Despite the masquerade of shock, confusion, and misery that was displayed on his face, Harry was in an excellent mood as he was making his way to the Great Hall the next morning.
After the Headmaster had left, Harry and Severus spent the next couple of hours observing the man's actions being meticulously recorded by Harry's magical map of the school. To the surprise of no one, the old coot had immediately left the dungeons and directly made his way to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Harry and Severus had then watched him disable the protections of the Stone one by one. Once the Headmaster had reached the final chamber with the Mirror of Erised, no map was necessary to record Dumbledore's reaction.
Once the Headmaster had lowered some of the defences on the Mirror, a wave of raw magic resonated through the ancient castle, making its mighty walls tremble as Dumbledore finally uncovered the theft of the Philosopher's Stone. An unpleasant shiver ran down Harry's spine, making his hair stand on end, upon feeling the disgusting wave of Light magic spreading through the dungeons. While one could easily underestimate the old fool because of his grandfatherly, 'slightly' bonkers façade, the amount of raw power Dumbledore had at his disposal clearly served as a reminder how incredibly powerful the Lord of Light really was. Tom would never make that mistake again.
Once the waves of raw magic had receded, Tom could not help but remark that the Headmaster had blown off some steam in quite a curious way. If the recordings of the maps were to be trusted, the Headmaster had fired off a nasty collection of highly destructive Light and Dark curses.
"Beacon of the Light my ass," Severus exclaimed in disbelief, staring at the curses that had been recorded by the map, forgoing his usual sophisticated choice of vocabulary for once, "did he truly cast an Entrail-Expelling Curse and a Disintegration Curse?"
"Of course, he did. The map never lies. Dumbledore has always been a hypocrite," Tom said, pushing to the front, thus forcing Harry's Avada green eyes to turn into a deep crimson, "he might preach in favour of banning everything remotely Dark, but the 'Great' Albus Dumbledore is of course exempt from such petty laws and can do as he pleases. He does not care for the law or the dubiousness of his actions. His actions speak louder than words."
"But why?" Severus asked incredulously, "what is the reason for using such destructive curses on school grounds?"
"We must not forget that he controls the wards of the castle, Severus," Tom explained swiftly, narrowing his eyes at the recorded Spellwork, "since I doubt that he is going to involve the Ministry, the usage of Dark Magic will go unnoticed. As for the reasoning, using Dark Magic will take a lot more out of Dumbledore since it goes directly against his natural Light affinity. Using Dark curses should be a lot more effective than releasing large quantities of raw magic. Also, I think the Mirror of Erised might not have survived the night."
Once Dumbledore had left the ruins of his scheming behind, they had stopped observing the map. In the morning, the map had shown them that the Headmaster had shortly met up with Professor McGonagall before trying to magically locate Quirinus Quirrell, his believed thief of the Philosopher's Stone.
When Harry entered the Great Hall, his eyes immediately landed on the extravagantly clad figure seated at the centre of the staff table. Despite obviously having tried to mask his appearance, Dumbledore looked horrible. His beard appeared to be out of control, the furrows on his face seemed to be deeper and the bags underneath his eyes, which were currently void of any twinkle, were more pronounced than they had ever been. Yet his violently sizzling magic, having long since escaped his tight control, was what gave his state away the most, as well as the fact that those sitting next to the Headmaster were trying to get as much distance between themselves and the old coot as possible, even Professor McGonagall.
Opting to ignore the Headmaster for now, Harry made his way to the Slytherin table, seemingly dragging his feet over the stone floor. Another glance at the staff table revealed that both Severus and Professor Hawthorne were absent. Severus was obviously down in the dungeons, contacting the Ministry, while Professor Hawthorne had been in her office talking to the Weasley brothers when Harry had lastly checked his map. Feeling hundreds of curious eyes on him, he quickly lowered his head, seemingly still in shock over the discovery of Peter Pettigrew. Once he had sat down at the long table, he was immediately bombarded with questions. Thankfully, Gemma Farley, the Slytherin prefect, quickly put an end to the questioning and told everyone to leave Harry alone.
Once the ruckus had died down, Draco leaned forward, asking quietly so that only those within earshot could hear him, "I know that this is probably the wrong question, but how are you keeping up?"
Before Harry could answer, Blaise had already leaned forward, too, erecting a basic, yet surprisingly strong Privacy Ward, "I told you before that he is doing fine despite the Glamours currently applied to his face. Otherwise dear Harry here would not have fired off that Animagus Reversal Spell, now would you?"
"Expertly spotted, Blaise," Harry said, keeping his voice low despite the Privacy Wards, making everyone move closer, "although nobody is to know…"
Before he could say more, Dumbledore rose from his seat, his eyes firmly glued on Harry.
