Unprecedented Competition

by BrilliantLady

The Triwizard Tournament has come to Hogwarts, to the disgust of Quidditch players, but Harry agrees with Draco that only an idiot would want to get mixed up in something that dangerous. With two Lord Voldemorts out there wreaking havoc (one trying to befriend him) he is stressed enough already. Smart!Harry, Grey!Harry, Sane!Voldemort. Part 6 of "Perfectly Normal", complete.

40. Back to Normal?

Saturday 24th June 1995

Harry initially woke in a good mood, chirpy and happy for no particular reason, but his pleasant mood wore off quickly as the reasons he had to be miserable came crashing back to his mind once the haze of sleep dissipated. The train ride back to London on Saturday morning was utterly miserable. He'd told Neville and Hermione about the Dursleys' letter. Hermione was shocked, and outraged on his behalf, while Neville was quietly sympathetic and much less surprised. He begged them not to tell anyone else, and they agreed to keep it secret since that's what he wanted. He couldn't bear Draco insulting the Dursleys as being typical appalling Muggles, or having the Slytherin girls descend on him with hugs and sympathy.

He just wanted to brood alone with his thoughts, and no-one would let him. Their train compartment was constantly visited by a stream of students eager to either congratulate him on his Triwizard win, talk about Dumbledore's death (no thank you!), speculate about the Dark Lord with leading questions, or make extremely tiring small talk about holiday plans and exam results. It was all so exhausting.

Eventually he resorted to stretching out on one of the seats and faked being asleep, leaving Hermione and Neville complicit in shooing away well-wishers. Storm was no help in scaring people off; he was asleep in Harry's bag.

Only Luna utterly ignored his friends' insistent defence of Harry's need to nap, sitting down on the end of the bench where Harry was lying. She lifted up his feet and plonked them back down in her lap, giving his feet a little pat as she did so.

"It is alright, I can see you are not asleep, Harry. You are breathing wrong; try breathing slower. I think maybe… you were scared by the Ministry's Heliopaths at the Tournament burning everything? Or perhaps you aren't scared, just sad because people died even though you tried your best. Maybe you do not think your best was good enough?"

Harry sighed, and buried his head in his improvised pillow of a rolled-up cloak a little more.

"He really is asleep," Hermione said, but even Harry thought she sounded unconvincing.

"It is okay to be sad," Luna said, ignoring her to give Harry's feet another gentle little pat, "and you do not have to talk about it if you do not want to. Maybe you just ate some Glumbumble Treacle and do not want to admit it? I do not know. What I do know is that you are still my friend and patron and I will help guard you too, if you want to rest."

The next two visitors to the compartment were swiftly deterred from entering by Luna's dreamy insistence that they'd have to sing a lullaby if they wanted to come in.

Soon, far too soon despite the hours that passed, the train pulled up at King's Cross station, and Harry had to face the world again.

There was a crowd of adults at the station, even more than usual, all clustering eagerly at the edge of the platform as the train pulled in and chuffed noisily to a stop. A cheer went up from the assembled adults, and Harry leant over to peer curiously out the window.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"No idea," Hermione said, with a frown. "People mostly look happy… look, one lady over there is crying. Happy tears though, I think?"

Neville pointed off to one side. "There are people with their wands drawn over there."

"Watch out for Heliopaths, they may attack again," warned Luna.

"Fiendfyre?" Hermione checked. "I studied the counter-charm."

"A cursed fire like that helps them come through from the Otherworld," Luna explained.

"That's not a good sign," Harry said, looking over at the warier wizards and witches Neville had pointed out. "Wands at the ready, hey? Just in case."

He drew his wand, and also opened up the satchel over his shoulder. "Wake up, sssleepyhead," he hissed at Storm, giving him a little prod. "There might be trouble, and you wouldn't want to misss the chance to zap sssomeone with lightning now, would you?"

"Danger?" Storm replied tiredly, raising his head up to poke it outside Harry's bag. He didn't seem very alert yet, being on a nocturnal rising schedule much of the time.

"Do you see my father?" Luna asked, clutching her wand tightly.

She wasn't the only person anxious to reconnect with her family. The crowd outside the train became a crush as the doors opened. Adults pushed forwards in a press, jostling each other with elbows to try and get to the front, calling loudly and insistently for their children. It made it difficult for anyone to alight from the train.

"Move back!" an older woman in a pointed hat insisted stridently; she was no-one Harry recognised. "Let the children off the train. Leave immediately when you have your child and their trunk!"

There were only a few responsible parents there engaged in a futile attempt at crowd control; far fewer than were needed for the task. Harry wondered why there weren't more, and why the bulk of the crowd of parents was jostling each other so urgently as they called for their kids. He had a sinking feeling about why. Somewhere, something terrible must have happened.

"Let us wait for the crowd to clear a little," Neville suggested. "My Gran shan't want to push through the crowd."

"I think you're wrong about that," Hermione said, pointing out the window where a distinctive vulture-topped hat could be easily spotted determinedly moving forwards through the sea of heads.

Neville sighed. "I guess I had better get going. Wish me luck. I shall owl you all."

"Be careful," Harry urged. "Keep your wand handy. And cast Featherlight or something useful on your trunk before you get off the train, since spells cast on here don't count for the Ministry monitoring but ones on the platform might."

Neville took his good advice, and moved out into the crowded corridor, his trunk deftly charmed to bob in the air above his head, to save room and effort. He'd gained a lot of confidence with his spellcasting over the past couple of years, and clearly wasn't afraid the spell would fail and drop his trunk on his head.

"My parents won't be out there; they can't get through the barrier on the platform," Hermione said. "So, I'd have to push past everyone. I might wait a bit."

"Can I wait with you both, Harry, until I see my father?" Luna asked.

"Of course you can," he reassured.

Harry and the two girls watched the chaos through the window as Neville's Gran squeezed through the crowd, calling stridently for Neville as she made it to the front of the pack by dint of a combination of courtesy for the elderly and a few judicious swings of her overly large handbag. The moment she saw him alight from the train she grabbed his arm, and his trunk, and they disappeared before Neville had even finished his greeting. Harry suspected his friend's Gran had activated a Portkey to whisk them away, as he'd heard her call out "Pomegranate!" right before they'd left.

The crowd was thinning relatively quickly, as a large number of parents were Disapparating away with their children or using Portkeys – a relatively expensive option but not unreasonable for a worried witch or wizard to use in an emergency situation.

Not all parents, however, had the funds, skills, or magical talent for a quick departure; something Hermione fretted about increasingly as gossip spread.

Parents and guardians outside less panicked into an instant departure gossiped to their children as they hugged them. Rumours were overheard by those still inside the train like they were, windows cracked open to cautiously watch and listen to the drama outside from the safety of their compartments. Some students who'd made their way to Platform 9 ¾ also called back reports to friends still making their way out.

"The Ministry's under attack! They say it's him!" a student yelled back to the train, allowed a brief moment of chatter before being Side-Along-Apparated by their parent to somewhere safer.

"It's You-Know-Who! Back from the dead! Death Eaters, too!"

"…Dark Mark over Diagon Alley!"

"There were Aurors here at the platform, but they left! Can you believe it?" a parent complained.

Angelina Johnson was on the platform arguing with a dark-skinned wizard with short curly hair (presumably her father) about going to the Ministry to join in the fighting.

"No. You are coming home," her dad insisted. "Your mum is on her own with your brother, worried sick that Death Eaters might raid our house at any moment. You want to fight, you can help guard your family." He Disapparated away with her mid-protest.

She wasn't the only one who wanted to go and help the Ministry over their family's worried protests. The Weasley family's red hair was distinctive, and Molly Weasley was making her way along the platform trailed by her four youngest, her eyes scanning the windows as she looked for someone extra. Ginny Weasley clutched her mum's hand tightly. Ron was next to her, wheeling the family's piled-up trunks along behind him on an old trolley with rickety little wheels.

"No, you will not!" she insisted, as the twins crowded around her, trying in vain to get her attention. "You Apparate there and you will get yourselves killed!"

"But if dad is there–"

"And Percy too–" the second twin added in.

"They might need us. Percy might have gotten good grades but he never did any real duelling, and you know dad's leg…"

They were clearly halfway through an argument, licenced to Apparate but unwilling to leave without their mother's say-so.

"Your father promised he wouldn't stay to duel. He is going there to retrieve Percy, and that is all. He is probably home by now."

Spotting Harry, Hermione, and Luna at the window she called out to them. "Luna dear! Harold! Yoo hoo! Over here!"

"Hello Mrs. Weasley!" Luna called back. "Is Percival alright?"

"He should be! Arthur will make sure he comes home safe!"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley!" Harry called out. "Will you get Percy to owl me when he's home, so I know he is alright? If it's not too much bother?"

