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Chapter Seventeen—Truths

"I just don't know what to do with him."

Lily leaned in and kissed her son's forehead, over the old lightning-bolt scar that he had received falling off his broom. "I know. But I think that he's probably thinking something similar."

"He isn't. He just sits there and feels calm when I'm telling him that I think he's immoral."

"He should be down on his knees thanking every god that ever existed for the fact that you were willing to give him a chance," James said from the other side of the dining room table. Lily frowned at him, but James ignored her. "I don't know why you decided to give him that chance, frankly, Harry."

"And you wouldn't have given Mum a chance if it turned out that she was a Dark witch?"

James paused. Lily nodded. That was one of the problems her husband was having, one that she understood herself, and could only avoid by constant reminders to herself that she had left the Order. They had been so used to thinking that Harry's bond with Tom Riddle was somehow uniquely evil that they also kept forgetting it was a soulmate bond, and subject to the same kind of rules that governed others.

"I would have," James said finally, reluctantly. "But if she was passing legislation against Muggleborns, I would have—"

"Do tell me," Lily said. "I'm fascinated to hear it." And she really was, given James's assurances to her that he would have stayed by her side if she believed something that was repugnant to him.

James breathed out slowly. "I would have tried to change your mind."

"Which you couldn't have if you simply fled and left me behind."

James sighed. "Fine. But that doesn't tell Harry how he's going to change the bastard's mind when he doesn't even seem dismayed by the fact that Harry's upset."

Harry had leaned back in his chair while they argued, and he spent a moment toying with the glass of butterbeer that Lily had given him the instant he came into the kitchen. He glanced around, as if looking for something, and then cleared his throat. "Is Sirius here?"

Lily nodded. Sirius might be the best one to talk to Harry, anyway. He hadn't grown up knowing that his soulmate was someone he couldn't have, but he did have a rejected soul-bond. "Yes, taking a nap. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Yeah. There are—there's something I thought of that isn't directly related to Tom's horrible beliefs, and I want to talk to him about it."

"I'm right here, kiddo." Sirius stumbled out of the bedroom, his eyes drooping. He rubbed his face, and yawned loudly, and dropped into the chair across from Harry. "What do you want to know?"

Harry nibbled his lip and looked at Lily and James. Lily stood up and leaned over to kiss Harry's forehead again.

"We'll go work on that research I'm doing," she said. And she was finding some fascinating, confusing things, especially in back issues of the Daily Prophet, about what people thought they knew about Dumbledore and Grindelwald. "Come on, James."

James took a moment to squeeze Harry's shoulder. "I do love you, son," he murmured. "I never want you to think I don't."

Harry squeezed James's hand back and gave him a wan smile. "I know, Dad. Love you."

Sirius made a dramatic noise to himself, and Lily swatted him on the back of the head without looking. Sirius then did melodramatic cringing and whimpers, and Lily took James's arm as they left the room, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Do you really think that he's the best one to talk to Harry?" she whispered, unable to contain herself when it was just the two of them. Sirius had done something recently that had almost unwound Harry's soulmate bond, after all.

"Did you notice that he woke immediately when Harry said he wanted to talk to him?"

"So? I assumed he was listening in and came in when he heard Harry said that."

"I felt a spark of magic, Lily-Bell. I think that Riddle's tied Sirius to Harry somehow, so he knows when Harry needs him."

Lily narrowed her eyes. That was something she would have to speak with Harry about. Speaking with Riddle about it would probably do no good, and she was realistic enough to admit that. But Harry wouldn't like a secret like that kept from him.

"Can you let it go for right now?" James sounded a little nervous.

Lily nodded. "But it only makes it more imperative that we support Harry when he wants to talk about things, and tell him the truth. Riddle shouldn't be sneaking around behind his back and casting magic on people without their consent."

James snorted. "Good luck getting him to change. He's still a bastard, even if he's not exactly the kind Albus told us about."