"Whatever happens now, do not look the Headmaster in the eyes," Harry whispered in a hushed voice, trying to move his lips as little as possible while lowering his head, "I will tell you more once I have returned to the common room. Pretend like you are trying to soothe me."
With that, he cancelled Blaise's Privacy Wards.
When the Headmaster arrived at the Slytherin table, he found his Golden Boy cocooned by an armada of worried and highly protective Slytherins. While Rhea and Millicent were shovelling large amounts of food on his plate, insisting that he had to eat something after such a straining night, Pansy was clutching his shoulders tightly, telling him over and over again that everything would be alright. Meanwhile, Theo and Blaise were reciting Wizengamot legislation, trying to make it very clear that justice would be served, especially following a confession under Veritaserum. Draco and Neville promised that their families would do everything in their power to help Sirius Black recover from his hardship. After all, he and Narcissa were both a part of the Black family and Sirius had been almost as close to Neville's parents, Alice and Frank, as he had been to the Potters.
"As much as it pains me to interrupt this," Dumbledore finally spoke up after a few moments of quiet observation of the Slytherins, "but I am afraid that this sadly cannot wait. Harry, my boy, a word with me in my office, plea-"
"But Headmaster," Pansy protested rather loudly, "Harry needs us!"
"Professor Dumbledore," Neville said simultaneously, "he can't be without his friends. Especially not now."
"Professor Snape already talked to Harry," Draco added, "should he as our Head of House not be present for this?"
"He hasn't even eaten a single bite of his breakfast, Headmaster," Rhea voiced her disapproval, while Millicent was nodding along with every word, "he has to eat something first."
Once the armada of protests had quieted down slightly, Dumbledore spoke up, his lips curling into a sad smile, "While all of your arguments might be true, I must insist that this urgent matter has to be addressed now. Harry, to my office, please."
The last word certainly was not voiced as a request, it was an order. Reluctantly, Harry freed himself from the caring arms of his friends and rose from his seat. Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall was firmly glued on him as he followed the Headmaster towards the large wooden doors.
They walked in silence as they made their way up countless sets of stairs. When they finally reached the seventh floor, Harry was feeling deeply uncomfortable, especially when he was thinking about what he was about to do. Although Tom was trying to cheer him up, Harry knew immediately that the Dark Lord did not truly believe in his own words. If Tom had been the one in Harry's shoes, he would have killed the old goat instead of doing the things Harry was about to do.
Harry was brought out of his thoughts as the gargoyle began to move. A minute later, he found himself in the last place on earth he wanted to be, in the Headmaster's office. Surrounded by the twinkling man in question, his still absolutely miserable phoenix, and the countless portraits of former Headmasters on the wall, Harry could not help but feel his skin itch. Suppressing the urge to shudder, Harry let himself fall on the offered chair opposite Dumbledore. Playing the role of an anxious child who was going through the largest emotional upheavals of his life, he kept his head lowered, his eyes firmly glued on the folded hands in his laps.
"Harry, my boy," the Headmaster said after seemingly endless seconds of tense silence, "I am so sorry about the things you had to witness last night. I wish I could have been there for you. Sadly, I could not since I had urgent matters to attend at the Ministry. Therefore, I feel even worse to remove you from your friends during such… desperate times. I hope you can forgive an old man."
Keeping his eyes firmly glued on his hands, Harry remained silent, slightly trembling as if being reminded of the events of last night was physically paining him while tears began to flow down his cheeks.
"I am truly sorry, my boy," Dumbledore finally said, the silence having become almost unbearable, "but let me assure you, Harry, that Sirius Black has been transferred to St. Mungo's hospital and is currently nurtured back to health. I will keep you updated on his recovery. As for Peter Pettigrew, he is currently residing in one of the Ministry's high-security cells. I talked to Amelia Bones this morning. She is positive that Pettigrew will be put on trial within the fortnight. Harry, I will do everything in my power to make sure that justice is served this time. Pettigrew will be punished, while your godfather…"
Before Dumbledore could say more, Harry had quickly stood up, rounded the table, and locked Dumbledore in a tight embrace, burying his head in the white mane of the Headmaster, "Th… Thank you, Sir. Thank you. I… I cannot thank you enough. I know that nothing will go wrong with you there. Thank you, Headmaster."
Hating every word that had come out of his mouth and every fibre of his body that was coming in contact with the Headmaster, he buried his anger deep inside his mind, instead only clutching Dumbledore tighter, mentally refusing to call this an embrace or a hug. The only thing that made it worth it, was that Dumbledore, given the way the old man had gone stiff, was feeling even more uncomfortable than Harry was. He had caught the old goat totally off guard.
