DISCLAIMER: The following stories are based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Note: Thanks a lot for your reviews.

Enjoy the next chapter :)

Chapter 20: Peverell's Legacy

The party was slowly winding down, which was a relief. Most high-ranking guests mingled in groups, casting suspicious looks his way every time they passed him on their way out. Others pretended to ignore him, sometimes successfully. Harry didn't really care, though. The only thing he knew for a fact was that Voldemort must've warned his Death Eaters away from him. Territorial bastard that he was.

But it didn't matter. There were more important things to focus on. Things that demanded his full attention.

Standing near the table tops at the far end of the ballroom, close to the exit, Harry was currently debating whether he should steal Malfoy's Crêpe Suzette plate or not.

It looked absolutely delicious.

He'd never seen such delicacies in his life, not even at Durmstrang.

Everything would probably end up in the trash, since pure-bloods were too dignified to appreciate what they had in the first place. And unlike them, he wasn't one to waste food. The Treacle Sponge pudding with its sprinkling golden syrup was virtually screaming at Harry to take it away from this dreadful place.

And so he succumbed to his demanding stomach. Throwing a sideways glance, Harry positioned his body with his back to the crowd. Shrinking the plate with a wave of his holly wand, he quickly transfigured a fork into a plastic box. Technically, he was stealing things, but the Malfoys would hardly notice missing plates or cutlery, loaded as they were.

Another flick of his wand, and the food was where it belonged. With him.

Harry smiled in satisfaction.

And his tired body thanked him for it. The increased appetite was probably a direct result from the amount of excessive magic he'd performed over the last days under Augusta's tutelage. Nothing to worry about, of course. It was worth the effort, and the learning effect on wandlore was simply another bonus. The experiments on the set of wands had been taxing, yes. But all discoveries they yielded made the attempt to get his wand back that much more crucial.

And he succeeded, albeit under pressure and not without losing something in return.

Harry had no intention of telling Voldemort the whole truth, though. And why would he? The Dark Lord was probably conceited enough to pretend he didn't need Harry's resources and information to get the Elder Wand. It suited the younger wizard just fine.

Picking up another plate and noticing its reflection, Harry sighed.

"Enjoying the party?" Draco Malfoy called. The brat had the nerve to approach him again.

Harry resisted the urge to scowl. It was already difficult enough trying to hide the pain still lingering in his bones after Nagini's attack. He couldn't afford obvious weaknesses. Not in this particular place.

"Yes, Malfoy." Harry picked up a strawberry, eyeing it curiously. "Your charity ball for orphans is fun, though I suppose it's less charity and more ball," he said. The strawberry cake would look nice in the dining room at Potter manor...

Malfoy snorted, crossing his arms.

"Stating the obvious. It seems you're more bothered by this than anyone else here."

"You aren't?" he asked. Raising his head, he glanced at the boy. Draco was the spitting image of his father, minus the permanent sneer that seemed to decorate his pale features.

"Of course not. The Dark Lord wants his allies, so he's getting them. I see no problem here."

"Really?" Harry asked.

Unfortunately, Draco's fake bravery belied his words. Harry shrugged in response.

"Too bad. I was hoping people would actually start to care about dark wizarding orphans, poverty, family interbreeding and the like. It's a real problem, Malfoy. But it seems your Lord wants to wage a war without fixing anything."

His words spilled out of him without warning and suddenly Harry couldn't stop the self-loathing he felt at his own honesty. So much about trying to control himself. Caring too much always caused problems; especially when you were surrounded by people who really didn't give a flying fuck about their own kind.

Pressing his fingers against his forehead, Harry took a deep breath, all the while ignoring Malfoy's anger at the casual insult against his Lord.

Malfoy didn't seem to get it. That was fairly obvious.

Harry couldn't blame the boy for his own ignorance, though. Not under these circumstances.

It was quite clear that Draco had been sheltered and protected from the harsh realities of the outside world. And his next statement just proved it.

"You're an idiot. Once we crush the light side and eradicate the Muggle trash, we can rebuild our society the way it should be," Draco said darkly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Harry gave a small laugh.