"I know." Lily pushed a chunk of her hair behind her ear and turned to the table spread with her research. The Daily Prophet hadn't responded to her request for old editions, but the Wizarding Archive Library (established by Riddle twenty years ago) had been delighted to send her those old articles, as well as some history books written by witches and wizards outside Britain's borders.

It made part of Lily burn to know that she couldn't trust the history books written inside Britain. They would glorify Riddle, too, and wouldn't say much that was honest about him. But the same was true of Albus.

It bothered Lily that one of them might be as bad as the other, but she had little proof of that yet on Albus's side. More research was required.

Sirius considered Harry's pale face, and wanted to sigh. He was sure that Harry was still less balanced and alert than he should be, and probably clutching at his emotional bond for reassurance more than normal, even though the only proof Sirius had of that was that normal people didn't worry this much about disagreeing with their soulmate.

That damn spell.

Well, it had been cast and then reversed, and Harry was still willing to trust Sirius close to him. Sirius didn't see why he should brood on it more than the victim of it did. He leaned close. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Did you hear me tell Mum and Dad that Tom is indifferent to people and doesn't hate them?"

"Yeah," Sirius admitted. "It doesn't surprise me. I grew up with a lot of people who were the same way."

"I thought your mum hated Muggleborns."

Sirius snorted. "I'm not talking about her. My dad, for instance. He just didn't care about many things. He could have taken or left Muggleborns. But it was convenient to go along with Mum's hatred so that he had peace in his own house. That was what he told me when I asked about it," Sirius added, because Harry's eyes were wide.

"I'm sorry, Sirius."

Sirius shrugged. He didn't see what good sympathy would do now, so long after the fact. "It's all right, kid. So you're saying that your…Tom is going along with the pure-blood hatred because it benefits him."

"Right. And he said that he lets them pass horrible legislation because then the pure-bloods don't push back on the more important legislation he wants to pass."

"Sounds like almost every politician I've ever heard of."

Sirius had made the admission reluctantly, but Harry still stared at him incredulously. "It's horrible, Sirius! The point is that he shouldn't think legislation that's going to hurt Muggleborns' parents is less important than whatever else he wants to pass!"

"I agree," Sirius said, holding up his hands. "But I'm just telling you that I think that's the way a lot of politicians play the game. They compromise and get their hands dirty in pursuit of goals they think are more important."

"Tom is going to have to readjust his perception of what's important."

Sirius had to smile at the bright flash of Harry's eyes. "Right on. Now, was that what you wanted to talk to me specifically about?"

Harry calmed down in seconds, but maybe "calmed down" wasn't really the right word, Sirius saw, concerned. He linked his hands together and stared at them as if they suddenly held all the secrets of the universe. Sirius tried to remain quiet and let any thoughts Harry was having rise to the surface.

"I never really understood much about the structure of the Wizengamot," Harry began slowly. "I—well, my parents and Dumbledore thought that my studying it might be dangerous. It could have brought me to Riddle's attention if I seemed to be interested in government. And it wasn't like they thought I would have to know it for a career."

Sirius simply nodded, although part of him stewed at the idea that studying history could be dangerous. It was starting to sound like Lily and James, as much as he cared for them, hadn't thought through their plans any more than Albus had. If studying history was that dangerous, why let Harry work in the Ministry at all?

"Tom told me today that about half the members are Ministry employees and half the rest are pure-bloods who appoint each other. Is that true?"

Sirius shrugged. "More or less. There are certain rules and restrictions, like it's a lot easier for the Ministry employees to be removed for misconduct, and someone who's a half-blood or Muggleborn but close with a prominent pure-blood can get chosen. And technically the person is supposed to be above fifty years old if they're appointed from within the Ministry. The Wizengamot is supposedly a good idea because it's the wisdom of our elders leading us, after all. But there's lots of people who ignore that rule, especially when we've had some young Ministers. Can't elect them and then keep them out of the organization that's supposed to help them run the country, after all."

"Right." Harry was looking ill. He took a deep breath and finally blurted out what must have been the thing he was really worrying about. "Doesn't that mean that if Dumbledore's plan to assassinate Tom worked, he would have killed the only democratically elected member of the Wizengamot?"