Ignoring the death threats from the Dark Lord, Harry stayed firmly in place, burying himself deeper into the Headmaster's shoulder. Dreading every passing second that he had to endure this most degrading position, Harry desperately waited for the Headmaster to move.
Finally, he felt Dumbledore stir underneath him. Seconds later, he felt Dumbledore's disgusting old and wrinkled hand gently patting his back. Forcibly clenching his teeth and clutching his magic tightly, Harry tried his best to not react viciously to the old man's touches. Feeling like he had endured enough, he finally let go of the Headmaster, whispering, "Thank you, Sir."
"That is the least I could do, my boy," Dumbledore smiled, although rather solemnly, "still, if there is anything I can do, my door is always open for you, Harry."
"Thank you, Sir," Harry said quietly, wiping the faked tears off his cheeks while smiling shyly at the Headmaster. Calmly meeting his eyes, Harry felt a force invading his mind, scanning his surface thoughts. Luckily, everything that was projected there was fake. Harry in the Great Hall being shocked by the revelation of Peter Pettigrew. Harry in Severus' living room listening to the stories of the Marauders and his mother during their Hogwarts days. Harry being beyond happy that the Headmaster was doing everything in his power to help Harry. After a second, he felt Dumbledore retreating from his mind.
"My boy, I'm glad that you trust an old man like me," Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling more than ever, "but before I can let you return to your friends, I have a few questions for you, that I am afraid, cannot wait. I hope you understand."
"Of course, Sir," Harry said quickly, before returning to his seat.
"My boy," the Headmaster began to speak, once Harry had sat down, "what happened after Pettigrew had been escorted out of the Great Hall and the Slytherins had been returned to the dungeons."
"Well," Harry began, squirming slightly under Dumbledore's intense gaze, "Professor Snape realised how strongly affected and… confused I was… So, he took me to his quarters to explain a few things… He… he told me about my parents' days at school… The Marauders and everything… and…"
His voice broke after that.
"My boy, it's okay. I am here for you," Dumbledore said, trying to sound soothing, "please, continue, whenever you feel ready."
"It… it was just a bit much when he started talking about how close my parents were to both Pettigrew and Black," Harry said after long moments of fumbling with the hem of his shirt, "Severus… I mean Professor Snape tried to calm me for a while but realised that he was getting nowhere. He offered me a Calming Draught. After that, it was better. Sev… eh… Professor Snape then told me about the Fidelus Charm and the supposed Secret Keeper… How Sirius Black was caught and everything… And that the discovery of Pettigrew means that we have all been fooled after all… It was all a bit much… and…"
Seemingly ashamed, Harry's words ceased as he once again lowered his head, staring at his hands.
"What happened then?" the Headmaster asked, failing to conceal the urgency underlining his every word.
"I was overwhelmed, feeling a bit anxious and restless," Harry whispered, staring at the floor, seemingly embarrassed by this confession of weakness in front of the Headmaster, "Severus offered me a vial of Dreamless Sleep to protect me from all this…"
"Did you take it?" the Headmaster asked, leaning forward, his words sounding desperate.
Shyly lifting his head, meeting the Headmaster's eyes, Harry nodded in confirmation, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. Coming to the realisation that his plan had been thwarted, that his Compulsions had been nullified by the discovery of Peter Pettigrew, and a vial of Dreamless Sleep, the Headmaster sank back in his seat, clearly defeated.
"Sir, are you alright?" Harry asked, trying to sound concerned, "you seem pale."
Dumbledore's face contorted in a painful smile, "I am, Harry. Before I let you go, I have one last question for you. Did you notice anything odd about Professor Quirrell?"
"Professor Quirrell?" Harry repeated, a look of confusion gracing his face, "no, is something wro… I mean is he alright?"
"My boy, sadly I cannot answer your question," Dumbledore answered, smiling tiredly, "I think I have taken enough of your time, Harry. You may go. I think your friends are waiting for you."
With that, he was released. Meanwhile, Phineas Nigellus Black was giving him a thumbs up for yet another flawless performance, while trying to hide his laughter behind his hand.
An hour later, he finally stood in front of the entrance of the Slytherin common room. After having left the presence of the Headmaster, Harry had not returned to the dungeons immediately. First, he had cleansed himself from the contact with the old goat he had suffered through. Overall, the cleansing had involved a short ritual to remove the remnants of the Headmaster's disgustingly bright and awful Light Magic, and a long, hot bath in the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor.
