beta by the amazing Vanillaghost
Lord Voldemort summoned his followers in the dead of night. Severus' chest did a particular clenching motion he now associated with dismay before deserting his chambers, not bothering to inform Dumbledore of his whereabouts. The sudden disappearance would do that just fine being as it was routine by now.
At the edge of the grounds he reached the end of the wards and Apparated to where Voldemort's presence called to him. Not unlike the last two meetings, Severus found himself at Malfoy Manor. It was familiar territory, he thought, as he passed the towering iron gates reminiscent of Hogwarts and went straight inside the mansion. He climbed the tall staircase and arrived at the double doors which led to the meeting chamber where Severus threaded inside. As always, he was the last to arrive.
From the head of the dining room table Lord Voldemort's cold eyes found his. There was nothing to be read in them. Only after glancing away did Severus notice the new company — a young man whose body floated above the table, an injured man he recognised at once. It was the Auror who accompanied Potter to Hogsmeade; Moody's partner, the half-blood named Gawain Robards working under Rufus Scrimgeour. What was he here for? Severus' expression remained unchanged as he took the only vacant space across from Narcissa, two seats away from the Dark Lord and his commanding presence.
The white wand was being played with. That alone raised questions. Voldemort appeared to be in a viciously good mood.
"Dumbledore?"
The usual paranoia stretched its claws within Severus. "Dying as we speak, my Lord. Otherwise, he appears to have replaced Potter with Longbottom. They gather in his office during weekends, presumably for training."
Several laughs stirred the silence, Bellatrix's the loudest of them all. The sound seemed to have awakened Robards from whatever slumber he had been immersed in as the man thrashed in invisible restraints with no voice to call for help.
"Ohhh… has little Potter lost his value so soon?" Narcissa's sister raved. "To be replaced with a useless grandma's boy?" She cackled again, only this time she was the only one to do so. Bellatrix's voice died down as she looked at Lord Voldemort.
Narrowed eyes met her gaze. Silence and tension fell, the only moving thing in the room being miserable Robards and his miserable fate. Most did not even understand what had transpired, but Severus had.
The Dark Lord was infuriated by Bellatrix's careless remark concerning Potter. Severus could not help but wonder why, but then remembered Voldemort's obsession with the boy. Find Potter and bring him to me. Find him, find him, find him. He remembered them in his home one rainy morning, sharing secrets. If Bellatrix had continued to laugh, she may as well have joined the Auror. Both floating. Both soon to be dead.
"Severus… you are acquainted with our guest. Am I wrong?"
Bellatrix appeared to get away with the insult this one time.
A response was expected from his part. Words couldn't convey how dearly he wished to be left in peace… Of all the humans and beasts Severus had the misfortune of encountering during his life, Lord Voldemort was by far the most terrible. The most loathsome. The handsome face offered no assistance, nothing did. Eyes of a predator, he possessed, and the mouth of one too. All the better to tear you apart with, a voice supplied. Leisurely.
"You are right, my Lord. Gawain Robards. Auror."
"Auror," repeated Voldemort with both glee and repugnance. "Another ant waiting to be crushed. Bellatrix, do you know what guilt this particular ant has?"
The woman visibly tensed, sensing the trap by being directly addressed while Severus had an inkling on where this was going. Lucius' snowy brows were furrowed, obviously confused by the question.
"He… he's a filthy half-blood?" she tried in raspy voice.
Merlin… if Bellatrix did not cease talking…
"No, Bella. Guess again."
"He - he's a filth lover, a mudblo—"
"No, Bella. Again," dictated the Dark Lord with cold grey eyes.
At last the black-haired woman did the smart thing and bent her head low before any more words left her lips. "I apologise, my Lord. I… I do not know."
Voldemort appeared to be waiting for this flawed opportunity. "I'll enlighten you then," he said, and shoved back his seat before stalking around the table with slow, deliberate movements. Movements meant to strike fear and that had everyone on edge. "It appears you, as many of my other followers, have made a grave mistake. What is it, you may wonder? I ask you… do the words of your Lord hold such little importance to you?"
