Harry woke suddenly like he'd been spelt awake. He groaned as a pounding headache hit him.
He was back in Malfoy Manor -lying on the carpeted floor in the ornate sitting room. He sat up slowly, clutching his head only to freeze when he saw Voldemort.
As their eyes locked, Voldemort's eyes flashed crimson. The memories crashed down on Harry.
The idea of leaving Voldemort to the Dementors had formed slowly, almost unknown to Harry as he had spent months reading more and more about Azkaban and its wraithlike guards.
The Dementor's Kiss. It had caught his curiosity.
It sounded horrible. Horrible enough.
It was just a daydream. A daydream of letting Voldemort be Dementor kissed. His Occlumency was weak, thin paper walls that Voldemort could have torn down if he found even a morsel of an interesting thought. If Voldemort had wanted, he could have seen that gruesome daydream. It interspersed and weaved in with Harry's fantasies of winning the Quidditch World Cup and getting points from the grouchy potion master.
He'd researched cheering charms even before that - when he'd landed up in the Infirmary from the dream of murdering Myrtle. He had just picked it up again when he was researching Dementors.
Maybe it could be used to lure Dementors away or towards.
It was just a daydream. Until Voldemort had, in his arrogance, walked away not just from Harry's pleas to save his godfather but also from his loyal servant Bellatrix.
How could he? How could he just walk away? After all the damage he had done! He should be the one in Azkaban, not the rest of them!
The anger and helplessness of it all had bubbled over, and he'd hit Voldemort with the cheering charm almost impulsively.
"I should commend you on your spell choice. A cheering charm.I did not guard against that." Voldemort said, his voice was light and sarcastic and at complete odds with the raging anger flowing through their bond.
Harry had been stupid. He hadn't known how the Dementors would affect him or, for that matter, Voldemort. He had not thought they would paralyse the two of them so wholly, of the memories that the creatures would dredge up or the soul-deep pain that Harry would feel when Voldemort was attacked.
But none of that mattered right now.
"Are you surprised? Did you really think I would not try to kill you? Why? because you were kind to me AFTER YOU KILLED MY PARENTS?"
As Voldemort stalked forward, Harry scrambled back, still on the floor, wanting to put distance between them. Voldemort, though, caught him by his ankle and yanked him forward - hard. Harry cried out as his head hit the floor, his vision going black for a second, and he lay panting, winded from the attack even as Voldemort held him at wand point.
Harry's wand. Voldemort was using Harry's wand!
"Kill me? Oh, Harry, don't make me laugh. You now even remember how I killed your parents, but you don't have it in you!" Voldemort mocked.
It was true. The memories of Voldemort killing his parents should have strengthened his resolve to kill Voldemort. But Harry had also experienced in the first person having the killing curse backfire through Voldemort's memories. The horror of death itself had burst through some of the dark, vile anger that had accumulated inside him. Harry wanted revenge for what Voldemort had done. But when it came down to it, he found that he couldn't kill him. Couldn't let his soul be sucked dry by a Dementor.
"I DID MEAN TO KILL YOU! I MEANT IT!" Harry lied, but Voldemort only grasped Harry's neck and pulled him close.
"You fool! What was your great plan to escape the Dementors? You would have gotten killed! It would have been suicide!" He pressed just the bit tighter on Harry's neck, then let him drop, coughing and panting on the floor.
" I am not suicidal," Harry sputtered. He wasn't! It was true he only had a hazy thought of escaping the Dementors, but…
"YOUR PARENTS DIED TO SAVE YOU!" Voldemort roared. "Your mother gave up her life so that you would have a chance." He sounded almost wonderous at the thought. "and you would throw that away? For what? A badly executed revenge plan? Do you think that is what your parents would have wanted? What your newly precious godfather would have wanted? That you throw away your life in a moment of bravado?"
Harry was feeling lightheaded, but that didn't explain what he was hearing.
Voldemort was berating Harry not so much for trying to kill him but for not having a good enough plan for saving himself!
"If you must engage in these childish delusions of getting your revenge on me," Voldemort said, "at least, for your dead parents' sake, aspire for something less suicidal!"