Once he had entered the common room, he was bombarded with questions. In the privacy of the first-year dormitory of the boys, Harry opted to reveal some of his secrets, although it was only the bare minimum. He told them that he had somehow put one and one together, and identified Pettigrew posing as Weasley's pet after overhearing the redhead telling his gang that Scabbers had been a part of the family for almost a decade, a lifespan way too long for a simple rat. Yesterday's dinner had simply presented itself as the perfect opportunity to uncover the hidden Animagus. Although Blaise did eye him sceptically, he did not voice his thoughts, knowing that Harry was probably lying for a good reason.
Since his friends had undoubtedly felt that Harry had cast the Animagus Reversal Spell, there was no point in denying that he had been the one to uncover Pettigrew to free his godfather. Still, there was no point in revealing more for now, even if Blaise had sensed the countless Compulsions and was aware of the fact that Harry had been able to resist Dumbledore's magic. He would explain more at a later point, but not now that most of his and Tom's plans had not been put into motion yet. He definitely redeemed himself by telling them in detail about his meeting with Dumbledore.
Later that day during dinner, the Headmaster announced the unexpected and very unfortunate departure of Professor Quirrell due to urgent family matters. The Slytherins and Hermione kept exchanging knowing glances throughout the entire announcement while the other tables remained blissfully ignorant.
"This is just brilliant," the Dark Lord purred, sounding extremely amused and pleased, "that means the old fool has not informed the Ministry and the Aurors, meaning that the theft has gone mostly unnoticed. I would not even be surprised if he forgot to tell most of the teachers or Flamel himself of the theft of the Philosopher's Stone. He might have informed a few of his most trusted, but for the most part Dumbledore is going to track Quirrell personally. Since he cannot leave the castle for lengthier periods of time, at least until the end of the school year, Quirrell will have a massive head start. This is simply great."
Harry hummed in agreement, trying to keep his amusement masked from the world to see.
The days after the Headmaster's announcement were some of the happiest and most relaxing of Harry's life. Fuelled by the fast-approaching full moon that would mark the Resurrection of the Dark Lord, and the knowledge that most of their plans were progressing smoothly while those of the Headmaster had all but fallen apart, Harry could not help but enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that was surging through every fibre of his body as he was sitting at their usual spot at the Black Lake with his friends.
On Wednesday though, a day before the End of the Year feast, he felt eyes on him.
"Can we… talk?" Hermione asked nervously, keeping her voice low so that none of the others could hear her, "about the holidays?"
"Sure," Harry replied, casually flicking his Blackthorn wand at his books to pack up before rising from the blanket they had been lounging on. Once they had excused themselves, they headed for a more secluded spot at the lake, where Harry swiftly erected strong Privacy Wards. Once the Wards had been erected, Harry met Hermione's eyes, his expression serious, "Do not for a moment think that I have forgotten about you, Hermione. I had planned to talk to you before the end of the year, but I did not want to rush and concern…"
"I know," Hermione said quietly, "and I am glad that you did not confront me sooner. I certainly needed the time to make up my mind…"
"And? Harry asked, raising one eyebrow, "what conclusion did you reach?"
For a long moment, Hermione did not answer, opting to stare at her hands instead which were fumbling with the hem of her shirt. Finally, the Gryffindor looked up, an expression of uncertainty blemishing her young face, "I… I just cannot abandon them… They… they are still my… parents…"
The last word sounded like it had physically pained Hermione to call the two people who had given birth to her 'parents'.
"You… you probably will not understand," Hermione began, "but… but…"
Before Hermione could say more, Harry had leaned forward, pulling the desperate Witch in a soothing embrace, "Shhhh, Hermione. I understand, even if I have never known my parents. Abandoning people is never easy, especially if we are still attached to them deep within despite their less than… stellar behaviour. Although I understand your motives, Hermione, I want you to know that you are not alone in this. Should you need help, I am always there for you. Should things get out of control, just activate your bracelet and I will get you out of there. I promise."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, while tears began to form in her eyes, "you cannot imagine how much your words mean to me."
All Harry did in response was to smile at her, while gently rubbing her back.
"I just have to try," Hermione said, breaking the silence, "I just have to… Although this will not be my only option for the summer. Corvus, eh, my grandfather agreed to take me to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies once the Hogwarts letters have arrived. A Prefect told me that they usually arrive during the latter half of the holidays… He also promised to take me to Gringotts to do the inheritance test and maybe even take me to Lestrange Manor for a day or two to get to know me better… Although I wish this would take place sooner, he told me that he would be busy during the first month of the holidays because of some emergency sessions at the Wizengamot."
Hermione clearly looked unhappy about having to wait for so long.
