In the last chapter: Harry goes to the abandoned Gaunt house to retrieve the last Horcrux-the Gaunt ring-and has to break the dark curse with his newly learn Necromancy. Harry now has all of Voldemort's Horcruxes and now it's time to give Voldemort the Philosopher Stone. To do so, Harry enlists the help of the Auror/Death Eater, Philias Green.
"And when you can't save him? What will you do then?" Philias asked, sounding so sure that Harry would fail. From across the small table in the private room above the Leaky Cauldron, Harry glared something fierce.
"If I fail, then I will take him out myself." Harry gritted through his tense jaw, not appreciating the lack of confidence in him, but also not surprised by it. After all, in the other man's eyes, he was just a kid.
"You kill Voldemort?! Sorry kid, but no matter what the rest of this insane world seems to believe, children are not fit to be soldiers. I've watched too many ambitious young wizards and witches killed in this war before they even began to live—including your parents." Philias emphasized the end bit to try to get to Harry, but the raven-haired boy was not so easily swayed or manipulated.
"I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Mr. Green. Perhaps when you take the vow, I will show you if it'll ease your worries. Besides, I will be moving forward with or without you. Without you, though, I will have to do things myself which will be far riskier. If you'll take this vow with me, then I can explain a little more because most of this information is too sensitive to hand over without some assurances. The vow will not force you to work for me or even help me in any way, it'll just make sure that our secrets remain secret." Harry replied calmly. Watching the curiosity spark in Philias' eyes and the apprehension melting from his expression made Harry more confident.
After a long moment, Philias nodded and leaned forward in his seat, resting one arm on the table in a readying position. Smiling briefly, Harry slipped a slender hand into the folds of his robe, making the Auror/Death Eater tense across from him, though he paid him no mind. Harry pulled out two folded pieces of parchment and handed them both over.
Phil was mildly surprised to see that Harry had already written out each of their vows and handed him a quill in case he wished to make any changes. Phil was further impressed to see that the vows were actually quite comprehensive, covering things he wouldn't have thought about on the spot and were also in his favor without trying to underhandedly sneak in more than just a vow of secrecy. In the end, Phil decided not to make any changes and they made their unbreakable vows.
Phil sighed in relief, finally relaxing a little now that he knew his identity would be safe and he was able to actually put his full focus on what Harry had said to him earlier.
"You said you would show me something? Am I going to be meeting this mysterious informant of yours?" Phil asked, his tone was sardonic but he was actually quite curious. It wasn't every day that you met someone half your age that knew more about the Dark Lord than a real life Death Eater, he wanted to know who was feeding all of that impossible information to the boy.
Harry smirked and shook his head.
"No, my friend is rather . . . shy, and I don't think the two of you will be meeting for quite a while. As for what I have to show you, I ask that you trust me and do exactly as I say, which is nothing. What I am about to show you will be difficult to understand and may very well frighten you at first, but I assure you that there is nothing to be afraid of and I will be completely fine. I ask that you remain in your seat—or at the very least, the room—and that you do not try to leave until I come back." Harry articulated carefully, as if he were instructing a child.
Each confusing word sent a spike of trepidation through Phil and he suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to know. However, his mind locked away the words that would stop whatever was about to happen and all he could manage to get out was a pathetic;
"'Come back?' What do you mean 'come back'? From where?" But Harry did not answer.
Instead he pulled out his wand and before Phil could react or brace himself against a spell, he lifted the tip of the wand to rest gently against his temple and in a murmur of too-familiar words and an explosion of pale green light that left spots of dancing shadows in his eyes, the boy before him slumped in his chair. Phil didn't move, didn't breathe, as those haunting green eyes bore into him unseeing. Everything Harry had warned him of before had fled from his mind and he was at a loss. He was moving before he could really comprehend what was happening and his two fingers pressed into the pale, slender neck, seeking a pules that was no longer there.