Heads turned at the question yet silence reigned.
"I am profoundly saddened. What have I told you regarding Harry Potter? About the boy you mocked in my presence? He's mine, every inch of him, from his toes to every strand of hair — fine hair, he has, like silk through my fingers — Mine. So I tell you… all that belongs to Lord Voldemort is precious, holy, sanctified. Harry Potter above all. And yet you direct your spiteful words at my boy —" Sharp eyes turned on Bella. "And you attempt to spoil our reunion." The gaze moved to the Auror. "Never again."
Reunion. That meant the Dark Lord had set foot in Hogsmeade and Potter had met with him. Because of the letter Severus sent. In truth, he had not spared a moment to think Voldemort would actually arrange a meeting at the whim of the boy. Yet the monster had. Because Potter asked him to. Power was the word that came to mind. An interesting new development. But the unfortunate encounter also meant the Dark Lord was aware of Severus' knowledge of the existence of Potter's horcrux. No matter though, the Unbreakable Vow would suffice. If it ever came to explaining the fiasco with the boggart, well, deception was second nature to Severus after all these years.
He was dragged out of his musings by a loud 'thud'. The hands Severus rested on the table recoiled when the thrashing form of the Auror fell. The spell suspending his body in the air had ceased… and Robards would soon meet his demise.
"No one touches Harry Potter but me," the horror of a man hissed. "This is the final warning I offer. Otherwise, keep your eyes open wide to witness the… punishment."
The silencing charm dropped. Yet there was no immediate torture, only the stretched form of a silent Nagini slithering onto the dining table. Then a whisper in Parseltongue from Voldemort and the enormous snake bared her jaws in which death awaited. Then she struck. Many flinched and paled yet none dared to look away as Nagini swallowed Robards whole, starting from his feet. Wild shrieks echoed in every corner of the chamber as if amplified by magic.
Punishment indeed.
Lord Voldemort looked victorious supervising the carnage. The image of which did not vanish when Severus next blinked.
Whenever Harry's fingers used to seek the locket, they now travelled to his lips. Both had known Lord Voldemort. Because Voldemort had kissed him! He had trapped Harry in his arms and made him feel the fiery want hiding beneath the Dark Lord's skin. This… this was no elaborate dream. This was real. Harry's fingers stubbornly nuzzled at his lips. The memory came and went, lingering at the corners of his mind and making him lose himself to childish happiness. It was the most he had felt since the creation of his horcrux. Even Ron had commented on his suspiciously good mood during breakfast.
"Mate… no one has the right to be this happy so early in the morning. If Snape had broke his neck going down the Grand Staircase I'd totally understand, but he's still sitting at the professors' table so…"
Hermione and Ginny were also looking at him with curiosity, ignoring Ron's amusing exemplification.
"Erich sent me a letter. I'll be spending Christmas with him," Harry announced with unmasked pride.
Snape had delivered the invitation with his trademark sneer. Well… not exactly an invitation, more like a proclamation. Harry had been informed he was to return to the Dark Lord's home during the winter holidays and it sat extremely well with him. Harry didn't want to waste any more time. He wanted Voldemort, he wanted adventure, he wanted kisses exchanged in their library, lips pressed against skin and the Dark Lord's eyes on him. He wanted their talks and even the sometimes cruel taunts of the man. Harry craved it all. Not school.
"You're not going back to Sirius?" Hermione questioned with disapproving eyes.
"Well… no… Me and Erich have plans."
Voldemort always had some kind of plan.
Meanwhile Harry's own concerns remained, of the diadem and Neville. At least the new bloody Chosen One had only met failure in his quest to obtain Slughorn's precious memory. But it offered little comfort. It was a race against time. Even if the Potions professor continued to decline giving it up, Dumbledore would eventually act. The stakes were too high not to. And then… Then what? Nothing was clear. Harry didn't know what was in the memory but going by Voldemort's reaction from their encounter in the bathroom it was anything but good.