"About that," Harry began, feeling rather uncomfortable about the things he was about to say, "I will probably be busy as well during that period of time because of the upcoming trial of my godfather and my change of magical guardianship. Because of that, I would prefer, should you want to get out of there, to wait until preferably a month of the holidays has passed, unless you have the feeling that you must get out of there immediately. I hope you understand."
Although Hermione did not answer verbally, she nodded her head before burying herself deeper in Harry's arm, taking advantage of the strong and caring arms as long as she could.
The End of the Year feast was a merry affair, at least if one was a Slytherin. While the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were clapping politely when Dumbledore was declaring that the House of the Snakes had once again won the House Cup, the Gryffindors, who had come dead last mostly thanks to their abysmal Quidditch performances and the countless points deducted by Professor Hawthorne, were openly expressing their displeasure over Slytherin's win. Opting to ignore the table of the Lions, Harry gladly accepted the large and shiny trophy from Marcus Flint, while at the staff table Severus' lips were curling into a gleeful smile at the prospect of keeping the Cup in his office for another year, while Professor McGonagall's office would once again be void of any shining and prestigious trophies.
Since all trunks had been packed the previous day, breakfast the next morning was a quiet and relaxed affair at the Slytherin table, as opposed to the last-minute rush most Gryffindors appeared to be in. Once he had finished his omelette, Harry looked up at the staff table. Feeling eyes on him, Severus swiftly returned the eye contact, before confirming that the next stage of their plan would be progressing smoothly with an almost unrecognisable nod of his head. At the Slytherin table, the corners of Harry's mouth curled into a sinister smile, which vanished fractions of a second later. Once everyone around him had finished with their breakfast, too, he stood up, leading his friends out of the Great Hall to pick up their trunks before heading to Hog's Mead Station, a very busy summer ahead of him.
The train ride was rather unspectacular, although at the start, Hermione had been in a considerably bad mood, the prospect of returning to her parents looming in the air. Because of that, the Slytherins had made an effort to distract the Gryffindor as much as possible, talking about new Spells, Charms, and Potions they would learn next year.
Once the train had pulled into King's Cross Station, everyone save Hermione was eager to disembark the steaming train. Once Harry and Hermione were left alone in the compartment, Harry wrapped his arms around the miserable Witch, "Remember, Hermione, I will always be there for you."
"I know," Hermione whispered after a while, her words almost inaudible, as she buried her head in his shoulder "and you cannot possibly fathom how much that means to me."
After a few minutes spent in silent understanding, the two finally exited the train, his eyes following Hermione as she disappeared in the crowd, making her way back to the Muggle world, where her parents were hopefully waiting for her.
"Now that you have finally decided to grace us with your presence," a silky voice spoke up, although keeping it low in order to not be overheard, "would you mind if we depart now. I certainly do not desire to spend any more time surrounded by Bloodtraitors and other scum than absolutely necessary."
"Father," Draco protested, "why would we…"
"Silence, Draco," Lucius Malfoy hissed, his grey eyes solely focussed on Harry, "shall we leave now, Heir Potter?"
"That is acceptable, Lord Malfoy," Harry answered swiftly. Fractions of a second after he had finished the last word, he felt a hand grabbing his arm and a strong pull as he was transported away from Platform 9¾.
As opposed to Draco, Harry kept his balance as he materialised in the grandeur that was the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. Although, his stomach was turning at the unpleasant feeling of Side-Along Apparition. Doing it yourself was just a lot better and certainly less nauseating.
"Father," Draco began, once he had gotten back on his feet, although less elegantly than a Malfoy normally would, "why is Harry here?"
For a short moment, the grey eyes of the Lord of the Malfoy family rested on Harry, "Draco, I think it is for the better for Lord Potter to explain this himself."
"I agree, Lord Malfoy," Harry replied, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile, especially at the correct usage of his proper title, "I take it that the Ritual chamber of your Manor has been thoroughly cleansed of all magical residue?"
"It has," the Lord of the Malfoy family answered, a slightly offended undertone present in his words, which was rather unsurprising since a Malfoy simply was never questioned, "I performed the Spells and Rituals myself."
"Splendid," Harry chuckled, before turning to the younger Malfoy, "Draco, I know you must have a lot of questions. Sadly, there is work to be done that I am afraid simply cannot wait. If you want to, you can join me while I work, and I can try to answer your questions. Is that acceptable? Although I suggest seeing your mother first. She must be beyond happy to see you after such a long time."