The breath was punched out of the older man and he stumbled back—away—knocking over tea cups and furniture that got in the way of his retreat. He wanted to bolt, to dive for the nearest bottle of fire whiskey and forget that he'd ever met the mysterious and deceivingly angelic-looking boy. He had yet to leave the room, eyes still fixed on Harry, when the corpse jolted upright in his seat and heaved in a breath like a drowning man. Phil nearly leapt out of his skin.
Harry fought to get his breathing back under control, his body sucking in air desperately and edging on hyperventilation if he didn't calm down in time. The killing curse had perhaps one of the most disorienting revivals, but it was the only death he could think of that wouldn't leave a mess or force his body to heal quickly before he returned to it, which always left him drained.
"How?!" Philias' voice was pitched high and almost comical coming from the hulking Auror, were it not for the unhealthy pallor his face had taken on.
"It is a rather long story that I'd rather not get into at the moment, but all you need to know is that I cannot die. Well, technically I have died many times before, but I always come back. Voldemort has attempted something similar, but he did not have sufficient information or guidance, which has led to his mind becoming so broken. I wish to undo that damage. As I said before, I can do this without you, but the more I put myself in these situations, the higher risk I will be at of my secret being discovered. I may not be able to permanently die, but if the Ministry were to find out about my abilities, I would be hunted for all of my days and everyone I've come to care about would be in danger. I have my gifts because I would not use them to rule the world or something else equally damaging; the same cannot be said for others and if I were discovered, others would certainly try to take my gifts for themselves.
"I understand that I am not being completely clear or transparent in how I've gotten these abilities, but I am hoping that this is enough for you to trust that I will be okay in what is to come, I am asking for your help. Voldemort will rise no matter what, but we may just be able to bring forth the man and kill the beast. I know that this will not be easy and it is not the life you have fought so hard to maintain, but will you help me? I cannot offer you the same protection as I myself have, but I will be watching over you and will pull you out as soon as it becomes too dangerous." Harry assured, even though Philias didn't really seem to need it.
"Alright, alright! Enough with the speech kid." Phil grumbled as he took his seat across from Harry once again. "I'll help you. Can't exactly say I want to be an Auror full time and yet turn away little brats like you, can I?" Phil teased, some of the color returning to his face. Harry grinned and moved on to his plans quicker than a whip.
"Now, I know you are probably a bit drained by now, but it's best that you deliver the package as soon as possible, which would be tonight. The less time spent between the public delivery of the box and you giving it to Voldemort, the better. Especially if he's going to be looking into the box and me—the sender. The more time that passes, the more he'll wonder why I would have put such a large gap between giving you the box and us having our 'meeting.'" Harry thought aloud as he pulled out an envelope identical to the one Phil had vanished earlier. Harry pulled out the note within and wrote the time and place into the blank spaces of the letter with quick, elegant scrawl.
When he handed it over, Phil read the note and was surprised to see that the location was in a town, but not a magic one. 'Voldemort is hiding out in a Muggle town?!' Though, on second thought, it was more inconspicuous for someone who 'hated muggles,' what with there only being a few all-magical residential communities in Britain.
Phil was pulled out of his mind by the strange boy across from him standing up from his chair and straightening out his robes.
"I should be getting back, I don't want to risk being caught out of bed in the middle of the night. Remember, Mr. Green, you're supposed to be expecting your blackmailer, be careful of what you say—you're not supposed to know anything about his return—he may be weakened and in a temporary body, but he is just as insane as before and a crucio is a crucio no matter how magically weakened the Dark Lord is, and finally, I will have an eye out for you and will be there in moments if anything goes wrong. Be careful, Mr. Green, I will send you a letter a week from now to discuss what happened and that we'll do next." With that, Harry pivoted and disapparated with a soft pop.
Phil shook his head, telling himself to just stop expecting anything when it came to the young Ravenclaw because, clearly, he would otherwise never stop being surprised by him. Moments later, a second pop sounded in the room and Phil was whisked away to Little Hangleton.
