Disclaimer: In no way do I own Harry Potter or any of the related businesses/Corporations. As much as I wish when I blow out the candles on my birthday cake each year, it will not happen.
A/N: The text in the square brackets '[ ]' is from Harry Potter and The Goblet of fire and is definitely not mine. In fact, apart from the OC, nothing is mine. Oh well, there is always Christmas…in three months time. Also the text in *'s is text from the same book- also not mine.
[Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way and fell forwards; his hands let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said.
Cedric shook his head. He got up and pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously travelled miles- perhaps hundreds of miles- for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone.
They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill above them to their left. Harry could just make out an outline of a fine old house on the hillside.
Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then at Harry.
"Did anyone tell you the Cup was a portkey?" he asked.
"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent, and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"
"I dunno" said Cedric. He looked slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"
"Yeah" said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.
They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him.
He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.
"Someone's coming" he said suddenly.
Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily towards them between the graves.]
A smaller, daintier figure walked behind, gracefully following them, weaving in between grave stones.
[Harry couldn't make out a face; but from the way it was walking, and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever they were, they were short and wearing hooded cloaks pulled up over their head to obscure their face. And – several paces nearer, the space between them closing all the time – he saw that the thing in the smaller person's arms looked like a baby… or was it merely a bundle of robes?
Harry lowered his wand slightly, and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figures.]
They stopped in space free from head stones; the smaller of two went down onto its knees, still holding the bundle close to its chest and watched the other person.[ And then without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground in seconds and he could see nothing at all, his head was about to split open.]
From far away, close to the ground, he heard a high cold voice say, "kill the spare".
A swishing noise and a second voice, coming from high above him, said the words in a cold, monotone voice "Avada Kedavra!"
[A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.
Cedric was lying spread eagle on the ground beside him.
He was dead.
For a second that contained eternity, Harry stared into Cedric's face, at his open grey eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of the deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, before Harry's mind could accept what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet.]
The taller of the two people but still not tall by any means, probably a man, forced Harry against the tombstone with a flick of his wand, making his head slam back against the marble. An invisible weight pressed Harry to the tombstone, binding his wrists and ankles with rope into a crucifix pose and pressing his neck back, forcing him to look head on. When Harry eventually moved his eyes to look up, he saw that the man had thrown his hood back.
[And Harry realised who was under the hood. It was Wormtail.
"You!" he gasped
But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the tombstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn't make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had gone; he couldn't turn his head to see beyond the headstone, he could only see what was right in front of him.]
He spotted the other figure still on its knees, still watching Wormtail, still clutching the bundle to it's chest. Looking closer, Harry could see that the dark robes fitted snugly to the person, splaying out at the hips, close enough to make out the feminine curve of breasts and an hourglass figure.
[Wormtail's fast wheezy breathing was growing louder. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water – Harry could hear it slopping around – and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in].
The bundle in the woman's arms squirmed and said something in an unintelligible whisper; the girl nodded signalling to Wormtail.
"It's time Wormtail" she hissed, low and dangerous, beckoning him over with one finger whilst shifting the bundle's weight onto her left arm.
"Y…Y…Yes-ss my llla-dy" he stuttered, creeping closer to the unidentified women. She passed the bundle over, not before she bent her head lower into the mass of cloth and whispered something. She took a few steps back and dropped to her knees. Wormtail placed the bundle onto the ground and looked at the women. She nodded.
[Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a scream that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.
It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone, and revealed something ugly, slimy and blind – but worse, a hundred times worse].
Wormtail walked over and the unwrapped creature slid thin, frail arms round his neck and lowered it into the cauldron, letting it sink to the bottom. The girl stood in one swift, elegant movement, making Wormtail cower beneath her presence; she began to speak;
*"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"* She pointed her wand to the foot of the grave Harry was tied against. A decaying bone shattered the surface leaving a small hole and hovered in front of Harry's face; he turned a violent shade of green which dispersed as it was placed into the cauldron.
[The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions, and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. And now Wormtail was whimpering].