"No bother at all! I have a message for you, dear! Both of you, actually! Luna, your father is fine, but has had a spot of bother with a fire at The Quibbler office. He asked you to come home with us, as our wards are in tip-top shape."

"Alright," Luna said, sounding worried and uncertain.

"Mr. Potter… I can call you Harold, can't I? Well anyway, no time for that. I promised Sirius I would tell you he has gone off to fight, though he will be here soon if he can. Andromeda Tonks should be here any moment to pick you up, dear. Her daughter is off fighting too, of course."

"We are just as good at duelling as she is," one of the twins argued. "She is only a few years older than us, you know!"

"We're seventeen, mum!"

"She has years of training and has graduated from her Apprenticeship! You have delusions of grand fights easily won with joke products, that will instead see you dead just like my brothers!" Molly snapped, then burst into tears. Letting go of Ginny's hand, she grabbed both the older boys and hugged them tight to her chest as she sobbed. "You will not! I could not… could not bear it! Is not two of you in danger enough?! You will take Ron, and you will take Ginny, and you will go straight home, is that clear?!"

In the face of her desperate tears they couldn't do more than mumble their apologies.

"Yes, mum."

"Sorry, mum."

They extricated themselves from her tight embrace, unloaded a couple of the trunks, and Disapparated their siblings away.

"Come on Luna, dear," Molly sniffled. "We'll see you safe too. You come with me; it will be a weight off your poor father's mind."

Luna hugged Harry and Hermione goodbye, and gave Storm a little pat farewell for good measure (which he wasn't especially appreciative of) and was quickly off.

"I wasn't sure if he'd show, when they said there was a fight," Harry sighed to Hermione, gazing out the window wistfully. There was no sign of Sirius, just like Mrs. Weasley had indicated was likely. "It's like a red flag to a bull for him. I don't know if he can help himself. At least he made a backup plan; he even told me in advance that he might not make it. Do you think he knew something was going to happen?"

"Maybe in a general sense. After… you know. Dumbledore. And what Moody… Crouch said at the Tournament," Hermione said. "At least the truth's out now. People will stop denying it all and start fighting back."

"Maybe," Harry said. "People seem pretty scared."

"Alright in there, Harry?" Pansy asked, poking her head into Harry and Hermione's train compartment. She was trailed by a couple of firsties: Mafalda Prewett and Malcolm Baddock.

"Can I ask you a favour? It is on Baddock's behalf," Pansy said.

"It's for me, really," Mafalda insisted, her freckled face looking paler than usual. "I should owe the favour."

Baddock, the big-eared young Slytherin boy who'd won an award for looking out for his housemates only the night before, piped up to explain. "Prewett is nervous about the crowd, and her parents can't get through the barrier. We were wondering if you would escort her out, since you have to go meet your Muggles anyway."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Well I could, but I'm ahh… meeting someone on this side. Honestly? I don't know for sure but… I might be a target. It's part of why I'm waiting for the crowd to clear a little before I go out. Being with me might make things worse for you. I'm certainly happy to help if you want me to, and if Mrs. Tonks lets me."

"Mrs. Tonks?" Pansy asked, bewildered. "What about the Dursleys? Don't you spend summers with them?"

"I'll help you out," Hermione interjected. "I was just about to head out anyway, and I bet there's other juniors who'd like a bit of company."

"Thank you, Granger, that would be appreciated," Mafalda said politely.

Hermione turned to Harry with a furrowed brow and said, "I don't want to leave you on your own though… just in case. You really should get going as soon as you can."

"I will."

"I shall stay with him," Pansy promised. "He is family, he can wait with us. My parents will understand."

Hermione looked sceptical, mouth tight with unsaid words. She looked to Harry for approval, then just nodded curtly.

Harry thought she was probably remembering how Pansy had publicly disassociated herself from him in third year, at her family's behest. Maybe doubting her loyalties.

With a bit of a shuffle the girls traded places. Hermione headed out with the two tiny Slytherins, and Harry heard her loudly inviting – or perhaps ordering would be a better word – the Creevey brothers to join their procession as she led the way down the corridor. Pansy and Harry watched through the window; by the time Hermione was off the train she had a full dozen young Muggle-borns and half-bloods trailing behind her like nervous ducklings, and Gregory Goyle, Dean Thomas, Anthony Goldstein, and Justin Finch-Fletchley had joined her in escort duty. Some of the older students were giving Greg nervous looks, which he seemed oblivious to as he spearheaded a path for them towards the enchanted barrier to the Muggle side of the station with practiced ease.

"I wager a Galleon she makes prefect next year," Pansy predicted. "Yourself for the male prefect, of course."

"Me? I don't want to patrol hallways half the night!" Harry objected.

"Gryffindors really do that? It is a very light duty in Slytherin, they do a head count and if everyone in Slytherin is abed, they count their duty to the House done. No-one patrols unless they want an excuse to be out of the Den."

Pansy stared pensively out the window. "You should write to McGonagall, recommend someone else and get them to owe you for the favour. Hmm. Come on, we should get going, my parents will worry if I take much longer."

Harry sighed, and stood up, adjusting his satchel and his Healer's bag, and readying his trunk with a quick spell to lighten its weight. "I suppose." No-one was out there for him yet, that he'd spotted. He felt like he had in primary school when they were picking teams for sports, and everyone picked him last. He felt guilty about it but selfishly wished Sirius had put him first. But how could Harry argue against Sirius trying to fight Voldemort and defend the Ministry? It was a worthy goal. Surely there were enough Aurors though… Surely it would be okay… They'd been fighting against Pettimort all year.

"What was that about you going with Mrs. Tonks, by the way?" Pansy said, as they both took their lightened trunks out into the corridor. "Are you visiting? Or is she Apparating you home?"

Harry stared at her and blinked. He hadn't told her. He was going to get yelled at, for not trusting her or confiding in her. A letter might be safer. "Can we talk about this later? I want to stay on guard."

As Harry stepped off the train he was immediately surrounded by a few friends, all from Potter Watch. Draco, Vincent, Cedric Diggory, Fay Dunbar, and Parvati and Padma Patil.

"Finally!" Draco sighed.

"There you are!"

"We've been waiting for you. Potter Watch reporting for duty!" Dunbar said, tipping her hat to him.

"Let's get you home safe."

Harry smiled, touched that others had thought of him… worried about him. "You guys… thank you. I'm not going through the barrier today; can you help us find the Parkinsons, and Andromeda Tonks? And keep an eye out for trouble, yeah?"

They moved in a little huddle, people surrounding him with wands drawn just in case. It was awkward but heartfelt, and Harry hoped it was entirely unnecessary. He touched the stone disc on his right wrist for comfort; his Portkey was still there, like it almost always was these days. Better strung into a bracelet, with a bit of leather through the pierced stone, than away in his pocket where he couldn't get it in an emergency. This way it was in constant skin contact and could be activated with a mere word. It would be a pain to go all the way back to outside Hogwarts, but that would be better than nothing in an emergency situation.

"Is thiss an attack?" Storm checked, poking his head out of Harry's satchel to look around as people crowded close them with drawn wands. "I cannot tell."

"No," Harry hissed, "I will tell you if I need you."

"Clever-men are confusing. I wish you hissed or reared up when you were about to attack. It would be easier to tell, then."

The cluster of guards found the Parkinsons for them, and some then scattered; Diggory's mother was eager to get him home, as was Vincent's. The Malfoys had spotted Draco and were making their way over. The Patils and Dunbar hung around looking out for Mrs. Tonks, whom Harry was relieved to finally spot.

She waved a hello and started moving over to them. She wore a serious expression and had her wand drawn and down at her side as she glanced around, but didn't look panicked, which was reassuring. "That's me then," Harry said, relieved. "I guess it's safe for you guys to go. Get home, stay safe, okay?"

Mrs. Parkinson reached out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and her concerned look only strengthened when Harry dodged away from her, wary of letting any adult touch him right now. Anyone who might be able to Disapparate. "Are you sure, dear? You look… anxious."

"It's fine," Harry insisted.

Pansy tugged at her father's robe sleeve to get his attention and whispered in his ear. After which he turned to Harry.

"We will just wait a moment longer for Mrs. Tonks to join us," he insisted, which Harry had no objections to. Perseus Parkinson's smile hid a touch of nerves, as did his wife's but Harry guessed they were a bit twitchy about guarding him. He didn't blame them.

"Thank you, that would be most welcome."

One of the Patil twins, Harry was pretty sure it was Parvati, tried to hug him goodbye and he dodged away.