Sirius paused, startled. He'd never thought about it that way before. A second later, though, he found the loophole in Harry's argument. "That's not really true, though. They would hold an election for a new Minister."

"How soon?"

"What?"

"How soon would the next election be? Tom said that if he died, someone else from the Wizengamot would take over as interim Minister, and probably a pure-blood who's been there a long time. How soon would the next election take place? Could they hold it off for years?" Harry was leaning so far forwards that he was almost falling off his chair.

"Of course not," Sirius said, levels of detail he'd had to learn in his childhood coming to his rescue. "Someone else would be in charge of the Wizengamot, but only until the next...scheduled election..."

He hesitated. Harry was nodding. "So that means that if Tom was assassinated right now, when he was reelected last year, it'd be another four years until a new Minister was elected, right? Sirius, that's awful. Think of what someone like Lestrange could do if they were in charge of the Wizengamot for four years."

"Anyone has to be better than Riddle!"

"Including the man who decided to call me a Mudblood to my face and who I think might be involved in actively trying to alienate Muggleborns from our world? Really?"

"They can both be pretty horrendous," Sirius defended, but Harry just stared at him with flat eyes, and Sirius gave in with a sigh. "Yeah, well, Lestrange sounds like he might be worse. This would be Laurentius Lestrange?"

"I think so. Didn't hear anyone call him by his first name." Harry sighed and leaned back so that he could stare up at the ceiling. "And the thing is, Tom isn't innocent. But—I need you to tell me what Dumbledore's plans were. He'd assassinate Tom. But what would come after that? Would he try to influence the Wizengamot to pass better laws? Does he have influence over someone in there that I never knew about?"

Sirius slowly shook his head. "Most of them wouldn't attack Albus, but they're pretty resistant to helping him. Bunch of snakes."

Harry just shrugged. "So what would happen after he assassinated Tom? The country gets worse?"

"If Riddle was dead, there wouldn't be a war!"

"Wake up, Sirius!" Harry leaned forwards and waved his hands. "There's no war now! There's hideous laws and Tom acting in a way he needs to seriously change, but the Order is the only group that thinks there's a war! It makes them come across like lunatics!"

Sirius stared at Harry. "That's—that's not true. The reason that people don't fight beside us is because they don't understand what Riddle is—"

Harry made a frustrated noise and buried his head in his hands. "That's not true, Sirius," he said tiredly. "If all Dumbledore cared about was just getting allies against Tom, he could have reached out to some of the pure-bloods in the Wizengamot who hate him so much. They would probably have been willing to work with Dumbledore as long as they thought Tom wouldn't find out. But Dumbledore never did, did he?"

"They wouldn't have helped us," Sirius said, but his scalp was starting to prickle.

"Why not?"

"I mean—they wouldn't have cared that Riddle was getting ready to slaughter a bunch of Muggles and Muggleborns. They just wouldn't."

"Maybe not, but they could still have cooperated with the Order to boot Tom out of power. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?" Harry bowed his head. "But Dumbledore never worked with them, and he never seems to have thought about what would happen once Tom was dead and someone like Arcturus Black or Lestrange was in control of the Wizengamot. Sorry," he added, "I know Arcturus has to be your relative, but I didn't like the way he acted today."

"Can't stand the old idiot myself," Sirius said, and made Harry smile tiredly. "But you're acting as though Albus couldn't have planned past this. I think he probably had some plan neither of us knows."

"Like what? And why would he keep it from you?"

"I mean—he has to know that I'm impulsive, that I make mistakes, like the way I cast that spell on you."

Sirius trailed off. Harry sighed. "If he'd thought that was a bad idea, he would have told you so. What do you really think, Sirius?"

It wasn't a complete surprise when Sirius felt a firm pull around his neck as though he was wearing some sort of wire collar with a leash on it—a spell his parents had also used on him when he was a child to prevent him from lying. Not a complete surprise, but still one Sirius wanted to kill Riddle for.

He gritted his teeth and said, "He's got me under a spell to tell you the truth."