The abandoned manor before him loomed in the darkness like a great big beast, one glowing eye flickering with the light of a lantern behind the tarnished glass window. The moon was eclipsed by the towering silhouette of the manor, casting the nervous Auror in deep shadows. Phil could not linger outside for more than a few moments to take in the intimidating building before him—that would rival even then Malfoy Manor were it upkept the past few decades—because the time Harry had written on the note was almost up and he had to hurry inside before it ran out.
Inside, it was clear that the place hadn't seen an elf or muggle cleaning staff in many years. Actually, Phil was rather surprised to be able to wander in unimpeded. Perhaps Harry hadn't been exaggerating about Voldemort's current state and they were relying on the obscurity of the location rather than actual wards. Immediately inside the door there were wide open archways and long corridors leading off in all directions, as well as a grand staircase that led up to the other levels. Phil quickly ascended and moved towards the area where he saw the light through the window before. He soon came upon a cracked door which he could hear voices and creaking floor boards from within.
Trusting in the vow he'd taken earlier that night and calling up the same emotions he'd had before entering the Leaky Caldron, Phil nudged the door open and entered the room without hesitance. The two people he spotted first froze, cold eyes digging into him as he frowned in faux confusion. He recognized them both immediately as the high-ranking Death Eaters Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr.—who was supposed to be dead. Then he turned and saw the large plush chair which held a loose draping of dark cloth around the shrunken and skeletal form of what Phil assumed to be the Dark Lord in his weakened state. Even in such a state, Phil could feel the thick aura of power that coagulated in the stagnant air that sent shivers down his spine and Phil suddenly felt little pricks of doubt and fear in his chest at the thought of Harry facing him.
"M-My lord?!" Phil croaked, dropping down immediately to kneel and hopefully stave off what would otherwise be a certain Avada Kedavra. The sooner he identified himself as a Death Eater, the better. Voldemort leaned forward slightly and Phil could feel those glowing red eyes cut down him as sharply as the back of a hand.
"What is the meaning of this?" The mini-Dark Lord hissed, edging on the snake-language he was so fond of. Phil allowed himself to flinch slightly, if only to make himself seem like less of a threat. His broad shoulders curled in and his head ducked to make him appear smaller.
Phil paused for a moment before jolting—as if remembering something—and then frantically began rooting around in his pockets until he found the note and pulled it out, all the while willfully ignoring the fact that the two other Death Eaters had pulled their wands by now. Handing over the note, Phil waited anxiously as the man he'd thought he was finally free of once and for all decided whether he lived or died.
Forcing himself to push those feelings aside and maintain the act he was putting on, Phil remained silent on the floor until Voldemort seemed to finish reading the note and gestured towards his left arm. Phil obliged, pulling up his sleeve in order to reveal his dark mark—though faded from years apart from the Dark Lord, the snake still shifted and writhed on his skin in the presence of Voldemort.
Voldemort hissed in satisfaction before barking out his next command.
"The box! Give it to me." The rustling, sibilant tones would never cease to unnerve him. Phil hurriedly fished the fancy leather box out of his pocket and handed it over, his own curiosity surging up at the prospect of finding out what was in the box and why it would be so valuable.
Phil's curiosity wasn't immediately quelled, however. Instead, Voldemort closed his eyes and lifted the note up to his nostrils, inhaling deeply across the face of the note. Without opening his eyes, Voldemort then turned to the box and did the same, though he spent more time on the box. When Voldemort opened his eyes, there was a hint of consternation that was overclouded by intense curiosity.
"The sender of the box is . . ." Voldemort pondered aloud and Phil held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, "'Undetectable.'" He finished with the faintest notes of awe in his serpentine voice. Phil inwardly sighed in relief.
"My lord?" Barty's confused tone broke the heavy silence, but Voldemort only glanced briefly at him before turning back to the box and note with reverence.