"Sorry… but if no-one would touch me, I would appreciate that right now," Harry said stiffly. Even a friend could be Polyjuiced. He didn't want to trust anyone he hadn't watched all the way from Hogwarts.

Mrs. Tonks reached them about the same time as the Malfoys did. Harry was interested to note that Lucius was with the family. He had, in fact, suspected that the family patriarch might be busy at the Ministry. Greg, Vincent, and Theo, he'd noted, had both been collected by their mothers only. He wondered what it meant that Lucius was here.

"Get ready to bite or zap if needed," Harry warned Storm, his eyes on Lucius as Harry carefully shuffled further away from him. "He is not our friend." Storm obediently slithered out of Harry's satchel and coiled around his shoulders, fangs bared as he hissed a wordless warning to the world.

"Well!" Patil sniffed. "There is no need for rudeness. Fancy threatening me with your snake just for trying to hug you! I am so sorry for my breach of etiquette!" The last part of her complaint dripped with sarcasm.

Harry turned to her, startled. He'd completely forgotten about her. "Sorry, I didn't…"

She'd already turned away in a huff, dark braids swinging as she stalked off.

Her sister hovered a moment longer, glancing at the Slytherin families around them. "I think I see what you were worried about. I shall explain the situation to her for you."

"Oh, would you? Thanks!"

"You are most welcome," she promised, before leaving.

Mrs. Tonks whispered Sirius' paranoid identifying codeword to Harry as she arrived: "Code Lavender."

Then she smiled reassuringly at him. "Say your goodbyes to your friends, Harry. We must get going."

"Is Sirius…?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Fine last I heard," Andromeda said, shaking her head worriedly. "Best if we discuss it later."

"Sister," Narcissa said, as the Malfoys arrived.

"Not for many years. I was cast out," Mrs. Tonks pointed out stiffly. "You have not cared to call me that for a decade. Why begin again now?"

"You have been reinstated into the House of Black, so I hear," Narcissa retorted. "Is that not worthy of a new beginning?"

Harry turned away awkwardly from their bickering. "Thank you, Dunbar. Draco."

"Stay behind wards," Draco urged. "Write to me when you can. Your position is… precarious. So take care."

"Stay safe, Potter. I can't say have a good holiday… I don't see how you possibly can," Dunbar said frankly, reaching out to shake his hand then quickly drawing her own hand back at Storm's warning toothy hiss. "Well, uh, all the same, good luck. Tell Storm bye for me too. If the Ministry… well… If it falls…"

She trailed off shaking her head.

Harry sighed. "We'll just have to hope it doesn't. I don't think it will. They're not idiots, they've been preparing for this, even though they thought any attack would be led by Pettyrat."

Dunbar perked up. "True. About that though… do you really think it's him? You-Know-Who?"

"Yes."

"You never talked about it," Dunbar observed. "Not really."

"No-one wanted to listen, and I… I guess I never thought people would believe me. I didn't want people to say I was mad."

"Look, about those rumours of a truce… is that all true?" she asked.

"Only half of it," Draco observed.

"Depends on what they said," Harry said. "It was to save lives, that was all. I don't like him or what he stands for. All that anti-Muggle and anti-Muggle-born stuff, all the violence. And it's over now anyway. The truce, that is."

Harry reflected guiltily that he did in fact like some of what Lord Voldemort stood for, like religious freedom, rights for vampires and werewolves, and isolation from Muggles. But it wasn't enough. Not in the face of people being kidnapped and killed for the Dark Lord's cause, or the oppression of Muggle-borns and Muggles.

"Right."

"Look, I have to get going. See you next year, yeah? You're welcome to owl me if you want to talk about stuff," Harry said.

"I might do that, if my parents permit me," Dunbar said.

As she walked off Harry remembered with a start that she was pure-blood, and perhaps limited by the rules about not corresponding with single wizards or witches without parental approval. He guessed four years spent in the wizarding world wasn't that long in the greater scheme of things. He still had moments where he felt very much like an outsider, stuck in a foreign culture with no way back to his own.

Narcissa glided over to Draco, her long emerald velvet robes swishing as she moved. Harry stayed out of her reach and watched her carefully… just in case.

"Time to go, dearest," she said to her son. "Hold onto your trunk." With a twist of light and a pop of displaced air they were gone.

Harry turned to Mrs. Tonks… who wasn't there any longer. He looked around at the rapidly thinning crowd; there were few people left now, he couldn't possibly miss her among the scattered parents remaining, who were mostly clustered around the train carriage entrances. A few were shepherding their charges to the enchanted barrier, perhaps to catch the Knight Bus or take a car or taxi home. Not everyone with magical talent was good at Apparition.

Lucius Malfoy smiled reassuringly at him. "Andromeda and Narcissa made up. She has gone ahead with your trunk to our manor; our wards are the best money can buy. I will take you there now; please ask Storm to stand down and take my arm, Harry."

"She left without saying anything? And I should go with you? Oh no, I don't think so," Harry said, backing away, wand pointed firmly at Lucius. "Ssstorm, he is an enemy. Watch him and be ready for an attack. Tell me the codeword, or I scream for help. And if you so much as twitch and point your cane anywhere near me, I shall blast you. Sorry. But… you know. I know what side you're really on."

Storm reared up and started swaying to and fro. Above their heads, wisps of grey mist started forming.

"Ah. Well, that is unfortunate," Lucius said, looking disappointed, "for I do not know the code word. I can see I shall have to show you… this. Do not fear, I shall not attack. You are family, you know, and I mean you no harm today, I swear on the Sacred House of Malfoy."

Reaching into his robe pocket slowly with his left hand, his right staying very still on his cane, he withdrew a photo. He held it out so that Harry could see it better.

It was animated photo of Dudley, and he wasn't alone in it. In some barren stone-walled room, Dudley sat tied up on a chair, ropes taut around his arms and thick middle, securing him tightly in place. He looked scared and angry, yelling at someone almost out of sight at the edge of the photo. A dark robed man wearing a featureless white mask moved into view from the side and struck him across the face, then roughly grabbed him by the chin and forced Dudley to look towards the camera. As he let go, seemingly satisfied, Dudley bit his hand, hard. Harry watched as his cousin spat a mouthful of blood and spittle at his captor, then was hit by a red jet of light – a Stunning Charm, most likely. Dudley slumped in his chair, unconscious, and the Death Eater walked off. Then the photo started looping again, resetting almost like a fragment of video. Some magical photos had more variance in events, and stronger imprints of personalities. From Colin Creevey's occasional ramblings about photography in the Common Room, Harry would guess that this photo had been developed rather quickly, perhaps with a few steps left out.

"I do apologise for the necessity," Lucius said quietly. "I must do as I am ordered. I do promise that he means you no harm, however. You will have to come with me, for your cousin's sake. Preferably without your snake striking me with lightning."

Harry looked up at the swirl of thickening clouds above their head. "Ssstand down if you would, Ssstorm. Dudley is in danger. We cannot attack Lucius."

"I almost have it…" Storm said, still swaying. "He will learn we are not-prey, if he lives!" His head bumped into Harry's face as his dancing grew in intensity. Harry hadn't even noticed he was being nudged.

"Ssstop it, I sssaid!"

Storm ceased his swaying. "Yess, Master Harold." He slumped down on Harry's shoulders. Harry somehow got the impression he was sulking.

"You will have to come with me without any fuss," Lucius warned quietly. "Your life is valuable, your Squib cousin's, however… its value lies in his utility as a bargaining chip. You do understand the situation?"

"Unfortunately, I do. Will you promise he will go free if I co-operate?"

He wasn't optimistic, but Lucius surprised him. "Yes, of course. Once you are safe at his manor, I am ordered to personally see to it that our hostage is returned to his parents."

"And not recaptured. Or hurt," Harry insisted. "Swear on your family honour."

"I do not have the authority to make such a promise, but I believe you may find our Lord amenable to discussion of the matter. Your Muggles do not matter to him except as a means to an end."

"He is not my Lord," Harry insisted angrily.

"Not yet. Quickly now, before a scene develops here and people get hurt." A few people were indeed staring at them, murmuring and casting wary glances in their direction.

Harry took his arm. What choice did he have? To fight? To get Dudley killed?

They disappeared immediately, and Harry arrived with a roiling stomach in a quiet country street. Cow-filled meadows lay on either side of an old road that had cracks in the asphalt.

"Read this," Lucius told him, passing him a slip of parchment with a note on it in smooth cursive.

The Dark Lord's manor is in Little Hangleton.

After reading the note (which spontaneously crumbled to ash afterwards in a tiny flash of heat on his hands) an old manor house appeared out of a twist in the air, pushing fields to either side of it. Fidelius Charm, Harry was sure of it, and it seemed Lucius wasn't the Secret Keeper or he wouldn't have needed the note.