And then there was the diadem… retrieving it would be best done right before Christmas. The day of the departure, if possible. Dealing with the golden locket had been easier because it was a locket; Harry was able to wear it underneath his school robes. Always with him, always safe. But the diadem… he couldn't exactly stroll around Hogwarts with it on his head! And leaving it in the dorms was out of question. Its magic pulsed and it wouldn't be long before curiosity stirred and people would look.
Harry huffed in annoyance. If only the old professor would run away from Hogwarts. But there was a slim chance of that actually happening. But maybe… maybe if Slughorn were to die…
Harry's fingers clenched around the goblet in his hands, eyes darting to the High Table. The professor was laughing, not a care in the world. If he were to disappear no one would see the memory. Dumbledore might suspect something but would not know just how many of Voldemort's horcruxes there were. And Neville… the so-called Chosen One would be even more clueless. He would not know what to do with the little information offered by the headmaster in a desperate attempt to destroy the Dark Lord and Harry. Darkness would make itself a home in their hearts. They would fear. How could they not? Blindly battling a ruthless enemy that would only lead them to their death.
But kill Slughorn?
Could Harry cast the curse again? Destroy an innocent man's life?
Innocent. A laugh bubbled up in Harry's throat. Was anyone truly innocent? Did it make any difference? Life was a fight. One against the rest, he and Voldemort against the world. What wouldn't the Dark Lord do to protect them? The answer would be the same for Harry. Because, in the end, what good had others done for him? Voldemort was the only exception.
Yes, Harry could kill Slughorn. It had a higher purpose, and was not some meaningless killing like other monsters committed. Harry was better than that.
Chatter buzzed around him and Harry gazed away from the professor to stare down at his hands. No trembling, no reaction whatsoever. Before the horcrux, he had no idea he could be capable of such things. That he would one day value his life so immensely that he was able to eat breakfast while planning a murder. Among other things.
Things about a tall man with a cruel expression that thrilled Harry only by looking at him.
Harry… Harry had changed. People had years and years in which to grow and learn to live with themselves. Just like bones grow back and stick together over time. Some broke only to soon be mended. But Harry… Harry had been unmade down to his very soul and then some… He was transformed. Different. Above. How could any of these children ever understand? How could they comprehend of a pain so fierce that it washed one away completely? Pressing you to the bottom of your conscience with rocks until even your name faded? Only then to survive, to open your eyes and live! Who else could have endured all this and then stand on shaking legs and walk on? No one. Absolutely no one.
No one knew what real pain felt like. But he and Voldemort did. And Harry was here to —
"Harry!"
Hermione was shouting. Her eyes were round and pinned on him, but not just hers; all occupants of the Grand Hall were watching him. But why? Oh… they were not only peering at him. Harry's gaze moved past the the goblet before his eyes to where parts of it lay shattered, pumpkin juice staining the table and Harry's joined hands. The result of an outburst of magic.
They all watched. The students, Slughorn, Snape, Dumbledore.
"It happens," Harry smiled at his friends and mended the broken parts with a flick of his wrist. "My thoughts must have been on Voldemort."
His grin was not returned.
Despite what whispers and people's fantasies said, Albus Dumbledore found no pleasure in being bowed to, nor in being the subject of barely concealed awe. It was not in his nature. But he had learned long ago that people were not easily swayed. Let them watch, they did no harm. Least of all to him.
As it was, his presence at Gringotts did not go unnoticed that day around noon when countless eyes glued themselves to the back of his head as he was escorted to the Head Goblin's office. They were gazes full of either admiration or resentment, but nothing in between. It was love or hate. He had no choice but to accept them both.
Only the goblins were different. There was no interest whatsoever on their part for Albus. No more than any other client and what they had stored in their pockets.