Harry bowed his head. Then he asked, "Do you want to stop talking, then?"

Sirius shook his head, still gritting his teeth. Riddle had told him that he would be speaking the truth to Harry if he stayed. Sirius simply hadn't expected the git to be so literal about it. "No," he managed to say, and then the truth tumbled out. "I think Albus got obsessed and thought removing Riddle would solve all the problems. I think he isn't thinking beyond that at this point."

Harry nodded slowly. "And that would make sense out of the way he decided to take risks that could end up costing a bunch of innocent people their lives, too. He just had to get rid of Tom, and he started calling them war casualties when even he had to know that would sound horrible. He's blinded by his obsession."

Sirius breathed out. "Yeah, I think so." To his relief, the spell didn't sting him for saying that. Sirius slumped back and stared at the ceiling. "Something bothers me, though."

"What?"

"Albus was obsessed with keeping Riddle away from you and killing Riddle. Why didn't he do something as drastic as the assassination attempt a long time ago? For that matter—forgive me, Harry—why didn't he kill you when you were born with Riddle's mark?"

"He didn't want to alienate my mum and dad, maybe?"

"Albus would always put the greater good over losing a few followers," Sirius said listlessly. So not even Harry thought it was because Albus had cared for him. Well. "No, there's something else going on here. I don't know what it is, though."

Harry gave him a tentative smile. "Well, Mum is doing research on it. You know that no one can dig as deep as she can. I hope she'll find something out and maybe we can convince Dumbledore to leave us in peace."

Sirius smiled and made lighthearted jokes. To his relief, the truth spell didn't affect him unless someone asked him a direct question. He could keep concealed his conviction that someone as obsessed as Albus was with this particular goal wasn't going to leave anyone in peace.

"But I don't understand why Sirius doesn't come back."

Molly had made a promise to herself that if she heard her future daughter-in-law say that one more time, she was going to speak up. And now Hermione was sitting on the other side of the small house Molly and Arthur had built in memory of the Burrow in their refuge world, and Ron was on a mission, and Arthur had gone off to tinker with some Muggle artifacts he'd rescued the last time he was in England, and it was just the two of them.

It didn't mean things were perfect. But Molly had long since accepted that they didn't live in a perfect world.

"If you truly don't understand that, my girl, you're not the intellectual I thought you were."

Hermione blinked at her with wide eyes. Molly smiled, and didn't care if it looked a little mean. She adored Hermione, and not just because the girl was Ron's soulmate. She'd been his good friend before then, and a good friend to the twins and Ginny. But she did have a tendency to disregard anyone who wasn't like her, and that had unfortunately included a tendency to say careless things about Molly because she stayed home and took care of her children.

"What do you mean by that, though? It doesn't make tactical sense for Sirius to stay. He failed to cast the spell on Harry, or it failed when he did, and he admitted in his letter that he doesn't think he can persuade Harry to leave Riddle. So why doesn't he come back?"

"He also said in his letter that Riddle had him under a vow and probably several spells to ensure he stayed as a kind of court jester." That wasn't what Sirius's actual letter had said in so many words, of course, but Molly was enough of a mother to read between the lines, the way she'd had to do with so many of the twins' letters home from Hogwarts. "So why would you be puzzled that he stayed?"

"I would have run away if it was me. I wouldn't let a silly vow stop me."

"A vow can actually bind your magic," Molly said, as gently as possible. "It can force you to remain where you were."

"Then I wouldn't make the vow."

"If the alternative to that was Riddle killing him, I can see why Sirius made it."

Hermione frowned slowly. "So—you don't actually think our cause is worth dying for?"

Molly sighed and put down the pan she had been casting cleaning charms on. It was still good enough if it was just cleaned from Arthur's last attempt to make scrambled eggs in it, and she didn't like the thought of taking another one from Muggles who might have less than they did.

"Hermione, you're young," she said, and ignored the speechless outrage that filled Hermione's eyes. "You might think that you can do anything, resist anything, die for anything because you haven't been put to the test. But Sirius has come near dying any number of times. Do you really think the problem is that he's a coward? Or me?"