"It is a funny thing," Lucius mused. "Our Lord did not even consider threatening your birth family until a couple of days ago. It seemed so obvious a plan once he announced it, and I am certainly glad the new plan removed Draco from consideration as a hostage. My son was so temptingly convenient as a potential hostage for the Dark Lord, you see. A strong friendship with yourself, and our family unable to demur if pressed. We are in a difficult position, and while I cannot expect your forgiveness I do hope to gain your understanding."

Harry snorted and looked at him incredulously. "Do you expect me to overlook being kidnapped, and Dudley too? What do you want me to say, 'No hard feelings, I understand you had to kidnap me and take me to my parents' killer?' Oh dear, how you suffer. Admit it, you serve him because you want to serve him."

Lucius' mouth tightened and his hand clenched on his cane. "He is the only one with the vision to protect our people, to change the world for the better. Some… indignities are worth putting up with, for such a goal."

"I bet you won't feel that way when they throw you in Azkaban."

"It will not happen," Lucius said, ambling up to the manor's front door and rapping on it in a syncopated pattern with his cane. "By now our Lord's forces will have finished taking over the Ministry."

Harry went quiet and still. He seemed so certain. Was he right? "You don't know that for sure."

"With Yaxley leading the opposition, our enemies marked out, and the Ministry's wards primed to collapse at our word? Trust me, I am certain. We have prepared for this for months."

The door opened, and a masked Death Eater showed them in.

"I will have to ask you to put your wand away, young sir," he said, as they walked in. His smooth, bass voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't place him. "Lord Voldemort will be pleased to hear you have arrived."

The Death Eater cast a Patronus Charm, and a silvery crow darted out of the room.

Harry sighed and put his wand away in his pocket. He probably couldn't fight his way out of this. If he wanted Dudley safe, he'd have to talk his way out.

"It sssmell-tastess like sssnake here," Storm observed. "Do you want me to go for help? I could tunnel away and do a dance until someone follows!"

"Probably Nagini," Harry said, stroking Storm's scales reassuringly. "I won't let you be harmed. Best ssstay with me – this is a Muggle village and you won't find any wizards here who aren't on their side."

"She's big, isn't she? You won't let her eat me? Do you think she will share her gnomes if we are visiting her burrow? I think I could eat a small gnome."

"You can ask her. If you get the chance. I am ssstill hoping we can escape, but don't discusss that in front of Lord Voldemort."

"Little 'Antares' is like our Lord in miniature, isn't he?" the masked Death Eater observed to Lucius, amusement lacing his words.

"I am not," Harry snarled angrily.

The Death Eater laughed. "An attitude like that only heightens the resemblance, young Heir." He seemed to enjoy the scowls his jibes evoked from Harry.

When they made their way to an old but lavishly decorated sitting room Lord Voldemort waited inside for them. He stood from his chair to greet them with a smile. Nagini was coiled up at his feet and watched them as they entered.

"She is bigger than me," Storm fretted. He was right. Storm was six feet long, but Harry guessed Nagini was at least a few feet longer (it was hard to judge precisely while she was coiled up). She was also much thicker in girth, like a small tree trunk. She was some magical species of reticulated python, with pretty dark-green scales of a blotchy diamond pattern, and that sort of python grew fast. Wonambi grew slow and steady but would keep on growing for years – even decades – after other species had reached their maximum length.

Lord Voldemort didn't look like how Harry had expected him to. He'd expected to see the familiar face of 'Ovid Mortalem', but instead the Dark Lord looked like an older version of Tom Riddle. Harry had seen that face on Tom's ghost in the Chamber of Secrets, and also in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He was older now; a handsome, middle-aged man in black formal robes, he looked to be in his forties, with silver peppering his long black hair which was tied back in a ponytail. He didn't look quite right, however, there were some small changes that pushed his appearance from ordinary into an unnerving visage. Things were just off a fraction, enough to jar. Human, but not quite normal. His skin too white – unnaturally pale like it had never known the sun. Too few wrinkles, but not because of youth but because the waxy skin looked stretched like bad plastic surgery. Most noticeable of all were his eyes; the whites looked so marred and bloodshot they were almost ruby red, giving a very an unnerving effect to his gaze.

"Carrow, Lucius, well done. Remain here while my Heir and I talk. Greetings Harry, welcome to your new home."

"This isn't my home."

"It will be."

Harry folded his arms, a show of bravado. "I want Dudley to go free. Safe, unharmed, no further threat to him. Or my aunt and uncle. Please let him go."

"I am disinclined to do so that easily; he is a useful hostage. If it is of any comfort to you, if our truce had held the outcome may have been much the same. Once someone on your list chose to attack, retaliatory force was of course permitted. He was quite the scrapper, for a Muggle, or a Squib, perhaps. Fisticuffs are no match for a wand, of course."

Damn it, Harry thought. I should have warned people. Still, water under the bridge now.

"Would you prefer I choose another hostage for your good conduct? Granger, perhaps? I know where she lives. Goyle spoke for clemency for her, his son has been cultivating her as a client, but if you prefer I could select her or someone else from your list."

In the background, Harry and Voldemort's snakes had a chat of their own.

"Hello," Storm hissed cautiously to Nagini. "I am Ssstorm. Are you Nagini?"

"Yess. Do not threaten my Master. He warned me you might."

"I will not attack unlesss ordered to. Are… are you hungry?"

"Not for you. You are sssafe here in my burrow, you and your hatchling Master. Unlesss you attack."

As the snakes started discussing the hunting around Voldemort's manor, Harry spoke as persuasively as he could, focused on securing Dudley's safety. And his aunt's. His uncle he threw in as part of the package; he had his moments, but Harry didn't want him dead. Death Eaters wouldn't show an irritating Muggle any mercy when they were quite willing to torture or kill wizards if it served their goals.

"You may gain that goal," Voldemort promised in response to his plea, with a winning smile. "For a price. A Vow, from you. Unbreakable. That you will never attempt to kill me."

"What if you're trying to kill me?"

"Then your Vow will be an unfortunate handicap in that respect," Voldemort observed. "However, you will still be able to duel me. Just not in a manner that would deliberately lead to my death. Some measure of self-defence is permissible and will allow me to train you in duelling if you behave yourself during your residence here."

"What about Pettigrew?"

Voldemort sighed. "We have… regrettably parted ways. We will have to word matters carefully there."

"Fighting with yourself, are you?" taunted Harry. "Can't even convince yourself your plans are any good?"

Voldemort frowned, looking down his nose angrily at Harry. "If you have no care for your own wellbeing, remember that your cousin will suffer for any disrespect offered to me. You may now bow and offer your apology."

Harry hesitated, clenching his teeth so hard they ground together. He bowed, trying to keep in mind it was just an act to placate the man, just like he'd done with Pettigrew. "My apologies… my Lord."

Voldemort smiled, and it was bright and cheerful, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "You are forgiven."

"I would like a Vow from yourself in return for my own, to assure my family's safety," Harry said. "And I would like to consult with someone about the wording of the Vows."

"Possible. Some reciprocity is required, even, for the Vow's maximum effectiveness. Who?"

"Master Snape."

"A wise choice; I would not permit you to speak with an enemy. He may look over both our Vows. He is one of mine, you know."

"Yes, I know. I still think he's the best bet for impartial advice that you'll allow."

"Carrow, summon him," Voldemort ordered, and the man sent off a Patronus.

"Did you take over the Ministry?"

Voldemort smiled again, charming and practised with bright teeth flashing. "Yes, you see before you the new Princeps Civitatis, the First Citizen of the State. Pontifex Maximus, as well. I thought, why not be head priest, too? Minister. It's so common. I do not serve the crown, I rule. Our government will take on a newer, better form. A new renaissance for the wizarding world."

Harry's heart sunk. For him to say that and be standing here in front of him so relaxed and at leisure, the Ministry must indeed have been a ripe plum for the picking.

In the background, Storm and Nagini were reaching an agreement that Storm may have a small gnome, in exchange for his help going into their burrows to flush them out for them both to chase. Storm was boasting about his tunnelling abilities.

"Where's Mrs. Tonks? Andromeda?"

"She is safe," Voldemort said, waving a dismissive hand. "A pure-blood witch of a dying house? She has been spared."

"Where, exactly?"

"Safe," Voldemort repeated, red eyes narrowing. "She is not imprisoned."

Harry dropped that topic for now.

"What happened to your last body?" Harry asked, fishing for information. He may as well, he had nothing else to do right now.