The sun had already set when Harry looked up from his work. Over the last few hours, Rune after Rune had been carefully inscribed on the cool stool floor with the finest quality chalk money could buy. The design was of an intricate, interwoven, and extraordinarily complex nature combining different sets of Runes. The inside of the Rune circle was void of any chalk, being reserved for the large cauldron containing the Resurrection Potion. The empty circle was surrounded by a myriad of complex Rune sequences, which would hopefully ensure the intended outcome of the Ritual, especially concerning the regeneration of Tom's body, and three smaller circles, reserved for the three main ingredients of the Resurrection Potion, bone of the father, flesh of the servant, and blood of the equal. Initially, they had tried to combine some of the circles, but it would be far too unstable. The magical number 'three' was a lot more stable than any other options. Seven would have been a good alternative. Sadly, the number of ingredients was too small to consider the most magical of all numbers.
The core of the Rune circle was surrounded by more Runes. Only this time, they were supposed to stabilise and strengthen the magic within the inner circle. Since these safety and stabilising measures required quite a lot of magic to work, seven fully charged magical crystals would be placed evenly on the outermost Rune circle together with three larger circles reserved for the people who would try to manually control and contain the ritual from the outside.
"I… I still can't believe that… that I spent a year in the company of the… of the Dark Lord," Draco's quiet words brought him out of his inspection of the Rune circle, "and that he is going to be… going to be resurrected tonight… But… but what will he think of me?"
So far, Draco's reaction to the revelation had been better than Harry could have ever anticipated. In fact, it had been better than most adults who had discovered the truth. Unlike his father, Draco had not fallen off his chair, nor had he screamed like a little girl. For the most part, he had remained seated on his chair in one of the corners of the Ritual chamber, staying relatively calm and collected. It had become apparent rather quickly that there was only one thing Draco was worried about, and that was the negative reaction of the Dark Lord to any sort of supposedly undignified, or offensive behaviour the Dark Lord might have witnessed throughout the past year. After all, Draco was a Malfoy and there was nothing worse than bringing shame to the family name, or even worse, ending the long and proud family history because Draco had somehow garnered the wrath of the Dark Lord. Although Harry had told the heir of the Malfoy family that the Dark Lord was indeed not angry at all, it had done nothing to calm the blond.
"I… I… What will my father say if the family name is in shatters?" Draco whispered, hiding his face behind his hands, as his head was lowered, his upper torso hunched over, "what will he do when the…"
"Stop it, Draco," the Dark Lord said authoritatively, pushing to the front, although he really had not wanted to come out to not strain his energy reserves for the upcoming ritual, "look at me."
Almost like in slow-motion, the heir of the Malfoy family lowered his hands to uncover his eyes as his head moved up from its lowered position. Once the blond had laid eyes of the deep crimson orbits in front of him, which were so different from the vivid Avada green they usually were, his jaw dropped with his own, grey eyes growing comically wide. Raising one questioning eyebrow at the shaken child, Tom was about to say something, when the blond threw himself off his chair. Before the Dark Lord could react, Draco was already kneeling in front of him, luckily nowhere near any of the precious Runes, asking for forgiveness, "My Lord, please have mercy for my foolish behaviour. I did not mean for you to witness…"
"Enough," the Dark Lord hissed before continuing with a much softer voice, "you did nothing wrong, Draco. Your behaviour could not have made your family any prouder. Your parents raised you to be a great man. They surely succeeded in their endeavour. Still, even if I would have happened to witness something… inappropriate, I would not punish you. You are a child after all, who was obviously unaware of my presence. Let me assure you, Draco, that I do not punish those I consider mine without a proper reason. Furthermore, my punishments are rarely as agonising and deadly as portrayed in the media, since none of those spreading those lies has ever been a part of my ranks. Draco, you did nothing wrong. Please, rise."
Slowly, very slowly did the heir of the Malfoy family obey, an expression of wonder having replaced the previous display of fear and confusion, "Thank you, my Lord. Thank you for your mercy."
"I prefer reason over mercy," the Dark Lord chuckled, "as much as it was a pleasure talking to you, Draco, I am afraid that there is a ritual to be performed which certainly cannot wait. Therefore, Harry will return to you now."
An hour later, every Rune had been checked. They had to redraw a handful of the Forbidden Runes close to the centre of the circle, but apart from that they had not altered any of the Runes.
Just as Harry rose from the ground to dust off his clothes, a knock echoed through the Ritual chamber. A moment later, the door was opened to reveal four impressive figures, one of them stepping forward, "Draco, dear, I think it is time for you to retire to your room. It is very late."
"But mother," Draco protested accompanied by large puppy eyes, "I want to stay here to see…"
"Draco, dear," Narcissa Malfoy spoke with the soft voice that was solely reserved for her son, "I think it would be best for you to not see this."