The woman crossed over to Wormtail, bringing out a silver dagger which shone in the silvery moonlight. If he hadn't been in a more precarious position, Harry would have admired it; two snakes were entwined going up the blade and the handle was decorated with different runes, emeralds and diamonds. Yanking his hand forward to just above the cauldron and pulling back the sleeve on his right hand, she raised the dagger a few feet above his wrist. Wormtail broke down in sobs as she said * "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master*. She brought the dagger down quickly and cleanly as if she were well practised and relieved Wormtail of his right hand; it fell into the cauldron as he dropped to the ground, writing and moaning in agony.
[Harry couldn't bear to look…but the potion turned a burning red, the light of it shone through Harry's closed eyelids].
Not until he opened his eyes again did he find himself face to face with the women. He couldn't see her face; instead she wore a mask that cut diagonally across her face, leaving her lips free, covering her nose and eyes except from the left nostril and the left corner of her left eye. It was dull silver with an intricate pattern done in sparkling blue flowing though the covered cheek going up to the forehead with a separate pattern encircling both eyes. Her eyes were the colour of blue icicles, demonic and cold, framed with thick black lashes and dark blue eyeliner. The outline of her irises had a thick line of black surrounding them, growing towards the edges of her eyes; they would probably end up being white, just contrasting black and blue, Harry thought. She was breathtakingly beautiful from what he could see; high cheekbones with an angular but soft jaw and full lips, the hints of fangs appearing over the top, making her seem womanly yet important and aristocratic. Her skin was scaled. From close up you could see the robe was done in dark blue silk that shone in the moonlight with black lace around the hem of the robe. She spoke in a seductive whisper that tickled Harry's ears making him shiver involuntary *"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe"*. Harry was so entranced with her eyes that he didn't feel or see the dagger, cleaned from Wormtail's earlier sacrifice, until she broke eye contact and pressed the dagger in deeper. Blood began to trickle out of his arm as he moaned helplessly with the pain. A cruel smile played on her lips and malevolence sparkled in her eyes as the blood collected on the dagger. She stepped away and glided towards the cauldron and knocked three drops of Harry's blood into it.
[The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white].
She licked the blade clean, moaning quietly. With her job done, the beautiful women sunk to her knees submissively.
[The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamonds sparks in all directions, so blinding bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness].
All eyes were transfixed on the illuminating light coming from the cauldron, even Harry's, who seemed to be engrossed in what was taking place even though fear crept through his bones. It seemed like nothing was going to happen.
[But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron].
All eyes were averted downwards.
["Robe me" said the cold, high voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head. The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry…and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes, and a nose that was as flat as a snake's… with slits for nostrils…
Lord Voldemort has risen again].
"My wand Wormtail" Voldemort said in a voice similar to the woman's earlier. Wormtail proceeded to remove it from his robe and bestowed it to Voldemort like he was holding the most precious object on Earth at that moment "Hold out your left arm". His piercing gaze moved to his arm as it moved forward slowly until Voldemort lost patience and grabbed it, tore off his sleeve and presses his wand to the Dark Mark. Wormtail screamed in pain, as did Harry, from his scar.
["How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"].
He dropped Wormtail to the floor, who proceeded to curl into a foetal position and cry; Harry could have sworn that a small giggle escaped the hidden woman which made Voldemort's lips twitch at the corners before returning back to the determined expression. He paced through the graveyard, banishing various objects such as the cauldron and ritual dagger and once again ignored the girl kneeled on the floor, robes flowing around her, making it seem like a waterfall under the moon. About a minute after, black swirls of smoke flowed down from the clear sky and landed scattered around the tombstones.