"Now to make sure the lesson sticks," He said, dropping Harry's wand casually next to him and pulling his own out as he stood.
"Crucio!" he said, pointing at Harry, who was still staring up at him in surprise.
You must not leave things half done, Harry.
Harry was glad when he passed out from the pain. He'd woken up once, barely, hoarse from screaming, still whimpering when potion after potion was tipped down his throat, murmured spells all around him. He'd tried to protest, but he'd felt a hand almost gently hold him down and dreamlike whispers soothing him before he'd slipped into unconsciousness again.
"Rennervate!"
No! he didn't want to be awake! He didn't want –
He woke, ready to scream from the pain of the curse that Voldemort had cast on him, except the pain was gone. He couldn't move, though, couldn't make a sound.
He was paralysed!
Don't be dramatic, Harry. You're simply petrified. Harry's mind cringed away from Voldemort's thoughts, from the memory of the curse, which lingered like a phantom in every inch of his being.
The pain – he didn't ever want to experience that pain again!
They were still in that sitting room. Harry was propped up leaning against the far wall, to the right of where Voldemort was sitting, facing the door, from which Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had just entered.
They came in, bowing and whispering greetings, but their eyes darted around the room looking for someone. Not once did they catch Harry's eye. Almost like they couldn't see him.
He puzzled for a second, then felt the soft material draping his petrified body. Voldemort had hung his invisibility cloak over him.
"My Lord," Lucius said hesitantly. "Has the child been returned?"
"You seem awfully concerned for Potter's wellbeing." Voldemort retorted. Lucius's eyes widened, and he shook his head to deny it, but Narcissa stepped forward.
"of course, my Lord. Anyone of interest to you is important to us," she said serenely.
"Important? Is that why you sent the house-elf to him?" Voldemort asked, watching them like a hawk.
Surprise. They both looked surprised.
How can you be taken in so quickly, Harry? They could be acting!
STOP RIFFLING THROUGH MY BRAIN!
After what you did, you should be glad I have left you a brain!
"Summon your house-elves!" Voldemort snapped, making them jump.
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius said. A wave of his hand and the room was packed.
8 house-elves stood neatly arranged in rows. The ones closest to them were better dressed, but towards the end, they all looked worse for wear like Dobby. Each one was trapped in a translucent bubble and clearly could not see out of them.
'Which one is it?'
Is this why he had been allowed to sit in on this conversation?
Voldemort could have plucked the memory out from his head if he wanted.
In the last row - The second one from the left.
Any other day, Harry would have put up a fight, but he didn't have it in him to fight this battle - not so soon.
Voldemort pointed out Dobby and Lucius waved the others away. The translucent bubble popped, and Dobby stared wide-eyed at the Malfoys, then at Voldemort. A full-body shiver seemed to run through the creature, and he flopped slowly to his knees and began to hit its head against the floor.
It was almost comical, except blood from its cracked head formed a large puddle on the carpeted floor.
Harry felt queasy. The Malfoys were watching it in horror.
Voldemort flicked his wand casually, and the elf was frozen mid-motion.
"Did you know, Lucius? Your house-elf has been visiting Harry since the summer?" Voldemort said conversationally. "Telling him all about the horrible things that have been happening in its master's house. The bad man, who has been visiting; the Chamber of Secrets being opened."
The Malfoys looked at each other for a split second then fell to their knees almost at once. Heads bowed; their wands were on the floor in front of them.
"My lord, we have not betrayed you!" Lucius said, his knuckles white, his voice shaking.
"We have not! Please believe us!" Narcissa had gone impossibly pale.
Harry wished he could look elsewhere. Sure, he'd enjoyed seeing Voldemort order Lucius around in Knockturn Alley last summer. But this was different. It was uncomfortable to watch the two haughty adults on their knees grovelling in front of what looked like a 17-year-old schoolboy.
Why did Voldemort choose such a young body? Harry wondered. The thought hadn't crossed his head before. It filled him with disquiet when he realised it had affected the way he saw and treated Voldemort.