"Empty. It was of no use to me anymore. Prior to my occupation it was drained of its soul by a Dementor for easier possession, so the soul would not struggle against me like Quirinus' instinctively did despite his most loyal servitude. However, now I am reborn from the Pair Dadeni – the cauldron of rebirth – with a facsimile of my true form I have no need for it any longer. It is being cared for. I grew rather fond of it and did not wish to see it killed unnecessarily."

"Thank you for explaining."

Voldemort turned to Lucius with a pleased smile. "Manners! Despite such a topic! Is that not delightful? He certainly didn't learn them from those appalling Muggles so I believe we must credit your son's influence and the Parkinson girl. I must admit, I expected more ranting. He has not even drawn his wand. We are off to a fine start, I think."

"Your plan to hold his cousin hostage was an inspired one, my Lord. Nothing is more important than family, after all," Lucius said, bowing to his Lord.

A Death Eater walked into the room and bowed deeply.

"Severus, please feel free to remove your mask. You too, Amycus. We are all friends here, it seems."

Harry kept his face carefully blank at that statement, as the two Death Eaters unmasked.

"How may I serve, my Lord?" Severus asked, eyes fixed unswervingly on his Lord.

"My Heir has requested your assistance in wording a Vow from himself to never attempt to kill me, and one from myself assuring him that his cousin, aunt, and uncle will be safe."

"Yes, my Lord."

They worked for an hour on the vows, wording and rewording them until all parties were satisfied. They were more thorough than Harry would have put together on his own, he was sure. Snape caught and closed a couple of loopholes, which Lord Voldemort bore with good grace.

Storm grew bored and tired, and when Harry wouldn't let him down to go gnome-hunting, Voldemort dispatched Carrow to fetch a fairy for Storm to eat, which he consumed with relish.

"Tell him thank you for me."

"You can talk to Voldemort yourself if you want to; he's a Parselmouth too, remember?"

"Oh yess! Thank you, Dark Lord," Storm hissed. "You are frog-giver, and from the Ssslytherin family like Harold, aren't you? You sssmell-taste different. You are the dangerouss older one, who both threatens and befriends?"

"That is correct," Voldemort hissed back. He didn't seem at all put out by Storm's blunt appraisal. No doubt he was used to snakes' ways.

"Do not hunt my Master, he does not seek you as his prey or take your food, but that does not make us easy prey!" Storm warned, posturing threateningly. "He is a powerful and ssspecial Clever-man and I will call lightning on you!"

"No harm, I welcome you both into my territory; I share my hunting groundss. You are not-prey, I am not-prey. There is sssafety here for all sssnakess," Voldemort said. "Be at peace." His deft reassurances settled Storm down very quickly, almost worryingly so.

Harry blinked. It was odd, watching someone else speaking the language of serpents. He'd never noticed how odd one's mouth looked, making the sibilant hisses and sighs of the language. His brain expected to see the man's mouth move like he was speaking English, but it didn't match. It was like a dubbed foreign movie where the lips didn't match the words.

He let Storm down to slither over to chat with Nagini and Lord Voldemort, and left them to chat amicably about frogs and the glory of the House of Slytherin while he hashed out more of the details of the vow with Snape a short distance away at a side table.

"You realise, of course, that he may still take other hostages. From your ever-so-handy list," Snape murmured, while the Dark Lord was distracted.

"Of course, but he is unwilling to add any others to the Vow. I asked when I check up on Storm."

"Yes, and if you push too hard and put him in a foul mood, he may demand you vow obedience, or for you to take his Mark. You could ask for a few others to be made safe instead of the Dursleys, however. Even yourself, little though you seem to value your own safety."

"Does he have any other hostages at the moment?" Harry asked.

Snape hesitated, then shook his head. "None I know of. Prisoners, yes, but none you are close to. Trelawney… she has unfortunately passed away… elsewhere. Today he attempted to ah… deal with Black, but the mongrel got away safely. Mrs. Tonks was cursed and Stunned and dumped in Diagon Alley; discomforted, no doubt, but overall well and healthy. Are you sure you want to make a trade of vows? An Unbreakable Vow is called that for a reason. Your very life is on the line, your soul bound to obey the terms of the agreement. You should take more time, consider better concessions to wring from him. I would like to reiterate the point that the fact he has no other hostages right now does not rule out the possibility of him obtaining more in the future or that he may harm yourself."

Harry sighed sadly. He'd hoped… but the Order had failed to rescue Trelawney. No wonder, with Moody being a Death Eater in disguise all year, not to mention whatever information Snape relayed. "I know, but I have to deal with what's already happened and just… hope for the best. Do you see a better alternative that will still help me save Dudley?"

Snape thought for a moment, then slumped slightly as he shook his head. "None that will secure your cousin's safety so thoroughly, if that is truly a priority for you. If he escapes without such a promise yet is still judged a useful hostage to control you, his prospects will be poor for he could be easily recaptured later unless protected by the Order around the clock. I cannot imagine Petunia easily agreeing to take her family into hiding in a wizarding household."

Neither could Harry. "No other ideas?" he asked plaintively.

"You could… refuse to bargain for your cousin's life. The Dark Lord would even respect that. It might even earn him a little safety, if you were lucky and he was judged valueless but allowed to live out of some shred of respect for his descent from Slytherin's line, despite being a Squib. You could wring some other important concession from the Dark Lord instead, like your own safety, if you still wished to make a vow."

"No, I don't think that's an option anymore. I think it's already too obvious I value him or I wouldn't have come here in the first place. Any real chance he would spare Dudley, or is he more likely to kill him to give me an example of how serious his threats are?"

Snape sighed. "The latter is honestly more likely, unless you managed to be especially persuasive. If the boy had acted respectful towards my Lord, he might have had more of a chance. He did not. He impressed him slightly with his spirit… but not enough. There were too many insults offered. Torture would be the most likely initial step rather than the Killing Curse, to break your spirit witnessing your cousin's suffering, and imagining who would be next."

Harry huffed crossly. So be it, he would have to make the vow. "So, to rehash what we've gotten down," Harry said, looking over the draft vow they'd scribbled out on some parchment, "Lord Voldemort will be thoroughly bound against hurting the Dursleys–"

"Those three named, yes."

Harry honestly wouldn't care much if Aunt Marge was in danger. For that matter, he cared about her somewhat less than he would over a person randomly selected off the street. Also, he doubted the Dark Lord had even heard of her to consider her as a potential hostage. She'd be safer left unnamed.

"But it is unlikely be binding on Pettyrat, as he's not here and the Unbreakable Vow has to be made in person with the magic binding around your wrists and souls to work."

"Merlin! Don't call him that," Snape chided, with a nervous glance at Lord Voldemort, who was thankfully inattentive as he listened to a Patronus message sent from one of his minions at the Ministry. Judging by his smile things were going well for his side. "They are currently at odds, but one must still speak respectfully of him."

Interesting, Harry thought. Still, not my biggest issue right now.

"Right. On the plus side, I'm not bound against attacking or even killing uh… Lord Missing Finger."

Snape winced but let him continue without interrupting again.

"Because that would only kill the body which isn't his, and wouldn't harm or kill any possessing spirit. In his case I only have to avoid soul-killing magic like the Killing Curse, or Dementors, to stay on the safe side of my vow. Correct?"

"That's correct."

Neither of them mentioned the enchanted diary, though Harry was sure they were both thinking about the same thing. If Pettigrew died, his spirit impression would most likely return to it. Harry still didn't understand how a portrait-like impression could possess someone. Dark magic, he guessed. If he ever decided or needed to destroy the diary, getting someone else to do it would still be an option. The same went for killing Voldemort himself, if it came to that. There was more leeway in the Unbreakable Vow than had been in the truce in that respect – Harry wasn't barred from instructing others to attack or kill Lord Voldemort, or any of his minions.

Snape caught Harry's thoughtful glance at Lord Voldemort, and hastily clarified, "The same leeway would not apply to Lord Voldemort himself, who is now fully embodied. Attacking him with fatal intent would immobilise you at best with paralysing pain, and more likely would kill you."

"The prophecy…" Harry whispered.

"He believes it fulfilled already," Snape replied quietly. "It is a persuasive interpretation. This is… a precaution. Hedging his bets. Misinterpretations of prophecies are common, after all, and he is obsessively cautious when it comes to his own wellbeing."

The Unbreakable Vows were made, and each party took a written copy to recite their vows from as they made their careful promises, and to keep for posterity to refer to later.

Harry swore not to attempt to knowingly kill the man he was making his vow to, Lord Voldemort, once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, neither in body nor spirit, nor by direct or indirect action, nor to lay hands on him with intent to kill or cause serious harm.