"There isn't even a flicker of a magical signature that could belong to them. I do not recognize the signature blocker, but it is a powerful one." Voldemort mused, his eyes growing greedy as he set the box down in his small lap.
With a delicacy befitting the stroking of a moth's wing, Voldemort pulled the bow tail until the silver silk fell away and pooled over his dark robes. As Voldemort lifted the lid, there was a distinct pop that indicated the breaking of a magical seal that would keep anyone but the intended from opening it. Just all the more conformation for the others to know that whoever had sent Phil their way had known exactly what they were doing.
When the lid was removed, the Dark Lord's eyes grew wide and a breathless laugh slipped unchecked past his thin lips. Voldemort forgot about everyone else in the room as he pulled out the large, uncut scarlet stone from within the black silken inlay. Never before had any of the Death Eaters ever seen their lord so . . . giddy.
Phil was dumbfounded. He knew what the stone was, but only because he'd been privy to the case of the missing stone three years back. 'Of course, Harry Potter had the ruddy stone! Honestly? He'd rather not know how the raven had come across it—for that sake of his own sanity.' Now he was starting to understand what Harry had meant about the value of what was in the box—Merlin, all of that talk about resurrection fit perfectly with his little 'gift.'
When Voldemort was done pawing over his new toy, he turned his bright eyes back on Phil.
"It would seem that I have a new ally. What is your name?" Voldemort asked him,gaze far more keen than it had been when he first walked in.
"Philias Green, my lord." Phil answered automatically. When Voldemort gestured for him to continue, he went on with more basic information about himself. "I'm not a member of your inner circle, but I am quite skilled, so it was my job to work for you from within the DMLE as an Auror. I have been there ever since and still hold a respectable position there." Phil answered, relieved by the blank look he received from the Dark Lord that was as close to 'impressed' as he was going to get.
"Yes, well, there's a reason They sent you to me, if only to be a means of interacting with me. What do you say, Green? Will you continue to assist me and keep an eye out for my anonymous ally?" Nothing about the words or tone led Phil to believe that he had a choice in the matter anyway. Harry's plan had obviously worked even better than he thought; not only was the Dark Lord curious about him, but he could see the buddings of fascination and fixation behind those twin rubies and he prayed that the little enigma would tread carefully from then on.
"Of course, my lord. I would be so honored to return to your service." Phil answered with conviction and the shrunken Voldemort looked pleased.
"Good, now, come closer." Voldemort beckoned him forward and he moved to just before the chair and knelt once again. Phil did not react when too-long, bony fingers with long, sharp nails touched the bottom of his chin to lift his head and make him meet Voldemort's gaze, no matter how much it uneased him.
Phil remained open and still as he felt the pressure of legilimency behind his eyes and images began floating through his head.
Voldemort picked through every detail of the past twenty-four hours, trying to pick up on anything Phil hadn't, but without success, the vows held true. Voldemort began sifting through older and older memories, occasionally lingering on important cases and interactions from his cover job. Phil tried not to panic when Voldemort stopped on Phil's memory of Sirius' Black's trial and Harry's testimony in particular. And then again when Phil had escorted the young Ravenclaw to Azkaban to see his godfather.
Phil could understand, the young teen was impossible to pin down, a contradiction gift wrapped in an enigma. He just hoped that Voldemort would not see the mature and calculating behavior and deem the boy as a far bigger threat than anticipated—a big enough threat to eliminate immediately. Even if the kid was infallible, an old Auror could worry, alright?!
Eventually the Dark Lord seemed satisfied with what he'd seen and retreated from Phil's mind.
"Our luck is turning, my faithful followers. This body will not last long now, I have a few plans to deliberate on. Leave me, I will call you back when I need you and I trust that none of you will make me wait." The last bit was directed at Phil and the man bowed his head in acknowledgment of the threat.
With that, the three Death Eaters left and Phil once again found himself pleading with fate to let him make it through this endeavor alive.