Harry pushed the thought away as he watched Voldemort play with his prey.
"If you did not betray me on purpose," Voldemort said, "that does not make things better. Surely, you both can see that?"
"My – my lord?"
"A house-elf is bound to you and your house," Voldemort explained patiently. "Life, body and magic! There is no circumstance where it can betray its master unless its master is conflicted. Unless the master's needs, wants, beliefs, his loyalties are intrinsically in flux and different from the stated ones."
It looked like the Malfoys would protest immediately, but something in Voldemort's expression shut them up.
Several uncomfortable moments later, Lucius said slowly, "I have never thought–" he swallowed, "I have never consciously thought to betray you, my Lord,"
"But you have thought your comfortable life disrupted, have you not? You escaped the great purge; you, your precious wife and son, were safe and happy. You were content!" Voldemort spat out the words like an insult.
"You were content to play your inane political games and to pat yourself on the back that you were doing it in the name of protecting the wizarding interest. You were content to live your life in privileged ignominy." Voldemort's voice dripped with disdain.
He rose from the sofa and walked to Lucius. He kneeled gracefully in front of Lucius and put his hands under his chin, pulling his head up, as he continued almost gently.
"Tell me, Lucius, when did being called a 'Death Eater' become an insult that you had to swallow? Where did all your passion and our grand dreams fade away?" Voldemort mused, the disappointment searing each word, thick and painful.
Lucius was hanging on to Voldemort's every word. His proud face looked positively haggard with fear but also shame.
Harry could see why.
He had been subject to an unforgivable curse by Voldemort just a while ago! And yet… even he felt moved by Voldemort's performance. And it wasn't even aimed at him! If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought Voldemort had fed all of them some sort of love potion.
Lucius looked down, his shoulders shaking. For long minutes there was silence, except for the quiet sound of Narcissa crying.
"When you disappeared, " Lucius said finally, his voice was soft and defeated, "all of our dreams and hopes disappeared with you! It was not easy - far from it. I lost everyone the last time, my Lord – all my family and friends except for Cissa and Draco," Lucius' voice was shaking, "When you came back, I was ecstatic but also afraid of what could happen if we failed." He sighed.
"I have no excuse. But my Cissa and Draco - they are blameless. My Lord! Please spare them; PLEASE HAVE MERCY!" Lucius said, his voice rising in the end. He bowed his head; his fingers were clutching his knees - even as his wand lay forgotten in front of him.
"SHUT UP!" Voldemort roared, a strong wave of magic emanating from him, upturning the little corner tables, smashing the various showpieces and rattling the heavy furniture causing the Malfoys to shrink back in fear.
SHUT UP. This one was aimed at Harry, who had thought of his mother begging for mercy for him.
He is going to kill him. That is what this is about!
Don't kill him! He didn't set Dobby to do it. You know that! He thought as loudly as he could.
Harry watched in horror as Voldemort took his wand out. He twirled it almost casually as he looked at Narcissa and Lucius, both rooted to the floor.
Why don't they fight? Why don't they try to escape! Harry thought, struggling desperately against the invisible bonds.
"Lucius," Voldemort said softly, the anger from before forgotten. "I release you today from your oath to me." He brought down his wand, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting to see the green flash except -
Lucius was not dead!
Narcissa had scrambled to her feet and run over to her husband. She ran her hands all over Lucius to find some after effect of the spell, but there was no difference that Harry could find.
Lucius slowly pulled up the long silver sleeve of his gown and stared at the skin on his inner left forearm. There was nothing wrong with it. Except -
The Dark Mark. The mark that Voldemort's inner circle was supposed to bear was gone from his arm. His skin was unblemished.
Voldemort had removed the Dark Mark!
Narcissa pulled her sleeve away to find her arm unmarked as well.
"My Lord?" Lucius looked torn between the relief of not being dead and the fear of what the removal of the Dark Mark meant.
"It's all of you. I have released every single one of you." Voldemort said matter of fact.