"No," Hermione said, sounding sheepish. "But Ron and I were willing to die when we went into the Department of Mysteries! I just think Sirius should have been, too."

Molly shook her head. Neither Ron nor Albus had told her about that mission in advance, probably to avoid the words they knew would be hurled at their heads. It just ensured they got them afterwards. "So he would have died as he was trying to come back to us. And for what? He wouldn't have made it back. What point would that prove? A silly heroic death?"

"If he'd stood firm enough, Riddle wouldn't have tried to bind him with the vow, and he could have come back."

Molly lifted her eyebrows. "I didn't realize you understood that little about the way Tom Riddle works."

"What?" Hermione folded her arms. "I know what he believes. I know the way he thinks. I've spent years studying the way he votes in the Wizengamot and the laws that people think someone else started but really have his authorship all over them! I know him!"

"And you think he would bluff?" Molly asked softly. "Or let his bluff be called?"

Hermione blinked. "You think he would have killed Sirius."

"Exactly."

"But that would have made Harry unhappy."

Molly waited a moment for Hermione to realize the contradiction at the heart of what she'd said, but Hermione only continued to wait in turn, so she said, "Riddle is a heartless monster. I think most of us here would agree. So why would he let Harry's happiness or unhappiness stop him?"

Hermione hesitated a long time. Then she said, "Well, he would want to keep Harry's good opinion so he could make Harry fall in love with him and double his power…"

"Enough to let someone who was threatening to run back to the Order of the Phoenix simply do it, without binding him with a vow?"

Hermione reluctantly shook her head. "No. Riddle would probably think that he could eventually overcome Harry's pain at that and manipulate him into falling in love with him anyway."

Molly gave her a sad smile. "Exactly. I think all of us are going to have to change our tactics if we actually want to survive and achieve what we've been fighting for. The ones we've used haven't worked so far."

"Ron and I destroyed important research in the Department of Mysteries!"

"Did Riddle change his behavior publicly because of that at all?"

Hermione hesitated a moment too long. Molly reached out and squeezed her hand.

"I think this is a war in a way," Molly said. Poor Hermione looked as if she had been standing on an ice floe that was melting out from under her suddenly. "Maybe not the kind that Albus thought it was, but we can't let Riddle pass whatever laws he wants and discriminate against Muggleborns. The problem is that committing random crimes and raids and getting ourselves exiled hasn't changed anything. We have to do something else."

"We can't compromise with him!"

"Not about something like the lives and safety of Muggleborns," Molly said, and Hermione settled back again, perhaps because she had heard the conviction in her voice. "But we can oppose him politically instead of with guerilla tactics."

"Opposing him politically won't do anything."

"Why not?"

"Professor Dumbledore has done it all along, and nothing has changed."

"He's made his principles known," Molly agreed. "But he hasn't tried to get himself appointed to the Wizengamot, even though at one point several of his allies offered him the position of Chief Warlock. He hasn't tried to put up another candidate for Minister, or even offered that much support to the people who were willing to run against Riddle. Just trying to kill Riddle or destroy his support base isn't going to work."

Hermione chewed her lip hard. "If Professor Dumbledore didn't do that, there must be a reason he didn't. Something important that we don't know about."

"Why don't you ask him about it, dear?" Molly suggested. "I've tried, but he hasn't answered me when I asked the question."

"I will. He listens to me."

Molly nodded. It was possible that Albus would listen to Hermione. He valued her and Ron second in the Order only next to Harry, Molly had once thought.

As she watched Hermione march firmly in the direction of Albus's tent, Molly wondered whether that impression was still true—and whether Albus had valued most the youngsters he could manipulate.

"I have to talk to you."

Tom nodded and moved aside so that Harry could fall into step beside him in Diagon Alley. The Aurors who had been following him shifted without grumbling to extend their protection over Harry as well. Tom smiled. They could learn.

"As you will, Harry," Tom said. "What do you want to begin with?"