Hexing was okay, but no punching allowed, it seemed! Harry wasn't sure why it was important to Voldemort to include that clause about no hitting, but Snape had won his master's approval with that recommended addition. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but there was nothing to stop other people from killing him, if it came to that. People with tougher stomachs and better skills. Harry silently but with gleeful pettiness noted the little loophole that would allow him to kick Voldemort if he wanted to, since no hands were involved. He could still curse him so long as he genuinely didn't think it had any chance of killing the man. Snape had been persuasive on his behalf arguing that any tighter binding would prevent the two of them from having amicable practice duels over the summer, and Harry's inadvertent death from an instinctual curse thrown out when duelling would be pleasing to no-one.

The Dark Lord for his part swore not to knowingly harm or kill Dudley, Petunia, or Vernon Dursley, nor to direct any others to do so even by indirect action or word, nor to deliberately fail to act to preserve their lives or liberty from known threats by wizards, witches, or magical beings.

Snape had wanted to cover loophole situations like the Dursleys being kidnapped and imprisoned then starved to death, werewolves sent after them, or someone being ordered to use the Imperius Curse on them to make them kill each other.

The Dark Lord would, in fact, be prevented from deliberately allowing the Dursleys to be imprisoned or harmed by himself or his followers of any kind, even through indirect actions or inaction. He was not answerable for Death Eaters who outright rebelled against his commands and chose to sneakily attack them but couldn't hint in any way that they should do so, nor stand by as the Dursleys were openly harmed by his followers. It was as rock solid a vow as Harry could imagine, and Snape had made it even better, though he'd muttered again that they didn't deserve such care and there were better choices of people to protect and others at risk including Harry himself. Maybe that was true, but none of them were in prison being currently tortured by Death Eaters just for the crime of being related to him, however, so Harry had to insist on sticking with the plan.

Lord Voldemort even dispatched Lucius to retrieve Dudley right before the Vow was made, to call a halt to any possible harm and thus avoid falling foul of any magical repercussions.

Making the Vows hurt. Harry hadn't expected how much. Snape acted as their binder as they clasped hands, and a thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from his wand and wound its way around their clasped hands like a red-hot wire. Voldemort's face was more stoic than Harry's, but Harry too tried not to let his face show how the magic burnt, like it was searing into his very soul. As magic swirled around them his vow came out choked, slow, thick with pain, but he spoke the words through gritted teeth.

When it was all over and Harry could focus on something more than suppressing the urge to scream and carefully reading out his vow, he noticed Dudley standing wide-eyed at the side of the room. He was wearing a scuffed-up black suit, like he had been in the photo Harry had seen of him, and he looked kind of shaky.

"All right there, Big D?"

"Yeah. I'm good, mate," Dudley replied, puffing up with false bravado. "That long-haired git over there even put some stinky ointment on my bruises that healed them up – they said it was safe for Squibs. They said you'd bargained for me to go free. That I was like, just a hostage to get you here, and my usefulness was done."

Lucius' face was stony and impassive as he ignored Dudley's insult like the boy was beneath his notice. Voldemort watched their interactions with a thin, amused smile.

Harry sighed and nodded. "Guess so. Sorry about that. But I've made them promise you will be safe now – a magically binding one. Did you hear it? Lord Voldemort and his followers can't hurt or kidnap you again, or your parents either. Sorry."

"Yeah, that's alright. Hey, sorry I missed your school death match. These berks attacked me then too though Sirius beat them that time – guess you did okay in your Tournament thing since you're still here."

"I won actually."

"Cool! Anyway, it's not your fault that crazy racist wizards led by a madman want to attack us all, I guess."

Carrow snarled and pointed his wand at Dudley.

"Crucio," Voldemort said swiftly, and Carrow crumpled in a screaming heap on the ground. "Did you not just witness my vow to see the Dursleys unharmed, Carrow?! Is this a traitorous attempt to see your Lord dead?"

"No, my Lord! Never, my Lord!" Carrow whimpered, his face pressed against the carpet as he grovelled. "I am a fool and it will never happen again!"

"If it does, you will die," Voldemort growled.

"Hey… Harry, they can't hurt me, right? But can I hurt them?" Dudley asked, an evil smile lighting up his still-plump face.

"Yup," said Harry, "though you might want to leave Lord Voldemort be, we've covered loopholes as best we can, but he might still get creative if angered."

"Sounds like this berk who cast spells on me is fair game, right?" Dudley asked. "Since he's in trouble with his boss anyway?"

Receiving Harry's thumbs up, Dudley gave a few fierce kicks to Carrow's ribs as he lay on the floor. "That's for kidnapping me! And that's for making me think my skin was on fire! And that's for making me punch myself in the face!"

Harry wasn't bothered as Dudley laid into him with furious intensity. He'd saved Carrow's life in Hogsmeade and he'd repaid the Life Debt by helping Harry escape, it was true. But he'd also cut off a man's arm and hexed Harry's friends. A little payback wasn't unfitting, especially if he'd tortured Dudley.

Now fearful of striking back, Carrow tried to struggle to his feet and simply move away, but Dudley decked him with a fierce right hook, then kicked him again. The man just lay on the ground and let out strangled whimpers.

Lucius and Snape seemed frozen, uncertain whether to intervene, until Voldemort seemed to reach his limit of tolerance when it sounded like one of Carrow's ribs broke, and Dudley turned to glance at Lord Voldemort himself with a thoughtful look.

"Lucius, return the Squib safely to its parents," Voldemort ordered, in a lazy drawl. "Do no harm to any of them on pain of a slow, lingering death."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said, and Disapparated away with Dudley's arm in a carefully gentle grasp.

"He's safe," Harry sighed happily, scooping Storm up off the floor and lowering him back into his satchel despite his protests, head first.

"Indeed. Now, let us tend to some paperwork and see you settled in, my Heir. Then I must be off, there are still formalities to settle at the Ministry. I will see you again at dinner."

"First, I have a better idea," Harry said. "Sanctuary."

Whatever wards were up on the heavily-secured manor didn't bar the Portkey crafted by Snape, one of the Dark Lord's own Death Eaters. Harry's Portkey activated and whisked him away.

-000-

The familiar unpleasant yank pulled Harry through space and deposited him, dizzy and with a roiling stomach and the start of a headache, at the familiar silver and stone gates of Hogwarts, on the Hogsmeade side. They were chained shut, which he hadn't expected, but guessed it was reasonable either due to the fact the school was closed for summer, or because people were scared due to the reliable rumours about the attack on the Ministry.

Harry wondered where to go that was safe, all things considered, and decided that going into Hogsmeade and taking the Floo to Longbottom Manor would probably be the best bet at this point, since Hogwarts itself looked all closed up.

"Transvorto visagus," he cast, changing his appearance and making his hair glamoured to look an innocuous dark brown, and his eyes a dull brown. He cast the spell a second time, focusing on changing the appearance of his clothing. It was actually a lot trickier, trying to layer the spells, and he ended up casting it a third time focusing on the whole appearance he wanted instead.

The pop of Apparition startled him, and he spun around to face the intruder, wand at the ready.

"Again, Potter?" Snape huffed irritatedly.

"Sorry, sir."

"At least you were quicker off the mark this time. Wand at the ready."

"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered, a little bitterly. He hadn't liked Professor Moody, but it was still a nasty way to end things, watching him die after murdering someone. Well, Crouch, really. "How did you recognise me? Was it just that you expected to see me here?"

"Your disguise is… adequate. However, Storm is watching me from your bag. His head is sticking out, and those rainbow scales are highly distinctive."

"You're… not here to knock me out and drag me back, are you?"

Snape snorted in disgust and shook his head. "No, don't be an idiot, Potter. I swore to see to your protection a long time ago, for your mother's sake. That vow still binds me."

Harry relaxed a bit. "Right, good. Anyone else coming after us?"

"Did you cast any transfiguration or charm spells to achieve your altered appearance?" Snape asked. "Your robe looks different."

"Yes. Oh. Uh oh…" Harry said, realising that being near Hogwarts mightn't be enough to protect him from the Ministry's monitoring of his spellcasting. After four years at Hogwarts spellcasting around the school was an ingrained habit now, and in his hurry to disguise himself he'd forgotten he might be watched now the school year was officially over. He should've stuck with his Metamorphmagus abilities and simply changed his clothes. Sure, Snape would've found him anyway, but no-one else would have been any the wiser.

"Is casting spells near Hogwarts still unmonitored when it's the holidays?"

Snape sighed tiredly and ran a hand down his face, looking much older than his thirty-something years.

"It would be advantageous if you would actually use your brain in advance, in the future," he drawled, looking down his rather large nose at Harry disapprovingly. "There are no adults remaining here to whom your spellcasting might be attributed. Not even Hagrid has remained on the Hogwarts grounds; he has a mission elsewhere."