"Your belief in me must be based on our once shared ideal of saving our magical heritage and protecting it at all costs. I will not have you follow me because you are forced to, by what you perceive as the misguided follies of your youth!"
Did Voldemort just disband the Death Eaters? Harry thought disbelievingly.
"Narcissa, stay for a while," Voldemort said as the Malfoys were taking their leave.
"My Lord?" Much to Harry's disappointment, Lucius and Narcissa had not taken Voldemort on his word and made a run for it. Instead, they had begged to be allowed back into the Dark Lord service, a look of zealous determination shining on their faces. Voldemort, however, had refused to reinstate the Dark Marks.
It's remarkable the faith they have for someone in their position. Harry thought darkly, all too aware that Voldemort had played them into renewing their faith as ardent supporters.
"Did you try to meet Bella?" Voldemort asked without preamble.
Narcissa looked away, towards where Harry was propped up. She looked right through him, but there was something haunted in her eyes.
"I tried – in the beginning, but by the time I met her, she had…changed." She said, her eyes tearing. "I couldn't bear to see her again."
"And Sirius Black?"
Harry startled almost as much as Narcissa. He'd forgotten the prison records Voldemort had produced in Azkaban.
"I-yes." She said.
"Why? I thought you positively loathed him?"
"Sirius was just an idiot! Aunt Walburga was…" Narcissa shivered, "well, my Lord, you know how she was!" She said, looking at Voldemort, who just shrugged. "his big rebellion was to run away and join the Light side and be obnoxious." She shook her head angrily. "And where did it lead him? In Azkaban! Right next to Bella! Did you know they loathed each other as kids!"
She ran her hand over her hair - a bitter smile twisting on her face. "They turned on Sirius because he was a Black. There wasn't even a trial! He wasn't one of us; I was sure of that." she said, searching Voldemort's face for some affirmation. She sighed and continued when he gave no response, "I knew I couldn't really do anything to help him but – I am sorry, my Lord, losing everyone in the War; it made me…nostalgic."
It was strange to hear her speak of Sirius that way. It had been weird to hear Lucius talk of his family as well. Like they...cared. Harry felt muddled up. These were Death Eaters. Evil, murdering Death Eaters and yet...
Voldemort regarded her for long moments before ordering abruptly.
"Go meet Black. Get him to sign the papers asking for an actual trial. He will. Don't worry about it," he said, staving off her protests. "It's going to be near impossible without actual evidence, so do what's necessary to keep it under wraps as long as possible. It will drag your past out and will probably be ugly. I expect you to bear it."
If Narcissa was surprised, she hid it well. Her eyes shining in excitement, Narcissa bowed low.
"Thank you, my Lord. I will not fail you,"
"Finite," Voldemort said, once Narcissa had left.
Harry tumbled down on the floor, but he hardly felt it.
"What are you –" but Voldemort only turned and left the room. Harry looked with longing at the lively fire, and the floo powder kept close to the fireside, then strode after Voldemort.
"Why are you getting Sirius out? He doesn't know where your –" he shut up, even as Voldemort shot him a dark look. It wasn't like he would have blabbered about Voldemort's precious locket out in the open. He pulled his invisibility cloak off, shrinking it, still hurrying after Voldemort, who cast a muffliato around them.
"Do I owe you an explanation, Harry? I thought we'd established you'd rather I were dead than in any form show you kindness."
Harry stopped, conflicted, then continued, "You can't possibly make me feel guilty for trying!"
He was pathetic; Voldemort already knew he felt terrible about it.
Voldemort didn't stop, and Harry lapsed into silence as they went down the winding grand staircase and out in the open.
The Yule revellers were still around – especially the younger wizards and witches – out in the garden, dancing and lounging around a large bonfire, floating several inches off the perfectly manicured lawns of the Malfoy Manor.
Voldemort didn't lead him towards the Conservatory or the bonfire. They instead walked towards the side, past the rose gardens and the pen, where Harry could swear, he saw white peacocks sleeping, towards the woods that spread out behind the Manor.
They continued down through the woods, following a path that only glowed a few steps in front of them with what could have been fireflies but just as easily tiny pixies.