"Mister Dumbledore," the goblin called upon his entrance and did not waste time in questioning the purpose of his visit. "We considered your request but no matter the consequences you invoked on our society, I am afraid Madame Black's vault will open to no one but her. Rules are very clear and we have a reputation to live up to. The answer remains a 'no'."
Albus held back a sigh. He had, of course, foreseen this outcome. Yet a private meeting with the Head Goblin was what he had truly aimed for. All important business was decided in such circumstances and this may as well be the most crucial business conducted in history.
"I do understand and respect your policy," Albus added with a nod. "But in that vault there is an object that holds the key to Lord Voldemort's destruction. I do not ask to enter the vault. Not even to take the object with me. Merely to have a few minutes with it, in your very presence, will suffice. And your assistance will never be forgotten."
Pearl black eyes blinked and veiny hands joined above the white parchment.
"It appears we are caught in an error of communication that needs dire fixing. Allow me to do just that. Who wins this petty war is of little importance to us. Whether it be you or the Dark Lord… both are in need of our services. And will continue to be. You see… gold has no morals. And my kin and I will have no part in this affair. We simply… watch and wait for the fuss to pass. Now, please, place yourself in my considerably smaller shoes. If the Dark Lord were to win, what do you think he would do to those who conspired in his destruction?"
"If you bring me the cup, he'll never live long enough to seek vengeance."
"So you say. But words remain words. You may speak truth or you may not… it's of little interest to me. And you forget the most crucial part; our policy is the same for all our clients. Whether they have stolen, killed, or raped outside these walls is not of our concern. Only their gold is. Now, if that is all… another meeting is to follow and my day is already packed."
True to his word, Albus admired their dedication and work ethic. Nonetheless, he resented it. His task would have been easier. Neville's task would have been easier. Now the boy had another horcrux among who-knew-how-many others to seek and destroy. And Horace still would not reveal the memory.
The situation continued to spiral down, down, down and every time Albus hoped for better, another surprise was in store. He knew Horace would never disclose his secrets to him but Neville should have earned his trust by now. Yet he came and went with the same answer of 'No' every time and a distant part of Albus knew the other boy would have already succeeded by now.
Harry.
If only he could be trusted. How deep the boy was involved in all this remained a mystery yet Albus had no doubt he had a bond with Tom. There were far too many coincidences for there not to be one. From his disappearance at the Ministry and then the Dursleys, to the mysterious lover, Severus' enigmatic words, the existence of the vow, and then the white fog shielding Harry's thoughts from him. All the lying. And, of course, Harry's brilliant eyes that no longer had frames to cover their green hue. Yes, Tom had sunken his claws deep inside the boy. Albus had been aware of it the moment he arrived for the meeting at Sirius' place. It saddened him, to see something so pure torn to shreds. Now when Harry gazed into his eyes, he lied without shame.
And Albus was hopeless to do anything as he stood in this tidy office. Hopeless to do anything but stand there.
"Is there nothing I can do to convince you otherwise? Nothing to bargain on?"
"No, Mister Dumbledore. Have a good day."
Well, there were other ways. Even Gringotts had a weakness. Someone with the necessary skills and a daring spirit could do the deed. Most assuredly it was difficult, but not impossible.
"Good day to you as well."
Albus had not yet reached the door when the next client made his grand entrance. With no questions asked, no knocking, and apparently no manners.
Then he saw that it was Tom Riddle, dressed all in black with a smirk painted on his face with no surprise to be written there either. Only maliciousness. Mockingly, Lord Voldemort advanced. "Dumbledore," came his voice, far colder than Dumbledore remembered as Voldemort's eyes swum with cruelty. "I'd say this meeting was a pleasure but, then again, there is no use in deceiving worthless individuals."
"Tom. Imperious as ever, I see. And age has not made you any wiser."
The Head Goblin watched them as they watched each other.
Wearing Tom Riddle's face, Lord Voldemort inched closer until he was towering over Dumbledore. With relaxed shoulders, chin held high, and hair black as night pushed back from his symmetrical face. Only the sharp set of his mouth offered any clue to his reaction on Albus' remark and ah, the pride had doubled. The fall as well.