"Sorry. I was in a hurry and it's always been fine to cast spells here before. I forgot that might change in the holidays. I thought it would be more like Diagon Alley, where no-one can really tell if a kid or an adult with them cast a spell."

"Hmph. Foolishness. Well, we have a moment for discussion but should start moving as soon as possible as a precaution and should definitely avoid Hogsmeade for now. If your wand use is noted at the Ministry – in the midst of the current chaos it may be overlooked – the assumption will be that you will either go to Hogwarts or Hogsmeade. Doge's home is marked – that won't be safe… if he has even survived. The Floos all over Hogsmeade will also be monitored, and my fellows are out and about all over wizarding Britain making sure everyone knows who rules now."

"We could go to Grantown-on-Spey," Harry volunteered. "A Muggle town nearby. They probably won't expect that. I could take a taxi. To uh… somewhere safe. Death Eaters won't think of tracking that. It is quite a walk, though. And my trunk is… well, I don't know who has it. Luc… Draco's dad, maybe. It's not here." He had his satchel and his Healer's bag, but his broomstick had been in his trunk, so he'd have to proceed on foot to Sirius' house.

He didn't want to give away the location to Snape – for the sake of Sirius' privacy if Death Eaters didn't know about it already – but he could try Sirius' house and see if he was there, and if not, there were other places he could go. He couldn't exactly take a taxi direct to Longbottom Manor (since it was hidden from Muggles), but he could go somewhere close to it, then walk. Or he could try Grimmauld Place. A taxi to the nearest train station might be better, perhaps. Less expensive. It'd be a long trip to go from Scotland to England again, but Death Eaters wouldn't watch Muggle transport.

"Acceptable. I have heard of no targets there. The walk is of no moment. I will see what can be done about your belongings later."

"I could go on my own," Harry volunteered, but Snape just gave him such a withering look that Harry didn't try insisting on it. He could use a guard anyway, just in case. Harry indicated the way, and they headed off together.

"The rare opportunity to talk – away from all listening ears – is a valuable one," Snape said, as they ambled through the woods. "First, I must express my regret for Trelawney's fate. You must understand I was not in a position to aid her significantly."

"I guess," Harry mumbled.

"It was… unfortunate. However, I understand at the end she did not suffer; it was quick."

"I was promised a sssmall gnome," Storm complained, oblivious to his interruption of the sombre moment. "I do not like travel like that."

"You could have saved her. If you really wanted to."

Snape's grumble was almost a growl. "I could not have! A spy, a double agent… we can only betray once in such an obvious fashion, and one's life is forfeit from that moment on so one must be very sure this is the moment that matters beyond all else. Trelawney ended up in the younger one's hands, in the end. Out of all feasible reach, for his trust in me was completely forfeit within days of her capture, and with it so went many of my unwitting informants too, who followed him. Before that I knew she was a planned target, but I could do little but pass hints of information on. I had Bartemius Crouch breathing down my neck at every meeting of the Order this year after summer, and Tonks so blastedly eager to report her every move to him, her trusted mentor, for security. All the while he was laughing with our Lord at her gullibility."

"Are we going back, or is it too dangerouss there? I guesss you decided it was too dangerouss. This Clever-man is a friend, yess? I remember his sssmell-taste."

"That'ss right," Harry hissed a quick aside to Storm, then returned to talking to Snape. "I guess he has the full prophecy now."

Snape took a deep breath, and emotion was wiped from his face (thanks to either his willpower or his Occlumency skills), leaving it a blank slate once more. "Yes. He does. Not due to a certain female teacher, however. No, he simply went to the Department of Mysteries and claimed he was there to hear a very generic-sounding prophecy – one a uh… compatriot had identified for us as being usefully ambiguous. Once he was down there he simply bribed the attendant to look the other way for a while, making up some excuse about wanting privacy."

"Do… do you know it? The whole thing?"

"I learnt… something… in March. He told it to me and Dumbledore confirmed it later."

"Will there be gnomes where we are ssstaying? Are we going to Dog-man now?"

"Will you tell it to me? Please?" Harry pleaded, ignoring Storm. "I don't know when I'll ever get the chance to hear it, otherwise!"

"That is certainly true. Your potential sources are few. My time is unlikely to free up again soon, for with Dumbledore gone, there are few reasons for me to leave his side for long"

"Except for your job?"

Snape looked at Harry with the disappointed and scornful 'you're being an idiot' gaze that he'd perfected over years of teaching.

Harry blinked. "Your job… is working for Lor… him. You-Know-Who. Making potions."

"Yes," Snape drawled, slow and insultingly. "How perspicacious of you to realise. Finally. Making the potion that was used in the necromantic Cauldron of Rebirth ritual, in particular. Not a job you want to leave to an amateur to botch, lest you come back sickly or missing body parts, if it even works! It took an entire year to brew; a full cycle from one summer solstice to the next."

"Well you were lying on purpose to mislead me! And everyone! That's really what you were doing all this time?"

"Yes, I expected to fool many, but I expected better of you," Snape said. He was looking down his nose at Harry with a disappointed and scornful expression, but it was almost a compliment, so Harry took it as one. "Surely you have no wish to hear the details of my oft thankless and unpleasant job that pays more in status than in Galleons?"

"I suppose not. Will you tell me about the prophecy now?"

Snape sighed. "I literally cannot speak on a certain matter of interest to you. However, the thing to keep in mind about vows is that if you are determined enough there are always loopholes, though in the case of Unbreakable Vows the risks for a misstep are grave indeed. There… may be a way. I will need to leave for a moment, so I'm going to Disillusion you to await my return. Will you do that? Stay here and not move?"

"Yes, sir," Harry promised. "I'll wait right under this tree, if you're sure it's safe."

"Safer than any other option I can currently think of." Snape tapped him on the head with his wand, and then popped away.

It was only a couple of minutes before Snape popped back, clutching a heavy stone Pensieve to his chest which he settled on the ground with a thump, before looking around anxiously.

"Harry?"

"Here, sir."

"Finite Incantatem." Snape reversed the Disillusionment Charm, which in passing also stripped off Harry's disguise though Harry wasn't in a position to notice that. Drawing a waterskin and a vial from his robes, Snape filled the Pensieve with a silvery liquid, then carefully tipped a silvery thread out from the vial into the swirling bowl.

He gazed at Harry, saying nothing, then turned his back on the Pensieve, staring out at the trees.

"Oh. Right," Harry said. "I guess I know what to do, then."

Harry dunked his head in the Pensieve, and was immersed in a memory, focused on Dumbledore. He guessed that if Snape was coincidentally sharing Dumbledore's memory, he wasn't technically telling Harry the prophecy. Perhaps that technicality was enough to protect him from consequences. He had to trust Snape knew what he was doing.

In a dingy room that smelt of stale beer and tobacco, with the noise of a bustling tavern coming through the walls, Professor Trelawney was giving a prophecy in sepulchral tones.

Harry finally heard the lines of the prophecy that had shaped his life and seen his parents killed.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Trelawney didn't seem to remember the prophecy afterwards, and Snape was caught eavesdropping by Aberforth Dumbledore and thrown out of the building.

Harry lifted his head out of the Pensieve, looking thoughtful. "Huh."

Snape raised a weary hand to his head again. "That… that is all you have to say? 'Huh'?"

Snape sighed as he emptied out the Pensieve's contents, then shrank the basin itself and put it in his pocket. Harry wondered why he hadn't done that before he'd arrived; maybe he'd been in too much of a hurry.

"Well, I'm still thinking," Harry said defensively. "It was a thinking noise. It's rather confusing, isn't it? The prophecy. I've talked it over with… people. The first two lines, that is. They're difficult to interpret. 'Neither can live'? I mean, we're both still alive. I guess I thought the last bit would be clearer. I would guess that the interpretation where it happened when I was a baby seems like the best guess. He was pretty killed back then. Vanquished."

"Such things have multiple interpretations," Snape said, stopping his walk through the thick grass to turn to Harry with an intent stare as he spoke.

"…Could you just spell out for me what you're trying to hint at?" Harry asked. "Sorry, I'm not that bright."

"Yes, you are. Still… fine. Let us be Gryffindors about this, it might be best on this occasion. I can speak plainly about this, at least. The Order of the Phoenix, those who still live, they are a risk to you now. In their desperation they may seek your death."

"What?!"

"Dumbledore was convinced… something… wasn't finished... Voldemort has been obsessing over… meaning for months. Both have obsessed… to someone's detriment when he decided he wanted her professional opinion on…" Snape paused to cough, a racking noisy burst of sound that doubled him over briefly. "But she couldn't remember saying… No matter the… inducements put on her to remember, I heard it was to no avail and she eventually lost her life as a result of her inability to cooperate. The thing is, Dumbledore and the Dark Lord have long differed… Merlin, this is difficult," Snape cursed, in a raspy voice.