They quickly formed a semi-circle, knowing their own place in front of the Dark Lord and the kneeling girl; they all copied her and dropped to their knees keeping their heads bowed. After ten minutes no one else arrived, many gaps left in the arch. "Rise" Voldemort commanded and so everyone did, including the girl. "Welcome… my friends. Thirteen years… thirteen years it's been since we gathered and you stand here as if it was yesterday. I confess myself ashamed and disappointed that none of you came to find me". Voldemort stood at the start of the arch, ripping the masks away, condensing them into black smoke, making them fall to the floor in a heap. "Nott! Crabbe! Goyle! Snape! Malfoy!" He worked his way round the rest of the circle until he got to the women at the head of the circle who none of the other Death Eater seemed to recognise. The Dark Lord grasped her chin and said "Nefari", ripping her mask away. Before she could fall back, he curved his arm around her waist and pulled her hood down; her wavy hair fell elegantly just passed her shoulders, the black-almost-blue colour reflected the moonlight; some of the Death Eaters recognised her and immediately dropped to all fours whilst others remained standing, transfixed on the exchange. Voldemort threaded his long fingers through her hair and pulled her in for a chaste kiss. She became submissive under his touch as the arm that was at her waist dipped lower. Her arms rose up and closed around his neck, pressing them flush together. Voldemort captured her lips in his own as they shared what seemed like a deep, loving kiss. "Welcome back" Nefari whispered in Parsel Tongue as she reluctantly let go and stepped back.
"The sentiment extends to you as well, my dear" he said, caressing her cheek.
Turning back to the Death Eaters; the majority of them were gob smacked at such an intimate gesture. "Some of you that were loyal at the beginning of the first war will recognise who stands before you whilst others no not. She is Dark Lady Nefari, my most loyal and co-ruler". Half of the standing Death Eaters dropped to the floor in a dead faint whilst the rest looked on in amusement and pity and dropped to the floor on all fours; they knew what would come of disrespecting such an important lady in the Dark Lord's life. Harry, tied to the gravestone at the back, looked on in shock; Dumbledore had been lying the entire time! He was taken for a complete fool about Voldemort not being able to love when so clearly he loved the Dark Lady; he wondered what else he had faked. The prophecy? His parents? The whole idea of that dark magic was evil magic? If so, he wondered who else had gone along with his scheme of misdeeds; were his friends really his friends or had they been bought? Harry was interrupted from his inner musings by screams coming from the unfolding scene in front of him; the Dark Lady was currently nowhere to be seen whilst Voldemort was currently torturing all of those who had dare insult Lady Nefari. Harry wondered where she was when a familiar voice tickled his ear "Enjoying this are you Potter?" His eyes darted to the side where he noticed two bare, dangling feet surrounded by a robe "because I know I am" She giggled, a high pitched menacing sound, rather like Bellatrix he noted, and hopped off the gravestone and joined in. "Crucio!" she yelled, downing the death eater who had been missed out on Voldemort's torture. The unmasked man, who Harry saw was Snape, writhed on the ground screaming louder than the rest of them; even as Voldemort pushed more power into his spell to the misfortune of his victim, the Dark Lady easily made Snape's screams ricochet of the surroundings. This earned her a glare, his red eyes piercing her; and she just laughed and cancelled the spell. "Weren't you having fun, Darling?" she drawled in a sickly sweet voice, rapidly fluttering her eyelids.
Voldemort also cancelled the spell and shot her a dark look. "You know I needed him for tomorrow!" he yelled, gesturing to Snape who was currently still on the floor, unconscious, the aftershocks making him twitch violently. "I know you do but I was trying to make Potter's life a little less like Hell. You should know that he loathes Severus".
"Potter?" he whirled around to where Nefari pointed and saw him tied to the gravestone. "I'd forgotten about you, but no matter, I will get what I want". Confusion graced everyone's face before returning to impassive masks. Voldemort waved his wand and the ropes disappeared; Harry's arms and neck flopped forward, weary and tired, rope burns around the wrists. Suddenly, the invisible force came away and Harry fell forward, crashing to the ground; just as quickly, he was imperio'd and forced to roll onto his back where his limbs were locked to the side of him. The curse was lifted but he remained stock-still, frozen in fear. Voldemort walked to Harry's head and began addressing his Death Eaters and Harry. "Shall I reveal what happened that night thirteen years ago? When poor, sweet Lily Potter supposedly gave her life to protect her only son?" He drawled, circling his unmoving form "I believe that this is your area of expertise, my Lady". The Dark Lady spoke up.