"And you're still squirming around in your petty existence. But Dumbledore… hold no worry in your eyes. I did not come here to duel you, nor am I on a killing spree. Important business demanded my immediate attention." Attention which Tom then heavily settled on the Head Goblin. "Thank you for the loyalty of your services." The goblin nodded at the Dark Lord. "You'll find Bellatrix Lestrange waiting in front of her vault. One precious possession is to be retrieved."
Down down down it went. Albus sighed, the fingers of his healthy hand ached for his wand, for the chance to put an end to this madness. But it was a foolish thought. Both Tom and the goblin were looking at him.
"No one will draw their wands here. Because if you do…"
"We may never set foot in here again," supplied his former student, ever so keen to offer his help. "I know."
"Precisely," approved the Head Goblin before taking his leave from the office, leaving the two wizards waiting in silence.
Once the door closed Tom wandlessly enlarged the goblin's chair before planting himself on it. Such a vain boy.
Albus joined him and, as expected, he wasn't the first to speak. Many things had changed since he last glimpsed Lord Voldemort yet it seemed the man's enjoyment at hearing his own voice prevailed.
"Mighty Albus Dumbledore, willing to dirty his hands and break the law… to steal another's treasure." A childish smirk played on his lips. "The tragedy of it all is how no one would believe me. Such a shame. And oh…. how much pleasure I find in saying I told you so."
Tom was in high spirits. Why wouldn't he be? Harry was under his influence, the odds were in his favour in this war, and one of his who-knew-how-many horcruxes was only a few breaths away from him. Albus had to smile too, albeit grimly.
"How does it feel?" asked Tom, almost softly. "To know all your efforts are futile? That I will win and no one can see the end of it. Not even you, Dumbledore."
"You are right, Tom. We really matter not in the great scheme of things, not compared to you. And yet… once again, in spite of your brilliancy, you fail to understand something; we are many and you are not. On our own, we are powerless. But together we are able to accomplish even the most unbelievable of things. Even against the mighty Dark Lord who fancies himself invincible."
A sneer formed at the mention of his given name. "Oh, none shall be stopped from trying. Beasts must be punished before they learn how to behave and, as a merciful Lord, I shall oblige. But remember this, Dumbledore. My power is no illusion."
"I never suggested it was. After all, you wouldn't have come this far if it was. Young Harry would have never bared his neck for you."
The smirk faded and Tom's face became a blank canvas so that one could not determine his thoughts from one or another. Was he frightened? Or did he care not that Albus knew of Harry's alliances? The familiar face displayed nothing and it might as well say everything. Yet Lord Voldemort had ceased his talking for a moment.
"Harry Potter," Tom finally spoke the name. "Has the boy lost his value to you so soon?"
It did not escape Albus' notice how the Dark Lord danced around the subject. His horcrux indeed.
"It had not. But he is the one who is lost."
"He has me," Tom taunted. "Harry Potter is mine."
"And you are his, I suppose?" Albus added, amused, dangling the bait. "Do you really expect me to believe your supposed commitment?"
Voldemort took it, spitting it out one moment later; "Do not presume to know everything about us. Me and Harry. Harry and I. We belong to each other. Your silly notions matter not," he boasted with pride. "No mind could ever understand. No one but us."
Something inside Albus' mind clicked. The words 'we belong to each other' coming from the mouth of Lord Voldemort himself. Us, not me. The tune had changed and the dance followed. Tom had gifted him what he wanted without realising. And Severus' expression, the existence of the Unbreakable Vow in order to keep his silence… it all settled into place. At first, Albus had believed the deadly promise happened in order to keep the spy's silence on Harry's alliance. How foolish — Tom would never bind himself over something so little. No, the stakes were much higher. Us, us, us. Not one person but two. What could be so important for Lord Voldemort to directly involve himself? Harry… something about Harry, yet different from the horcrux.
Horcrux.
