Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profits from posting this fanfiction.

Summary: Having lived till 17, it was a shock to go about his day and meet himself. Another him who attacked him. From there the day got stranger; his identity revealed what choice will Harry Potter's reflection take – help or defeat Voldemort?

Warnings: Slash. Character death. Murder, violence, fighting. Drugging. Control. Manipulation.

Pairings: OC/NL, HP/GW

Reflection Chapter 3

July 30th.

Two days. Two whole horrible days. Harry hadn't been allowed to leave the room he'd been given.

Well, that was untrue.

Harry was collected from his rooms by Narcissa for meals but then taken straight back to them once the meal was finished. Sometimes Narcissa would talk, other times not. No words of Voldemort had been made, no talk of Bellatrix either or any of Harry's other family members. The only time Harry had to put up with any mention of their name was when a house elf delivered a letter from Bellatrix, Roolphus or Rabastan each day. Harry did read the letters, if only out of morbid curiosity or to kill the boredom of being locked up.

The letters all started with 'My dearest Mirabella', or 'My Sweetest Bella', or 'My baby Bella'. It felt really weird reading that and knowing it was for him…well her Harry supposed. He might have loathed the people who wrote it, and who signed off 'Mother', 'Mummy' or 'Your Father', but that didn't mean it wasn't a good feeling to have people who liked him. He didn't think them capable of love. But for someone who had been raised with no parents it was nice to have people claim him as theirs, and to address him with affection even if it was only minimal at best.

Bellatrix had scolded him in her letters for the vicious words against the Dark Lord. However, oddly, Bellatrix understood as her Lord had explained that her daughter had a most unfortunate upbringing and had been raised to hate them all. She had informed Harry that she would educate her daughter on the proper respect and the proper duties of a pureblood descendent of noble houses with Old Blood. Harry was to learn appropriate adoration and respect for the Dark Lord too.

If Bellatrix's letter was filled with love and adoration for the Dark Lord, then Rodolphus' letter was practically oozing with it. He sang the Dark Lord's praises, talked endlessly of the generosity and felicity that being in the Dark Lord's favour gave them as a family. Rodolphus was less understanding of Harry's upbringing, explaining that had the glorious Dark Lord not decided, in his most understanding and generous nature, to take a 'shine' to Harry then Rodolphus would have happily disposed of Mirabella, daughter or not. That was followed up with an 'educational' graphed lecture on why the Dark Lord was so wonderful, and what Mirabella could expect to receive by pleasing the Dark Lord.

Harry was happy to ignore all of that though. Harry had the sickening feeling that his life was assured forever. If his latest vision from Voldemort was to be believed then Voldemort couldn't even bear the thought that Harry might get as much as a scratch. No, Harry, or Mirabella, had her life and wellbeing guaranteed. A safe and healthy horcrux vessel kept in a gilded cage.

1st August

Harry had been suffering with a headache most of the day. Narcissa had eventually given him a pain relieving potion at lunch time because apparently his face was constantly screwed up in pain and rubbing ones forehead continuously at the dinner table was bad manners.

The potion had worked for 4 hours then the pain came back and it was worse than before. All through dinner Harry tried to keep a straight face and good posture so Narcissa wouldn't bite out something vicious at him about manners. Draco would sneer constantly. Lucius, blessedly, wasn't present.

Harry huffed and bit his tongue. His head was excruciating. If felt like someone had cast an expanding curse on his brain and it was pressing against his skull.

He rubbed his head, trying to sooth his scar. It just felt inflamed and hot.

It was strange how he still had that scar. He hadn't got very far with practising his metamorphmagus transformations, which was the only thing he could do locked in his rooms all day. With the over-abundance of looking glasses in his rooms he couldn't escape himself so he didn't even try, and instead tried to change himself. He had managed to give himself three red freckles for all of two minutes once. Another time he had managed to shorten his hair, but that had not lasted long either. He hadn't been able to do anything about the scar though maybe he would if he kept practising.

Shame he probably wouldn't be able to get rid of the scar altogether, that would be a blessing with the torture the thing gave him.

His head was going to explode! He was sure of it!

Narcissa apparently had enough. She dropped her cutlery to her plate and drew her wand placing it threateningly on the table in front of her. She glared with stone cold eyes at Harry. "Mirabella, if you don't…"

But whatever Narcissa was about to say faded beneath the deafening roaring in Harry's ears.