"You actually believe that?" Smirking, he traced the boy's features with another look, seeing genuine confusion and anger. "Oh my, Voldemort must've really pulled the wool over your eyes, Malfoy. Or maybe your father likes to tell himself those things every single time he grovels at the man's feet."

"Don't say his name," Malfoy hissed and those words just made Harry laugh harder.

Their conversation was already drawing too many pairs of eyes on them.

"He'll never learn, unless he gets punished for his disrespect," someone said, throwing his arms over Harry's shoulders.

Harry stiffened. Fuck, he hated it when people approached him from behind without warning.

"Filipp," he said without emotion. The taller boy grinned, leaning closer.

"Harry Potter. It's been so long," he drawled. His breath stank of too much Butterbeer and Harry resisted the urge to push him away. "I've missed you, Harry. How come you never write back?" Dolohov laughed, the sound as irritating as the rest of him.

"You know each other?" Draco suddenly asked, raising his eyebrows and inspecting Filipp's drunken form.

Dolohov just leaned closer.

"Oh, we've known each other for roughly two years now. Quite intimately, if I may say so," Filipp said.

"He's just an acquaintance," Harry threw in when Draco's expression grew perplexed. Really, he sometimes cursed the fact that they couldn't reveal too many secrets about their school to outsiders. Filipp was the type of person who'd suggest the most outrageous things just to get a rise out of Harry. Sometimes Harry regretted ever having attempted to apologize to the taller boy for the wand accident.

"More like bedpartner," Dolohov drawled, chuckling a bit.

Right, asshole.

Noticing Harry's expression, Filipp patted his shoulder. "Oi, Potter. Don't be like that. I've always been so nice to you." Harry pushed him away at last, grimacing when the boys stumbled a bit. The Butterbeer stench probably masked all the hard alcohol Filipp must've consumed beforehand.

"Did you like my gift?"

Harry frowned at him, sensing a sudden shift in his tone.

"I didn't get the chance to take a look, but I'll let you know if it's good. Though... I think I'd get more answers out of your father than a book," Harry said pointedly.

Filipp shrugged, but his eyes grew hard. "It'll help. I warned you about certain stuff, after all."

Ignoring Draco's confusion, he turned fully around, facing Dolohov. The patronizing tone and fake concern coming from a Death Eater's son irritated him to no end.

He lowered his gaze. "Well sorry for not listening to your lies." He inspected his nails, wondering how much he could reveal in Draco's presence. But for all he knew, the two were best mates.

"I met your father while fighting those white-clad bastards. Finding out that he's been involved in that crap the entire time isn't exactly what I came to expect." Harry gave a humorless laugh. "But then, I should've known the Dark Lord would have spies stationed everywhere."

"I couldn't tell you the truth and you know it," Filipp insisted, his drunken state seemingly forgotten.

"But you shouldn't have lied either. In fact, you should stay out of this mess, if you know what's good for you. I don't even know why you give a damn about me in the first place," Harry said, closing his eyes briefly.

Filipp inhaled sharply, and that made Harry look up again. Both of them stared at one another, before Filipp dropped his gaze in defeat. "The others are right. Maybe it's because I believe that you have the potential to change things. And that's why you shouldn't get yourself killed."

Harry stepped back, almost bumping into Malfoy, who automatically reached forward, as if to steady him.

"Potential? I won't fight for the Dark if it's what you want. I already told everyone that I wouldn't get involved."

"You already are involved, Potter," Draco whispered, oddly serious. "You're as dark as one can get. Don't pretend you don't care about the Dark if you are passionately defending dark wizarding orphans, which you did two minutes ago."

Malfoy had a point and Harry blinked.

He was tired of all the talks about potential, but it was true that he couldn't stay out of the Dark's business if he wanted to ensure his own safety. And it was also true that he was starting to feel deeply concerned with the way so many countries deliberately drew a chasm between light and dark without any concern for the future. The wizarding world was his world now. And he'd already all but threatened that he would step in, should things escalate on all fronts.

