.

"What about Bellatrix," Harry spat the name.

"Sss she's insane."

Harry stared for a moment then started cackling. Voldemort gave him a look that did not bode well for his continued existence and he got himself under control with difficulty. Nagini snickered and Harry smiled at her, it was good to get a point once in a while. Voldemort flicked his wand and Nagini hissed in pain as a bloody line sliced down her side.

"God why…." Harry gasped before remembering who he was talking to.

Voldemort smiled that cold smile but it was Nagini who answered.

"I was being insubordinate. I knew what I was doing." She turned to Voldemort. "Worth it."

He drew another bloody line on her with a flick of his wand. Harry stared in horror trying to think of something to say to make him stop torturing the poor snake.

"You what? Thought I cared about her?" Voldemort taunted and Harry wondered if he'd been Legilimensed or if his thoughts were really so obvious.

"Naïve little cub," Nagini hissed sadly and Voldemort twitched his wand in threat.

"I believe you have a raid to get to?"

Harry gave an undignified little yelp and bolted from the room. He disapperated as soon as he the edge of the wards.