The evening had been long and confusing, and this leisurely walk through the woods felt like a dream. Harry was tired, probably suffering some aftereffects of Voldemort's spell. It was also late - closer to dawn. He wondered offhand if anyone in Hogwarts had missed him.
Harry was almost at the clearing before he realised that music was playing – a strange and lilting tune - sharp and sweet - he didn't know how he'd missed it till then.
They walked on into the clearing, and Harry was greeted with the sight of a twisting massive oak tree, its crown spreading over the entire clearing. A large evergreen wreath had been twisted over its trunk. A circle of blue-white flames had been lit on the ground around the tree. The branches, surprisingly, were still laden with autumnal leaves and glistened gold in the light.
There were wizards and witches here as well, though not as many as near the Manor. They sat in little groups spread all around the tree. Harry could see them but couldn't make out their faces - a hazy blur filled his head - every time he tried to concentrate on a particular one.
He could, however, hear laughter and the buzz of conversation. Several of them were levitating up baubles of light and miniature figurines and stringing them with whisps of gleaming magic on to the oak tree branches.
A little away from the rest, Voldemort found an empty patch under the tree. A brown-black urn appeared as he sat down, and Voldemort dipped his hand into it before pulling it out, coated with...honey. Harry realised in surprise. He then expertly pulled and prodded the sticky substance into a ram head like figurine, similar to the one he was wearing. As it cooled, it glistened like glass.
Voldemort sent it flying into the air, where it hung itself off a high bough with a twirling thread of magic.
"Traditionally on Yule," Voldemort said as he dipped his hand back into the urn. "You decorated the Yule Tree in memory of and as an offering to your ancestors. Charmed water, honey or mead – you can use pretty much anything. The figurines are whatever you shape with magic."
Harry wanted to say he didn't want to be part of some weird Dark Arts ritual, but there was something too old and altogether too magical about the oak tree that shut him up. He wasn't even sure if all the wizards surrounding the tree were fully human or interspersed with Fey or some other magical creatures. But they all sat, in their little groups, working on decorating the Yule Tree.
He followed Voldemort's lead, working on the figurines. Dipping his fingers into the liquid, he tried to work the charmed substance into shapes. The first few he made were scruffy blobs, indistinguishable from each other. Still, as he let himself be immersed in the process - as he thought of his parents and the Potter family history tucked away in those stuffy genealogy books - he created a variety of little passable animal figurines.
He had broken into Azkaban that night. He had met his godfather. He had tried to kill Voldemort, and Harry could now admit nearly gotten killed in the process. He had been tortured. He had almost seen the Malfoys die. And now he was sat here in the middle of the woods decorating something akin to a Christmas tree...with Voldemort.
It was beyond surreal. Vaguely, Harry was aware that he had been lulled by the comforting magic that he could feel all around them in the cool night air.
"Why aren't you helping Bellatrix? Why Sirius?" Harry asked; the thought had been bothering him, and he needed to know.
"He is innocent; he doesn't deserve to be in Azkaban. Is that not reason enough?" Voldemort asked mockingly. He twirled his hand, transfiguring the liquid into a candied gnome, then sent it twirling up to the boughs above.
No one deserves to be in Azkaban! Harry thought darkly.
Voldemort laughed. The sound melded with the music around them rising up to the Yule Tree - an offering in itself. "After I fell, Bella and some of the others went after the other child who fit the Prophecy. They hoped to find the Prophecy - to see if it had clues about bringing me back. Bella was convinced that the family would know it. They tortured the parents of that child to the point of insanity - wanting to know what the Prophecy entailed. But of course, Dumbledore had never told them." The glint in Voldemort's eyes made Harry uncomfortable. "Do you still think Bella doesn't deserve to be in Azkaban? Neville Longbottom would probably disagree. His parents, I believe, are permanent residence at St Mungo's Hospital."
Neville! There was a chance the Prophecy could have been about Neville! His mind whirled at the possibilities. And his parents. To have to live with that. Harry felt a hot rush as he thought of the number of times he'd wondered as to why Neville Longbottom had been sorted into Gryffindor.