His scar exploded in the most horrendous pain. He fell off his chair and slammed to the ground. He didn't care about the freezing tiles he fell on to. He didn't care that the chair crashed down on top of him. His scar was ablaze with pain. He twisted and turned, fighting off an invisible attacker but unable to escape the pain. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He could just feel.

People running everywhere. Screaming. Screaming, shouting and the scurry of the vermin amongst the glorious ones.

Yes, yes run. That would make this so much more pleasant.

Two aurors felled. Bellatrix and Rodolphus charging forwards, wands flicking and people flying. Blood splattered here and there, a glorious decoration to his most excellent victory.

Five more aurors slain. Their bodies littering the grounds. Mudbloods. All of them mudbloods or traitorous scum!

There! Yes…YES!

"My Lord, we have the Ministry."

Yesssss. Perfect. The wizarding world is mine!

A wand was levelled in front of him, pointing at the golden fountain. Let the wizarding world's new fountain represent the true meaning behind being a wizard! The repression of all those unworthy. There is only power and those too weak to seek it.

The fountain lurched and shuddered, but the figures moved, morphed, and changed to a blackened grey colour. They wailed and cried, bodies contorting under something. Then other figures rose above, wands drawn, stamping down on the figures beneath them.

Yes. It was Lord Voldemort's wizarding world now. He ruled!

Harry choked. His diaphragm clenched, then it flexed and the meagre dinner Harry had eaten erupted up his throat and out of his mouth. He coughed, wretched. Boiling heat detonated in his veins, followed by a terrible coldness. Goosebumps rose all over his skin.

Hands grabbed him and pulled. Harry couldn't resist, couldn't fight it. The hands pulled him sideways then dragged him a little bit. There was the murmur of a spell, then another. Tingles spread over his face, into his mouth, and then the taste of vomit disappeared. He was pulled, shivering as he was, against a body only slightly bigger than his.

"Mirabella! Mirabella!" Hands grasped his face now, shook him. Blearily Harry looked up. Four ice cold eyes glimmered a little in dull light. Four…he was seeing double.

"Mirabella! What…" The voice was feminine and high with alarm.

"Voldemort…" Harry murmured. The body holding him flinched violently. "He has the ministry."

"Ah…it has fallen then." The feminine voice said again. More of Harry's vision became clear, his thoughts gaining some more clarity after the vision, and he recognised Narcissa was in front of him. The other eyes were Draco's, he was knelt on the floor next to them as well, looking ruffled and stressed.

"Mother?" Draco asked.

"The Dark Lord has done it. He has taken the Ministry. His has complete control now."

Draco frowned and looked down. Hesitantly, after several short minutes he looked up and said, "Isn't that a good thing?"

Narcissa sighed but Harry glared at Draco and tried to fight free of Narcissa's grasp.

"How could that possibly be a good thing?!" Harry demanded. Draco frowned, looking lost.

"It is Draco, of course it is dearest." Narcissa sighed and Draco nodded. Harry went to yank himself free from the surprisingly strong grasp but Narcissa held him tight and spoke before he could. "For now, it means we have some freedoms. It also means we shall not suffer quite so much."

"But at what price?!" Harry snarled.

"That we suffer less for longer." Narcissa added softly. Harry's anger deflated a little and he twisted round to look at Narcissa. Draco looked lost again and upset. Narcissa reached out one hand to stroke her son's cheek. "We will brave it as best we can. We are Malfoys. We will bear this and go on."

"Yes Mother."

Harry didn't know what to think. Bear it and go on? Did that mean what he thought it meant?

6th August.

Harry wasn't as restricted any more. He had started spending more time with Narcissa and Draco. There wasn't much conversation but at least he wasn't alone. He hadn't coped well be being alone, not like he used to at the Dursley's. He used to prefer to be alone then.

Now Harry got to sit in the lounge with them most of the day and read. Sometimes Narcissa would play on her harp, which she did try to teach Harry then settled on teaching piano instead. Harry couldn't say he enjoyed it, he didn't particularly care for music, but it was a way to pass the time and it was a challenge. The only other thing Harry learned was table manners because Narcissa was upset at being offended by them so many times.

Anything was good if it helped pass the time.

Draco would occasionally challenge Harry to chess. They were on 7 games to Draco and 4 to Harry at the moment. Harry really wasn't a chess player. That was Ron's forte. They sometimes discussed Hogwarts, but having such different views on everything made it difficult to keep the conversations civil. Narcissa got a little wand happy when their conversation became vicious snaps. One flick of the woman's wand would sent ice cold water crashing down on them, or their mouths would become unable to move, they might end up body bound, once or twice there had even been a light stinging hex. All were parental corrections to errantly behaved children.