But still. The lies, the expectations and webs of manipulations surrounding him just grew more bothersome and Harry lacked the power to change it. Perhaps not in the political field. But magically? He couldn't hold his own against a Dark Lord. Voldemort had been right about that.

"Training children of dark wizarding families, that's as involved as you can get." Filipp grinned.

Harry's eyes widened.

"How do you-?"

The boy laughed again. "Oh please. Your crowd is anything but inconspicuous. I mean, Krum likes to pretend he's all innocent, no depth at all, but I know you two have been conspiring against the Headmaster. And what about Robards? She didn't leave your side for a minute."

In all actuality, Harry had never intended to start an all out rebellion against the impostor, but Filipp seemed to believe he'd already created some sort of secret underground society.

Draco smirked, glancing at Harry in amusement. "What did he do?"

Batting his eyelashes, Dolohov affected innocence, but his own smirk grew sharp and Harry tensed.

"Let's just say he wasn't sitting around when some people decided to get eh - a bit out of control," Dolohov said carefully, alluding to the Headmaster's past actions. "In any case, Potter. Admit it." Spreading his arms, Filipp drew himself up. "You've learned quite a lot of things under his tutelage. We all did. So don't use the moral card on me."

"I'm out of here," Harry said, looking past the boy's shoulders and meeting Lucius Malfoy's impatient gaze.

"Hey, Potter. Wait a minute-," Filipp called, but Harry flipped him off, making his way over to Yaxley and Malfoy, who were already waiting for him. Filipp's talkative attitude would fuel the gossip and make people think Harry would attempt to start a revolution. Damn him.

Drawing up his shoulders, Harry swept down the ballroom, past the countless eyes on him. Nodding at the two Death Eaters in greeting, he kept silent as they led him away from the masses, heading for Malfoy's office, which was currently occupied by a certain Dark Lord.

The silence in this part of the manor felt eerie and it didn't work in his favor when several Malfoy ancestors stared at him from their portraits as if he was some sort of pig ready to get slaughtered. Pushing past his own confusion and anxiety, Harry glanced at Yaxley.

"Feeling better?"

The politician grew confused. "Excuse me?

Even Malfoy threw another curious look his way, as they calmly led the way past an enormous staircase, entering another empty corridor.

"Well. That must've really hurt. You fell unconscious, after all," Harry said, licking his lips. The memory of Minister Farnes stepping over Yaxley almost felt symbolic to Harry.

Cold air seeped under several doors leading to opulent chambers. Even the dark corners were spotless of spider webs or any dirt for that matter. Yet, the chill had nothing to do with the manor and everything to do with the foreign magic tracing his own steps, lingering and testing him. Voldemort was close. Even his two companions were tense.

"I know that bitch of a Minister is protecting you, Potter. But don't worry. She'll be dealt with soon enough," Yaxley threatened, balling his fists in anger. It was an empty threat for now and everyone present knew it.

Her protection had been increased after the attack on the ministry. Not even Voldemort could threaten her life from a distance.

Speaking of Voldemort...

"My Lord. Potter is with us," Lucius called stiffly, not entering his own office.

"Let him in."

Harry narrowed his eyes, hating how agitated he felt.

"Your followers are so nice. Didn't think you'd surround yourself with so many friendly faces."

The Dark Lord remained indifferent, not even bothering to look at him across from the table where he sat. Harry pushed past the two Death Eaters and closed the door in their face, leaving him alone with Voldemort. Nothing was said to that, which meant that his conversation was probably intended to be held in private. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry's boots touched ancient, polished floorboards and the scent of tomes and old parchment wafted across the office. It was already past midnight, but Harry noticed that a plate of sandwiches had been prepared for him.

"Are you implying something, Potter?" Voldemort asked curtly, gaze fixed on the book he was reading.

Harry took a seat, carefully looking around the office. "Nope. Just enjoying the company." He frowned in confusion.

"Do you want me to make a mess out of Lucius' workplace or is that concern for my wellbeing I'm detecting here?"

Pale lips twitched. "Whatever you want to believe, child. Now eat."

