Yo! A few people have brought up confusion on why Ginny would have a friend buy love potions for her, rather than just buy them herself or have her mother brew them. The letter in the previous chapter stated that the potion works in a different way than the normal one-meaning no one else should be able to brew it, considering where it was bought from and who invented it. There's no way Ginny would be sold these potions she knows likely work better, but there's no reason her friend wouldn't be sold them.

Anyway, thank you to all readers so far!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

Harry was woken quite abruptly when a sudden weight landed on his legs. He bolted up in his camp bed in Ron's room, pulled on his glasses, and his eyes widened. "Dobby?" he spoke in a whisper.

The House-Elf nodded his head, his ears flapping a little. "Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter sir, for waking you, but-" His great, green eyes widened, and his twisted one of his ears before checking and silencing the room, and continuing. "Missy Mist has urgent letter for you!"

Harry blinked, startled. It wasn't often that Hermione had to contact him urgently-especially not in the middle of the night. Whatever she needed to tell him must have been extremely important indeed. Since the room had been silenced, and Ron, ever the heavy sleeper, hadn't even stirred, Harry simply accepted the roll of parchment from Dobby, and after the House-Elf lit a nearby candle, began to read.

Raven Serpent,

I'm sorry for sending this so abruptly, but you know how I've been looking into Horcruxes and how to destroy them, right? Well, according to a fair few books, basilisk venom looks like it might be our best bet if we want or need to destroy any. Removing a soul piece from its container, however, also destroys said container. Meaning, unfortunately, if we wanted to remove the Horcrux that's very likely inside you, you'll have to die. Whether you can even come back or recover from something like that is another question entirely.

There hasn't been a single documented case of a human Horcrux before, and even animal Horcruxes are extremely rare, so there really is no telling what any of this might entail. If that basilisk you killed is still in the Chamber of Secrets, its fangs will be useful weapons for us, but we can't very well take one of the fangs and stab you in the forehead with it. I mean, we can, but obviously we don't want to risk something like that.

I'm still researching, but that's the gist of what I've learned.

Violet Mist

Harry realized immediately what all this meant. He knew Dumbledore was fully aware about the Horcruxes. He had to be. And at the same time, it was also very unlikely that Voldemort had any idea that Dumbledore knew. He was too cocky about this stuff. And all this meant, was that Dumbledore was setting both him and Voldemort up. One to kill, and one to be killed, and perhaps which of them fulfilled which role didn't even matter to him.

That settles it, he decided. They were definitely not going to be helping the Light anymore, and he knew now that he really needed to contact Voldemort sooner rather than later. There was no telling what might end up happening if he didn't start taking initiative here...


As if aware they were plotting something, Mrs Weasley kept both Ron and Harry busy for the next couple of days, piling them with chores. Of course, she had underestimated Harry's speed when it came to completing things like chores, so it really wasn't long at all before the two teens were able to hole up in Ron's room, quietly summon Dobby, and both ward and silence the room so they could discuss things without fear.

The first thing Harry did, was show Ron the letters he had received-the one from their trip to Diagon Alley, and then the one Hermione had written, allowing him to read them for himself. He did so with a thoughtful frown, before passing the parchment back, his frown deepening.

"Well," Ron began, "there isn't anything we can do about Ginny and those love potions besides you being more careful than usual, like the twins said. As for Hermione's letter, the whole basilisk fangs thing is good, seeing as we conveniently have a few lying around in a place only you and Voldemort can get in to. Speaking of which, how soon do you plan on writing to him?"

"At this point? As soon as possible," Harry replied, dragging his fingers through his dark hair. "He's been setting us up, Ron. This entire time, for all these years, he's been setting us up. I'll keep playing along for now, just so he doesn't get suspicious, but our group's planning and actions is about to increase."

Ron nodded in understanding. "I doubt any one of us is going to have any issues with that. How long do you think you're going to need to write that letter?"

Harry blinked. "Dunno. Why?"

"Gotta run interference, don't I? Otherwise mum'll start questioning where you are and what you're doing."

"Shit. Right. How long can you keep her busy?"

Ron chewed on his tongue, thinking. "I could say I forgot to get something in Diagon Alley," he said after a moment. "There's no way she'll let me go alone, and there are no other adults who would be able to go with me, so that just leaves her. You and Ginny will be the only ones here, but she's been spending a lot of time in her room, so I don't think she'll bother you."

Harry nodded as he listened. "Makes sense, and I think that'll be our best bet. Your mum also always has something or another to buy, so you'll probably be in the Alley for a while."

The redhead sighed sorrowfully. "It's a small price to pay," he spoke mournfully.

Harry just laughed...


Their plan went better than expected, and before the reluctant Boy-Who-Lived knew it, he was one of the only two occupants at the Burrow, locked in Ron's room. As he had been assured, Ginny seemed to be leaving him alone for the moment, which gave him ample time to begin working on that letter.

Unfortunately, this was a lot harder than he had been expecting it to be. He couldn't allow for any hints that gave away his identity, not to mention he was trying to write to Voldemort of all people. The letter had to be written well enough that he would actually take it seriously.

Why wasn't Hermione writing this again? Oh, right, because Harry was the only one from them who actually really knew the Dark Lord. Dammit.