"But mother," Draco tried to protest again, "I am twelve. I am old enough to see…"
"No, you will definitely not," another figure said with a voice that had lost most of his usually present silky undertone, stepping forward to stand next to Narcissa Malfoy, "this is in no way fit for the eyes of a child. Draco, to bed."
This time, Draco did not protest, although if the shuffling feet on the ground did indicate one thing, it was that the heir of the Malfoy family was not pleased at all with having to leave. Once he had left the room, Narcissa quickly ordered one of the family's House Elves, thankfully not the crazy one called Dobby, to ensure that Draco had indeed gone to bed.
"Good evening, Lord Potter," Corvus Lestrange said, finally entering the Ritual chamber, "I see that you have been busy. How are the preparations progressing?"
"Splendidly well, Lord Lestrange," Harry replied with a sharp smile, while pointing at the finished Rune circle with a lavish wave of his hand, "the Runes have been inscribed, and have been checked as well. There should be no problem regarding this part of the Resurrection Ritual. All we need to do is place the cauldron containing the finished Potion in the middle of the circle, place and activate the magical crystals, and get into position before the clock strikes midnight. Severus, did everything go according to plan?"
"Surprisingly well," the Potions Master drawled, while his sharp onyx eyes were inspecting the Rune circle, "the Headmaster was in quite a hurry to leave the castle. Thus, we were released from his usually endless tirades far sooner than previous years."
"Excuse my question," Corvus Lestrange's words echoed through the Ritual chamber, "but why would he do that? We all know how the old man works and he certainly is never in a hurry."
"Because somebody," Severus started to explain, his eyes resting on Harry for a fraction of a second before returning his attention to the Lord of the Lestrange family, "supplied the former, now fugitive Defence Against the Dark Arts professor with the instruction on how to steal the Philosopher's Stone despite stealing the original one himself months earlier. If I am correct, the Headmaster should be rather busy tracking down his former employee, while simultaneously trying to contain the damage caused by the unexpected discovery of Peter Pettigrew."
For a moment, Corvus Lestrange appeared to be speechless, before he recollected himself, "That is quite an impressive achievement, especially given that this is the first year the two of you have entered the stage of this grand dance of powers. I simply cannot help but wonder what the two of you will do in all the years still to come."
That was a question Tom and Harry had asked themselves countless numbers of times. For now, there were more pressing matters at hand, especially the Resurrection Ritual that they were about to perform.
Shortly before midnight, everything was in place. The magical crystals were now shimmering in a dim light, waiting to be fully activated. Besides a few sparsely distributed candles, they were the sole source of light in the otherwise dark Ritual chamber outside the Rune circle. Narcissa, Lucius, and Corvus had all positioned themselves within the three smaller circles of the outermost fringes of the Rune circle, wands in their hands, awaiting the beginning of the Ritual. Meanwhile, Severus was staring grimly at the simmering cauldron in the middle of the Rune circle from his position within one of the three central circles. Having shed his outer robe, the sleeves of his black tunic esque shirt had been rolled up to his elbows. The circle to his right was filled with nothing but a large bone that had been removed from the grave of Tom Riddle Senior months ago and had been stored in one of the many secret vaults of the Dark Lord at Gringotts until very recently. The third and last circle was occupied by Harry himself, who had removed his shirt for the duration of the Ritual, a Goblin made Ritual dagger in his right hand. Meanwhile, a myriad of sparks was dancing over the surface of the cauldron in the centre of the Rune circle, while the golden Potion inside was gently bubbling, having matured perfectly.
"Are you sure that you can heal me?" Severus asked, sounding nervous.
"Tom and I calculated this multiple times," Harry replied calmly, mentally readying himself for the Resurrection Ritual to start at any second, "I should have enough magic left to heal you properly. Under no circumstances let Tom heal you just yet. His magic will be too…"
Before Harry could finish, the clock struck midnight, ceasing all conversations.
Lifting his hands, Harry activated the magical crystals. Feeling those within the outer circles releasing their magic, Harry first directed Narcissa's, Lucius', and Corvus' magic as well as the steady pulses of magic erupting from the crystals towards the outer rings of the Rune circle. Soon, more and more of the Runes of the outer rings were starting to glow as more and more magic was absorbed by the myriad of complex chalk symbols on the floor. Up until this point, Harry had solely guided the magic of the others, using very little of his own magical reserves, although this was about to change.
Once the safety and stabilising measures had been fully activated, Harry focussed more of his own magic into the activation of the core of the Rune circle, as did Severus. After a few tense seconds of anticipation, the first sequence of Runes began to glow in a deep crimson, while the next sequences soon followed suit. Meanwhile, Harry's eyes were firmly glued on the Runes to ensure that each sequence, each symbol, would be activated properly. If not, it could cause severe backlash and malfunctions during later stages of the Resurrection Ritual. Thankfully, each Rune of the core of the circle was soon glowing a deep and dangerous crimson. Once the inner Rune circle had been fully activated, Harry signalled Severus to start with the final stage of the Resurrection Ritual, the actual resurrection.