Harry hated it. Narcissa had no right! But then, because of recent events, Harry had come to realise Narcissa did have a right. Harry just resented it viciously. Harry, as Harry, had done perfectly well without having any parental figures. Now, as Mirabella, there were far too many of them. Add to that the addition of uncles and aunts, a cousin and a Dark Lord…there were too many people in her life trying to control everything.

And she still had no protection. Harry still did not have a wand.

15th August.

It wasn't a great start to the morning really.

Having woken up to find his pillow drenched in blood hadn't been surprising.

Discovering blood pooled beneath his hips had sent him off screaming. He'd leapt out of bed, searched himself for cuts, screamed when he found none, then a house elf had popped into the room making Harry scream again. It too had screamed then popped away once more.

Harry spent the next few moments trying to figure out what happened, only to finally remember he was a girl and blood tended to come from girls every month. Harry was never too sure on why but knew it had something to do with babies. It also meant girls had bad moods, or something weird with their moods. Harry was a girl; Harry had bled through the night.

Once he came to that realisation he set about stripping the sheets from the bed, only to be completely grossed out by something running down his leg. He took a trip to the bathroom to bathe. His nightdress, because Narcissa would allow him to wear nothing else to bed, was ruined so Harry threw that into the little bin in the bathroom. Bath full of steaming water Harry stepped in, and had no sooner relaxed into the water when the door slammed open and Bellatrix and Narcissa burst in.

"Found her Cissy! Found her!" Bellatrix declared then danced into the room, her long black robes swishing as she walked and waved her hands around. "What caused all the screaming little Bella?!"

"Ah Mirabella, what caused the amateur dramatics this morning? I do not appreciate…"

"Nobody cares about you Narcissa!" Bellatrix snapped then leaned down to sweep bird-boned fingers across Harry's forehead. "Been decorating with blood again Mini Bella? If you wanted to redecorate you should have told me!"

"No I just…I woke up bleeding. I just woke up like that."

Narcissa nodded, her lips slightly pursed and her face going steel like with non-emotion. The mask was incredible, Harry would have envied her except he still wasn't sure whether he should or could like the woman.

"Of course you did." Bellatrix replied with a sing song voice and abruptly reached a hand into the water and clawed between Harry's legs. Harry shrieked and leapt up, throwing himself out of the bath and banging his head on the wall.

Bellatrix just laughed, dug her fingers in again, then pulled away and inspected her hand. There was water dripping down her arm and into her robes now, but right there on the tips of her fingers was blood. Bellatrix gave a cackle.

"Aha! My itty bitty witch is not so ittsy bitsy now is she?!" Came the embarrassingly hooted words, Bellatrix's grin far too wide for her face. Harry felt his face flame as Bellatrix's eyes scooted all down his body. He couldn't think of himself as a girl and he was uncomfortable seeing a girl's body whenever he bathed. To have somebody stare all over him was horrifying and mortifying.

"Bella, perhaps it would be wise to attend Diagon Alley today, in light of this recent development." Narcissa said, making all eyes turn immediately to her. Harry, grateful for the reprieve from Bellatrix' gaze, quickly snatched a towel from the low hanging rail and draped it over himself.

"Why?"

"I only have a few supplies for such an event, and your daughter has been living in borrowed clothes that do not fit her. It seems a wise time to purchase new clothes for her, that fit, as well as picking up the necessary items to deal with her menses."

"Oh." Bellatrix pouted for a moment then nodded brightly and stood. With an evil grin she started to prance out of the bathroom. "I shall tell Rodolphus! He loathes shopping so he can come to! And out Lord will have to know, of course. Such a fun day we have ahead of us! Such fun! Don't take too long getting ready Mini-Bella! We have lots and lots of Rodolphus' gold to spend!"

"I shall lay out your clothes for you. Wash up. We shall no doubt be leaving within the hour. Bellatrix will want to get started as soon as possible." Were Narcissa's parting words.

15th August.

The day had been awful! It was terrible to see Diagon Alley again. The once busy street pretty deserted, and the few who were buying their wares kept shooting fear filled looks at Harry's companions. Bellatrix had accompanied Harry and Narcissa to the shops, dragging a very sour Rodolphus with her. They also had Draco along with them, though Harry had been witness to the underlying threat that should Narcissa and Draco not return then Lucius' life would expire. At least Draco had been allowed to leave the house, the sunlight did him good, and he needed clothes for Hogwarts.