"A little known dark necromantic ritual was taking place, ensuring her life at the sacrifice of two others as Dumbledore had told only her about our arrival. It had nearly finished when we stormed your house. Your blood-traitor father was quickly killed as well as your filthy mudblood mother. You had to be killed last, as the ritual states so your father was used as stalling time. Poor James Potter didn't know what was happening" Harry gaped like a fish out of water. Dark rituals? What on earth did she mean by my father 'used as stalling time'? She was going to kill me next? Who exactly was my mother? Why did Dumbledore only tell her that Voldemort was coming to kill her? All of these thoughts swirled around his head until a shrill laugh pierced the air. "Your mother was nothing but a selfish whore who didn't know her place in the underworld pecking order, who wanted to ensure her own immortality and beauty. You escaped with a scar because the ritual was done incorrectly; it would only protect you against death from curses fired by only normal witches or wizards without any markings or scarring but not from high powered wizards or witches. Let's now hypothetically say that if the most powerful witch and wizard in existence came along and tried to kill you that you would not survive but alas, your mother was a dim-witted fool and made another mistakes in the research of this ritual; only a necromancer could perform it and your mother was the spawn of Death himself, a witch that held greater powers than necromancers, giving the ritual more power. This made the results unpredictable; it could go either way. As she didn't know this, it made the ritual powerful but backfired on her, protecting you instead. Two killing curses were fired at you that day, one from my wand, one from our Lord's wand. His hit you and rebounded, completely destroying most protection from any killing curse as well as forcing his soul from his body whereas mine penetrated your weakened shield and gave you that scar. These days, you have no protection from the killing curse because it has disintegrated over time. We both disappeared, Voldemort to floating around in forests and me to regain my rightful place and the rest, as they say, is history".
Harry was totally and utterly gob smacked once more this evening; but somehow, it all made perfect sense. No one talked about his mother, only his father and love isn't involved in any old magic protection or rituals. Dumbledore was a sack of shit! No wonder none of what he said or did ever made sense; the smiles, the obscene twinkle in his eye, the quickness to skip over the topic of his mother whenever it came up. Harry was furious! Voldemort squatted over him "You have two choices Potter. One, you say your last words, I kill you now and everything is ours or two, you join us, become our perfect spy and you are on the winning side when the light falls". Voldemort peered into his eyes as if searching for an answer. He really did have no choice in this: either die on the spot and never try to uncover the mystery that surrounded his mum, the Dark Lady or Dumbledore or join forces with Voldemort and at least live. It wasn't like Voldemort would actually help him find out but he could ask. He looked into Voldemort's eyes. "I join you. My only wish is that I can find out more about my mother and what powers she might have passed down to me" he said resoundingly. The Dark Lord thought it over for a moment before nodding and rose slowly, walking over and stood next to the Dark Lady. Matching smirks played around their mouths. They truly suited each other, he thought; she so friendly yet evil and twisted whilst he so loving yet dangerously psychotic, a perfect couple.
He pondered the inner workings of their relationship he was not likely to see or their past he was never likely to hear until Voldemort barked "Wormtail. Malfoy". Malfoy hurried forward with an air of unease whilst Wormtail ambled over as if unfazed by the events, as if he knew the entire night's proceedings. "Malfoy, perform a memory charm on Mr. Potter so that he cannot speak about what has transpired here tonight and what will happen over the next week as well as fabricating memories in place of them, preferably torture". He moved over to Harry who was rising shakily to his feet, still trying to wrap his head around what just happened and placed his wand at his temple, muttering a string of Latin. "Wormtail, hand Potter the arm band so that he can inform me about significant knowledge privy only to him. Lastly, Snape", who was now conscious and being supported by Macnair, twitched violently from the aftershocks of the cruciatus curse "You will tutor Potter in the Dark Arts until such a time when we can reveal where his true loyalties lie or either myself or the Dark Lady can take over. Potter, you will be marked this Saturday, be ready." Harry had fitted the band to his wrist and was standing upright next to Lucius. Nefari stepped forward "Harry. You be spending this next week with us at our manor until you can return with Severus, under the guise that he saved you from our dungeons. Severus, for now you will now be returning by the Triwizard Cup portkey with the boy's body and will return tomorrow morning to stay for the rest of the week. Meeting will be scheduled for this week. Everyone dismissed". Harry had the feeling that the Dark Lady always ended the meetings and that he was either going to enjoy the week away or he was going to loathe it. As the Death Eaters apparated, Snape crossed the empty patch of grass; grabbing Cedric's body and accioing the cup and disappeared in a flash. All of a sudden, there was only Voldemort, Nefari and Harry left. "Come, young one. Grab my sleeve and I will apparate us to the manor" said the Dark Lady in a strict but caring tone, reminding him of a mother teaching a child something useful, so he did as she said. In a swirl of black smoke mixed in with white, they were gone.