Lifting his right hand, Severus began to wandlessly Levitate the bone of Tom Riddle Senior towards the large cauldron. Taking one last deep breath, the Potions Master began to speak, his voice steady and his dark eyes firmly glued on the first of the three ingredients that would be added to the Resurrection Potion tonight, "Bone of the father, unwillingly given, you will renew your son."
The golden surface of the Potion began to stir dangerously, emitting more fiery sparks, as the bone broke through its surface. Fractions of a second later, the entire Potion began to bubble violently, turning a vivid, poisonous blue. Once the colour of the Potion had fully shifted, Harry's eyes returned to the Potions Master.
Felling the Avada green eyes on him, Severus began to move, removing another Goblin made Ritual dagger from the depths of his pockets, while leaning closer to the cauldron without leaving the boundaries of his Rune circle. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, the Potions Master held up his left arm above the cauldron, before continuing to speak, "Flesh of the servant, willingly and proudly given, you will revive your master."
A fraction of a second later, the right hand with the dagger swung upwards. Severus did not bat an eye nor display his pain in any other way, as his severed hand dropped into the cauldron, breaking through the vivid, poisonous blue surface with a sickening splash. Not taking his eyes off the Potion that had turned into an angry vortex of burning crimson, the Potions Master wrapped the bleeding stump that had moments prior been attached to his left hand in a dark cloth he had produced out of the depths of his pockets with the other, still intact hand.
Once the Potion had slowed down in its movements, Severus lifted his voice for the third and final time of the night, "Blood of the equal, offered in devotion and acceptance, you will resurrect your soulmate."
As the last word had passed Severus' lips, Harry began his gruelling task of carving Runes into his own flesh. Thankfully, only five Runes were needed since Tom and Harry had drastically reduced the number of Runes needed by combining quite a few Runes and using Forbidden Runes, an ancient, almost forgotten yet much stronger set of Runes that had been outlawed by the International Confederation of Wizards during the days of the Founders of Hogwarts. Luckily, records of the Runes had survived in the private library of Salazar Slytherin.
The first Rune to be completed on his left arm represented "acceptance", followed by the complementary Rune of "devotion" on his right arm. Next, the Runes "equality", "eternity", and "soul" were carved in a vertical line on his torso, starting in the centre of his chest before ending just above his navel. Once he had finished carving the last Rune, the dagger slipped from his bloodied fingers. Although the dagger dropped to the ground, none of the blood that had previously covered the blade and its handle did ever reach the cool stone floor. Just like the blood that was pouring out of the deep cuts on his body, it was magically absorbed by the ancient magic emitting from the Resurrection Potion.
Once a sufficient amount of blood had been added, the liquid within the cauldron turned into a blinding white. The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else, even the pulsation crimson Runes on the floor, to velvety blackness.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Harry felt a tug at his magic, first only faintly but it soon increased in strength. Having anticipated this, Harry did his best to feed as much magic to the steaming and swirling Potion as he could. It was necessary since they had forgone the lengthy process of creating a Homunculus vessel. Yet somewhere along the way, they must have miscalculated as the tug on his magic kept increasing steadily, absorbing more magic than they had anticipated, and not just from Harry.
Feeling his core being drained rapidly, Harry started to channel as much magic as he could from any potential outside source, trying his best to not completely drain the magical crystals or the other magic wielders involved in the Ritual. If any of the safety and stability measures were to fail, the results would be devastating, catastrophic even. Refusing to panic, Harry kept pushing his body and his magic beyond what would normally be possible, even for a Wizard as powerful as himself.
As his heart was beating faster and faster, and the strain on his body and magic was becoming more and more unbearable, he felt something inside him shift as his desperate prayers for help were heard. Fractions of a second later, a surge of the darkest, most intoxicating magic was rushing through every cell of his body, darker than he had ever felt. Somehow, he knew deep inside that this would be enough to power the Resurrection Ritual.
Before the thought could fully settle, a pain like he had never felt before was shooting through his head.
As Harry was clawing at his head, screaming at the top of his lungs for the pain and agony to stop, Tom felt something ripping at his soul. The feeling was increasing with every second, becoming more and more unbearable by the second, a feat which should have been impossible since he currently did not possess a body. Without warning, a pain, worse than being hit by the Killing Curse, shot through him, as he was violently ripped free.