They both needed clothes for Hogwarts. This year that meant a pleated skirt for Harry and tights. The trip to Twilfitt and Tattings had been very expensive and had taken hours. Still, by the end of it Harry had a complete wardrobe; from underwear to fur over robes, work robes for school to expensive one of a kind evening robes for special occasions. The several hundred galleons it set Rodolphus back was incredible and had the man snarling and glowering for ages. He didn't verbally protest, however, mostly because Bellatrix kept daring him too and he apparently wasn't stupid enough to go against her.

After getting new outfits Harry was then dragged to Flourish and Blotts to collect the new school year's books. Harry tried to refuse the Dark Arts books but fell silent when Narcissa's hand became vicelike on his wrist, ending all protests. He didn't have to use them, but he clearly did have to buy them.

They didn't return home until gone six in the evening, after visiting various other robe shops Narcissa saw to get more robes for Harry and a few for Draco. Bellatrix had also picked up a few robes for herself, all black, and ordered Rodolphus to pay. Harry had seen the amount of galleons in Rodolphus' vault though, the man could well afford everything, but it would have dented the gold there quite a bit.

"I see you were successful. There, Lucius, you can rest easy now your dearest wife and child have returned."

"Yes My Lord." Lucius murmured and crossed the hall to greet Narcissa with a kiss to her cheek.

Bellatrix was already bowing and scraping on the floor.

"Thank you for the leave my Lord."

"Tell me Bella, how was Diagon Alley."

"Oh there were plenty of purebloods shopping My Lord, I saw nobody filthy or unworthy."

"Ah good. Order has been restored." Voldemort's serpentine mouth curved into some semblance of a smile then those demonic eyes turned to Harry who refused to meet his eyes.

"And how did you fair, Mirabella?"

"Fine."

A hand whacked the back of Harry's head and sent him tumbling forwards to the floor. She bashed her forehead on the ground and lay stunned for a moment.

"Show respect girl!" Rodolphus snarled.

"CRUCIO!"

A scream sounded behind Harry, followed by the sound of a body crumpling to the floor.

Bellatrix was cackling and clapping her hands. Harry pushed himself up from the ground feeling a little bleary from the impact on his head. He did look behind him though to see Rodolphus screaming and contorting in agony on the ground.

"Did I not say she was to be untouched?! Did I not specifically demand that off everyone!"

The spell ended and Rodolphus shakily pushed himself up to kneel.

"I apologise My Lord. She was just…"

Crucio sounded again and Rodolphus fell once more to the ground. This time he screamed through clenched lips refusing to scream the screams of the tortured. When it ended once more Rodolphus got to his knees and prostrated himself before Voldemort.

"I shall not disobey you again My Lord, never again."

"She is to be unharmed! Do you understand Rodolphus?!"

"Yes, My Lord, of course."

"Not a single scratch on her body. Not a single bruise, not a single agitated nerve. Unharmed, unhurt, and undamaged!"

"Yes My Lord!"

Red eyes turned to Harry again and Harry quickly averted his eyes, stood up and held himself very still. A freezing cold hand was placed on his chin and he was turned to look at Voldemort, his scar burning furiously at the touch. Red eyes looked at his forehead then long fingers pressed against where the floor had struck him.

"You are to be undamaged." Voldemort declared once more as if reaffirming that statement to everyone present. They all agreed, sounding their 'Yes My Lord' replies. Then Voldemort leaned in close to whisper into Harry's ear, stale breath making Harry cringe just as much as the man's proximity. "You have been betrayed and hurt by those you trusted and cared for. Never, never has anybody cared for you as I now do, as your blood family do. You will be kept safe. You will be kept away from the fighting, and you will be kept happy."

Harry pulled away, fighting the grip Voldemort had on him to argue. Voldemort gripped harder, two fingers pressing hard on the painful part of Harry's head, the part that took most of the impact. Oh it hurt…so much…but through the pain Voldemort's words rang clear.

"Oh no, shhh shhh shhh. No, don't fight me. No. No, I shall give you everything you ever wanted. All you ever craved, Harry Potter, was a family. And here, here at my side you have a mother, a father, an aunt, an uncle, a cousin…all these people who care for you. Have I not provided you the life which you always wanted? A family all your own. Yes, yes I have done you no harm Harry, not like those you used to care for, you used to trust. I have provided so much more. I give you all these things with no demands of you except that you are kept safe and unharmed here in my care. Am I not a generous Lord?"