They all landed in the manor's ground, Harry less gracefully as the other two. About half a mile away, in the distance, stood a magnificent Elizabethan manor house. Light illuminated the majority of the windows and from what Harry could tell by the freezing temperatures and snow on the ground, it was permanently winter within the wards. Immediately, a black carriage adorned with silver trimmings and drawn by black horses pulled up along side the trio. They got in and settled back into comfy leather seats. Harry watched the couple oppose him, amazed at the bountiful affection Voldemort project towards… wait, Projected? People did not project emotions and if they did Harry certainly did not pick up on them. "Close your mouth Harry, you're gaping" Nefari admonished. "Oh, and you might as well call me Harriett just to make things easier for both of us. Call the surly bastard next to me Tom to just annoy him". In the blink of an eye, her skin became like that of a human, her eyes also changing to a deep blue as well as her hair shrinking to shoulder length and becoming more curly as well as golden brown. She giggled when Voldemort rounded his eyes on her quaking form, his blood red gaze piercing her "Don't be like that. I'm sure Harry will only call you Tom in private, won't you, as well as me only Harriett?" her fluttering eyelashes flicked from one man to the other. Harry could only nod, fearing that if he spoke, their agreement not to kill each other might be broken. Voldemort killed her where she sat with his gaze and remained tight lipped "Very well then. If he is to call me that, he might as well see my natural form" his jaw tensed slightly and transformed into a handsome man, one that only looked exactly the teenager from the diary but around ten years older, still with the same red eyes. He folded his arms across his chest like a toddler not getting his own way and scowled; it was hard for Harry not to laugh.
About half a minute later, Harriett spoke up "I'm sorry gentlemen but I know as much as you would like to sulk and stifle your laughter" she winked at Harry "I would like to see what has become of my manor. I used to spend my Christmases and Summer Holidays here when I was at school". Tom was immediately pulled from his sulk, rushed out and opened the door for her. She took his hand as she descended the steps exiting the carriage. Harry was utterly confused by this and Tom caught his look "I shall get Snape to teach you etiquette lessons as well". Harry paled at the thought and they both laughed lightly.
"Why don't you just call Severus by his given name?" Harriett asked, taking his offered arm and started at a brisk pace towards the front doors.
"It is not my place to call people whom I do not trust by their first name. Furthermore, Dark Lords, and Ladies if I might add, do not do this to any of their minions"
"What do you mean by you don't trust him? If he were not a trustworthy follower, surely he wouldn't have come back tonight?"