"We should not have left Sirius there!" He said, ignoring Voldemort's question. Harry felt conflicted at the lack of easy answers. He still believed that no one deserved to be in Azkaban, that the place was too vile. But how did you punish someone like Bellatrix? Or even Voldemort? Harry stole a glance at the Dark Lord, who was now creating butterflies that flapped their wings as they flew up. He wanted Voldemort punished. But when he thought of the Dementors and the Dementor's Kiss, his skin crawled.
Voldemort caught his eye, clearly amused at Harry's thoughts.
"Think like the Slytherin, I know you can be." Harry glared, knowing full well Voldemort knew of his sorting choices. "It was near impossible for Black to escape. And even if he had escaped, what would that have entailed? He would have been a fugitive. The Dementors have been given the leave to perform the Kiss to any escapee with no trial or questioning. Would you want to risk your godfather?"
"No! but I could tell-"
It had been at the tip of his tongue that he could tell Dumbledore, but Harry swallowed the words.
Harry flushed and went back to little doe he'd been making, letting the music from the night soothe the irrational anger in him. He knew it was wrong for him to blame Dumbledore for not realising Sirius was innocent, but when Harry thought of all the could have been - of how he could have grown up with Sirius and how Dumbledore was responsible for him ending up with the Dursleys. Would Dumbledore insist that he stay with the Dursleys because of the blood wards even if Sirius was free?
"Why me? Why didn't you go after Neville," he asked finally, once he sent the doe prancing up.
"I'd probably have killed him as well once I was done with you. Just to be sure," Voldemort said matter of fact, "But why you first?" Voldemort smirked as he fiddled with a model of what looked like a skeletal horse with wings. "I think you have Severus to thank for that,"
"Not deliberately, of course," Voldemort said when he saw Harry's surprise. "I didn't have the full Prophecy. I knew they were two children who fit the description from the part that Severus had heard. So I told Severus I would go after the Potters. I knew he loved your mother. Loved her enough to maybe even double-cross me. And I was right." Voldemort said lightly. " Sure enough, the news reached Dumbledore, who convinced your parents to go under the Fidelius. Why would Dumbledore hide you specifically if you weren't the child of the Prophecy? And so, you became my first target,"
That's stupid! It's because you chose me, he asked my parents to hide under the Fidelius! Harry had complicated feelings towards Dumbledore, but he couldn't fault Dumbledore for trying to hide his parents when the Dark Lord put a mark on him.
"Fair enough, I did choose you," Voldemort answered Harry's unasked thoughts. "Still, it does make you wonder why he didn't tell the Longbottoms to hide under a Fidelius as well."
It did make Harry wonder. Why would Dumbledore not have thought of that? But there was something more important here for him.
"Does this mean Snape double-crossed you to try and save... my mother." Harry swallowed. "why aren't you angrier?"
"Severus may still prove useful." Voldemort was looking at Harry, but he had a far off look in his eyes.
"There is no reason for Severus and me to be at odds any more - I don't want to hurt you - far from it." Voldemort ignored Harry snort of derision. "But I did kill Lily. The question is what is more important for him - his revenge or protecting you - the child of the woman he loved." Voldemort mused.
"He doesn't care about me because of my mother! He owes my dad a life debt!" Harry was sick of hearing 'snape was in love with his mother' repeatedly.
"A life debt?" Voldemort mused. " That could complicate things. Life debts can twist people up to do all sorts of things even if they don't want to. "
Harry was surprised. " Wait, life debt isn't magical, is it? The way Dumbledore talked about it was as if it was just something Snape wanted to fulfil so that he could go back to hating my father's memory in peace!"
If Snape was magically coerced into helping him. It made Harry feel queasy.
Voldemort all but rolled his eyes. "And of course, Dumbledore dumbs it down to a sweet tale of honour and duty."
"You're the one who thought Snape was doing all of it because he was in love with my mother! " Harry scoffed. "How are you any different? You'd make it a sweet tale about love instead!"