Harry tilted his chin up to hold Tom's gaze. Tom took the chance to watch the way that the brilliant emerald shade of his eyes shifted and darkened. Merlin, he loved the way Harry looked when his eyes were alive.

Even if what they were currently alive with was angry determination.

"Did you ever think about the fact that your future soulmate might be Muggleborn and that your laws could affect them in a devastating way?" Harry asked.

Tom paused. "That's an intriguing question."

"I'm wise to that trick of avoiding an answer. An answer, Riddle." Harry came as close as he probably could to hissing Parseltongue words.

"I only meant what I said," Tom continued mildly, and stepped around a yellow stain in the middle of the cobbles that could have been a spilled potion. He wasn't about to take the chance. "It's an intriguing question because I never pictured my soulmate as someone who would care about that."

Harry thrummed with indignation, actually looking as if it might lift him off his toes. "Riddle—"

Tom stopped dead and stared at him. Harry paused, then seemed to realize what he'd done wrong, and grimaced. "Tom," he continued, while the emotional bond flowered around them with feelings as dark as bruises. "Now you know you have one."

"Yes, but I thought anyone who was my soulmate would either be almost exactly like me, or holding back because they were wary of my power," Tom said, with a shrug. "I didn't picture anyone who had been raised to ethically oppose me."

Harry snorted. "Now you know. What are you going to do about it?"

"What do you want me to do about it?" Tom smiled a little as he saw a flash of too-bright blonde hair from the fascinated crowd that was gathering around them. Trust Skeeter to be nearby, he thought. Tom had come to Diagon Alley to visit one of the small schools that were opening to serve half-blood children who had been rejected by their Muggle parent, forcing the witch or wizard in the marriage to file for divorce. It was good public relations to come to the rescue of toiling single parents, and Tom had carefully spread around word of exactly where he would be.

But arguing with Harry was more fascinating than a school visit any day, and could also be spun in any number of directions provided that Tom was careful in how he handled it.

"I want you to make up your own mind," Harry growled. His magic flexed around him, a swaying serpent. Tom raised his own to match it, and heard more than one nervous gasp.

That was all right. He provoked some fear simply by virtue of his office and his immense magical strength. If their combined power meant that some people would hesitate to attack Harry, Tom was all for it.

"But you know that if I do, I will simply continue my course," Tom said in the same mild voice. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm doing what's best to protect our world."

"Erasing human minds is not ethical."

"The Minister erased someone's mind?" called an alarmed voice from the crowd.

Harry turned in its direction, so engrossed in the question that he didn't seem to notice the camera flashes that were exploding around them. "He voted for the law that will erase the minds of Muggle parents if they have a magical child and happen to talk about magic to someone who doesn't already know."

"Oh, Muggles," said the same voice.

Harry's eyes widened, and he stared into the crowd as if he couldn't believe that someone would care so little about fellow human beings. And Tom had no doubt that Harry did see Muggles as fellow human beings, one of the few wizards Tom had ever met who did.

That only made Tom want to guard him and cherish him more.

Before Harry could say the words that were clearly brewing on his tongue, a flicker of green magic streaked towards him from the far corner of the crowd. Tom was moving even before he realized that the color was more a deep jade than the sickly green of the Killing Curse, but it turned out he didn't need to.

Harry drew instinctively on their joined magic and lifted a shimmering, multi-layered shield of blue and white, one that reared above Diagon Alley like a curving wave. The curse slammed into it and ate through one of the layers, but dissolved before it could touch the others.

"Who was that?" Tom said in an undertone to the nearest Auror. She saluted and turned away to bark orders at the others, sending them into motion.

"No need, Mr. Riddle," drawled the familiar voice. "I am merely coming to make sure that Mr. Potter realizes our duel was delayed, not cancelled." And Laurentius Lestrange sauntered through a rapidly-widening corridor to stand in front of them. He wore dark dragonhide robes and an arrogant smile.

But Tom had known the man for decades, and he could easily make out the slightly too-wide eyes and the bobbing motion in his throat. Lestrange hadn't expected Harry to resist the curse so handily, or at all.