Voldemort continued to read in silence, leaving Harry to his own thoughts. He didn't think the man would poison him, but one could never be sure what his twisted mind concocted in secret. Voldemort would probably poison him, just for entertainment.

Harry sighed.

Eating in Voldemort's presence was unnerving when you didn't do it just to get a reaction out of his followers. Harry was uncomfortably aware of the plastic box he'd conjured to take with him.

Suddenly, he felt incredibly childish.

He took a bite and almost moaned at the rich flavor that invaded his senses. Seriously, Malfoy Manor's cuisine was a thousand times better than the stuff he got at Durmstrang or even back home.

Looking past the rim of his glasses, he suddenly caught the Dark Lord's eyes, which were now intently fixed on him.

Harry chewed on the bread, feeling awkward all of a sudden. The gulping noise he couldn't stifle was simply too loud in this room.

"What?" he asked tentatively.

Behind the Dark Lord's chair, the lit fireplace illuminated the man's impressive and regal form and Harry couldn't look away. Shadows almost danced across the room, throwing his profile into a strong contrast. It made Harry feel smaller.

"You have-," the man pointed at the corners of his own mouth, "sauce-"

Mortified, Harry immediately grabbed the napkin, wiping it off, and Voldemort's eyes tracked his movements, amusement evident in his expression.

"Do you always like to humiliate your guests like that?" Harry asked, looking across the table at the smirking, insufferable man. "It's not very dark-lordish, in my opinion."

"Most of my guests seem to possess proper table manners, Harry," Voldemort chided lightly. "It's a first one, even for me."

Harry glanced down, pushing the food away from him. "I'm honored, truly," he drawled. "In any case, I didn't come here for a chat. Do you have the contract?" His eyes hardened and he looked up, noticing that Voldemort was still surveying him closely. The Dark Lord clicked his tongue, and with a casual movement the plate vanished. Harry almost felt jealous at the effortless and graceful way in which the older man could use wandless magic.

Wordlessly, the Dark Lord slid a piece of parchment across the table and Harry reached out for it, hoping that this wasn't a trap. He'd get out of here alive and with all his demands met. Or they would fight.

The contract didn't contain any loopholes from what he could see. And it even detailed explicitly how much time Harry had left until immunity for him expired. All of his friends were excluded, which was something he'd expected. To his relief, Harry's involvement in the war wasn't restricted, because he'd need to get out there to lure Voldemort's enemies out of hiding. Which was just perfect and exactly what Harry had counted on. His own dealings in the future would be left untouched, as long as he met with Voldemort in public from time to time, which was the only clause the Dark Lord had put in there.

Harry had an inkling of the reasons behind it. It would be a strong, political statement to have Harry Potter frequent the Dark Lord's circles. And the attempt to chain him to a specific side in this war couldn't be any more obvious. Still, he doubted Voldemort's enemies would come out of hiding that easily. But that wasn't his concern.

In return, he got his wand back and his safety from Voldemort and his Inner Circle was guaranteed for a couple of years. Enough time for Harry to start doing his own things without having spies at Durmstrang or anywhere else threaten him all the time.

Harry eyed the Dark Lord shrewdly. "Hm, your Legalese is outdated, my Lord. But immunity until I'm of age, I suppose that's okay."

His casual reaction to the contract made Voldemort narrow his eyes. Was there something he didn't like?

"I know you're already bound by an oath to spare Narcissa and her spawn during the war. Lucius is quite unimaginative, I'm afraid," the Dark Lord began. "Now you're chaining yourself to me in return for a short life and nothing more than a single wand." The hidden warning and suspicion made Harry stiffen in wariness. "In return I get the fascinating story of the so called Unbeatable Wand and your cooperation in my...plans."

"I wonder," the Dark Lord trailed off.

The threat was out in the open.

"Aren't you lucky? Getting so many things out of this deal," Harry quipped. "I guess I'm just a very nice, forgiving person." He smiled, all the while cursing Voldemort in his mind. Of course, the bastard would take notice of his wand.