The Dark Lord Voldemort, known to few as Marvolo Slytherin, was just finishing up a meeting with his most loyal Death Eaters, in the throne room of Riddle Manor. He was seated on his throne, peering out at them with deadly crimson eyes. He was bored. They were boring him. And that was quite irritating.

Since they had nothing new or important to tell him, he simply dismissed him and silently watched them trek out. And it was only once they were gone that he allowed himself to lean back in his seat. Brushing dark hair out of his eyes, he called for a House-Elf and requested a glass of wine.

The hair was a new thing that he hadn't gotten used to just yet. He had been pleased at the body he had been resurrected in the other year, simply because it was better than nothing, but that bald, pale, noseless, snake eyed appearance, while certainly delivering fear, did nothing for his pride.

And then, suddenly, a year later, everything changed abruptly. He had, for a lack of better words, regained a great amount of the sanity he hadn't realized he had even lost. It hadn't taken him long to realize what had happened either. His diary Horcrux had been destroyed. He knew for a fact that it was that one too. His first Horcrux had contained half of his soul, and when half your soul was removed and then returned to you, you knew it.

And with that returning sanity, had been the return of his old appearance. Well, for the most part. When he had begun noticing the change, he had assumed he would take on his teenage appearance, as he had been when he had created his first Horcrux. But no, he certainly didn't look sixteen, that was for sure. He was older than that, by a decade at the very least, and perhaps a year or two more.

That was fine though. A Dark Lord was taken more seriously when they didn't resemble a child, and his charm and confidence backed that up. His Inner Circle, the only ones who knew so far, were proof of that.

They were more relaxed around him now, less fear and more faith. They listened closer, worked harder, and seemed eager to please him. His appearance, it seemed, had gone a long way. Oh they were still afraid-he was the Dark Lord, but the return of his largest soul piece had...mellowed him out somewhat, and they noticed it immediately.

When dealing with his Outer Circle, however, Voldemort kept up a glamour of his snake-like appearance. They still needed fear to fuel them for now. Things would change, naturally, and some of them were inching towards joining his Inner Circle soon, but for now, this would suffice.

But there were other problems too. Ones with the war. The Light and Dark were at a stalemate of sorts, and neither side had anything that would change their position drastically.

He sipped his wine slowly, one of his long legs crossed over the other, crimson eyes drawn in thought. He needing something. Just one thing that could push his side forward, even if just a little. Any advantage was a good one, at this point in time.

Marvolo didn't realize his wish was about to be granted...

There was a quiet pop. Eyes narrowing, Marvolo set his wineglass down, arming himself with his wand instead. There was an envelope sitting on the floor at his feet. How it had gotten there, the man didn't know. He was certain he hadn't looked away. Not even for an instant. Had he?

He didn't move to touch the envelope, and instead, waved his yew wand over it, scanning it with a multitude of spells that came back clear of anything negative. The only thing on it seemed to be a identity charm, informing him it was meant for his eyes only. But that also meant that there were surely hidden hexes or curses that would activate should anyone other than him attempt to read, or perhaps even touch it.

Curious now, he reached down and picked it up. Nothing happened, confirming his suspicions. Examining it carefully, he noted that the envelope itself was plain-blank, without any indication for who it was meant for, or who it was from. He flipped it over, seeing that the back was just as plain as the front.

Slitting it open, he carefully pulled out the parchment from within, unfolded it, and saw that it was addressed to him. Curiosity growing, he began to read.

Voldemort,

I'm sure it's odd for you to receive mail that actually makes it through the many powerful wards surrounding your manor, but it's very necessary for us to speak. I acknowledge that you won't do so in person quite yet, so I'll settle for letters for now.

I'm going to get straight to the point here. I know about your Horcruxes. I know you made more than one. And I know how to destroy them too. But I won't do that. Why? For reasons I have no desire to elaborate on yet.

Now, you might be wondering why I decided to write to you-surely, you're assuming I couldn't have done it just to tell you I know how you've made yourself immortal? And you'd be right, too. That isn't the only reason.

I have a problem, you see. My associates and I no longer have any desire to aid the Light in this war. And while we haven't fully agreed that we would prefer to aid you and your side instead, we are, admittedly, leaning towards it. That, in itself, is not much of a problem. The problem stems from who we are, and what our positions in the Light are.

A number of us can't just up and...defect, so to speak, without drawing attention to ourselves, and we aren't in a position where we can even do that. What some of us have to offer to the Light is too good for them to give up. But what we can offer them, we can also offer you, and I assure you, the Dark will certainly benefit greatly from it.

Should you choose to reply to me, you may write me a letter in return, and call for 'Bob', who will deliver the letter to me the moment he is able to do so safely. I only ask that you refer to yourself as 'Crimson Phantom', instead of Voldemort. My associate insisted, and all of us communicate while using code names.

I hope to hear from you,

Raven Serpent

The throne room was abruptly filled with the sound of a low chuckling, a chuckling the was nearly drowned out by the sudden clap of thunder from outside its many, large windows.

And here, Marvolo thought, may be the very advantage he had been looking for. How very intriguing indeed...

Confirmed alias: Ebony Snow-Fred Weasley, Ivory Rain-George Weasley, Crimson Phantom-Voldemort, Bob-Dobby. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!