"Can you speak only about current events, perhaps?" Harry encouraged. "Because it sounds like you're trying to hint about a new threat from the Order, and maybe that's not covered by your Vow?"

Snape sighed, and pinched at his nose.

"Oh. A threat based on an interpretation of the prophecy, perhaps?"

Snape looked up, with a pleased expression. Well, more 'pleased' on a sliding scale where Snape rarely gave a full smile. He looked less exasperated, more alert.

"Dumbledore thought the prophecy meant I should die, or would die?"

Snape winced, but forced a thin, encouraging smile.

"Did he know what the mysterious power was?"

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Maybe he thought he did, but you didn't agree with his interpretation, and you can't say, anyway."

Another thin smile.

"Did he think it was being a Parselmouth, or a Metamorphmagus?"

A glance away. A 'no', then.

"Did he think I should let the Dark Lord win?"

Snape looked distinctly away from him.

"No, of course not. He thought I should kill the Dark Lord but die in the process, perhaps? Or afterwards?" Harry guessed again.

Another painful smile, with sorrow in his eyes.

"What? He really thought I needed to die? But that doesn't even make sense… it doesn't say 'both must die' it says 'either'. Like, one or the other. Isn't that a better interpretation, even if you think it hasn't been fulfilled yet?"

A shrug from Snape. "There was also some additional speculation I am not at liberty to discuss at present."

"How many Unbreakable Vows are you under?!"

"Three. It is too many. They weigh on my soul like iron chains. One relatively simple secret from school, one careful promise of marked servitude, and one threefold vow of silence and protection.

"This 'speculation' in question, however, falls outside my vows and is merely an extremely difficult and sensitive topic best left for another day. You will be safer not knowing of Dumbledore's speculation for now… or possibly ever. The point remains that Dumbledore wanted to prevail against the Dark Lord at any cost. I do not know who else he persuaded to his point of view. While he struggled to win your trust he was charismatic enough to win others to unquestioning loyalty."

"That's why he wanted the Vow from me not to kill him. Just in case he'd interpreted the prophecy wrong."

"His Vow… it gives more surety for him, but still no guarantee. You could, after all, hypothetically still… you could kill him then immediately expire due to the consequences of your broken Vow. A martyr. Which some… You do understand the point I am making about the Order? Alas I cannot communicate more clearly…"

"Yes, sir. I'll be careful. I'll let Sirius know, too. He'll be paranoid enough to make Moody proud. The real one. You really think… people might want me to die? Or think I have to, to win? I wish… I wish someone else would do it. If it has to be done at all. Can't he just go to prison? It's not like you need to kill someone when you beat them. I wish everyone would just leave me alone."

Harry shivered nervously and rubbed at his arms. Now he would have to watch out for people on both sides possibly wanting him dead? And what was Pettigrew up to?

"You would trust Black with this? And the… and Lupin?" Snape asked. "The Tonks family still live with him too, you know; the younger one in particular is both a consummate spy in training, an experienced Auror, and was unswervingly loyal to Dumbledore. He still holds meetings at his house; anyone could attend. Lupin is bound by a Vow, do you know that? He literally cannot oppose the Dark Lord and has served Dumbledore with pathetic gratitude for years. Black can be reckless when he thinks he is in the right, and he is willing to kill when he believes he must. I am trying to tell you that you cannot trust them."

"Yes, I know, but I have to trust someone! It's not like I can go back to the Dursleys, and I don't think I'd be safe on my own, given You-Know-Who reportedly just took over the Ministry. I'll explain it to Sirius, I do trust him and I'm sure we can work out some extra safety measures." Harry shivered. Was everyone going to be hunting him? Would it even be safe to leave Grimmauld Place over summer, with Death Eaters everywhere and even the Order a danger? The Fidelius wouldn't protect him from dangers within the Order. It could be like Pettigrew's betrayal of his parents all over again. He rubbed anxiously at his own arms.

Snape's lips thinned, and his hands clenched briefly before relaxing. "You would not be safe staying with only myself, either. I am too watched by everyone, and hunted by some. I am… sorry," Snape said, awkwardly and tentatively patting Harry on the back, then laying a semi-comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault. None of this is."

"It might be. I never realised that the…" Snape said, before starting to literally choke.

Harry watched him anxiously until his throat cleared. If it came to that, he was ready to cast Anapneo, then they could always Disapparate away together to evade detection. He patted Snape gently on the back.

"Vow again?" Harry asked sympathetically. Snape gave him a look but didn't even try to say anything, and just focused on getting his breath back.

"I believed I was reporting on… a duplicitous woman's laughably pathetic attempt to swindle her way into… job with… fake… I was wrong…"

Snape trailed off as he cleared his clogged throat again. "I never realised what my eavesdropping would come to, please believe that, and I am sorrier for my actions than I am capable of expressing. I thought Dumbledore's gullibility would entertain a certain individual, not lead to a dangerous new obsession."

"I believe you," Harry said, reading between the lines as Snape tried to apologise for telling Lord Voldemort about the prophecy. "It's okay."

Snape's hand tightened on Harry's shoulder.

"I appreciate that. And I'm sorry for this, too."

"Wha–"

With a sharp wrench the world twisted away, Harry felt the sensation of Disapparition, of being sucked through a straw as his insides churned and his scar and gut felt like they were on fire.

He landed with a gasp outside the Dark Lord's manor in Little Hangleton, and collapsed to his knees, trying not to vomit.

"It is for your own good," Snape said, as Harry fell to the ground. "You are too trusting."

"Whose side are you on?!" Harry screamed, in frustration. "The Dark Lord's after all?! I trusted you!"

Hands shaking, he staggered to his feet, drew his wand and shot off a couple of spells at Snape, who shielded with practiced ease.

"I'm on your side, Harry," Snape said, wand at the ready to deflect any further hexes borne of justified anger. "Lord Voldemort wants you alive. And Dumbledore… he insisted you needed to die. No matter which side you proved to be on, no matter who you fought or if you prevailed or not."

"No!"

"Yes. This is where you will be safest, and my third vow included a promise to see to your safety, not to your happiness. I do not know what messages and instructions Dumbledore left for others before he passed – I only know what he told me… and other things I gleaned from the new memories he left for me in his will. A final gesture of trust he was, perhaps, unwise to extend to me. It is enough to engender the need for extreme precautions. Do not worry, you will be back at school again safely next year. Our lord has promised it, and I will watch over you as much as I can, and some others may assist in that endeavour."

More spells bounced uselessly off Snape's shield, and the Deboning Spell was countered with the little-known specific counter-curse. Snape tutted disapprovingly. "Your signature spells are too well known. You need more variety."

As the door to the manor opened, Snape finally retaliated and while Harry deflected or countered his first few spells a nausea-inducing spell snuck past his guard and had Harry driven to his knees vomiting on the ground.

"Too much opposition and we will be sent to retrieve another of your friends as a hostage to your good behaviour. I suggest you do not make that necessary," Snape advised, as Harry continued vomiting and tried to remember the counter-curse, which proved impossible to cast wordlessly.

The Dark Lord himself opened the front door and emerged smiling, followed by two masked Death Eaters plus Quirrell (who was limping along painfully with a cane), Carrow, and wild-haired Bellatrix Lestrange, who was giggling and clapping her hands gleefully.

Snape bowed to his Lord, as Harry struggled to his feet and wiped his mouth, having finally had a gap to swiftly mutter the counter-curse.

Harry could, at least, try to face the Dark Lord with some semblance of dignity. He didn't want to accidentally look like he was grovelling on the ground (right in a puddle of vomit, to boot). He put his wand away. Badly outnumbered, it was useless to him now. Perhaps with a semblance of cooperation he'd get to keep it, and have a chance to escape later.

"Well done, Severus," Voldemort said.

His smile became triumphant as he turned to Harry. "Welcome home, my Heir."

---

That's all for now! There will be one more year for Harry in this series but expect a long break before it is posted as I pre-write fics in their entirety before I begin posting the final fic. Also, I'm going to take some time away from this series for a while to work on finishing some unpublished WIPS. Please subscribe to me as an author or to the fic "Have You Forgotten What Happened in this Series?" to be alerted when the next part of this series is posted.

Please note that Harry has not joined Lord Voldemort (despite the latter's wishes on the matter) – this is a morally torn grey Harry, not a dark Harry fic series. He is now hamstrung in any future fights, however, so any opposition won't be easy for him.

This is a great time to leave a review if you enjoyed this fic. I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you most enjoyed about this fic or the series in general, and/or your thoughts and speculation on what you'd enjoy seeing in the final fic in the series.