On top of that, he hadn't known that Malfoy's dealings had been so obvious to his Lord, but apparently he'd underestimated how perceptive the Dark Lord could be.

Nonetheless, he picked up the quill that was already prepared for him and swiftly signed the contract, not even batting an eyelash at the glowing energy that settled the deal between them.

"It's not the Unbeatable Wand, if you're curious. It's my own and it was given to me by them."

The Dark Lord made an interested noise, but didn't comment.

Harry continued, gazing at the man. "It isn't more special or more powerful than the rest. It's simply mine and I wanted it back." He paused and assessed Voldemort closely. "It's true that it might lead me to the location of the Elder Wand, but just like the rest of the set, it's been choosing the wizard who could wield it. Taking a wild guess, I think that those wands in your possession were also destined for others."

The Dark Lord hummed.

"So you're simply holding onto it in order to seek the most powerful wand in existence. A loophole for you."

Harry rolled his eyes at that. "No, I'm holding onto it to defend myself against people like you. I don't need an unbeatable, almighty wand," he replied. It was arrogant of him to say that. They both knew it wouldn't take much to kill him, prophecies or not.

Tapping his fingers against the cover of the book, Voldemort smiled.

"You have five years left to surprise me. I won't have history books recording the defeat of a mere teenager at my hands."

Harry nodded, smirking. "That would be embarrassing, since they already recorded your defeat at the hands of an infant."

The sudden flash of anger in Voldemort's eyes was worth it, Harry thought viciously.

Leaning back in his seat, he lowered his gaze, contemplating how to best tell him the truth without telling him everything.

"You wanted to know more about the Elder Wand and why the wands in your possession are linked to it," he began, dismissing Voldemort's dark, menacing aura. Harry locked eyes with the man to convey his honesty. He wouldn't put it past him to use the mind arts on Harry without warning and that was something Harry didn't need to experience now.

"I already told you that those wands are linked to the so called Unbeatable Wand."

Voldemort didn't look impressed. In fact, he looked almost bored now. "And how exactly did you find that out?"

"By researching the properties and cross-referencing all I know about its Master from what others have told me." Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. "The Unbeatable Wand is also called the Elder Wand and its power had been supposedly created by Death himself. There's no other wand in existence that can repair wands, even from a distance."

Harry knew that he had Voldemort's full attention, so he continued. Predictably, all you needed to mention was Death and the man would come running.

"Ever read The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"A children's tale." But Voldemort's eyes flashed in recognition and understanding. He looked pensive, watching Harry intently.

Harry inclined his head, leaning forward again and placing his hands on the table. "And it's real. According to several sources the three brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell came in contact with Death three centuries after the Founders' Period." He chuckled a bit, remembering something from one of the books he'd read. "Oh and by the way, we're actually distantly related to them."

For the first time he saw genuine bewilderment in Voldemort's eyes. "Excuse me?"

Harry was a bit startled himself, noticing that emotions like surprise made the older man look much more human, not as stiff as he always liked to pretend he was.

"Go over the records or request a genealogy test. Cadmus is one of your ancestors while Ignotus is mine. That makes us distant relatives," Harry explained, enjoying the way Voldemort almost grimaced at the idea. He himself had felt extremely uncomfortable about that, realizing that Voldemort was in some sort of twisted way part of his family. He didn't like to dwell on that notion.

"Anyway, they possessed three legendary objects that -once reunited- could make you the-"

"Master of Death. An invisibility cloak, the resurrection stone and the Elder Wand," Voldemort finished for him, sounding slightly intrigued. Harry knew the man would love to obtain these objects simply because they proved to be real and they were shiny and powerful toys. It was a daring move for him to tell the Dark Lord about it.

"Now, I don't know much about the resurrection stone and if it still exists, but the Elder wand has a brutal history of being passed down by deceit and murder. I think it's feasible to say that you have to kill your opponent in order to obtain it," Harry explained. And it was the truth, but not the full one. He'd be damned if he told him that you could also master its powers by simply 'defeating' your opponent. Let Voldemort chase after it, but murdering a man didn't make you a master. And Harry would step in, if it came down to getting its loyalty.