Voldemort smiled - a slow, sure smile full of pity.
"Oh Harry, love is not sweet." Voldemort lapsed into parseltongue. The sibilant tongue making the words both sharp and sour. " Love can make people do absolutely anything. It can also make monsters of people."
Voldemort only shook his head at Harry's disbelieving face. " You are too young to understand. In any case, you should find out what the life debt was for. Might explain why he was so desperate to save you last year."
Harry wanted to argue. His mother had died to save him because she loved him! That did not make her monstrous! But was the point? Voldemort had a warped understanding of love. Big surprise! It was more surprising that he had any understanding of love at all.
They lapsed into silence. Harry found that he couldn't wrap his head around everything from the night. Too much had happened. He devoted himself to the last few figurines, which he modelled on the four Hogwarts Houses. A stringy snake, a pug-nosed badger, an eagle with a crooked wing and a lion with a slightly ratty mane went flying up to the tree.
"Getting your godfather out - consider it a return Yule gift," Voldemort said, answering Harry's original question as he stood up.
"Return? I've not given you any gift," Harry said. He had been lost in his thoughts, and he came to from the hazy, dreamlike state he'd fallen into. He had lost track of time sitting there under that oak tree, but it had clearly been a while as his legs were numb.
"Ah, but you have, Harry," Voldemort said, then waved his wand with a flourish, "Expecto Patronum!"
Harry had been in too much pain and fear to clearly see the Patronus in Azkaban, but as it sprang out of Voldemort's wand, there was no mistaking the large winged stag that now stood before them.
Harry did the spell himself. He wasn't surprised when no separate Patronus emerged from his wand. Instead, the winged stag only trotted over to him and stared at him with its big silver eyes.
Of course, we have to share a bloody Patronus as well. Harry thought dejectedly as he held out his hand for the Patronus.
"A winged stag? I guess I should be glad it's not a snake." Harry said as he walked around the Patronus.
"A Peryton thought extinct. I wonder what shadow it will cast." Voldemort corrected. He knew Harry's bias against snakes was for show. The Basilisk, in fact, preferred Harry over Voldemort.
Voldemort felt a particular fondness towards the winged creature. It had bothered him that this silly insignificant light spell had eluded him for years as if it were some judgment on his ability.
Not anymore.
Of course, the Patronus was more Harry's than his, in its form at least, but Voldemort didn't mind. It was a rare enough thing to share a Patronus, and he smiled as he imagined Dumbledore's horror at the revelation.
Not for a while, of course.
He knew that Dumbledore had been relentless in his search for Voldemort ever since he had disappeared with the Philosopher's Stone, but every lead must have turned into a dead-end by now.
Today, Voldemort had closed another avenue. He had been careful when he created his new body to not tip off the Dark Marks that his followers wore. Now he'd removed them completely so no traitor could use it as evidence of his Rise.
"It's time," he said, looking up at the sky. Daybreak was not far. He walked towards the edge of the clearing.
"time for what?" Harry stared curiously around them as the various groups dispersed towards the edge of the clearing as well.
"Watch," Voldemort said, even as Lucius, who was standing a little away from them, flicked his wand at the blue-white flames around the Yule Tree. The flames multiplied, covering the trunk and the branches in the blink of an eye.
The fire ate up not just the leaves but all the magical figurines that they had made ever so painstakingly, but the Yule Tree itself was untouched by the flames. None of the ash fell down, and thick white vaporous smoke began to rise from the Yule Tree into a ringed cloud that hung like a wreath over the treetop.
Voldemort pulled out the two wreaths - the ones the old Fey had given them. He looked at his ivy and holly wreath ruefully and levitated it into the fire.
"Put yours on our Peryton," He told Harry, who was watching the magic unfolding in front of them in complete wonder.
It had been decades since Voldemort had been part of a traditional Yule celebration. He had been invited to his first Ball when he had still been in Hogwarts. He remembered staring hungrily at all the magic, wanting to be part of it, to revel in it and to claim it all. He felt an enormous amount of satisfaction to be the one to introduce Harry to this aspect of magic. Harry would hunger for more.