Harry did not answer. The words were like chocolate; so tempting and sweet. They were delicious…yes Harry did have a family now. But…but for all the care it wasn't what he truly thought of as a family…

"I give you everything you ever desired." Voldemort said once more then pulled away.

Harry swayed, feeling dizzy now. Cold, small hands gripped him and Harry blinked to see Narcissa there. She held a white handkerchief in her hand and dabbed at his forehead. The white material came away red. Was that Harry's scar or a different wound?

"Narcissa, take our dearest Mirabella back to her rooms. Bellatrix and Rodolphus will acquire a Healer for her to tend to her wound. Only the best for your daughter Bellatrix, she is to be cared for. Then, Bellatrix, I require you and your husband's presence. We have something of vital importance to discuss."

Harry was led upstairs quietly and into his bedroom. He sat on the bed and rested his head in his hands. His head felt heavy and sore, his thoughts fuzzy from pain, from tiredness, and from the words Voldemort spoke to him.

A family. Voldemort gave him a family. That was all Harry had ever wanted. A family all his own. A family to love and care for him.

Narcissa summoned several house elves, scolding them into bringing more material and bowls of water. The woman then dabbed Harry's head with the damp cloths.

A family to care for him. Narcissa cared. She did, it was clear. The regal woman had a mask that hid everything but there was concern and care in her actions. There was no denying that. Her aunt cared. Mirabella's aunt cared.

But…no. Voldemort had given her that…

No he hadn't! Harry shook his head then apologised when it dislodged Narcissa's care. Voldemort hadn't given him the family. His blood had done that, Gringotts had done that. Voldemort had given him nothing. Nothing at all. And even if he had continued to 'allow' Harry to see his family, it wasn't the family Harry had always desired.

Harry had uncomfortable dreams. It started out with a disagreement between Bellatrix, Rudolphus and Voldemort – the disagreement being handled so peculiarly that it was in itself disturbing. Voldemort was pushing forward his own view, and the two LeStrange's were putting forth theirs in a passive aggressive way so they weren't seen to be defying their Lord, while at the same time disagreeing with him. Harry didn't know what the two views were exactly. It was something to do with him…with Mirabella. He heard that name regularly. There was also mention of a wand. Other than that it was all a blur and muddle of words, like he was listening through water.

He knew the outcome though. Whatever the points and differing views may have been, Voldemort won. Bellatrix and Rudolphus left the room bowing and scraping the floor as always.

When Harry woke up he dealt with the blood that stained and slicked his legs by having another bath. Luckily this bath was not imposed on by family. Once dressed in one of the new dress robes Harry found the flattest pair of shoes he could. He could get on reasonably well wearing a dress, after all most robes were like dresses anyway. The feminine underwear wasn't too much of a problem and he definitely felt better in it than not. Shoes though, shoes were an issue. He loathed heels. He couldn't walk in them, he couldn't balance, he couldn't run! Heels were a liability. A ridiculous liability.

Once that was done he attempted to brush through the untameable mass of curls atop his head. His reflection caught his eye, first to glimpse the wild twists of black hair that twirled and dodged around other curls, then to his face. As Mirabella he looked very different to what he was used to. It made things stranger still to know that that face, the face in the mirror, was his true face – that he really and truly was Mirabella LeStrange. The mirror image of Bellatrix. The face structure was the same; slightly square face but with a pointed chin. She had high cheekbones and neatly curved eyebrows. The hair was all Bellatrix. Only her eyes were different to her biological mother's; they were a very dark indigo, that would look black if it wasn't for the rings of blue that helped give them that sheen in certain lights.

How Harry wished for the green he used to have. You never realised what you missed having until it was gone. Harry missed his eyes. Although, admittedly, he did like not having to rely on glasses for clear vision.

But…now he thought about it…he was a metamorphmagus wasn't he? She? Whatever.

Harry huffed. The 'He' and 'She' nonsense was confusing. It was odd to feel one gender but be another. Very odd.

Green eyes though…he wished he had green eyes again. And surely as a metamorphmagus it wasn't that hard to change one aspect of your appearance? Tonks had frequently changed hers after all.

So Harry concentrated, staring and wishing – not really knowing how to effect a change. It took concentration didn't it? But concentration on what? On the desired effect? Or on something more specific, like the feel in the location you wanted to change? Could it be as simple as just wishing?

He stared and stared and stared – vision going blurry as his eyes dried out from the concentration.