"Fascinating," Voldemort said, but his eyes were hard and Harry grew instantly suspicious.

"I believe the location of the Elder Wand was knowledge that got lost with Yassine's murder. She created the copies, after all. And knew how they needed to work for them to become useless in your hands."

The Dark Lord clearly looked dissatisfied. Harry didn't know how to react to Voldemort's ongoing silence, so he simply continued. "There's a chance you might find it, though. All you need to do is find Gregorovitch. He was the one boasting about having made copies of it successfully, which made other people curious. His foolish mistake cost him greatly, since it was stolen many years ago. It's all a matter of tracing it back to that date and starting from there," he said, lowering his gaze again.

"Clever. You're giving up that kind of information to make others do all the work. Getting rid of the wandmaker would suit your purposes, after all," Voldemort suddenly mused. "How convenient."

Harry grinned, despite feeling completely unnerved. "What can I say? You're more skilled and resourceful than I am. I'm sure you can solve the problem."

"And yet you've somehow managed to come to your own conclusions with the dubious resources you have at hand. It makes our future alliance quite interesting, don't you think?" Voldemort crooned. There was an undertone of malice and disbelief in his voice.

It was difficult trying to navigate past the Dark Lord's obsession with his enemies. Of course, the man would be able to see beyond his interesting tales and accurately deduct the motives behind Harry's willingness to cooperate for now. It was just another reason why he never liked to pretend or use masks in the man's presence. All it did was creating more suspicion.

"Yes, very interesting," Harry replied darkly and Voldemort chuckled, evidently enjoying his frustration.

This was no alliance and he'd make sure the man would feel the consequences of his daring assumptions soon enough.

The Ministry of Magic in Oslo looked packed, with politicians blocking all exits, Aurors patrolling the corridors and foreigners lurking everywhere, people who simply wanted to take a look at the famous Harry Potter.

He'd managed to leave the party without a scratch on him last week, but Voldemort's underlying warnings still echoed inside his mind, making him feel caged in, threatened even if he was not in the man's overwhelming presence.

Harry desperately wanted to get a grip on his emotions, but it was proving to be difficult with all the eyes that were constantly fixed on him. Even worse, today he needed to participate at another ICEWR conference with a sharp mind, if he didn't want people like Fudge to mess everything up. Durmstrang and several smaller institutions were about to be purged, leaving no Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathizers behind, which would inevitably turn the school into a breeding ground for more moderate dark witches and wizards, or even light ones; a fact that made people like Dumbledore attend today's meeting.

"You look exhausted," Farnes murmured, standing behind him. They were waiting for the last attendees. Harry shifted on his feet, watching Pius Thicknesse converse with Fudge near the front row. Both of them looked nervous.

"You don't say." Harry smirked and Farnes touched his shoulder, attempting to offer support. In the back, Dumbledore was already eyeing them curiously, which she didn't like at all, from what Harry noticed. Her hand gripped him so tightly, it almost hurt.

Farnes acted ostensibly calm, but both of them knew that several plans were at stake here.

"It isn't over, you know. You'll have to participate in your first training session later," Marit warned. "I won't have you falling asleep on your first day."

Speak of the devil, Harry thought. An Auror made his way over to them, winking at him. Swiftly the young man bent down low, whispering in Harry's ear without shame as soon as he came close enough. "I'm looking forward to our duel, Potter." His accent was thick and the low voice pleasant, making Harry uncomfortably aware of the man's proximity.

"Get moving, Rendahl," Farnes snarled, visibly agitated. Several people turned around at that, no doubt wondering what this was about. Harry grimaced at the obvious display. Thankfully, the Auror just held his hands up and continued on his way, whistling without a care.

"Perfect, Minister. Just more attention is all we need," Harry drawled and Farnes straightened her back, looking sour. Her eyes however were serious.

"That one is trouble. I would've sacked him ages ago if he wasn't so damn efficient," she said, glancing at the tall Auror who joined his colleagues at the far end of the hall.

Finally, the doors were being closed and people lowered their voices.

Harry felt restless. He knew something would go wrong...