Tom was consumed with his immortality. Yet the human horcrux anchoring him to this world reeked of mortality. Of death. Of failure. Surely he had not made Harry do —
Revulsion shook Albus' body so that he fought for his expression to remain still. A light of understanding descended upon his thoughts. How much Harry had changed, how little he ate, how he seemed only to tolerate his friends' presence… how ancient he appeared as he stared off into the distance. How there was now nothing where once everything had been. Albus blinked at Tom, bile in his throat. This man… this man was truly a monster beyond salvation. To destroy little Harry this way… He could forgive Tom of many crimes but not of this one. Harry, the little bundle in his arms, the child with those green eyes full of kindness and courage… now hollow. Now a murderer.
And Tom… Tom, who possessed this special ability of tainting everything he touched, was suddenly smiling as he stood. As if sensing something. Bellatrix must have retrieved his horcrux.
Gleaming eyes found his. "Take good care of your Chosen One, Dumbledore. Even better, hide and not waste any more lives. Next time there will be no more refusals to your requests… yet feel free to try and pay the price. That is what you get when you stick your hands into other people's business. Good day."
Albus' greyish hand throbbed as Tom deserted the office without looking back. Let him have his insults and his smugness. Albus had something infinitely more precious. Knowledge.
Half a day until Voldemort returned.
Snow fell from the sky cladding the grounds in white. Christmas was around the corner and all children sheltered by the grand castle were buzzing with excitement to finally return home. To their loved ones, to all things familiar, to warm arms and quiet days. With exams over, the corridors of Hogwarts were swimming with people darting from one place or the other, settling unfinished business before they left for the next few weeks. School work, bidding goodbyes to their friends or simply enjoying the last few hours under Hogwarts' roof.
Only Harry was not enjoying his surroundings or visiting housemates and the like. Instead he paced two of the three times before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy when none other than Dumbledore made his appearance from around the corner. Harry froze, eyes wide, heart in his throat, nothing but a wall separating Voldemort's precious soul from his hands. The crimson robes of the headmaster swiped across the floor, collecting dust and Harry's curses. Damn him, damn him, damn him!
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning Harry. What a pleasant coincidence. I was just thinking on meeting you yet it appears fate favours this old man. My boy, walk with me."
Harry was fuming as he trailed alongside Dumbledore, every step carrying him away from Voldemort's soul while his own ached.
"Is there something wrong?" he wondered.
"Nothing more than the usual," the headmaster responded. "Harry… will you heed my advice once again? This Christmas… go to Sirius. Go to your family."
How Dumbledore knew of his plans to run away with his supposed lover was beyond Harry.
"I'm sorry, sir. Me and Erich have plans."
Silence reigned between them as Harry realised the old man was escorting him back to Gryffindor Tower. The curious eyes of the students followed them, overanalysing everything. Harry had to fight to keep a pleasant expression on his face. Damn him, damn him, damn him! Time kept passing along with his chance to rescue Voldemort's soul. And Dumbledore was still talking!
"Shame, Harry. Shame. But I won't insist as your decision is already made."
No amount of sadness in his voice could make Harry feel bad for him. He cared not for Dumbledore's whims and his unnatural desire to know everything about Harry. Who he was with, where he was, and even what he ate. Harry didn't give a shit. Only his plan mattered — one that was now all ruined. Voldemort had counted on him and Harry… Harry had royally disappointed.
"Off you go, by boy," Dumbledore said once at the entrance of the Gryffindor common room. "You wouldn't want to miss the train."
"Of course, sir. Happy Holidays."
"Happy Holidays to you as well, Harry. Take care of yourself."
Harry would have run back to the tapestry but Dumbledore remained in his spot outside the common room with a twinkle in his eyes until Harry entered. The possibility of the old man lingering nearby and the passing of time were both against him. He could not return for the diadem. Harry was tangled up in misery, glaring at one unfortunate first year who happened to bump into him on his way to the boys' dormitories.
"Move," he ordered.
Nothing was going well. Nothing!