"I have forgotten that you were in your domain when I gave him his mission to spy on Dumbledore. I found out soon enough though he was double-crossing me…" Snape had already been found out? This was an intriguing revelation "…so I tortured him for a bit and told him that if I ever hear one more whisper of him being a traitor, I will not hesitate to kill him. He hasn't done it since"
"So basically, you gave him a slap on the wrists and told him off for being naughty if your idea of torture was what it was back when I first observed"
"Yes but your idea of torture is sick…"
"No, it is not sick it is what the name of the game implies. Torture"
"I'm sure that torture doesn't consist of…"
Harry tuned out from this point, fearing that he might not be able to hold his stomach if he listened any longer; he finally took notice where they were going. The carriage had come through a black wrought-iron gate that had a mysterious coat of arms on the left as well as the Slytherin coat of arms on the right and had travelled up a gravel road and come to a round-a-bout with a water fountain in the centre. There were two black stone staircases slightly onwards from the fountain, one on the right and one on the left both leading to a platform. In the centre was another set of steps leading up to a magnificent set of doors; it resembled that of the one at Hogwarts: charcoal wrought-iron inlaid with a silver pattern and hinges swung open to reveal a grand entrance hall. The floor was polished black stone, the walls a deep green with life size silver snakes occasionally slithered past. The Slytherin family crest hung along one wall, proudly displayed along side the Slytherin line, probably Tom's ancestors. On the opposite wall hung the unidentified family crest along with family portraits, the oldest being of three brothers. On the wall which had a stone arch way leading through to an open space were a few portraits of Harriett and Tom in their other forms and several more of a baby boy growing up until about eight months when the portrait and pictures stopped. The child had dark brown hair that looked almost black with shiny blue eyes that had flecks of red, soft features but with defined, high cheekbones even at such a young age. Whilst Harry was busy pondering the pictures, the couple had continued through the huge arch way opposite the front door which lead to a receiving area at the base of a large staircase and had veered right, missing out several doors, preferring one that was near the entrance to a dimly lit corridor. Harry ran to catch up with them and entered the room after them.
What he came across was a small sitting room decorated with blood red walls and black tiled floor with a blazing fire roaring in the hearth. "Take a seat Harry" said Harriett, gesturing to the overstuffed arm chair opposite to where the other couple were sat. He sat down and was handed a piece of paper with a password written in Parseltongue. Tom began to speak "This is a password to the top floor of the manor where our private rooms are. You will have your own room up there and have access to the personal library, kitchen, sitting room and balcony. There is also a training room where you will have your lessons with Snape which commence tomorrow. They will begin promptly at 9 am each morning and will finish at 4pm each evening with an hour for lunch. You must stay on that floor unless you have express permission to leave, accompanied by Harriett, Snape or I. Do you have any questions?" Harry shook his head "Harriett and I will be in my office for a few hours and you have until your band warms on your arm to explore the rest of the manor. Under no circumstances are you to go into Harriett's office; even I am not allowed in there for fear of losing my life or any other body part and nor are you allowed to leave the manor".
"Yes, because I'm obviously out to kill disobedient Dark Lords and their minions and errant children. No one is allowed in my office because there is some research that is highly prized, not to mention dangerous as well as a portal which could potentially kill you if you fall through - that is if you get past the wards on the door which are designed to maim you"
"Why would you keep something that dangerous in a house?" he questioned slyly
"Has it never crossed your mind that there is nowhere else to put my experiments? Maybe one of these projects will save someone's life one day or maybe their entire life's work, wouldn't you agree?" she huffed and stormed out of the room
"Darling, you sound so undignified when you do that" he retorted, calling after her. Harry heard an angry string of Latin and something explode in the hallway; he couldn't help but giggle. "What ever shall I do with her? Be glad at this point you are homosexual Harry so you never have to deal with angry women" Harry shot out of his chair, eyes very wide; this was his most closely guarded secret after all.
"How the bloody fuck did you know that?" the all too human Voldemort winked at Harry
"I have my ways"
With that, Tom left chuckling to himself and followed Harriett, repairing the damage to numerous vases.
A/N: If you Google 'Wollaton Hall' you will see the manor that Harriett lives in. The floor plan inside is nothing like that of the one in this fic because I haven't the foggiest how it looks and mine is easier to understand (I hope). I could go and have a look but I'm not very good at remembering where rooms are and there would be loads of other people there as well. Conveniently, it is in Nottingham where I live (Yay for awesome buildings!) which also happens to be where the Peverell family originate from (Recognise the name?). It will all become clear soon…
I say soon but I don't have an idea when… :/ I am very unreliable.