"An interesting way to begin a duel, Mr. Lestrange," Harry said. "Throwing a curse that could have destroyed your opponent or even someone innocent in the way without fanfare or a formal challenge? Tsk, tsk, tsk."

His voice snapped out on the last word, suddenly a roar that no one in the Alley would have trouble hearing, and the wave-like shield crashed into massive shards of magic raining down around Harry. In seconds he was dressed in glittering weaves of blue light that Tom knew would rival Lestrange's dragonhide robes as a protective measure, and his wand was in his hand. Harry stepped forwards, his power expanding and unfolding around him, constantly growing long past the point where most wizards would be exhausted.

Look at him, Tom thought, not moving to defend his soulmate. He was perfectly safe, and had to show what he could do, or the challenges to duels would only keep on coming.

"Well?" Harry asked, lifting his wand. "Aren't you going to attack me now, Lestrange? Or isn't even footing to your liking?'

"Are you challenging my honor?"

"No, I'm saying that you don't have any."

Tom winced in silence to himself, but Lestrange was already screaming and charging like a maddened dragon. Harry spun on one heel as yet another streak of green magic tumbled towards him, and spat a single word that Tom couldn't make out through Lestrange's screaming and the rush of blood in his own ears.

The ground beneath Lestrange cracked open, and Tom stared. Was Harry going to make him simply fall into a pit? That seemed a mild revenge for the kind of insult he had presented—

But then black hands reached up from beneath the cobbles, shining with lava at the edges, and locked around Lestrange's ankles. He screamed in pain, and Tom saw the flesh of his feet begin to bubble a second before the smell of roasting flesh reached his nostrils. Lestrange crumpled and tried to turn his wand on the hands holding him, but one of them snatched it and flicked it contemptuously away. Tom saw the end of the wooden handle burning. He felt a twitch of a smile cross his face at the same time. If Lestrange ever got any use out of that wand again, it would be a miracle.

"Please, please, stop!" Lestrange stretched out his hands towards Harry, who was walking towards him clad in light. "I surrender, just—let me live!"

Harry stopped in front of him and stared down. "I wonder why I should," he whispered. "You didn't care about killing me outside the confines of the formal duel, or killing anyone else. Why should I?"

Lestrange sobbed, but didn't answer. He probably knew it wouldn't do any good. Harry sighed, and different expressions chased themselves over his face for a second before he lifted one hand in front of him.

"I couldn't sleep tonight if I killed you," he said, and folded his fingers inwards to his palm.

I wouldn't have a problem, Tom admitted to himself, but he forced his muscles still and only watched as Harry lifted Lestrange out of the crack, sent the hands back into the small ravine he had opened, and then closed the gap in the cobbles again. He didn't bother healing the burns on Lestrange's ankles, Tom was relieved to see. Lestrange was exactly the sort who would take that as an admission of weakness and a reason to renew the challenge sometime in the future.

Although…

Tom looked at the way Lestrange was shuddering, curled in on himself, and had to admit that Harry might have been successful in finally teaching the arrogant bastard otherwise.

"Mr. Potter!"

The cameras flashed and clicked, and Harry looked up just in time to look at Skeeter forcing her way through the crowd. Tom saw his shoulders hunch, while the emotional bond grew so taut that it would have hurt for either of them to move apart from each other. It was obvious that Harry'd like to use their conjoined magic to simply vanish.

But he faced Skeeter and prepared to answer her questions with a grim little smile. He knew as well as Tom did, said that smile, that he was past the point of being able to retreat.

Tom stepped forwards and rested his hands on Harry's shoulders, and Harry flashed him a startled glance before he nodded and relaxed.

They were together, Tom thought as he gently wrapped their magic back around both of them and soothed the tension thrumming through Harry. No reason they had to suffer alone.

And he was the luckiest man in the wizarding world.

The next day, the newspapers bore on the front page a picture of Harry facing the photographer with his eyes still brilliant with power, and Tom behind him, his eyes bright with adoration.