Harry jumped to it immediately, with no questions. He knew Harry was too taken in by the Yule magic, and this sort of compliance would not last. He had underestimated Harry last night, too confident in his hold on the boy. He would have to redouble his efforts.
Getting Black out of Azkaban was a pretty easy way to win Harry's favour.
The Peryton seemed restless, but it lowered his head for Harry to place the wreath on its antlers.
It took off the moment Harry was done, and Voldemort's grip on the boy kept him from falling backwards. It rose up in the air. Its wings that had lain close and contracted against its back now expanded - massive and beautiful - each beat of them raised it powerfully up in the air.
There were gasps from the gathering as they watched the Peryton rise up and circle the ceremonial cloud of offerings. Usually, the smoke would dissipate in a bit, but tonight…
"The smoke is taking shape!" Harry exclaimed. All the anger, hurt and confusion from before was forgotten and replaced with pure excitement.
The smoky white cloud was breaking up into various recognisable figurines. The same decorations which they had hung on the tree earlier. Different creatures, both magical and non-magical, filled the air - elves, gnomes, thestrals, snakes, cats and dogs - they were all lifelike but bigger - and they circled over the tree crown in a dance led by their Peryton.
Suddenly, the Peryton rose up, breaking away from the Yule Tree, and there were surprised shouts and gasps around the clearing as the smoke animals and figures rose up behind it in a single rowdy row, high up in the sky. A long procession of figures wound lazily over their heads in the sky – a smoke and magic tableau. It was otherworldly.
"What is that?" Harry asked, awe and wonder filling his eyes as he followed the procession.
The Dementors attack had been tiring. As the Dementor had reached into him - Voldemort had experienced first-hand how fragile his soul still was. But the tableau filled him with renewed spirit and lifted his magic up so much so that it seemed to thrum under his skin.
Through the connection, he knew Harry was feeling much the same way.
"You're quite lucky; this is quite rare," Voldemort answered. "It's believed to be a sign that the ancestors are pleased with the magic being offered and, in return, have sent us a sign. It's a culmination of the magic that we have wrought - the Great Hunt."
"My Lord, this is a good omen!" Lucius had come up to them as they were speaking. He gave the briefest nod of acknowledgement when he saw Harry, much to Harry's surprise, then focussed his attention back on Voldemort.
" I do believe the Ministry will trouble you for this display, Lucius. This has probably broken a hundred statutes." The one deviant house-elf had proven a blessing in disguise. Voldemort knew the Malfoys would have continued to carry out his orders out of fear, but Harry was right - their renewed devotion was much more satisfactory.
"Let them come," Lucius said, a vicious joy on his face as he looked up at the ghostly tableau. "this would have been well worth it!"
They stood watching till dawn broke finally, and the Great Hunt faded away as if it had never been.
Notes:
This chapter was mostly done way back in March but I just needed some inspiration to get it done! And some of your comments really helped with that!
Voldemort and Harry can converse in english, parseltongue , and thoughts! As someone who is multilingual, I imagine it will be a mess of all three that they converse in. Of course a bit confusing to write and read, perhaps. But I like the idea of them replying to thoughts in words and slipping into parseltongue when they please.
Writing the Malfoys' thought process was fun. I don't think they are 'nice' people but I don't think any person thinks of themselves as being villains.
Love makes monsters of people is a thought that sprang up in my head. It had the cadence of a well-loved quote though. The only thing I could find was a line from the movie Crimson Peak. But it just has the ring of something older. So if anyone knows another older source do let me know. I feel like I am missing it!
I absolutely adore wizarding rituals in the night involving magical hunts and will insert them wherever I can. There is a concept of a ghostly hunt in old folklore and I have just mashed it up all together.
The Peryton is a mythical creature that casts the shadow of a man till it kills one and then it casts its own shadow. I wanted Harry to have mostly a stag for a Patronus and adding Voldemort a Peryton patronus seemed appropriately sinister. And yes I did think of a snake but like Harry says that would have been too much!
Comments as always are deeply appreciated!