No change.

None.

After half an hour he gave up. Maybe he'd try to sneak to the library, the manor had several libraries so going to one wouldn't be too hard as long as his presence wasn't requested or demanded.

22nd August.

It had been a week of trying to change his appearance and he had been successful on multiple occasions. There had been no book on metamorphmagus for him to read, but Harry had remembered how stressed and upset Tonks had been over Sirius' death and how that had severely limited her abilities. To that end Harry had thrown himself into occulumency, of which there were several books in the library, and started practising clearing his mind. It was amazing how quickly occulumency came when he wasn't being pressured by the ever dour Snape.

Speaking of Snape he was attending dinner that evening. Loads of people were. Harry was not looking forward to it. Apparently it was a feast to celebrate their success in the ministry and the Daily Prophet and to gloat over how Hermione Jean Granger had made the paper as a 'Most Wanted'. Harry felt sick hearing it – had torn the newspaper up and declared it drivel right in front of his parents, aunt, uncle and Lord. None of them had been impressed with Harry's outburst, but Harry had. He felt he had made his sentiments known, even if he had been sent to his room in 'punishment'. Some punishment. Harry preferred it.

Being alone gave him chance to practise changing forms. He could change his eyes now – from indigo to emerald green. He had the look of them perfectly. He could even change his hair colour and length, though he couldn't do anything about the tremendous curls yet. That took more practises. He could get rid of his breasts though – that had made him laugh to no end when he discovered that. It didn't last long, and Harry did feel uncomfortable without them, which was odd given how long he had spent with a flat chest as Harry. Still, it seemed the Mirabella form was more natural to him – he was a lot less clumsy.

He had tried to make himself a boy - that had worked for all of ten seconds and felt so weird Harry didn't feel inclined to do it again. He hadn't wanted to check if the 'plumbing' had worked once he had changed it either, it felt disgraceful to even think about trying it.

Pleased with the results as he was, Harry didn't dare tell anyone. He suspected Voldemort knew what he was up to. He had felt the invasion in his mind as a light burning sensation on several occasions. The monster didn't appear to care though. Harry idly wondered why, and then supposed it must be because Voldemort could see he was only doing it for entertainment, and for learning purposes and not actually planning anything.

Harry had supposed he belonged here with his family. He didn't like them, but they were his. He got along with Narcissa well enough, actually rather liked the woman. Tolerated Draco just fine too, but disliked everyone else to the point of hatred. He was just looking forward to Hogwarts – only 9 more days to go.

The meal started off alright, considering the people Harry was with. Wedged in between the blank faced Graham Montegue and the stone faced Draco Malfoy Harry felt uncomfortable. There was no requirement to talk though, in fact Harry had actually been forbidden to talk by Bellatrix – as if that would stop Harry if he really wanted to say something.

All talk at the table had been on the conquest and the brilliance of Lord Voldemort's plans. The victories had been cheered over and the defeat of their enemies lamented over.

"Let us give a toast…" Somebody down the table began and raised his glass. Everybody followed suit, and Harry had to pick up his own glass when someone gave him a kick to his shins. Bellatrix was glaring at him. HE picked it up, noting it was empty and smirking at his mother. Bellatrix just glared back, then switched her gaze to Harry's right.

"Here, allow me Miss LeStrange." The smooth and cultured voice of Graham Montegue obtrusively offered. Harry scowled but could not refuse. Montegue handed back the glass once it was full of what smelt like wine with a rather woody hint to it…and treacle tart. All Harry's favourite things. Hopefully it wouldn't taste terrible.

The speaker continued now everybody held their glasses aloft. "To our Lord. May his enemies cower before him, and may his victories lead to the glory of our world!"

"Our Lord!" People chorused and sipped their wine.

Harry took a tentative sip. Hmm…it didn't taste too bad. So Harry took another sip.

It was quite strong. Harry coughed and put the glass down. It tasted nice but it was very strong. Harry could already feel her mind clouding a little. He licked his lips.

"I'd like to propose another toast, if I may my Lord."

"Of course, Bella." Voldemort acquiesced with what almost sounded like amusement in his voice. Harry felt a little strange. Light headed.

Everyone picked up their glasses.

"To we who are superior! May our families continue to be blessed with our Lord's most gracious favour!"

"To family!"

"To family!"

People drank again.

Harry sipped once more. The world disappeared into white clouds and…

And…

And wasn't Graham Montegue the most handsome man to ever exist?!