Autor's Note:

Thanks for the last reviews. Even the slightly mean one was somewhat helpful in the end.

Entanglements

Harry had not lost his aversion to hospital beds. He noted this again with sobriety. In fact, he might have felt vaguely reminiscent of the finale of one of the questionable adventures of his childhood, if the person at the side of his bed had not been Tom Riddle. Nor had he slipped gently out of his only slightly restful slumber, but had been jolted out of his troubled dreams with a Waking Spell.

He scowled at the smiling Riddle and grumbled, "Why the hell are you in such a good mood Riddle? Lupin said you'd be very dissatisfied with what's happened."

"Dissatisfied?" asked Riddle with a mild smile. "Not really. Your presence has defused the situation enough that at least we cannot speak of a victory for our enemies. Of course, I'd be lying if I said the loss of Julia and Clemens hadn't deeply cut into our flesh. Both were competent companions of many years who had given much to the Fellowship. But without you, Mr. James, I don't think anyone would have made it out alive. For the two survivors, you have my thanks."

"It wasn't enough in the end," Harry replied with a contorted face. "And even my achievements, if you want to call them that, spring more from fortunate circumstances than anything else."

"I will never understand this behaviour of making oneself smaller than one actually is," Riddle replied, shaking his head. "Titus Malfoy was an absolutely brilliant duelist and you outmanoeuvred him like it was nothing. You were the only one on the team who reacted very quickly and creatively to the changed situation.

"And then there's the thing with Black. I'm not sure I could cast such a complex and devastating spell in a combat situation. It would probably be too risky for me."

Here a really broad grin crept onto Riddle's face and he explained smugly, "I do have to wonder, though. I almost want to accuse them of something like duplicity. After your vast righteous scepticism about the lethal violence of past missions, I wouldn't have expected you to be so rigorous yourself.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad about your change of heart. Having Black and Malfoy out of the way is wonderful. Both were true believers in Dumbledore's so sacred words. Who knows how many lives you saved with their deaths. And of course it's a great damper on the enthusiasm within the Order about their latest toy."

Harry closed his eyes at Riddle's smug elaboration. He had seen that coming. His voice strained, Harry said, "I acted that way because I'm a complete idiot."

"You'll have to expand on that. I see pure reason in your actions and not an ounce of idiocy."

"Do you remember what I did in the Menagerie? Two Killing Curses in quick succession," here he opened his eyes again and looked directly at Riddle. "The situation was so stressful that I was not in the right frame of mind to properly assess my own condition. You know the spell I used?"

Riddle shook his head and said, "I'm sure I've stumbled across the formula before, but I've never used it or even looked it up more closely. Too slow, too blockable. I had no reason to study such a deficient spell. You're alluding to a mental component, I take it?"

"So it is," Harry replied, clearly aware of his fatigue and exhaustion at this point. "The spell can only be cast with mercy in the mind. If I had only used it once it would have been no big deal. Cracked ice in a wintry lake that will freeze over again if only given enough time. The second spell was like a powerful leap onto an already unstable spot that can only lead to a breach.

"Of course, while under the influence of dark mental distortion, one is blind to one's own deviant behaviour. The death of others in this case all too easily becomes something positive in one's own mind. Had Durl died as a result of my methods, I would have interpreted it the same way. Better to have died graciously than to have lived undignified.

"Malfoy and Black are no different in this. My mind was increasingly shut off from objections and everything became so twisted within that their deaths became the best outcome for everyone. I almost killed the Potter boy too. That was the moment I realised what was wrong with me. I hate dark magic. I only recently taught my class about how easy it is to get lost in it. And then I do it myself."

With some vehemence, Riddle contradicted him here: "Unfortunate as it may be that you cannot cope well with dark magic, it was fortunate that you were under its influence. Some situations call for a harsh, unyielding approach. I hope you will be able to act as quickly and efficiently in the future when you have recovered from the effect."

"To stick with the image of the ice sheet collapsing, at the moment I'm drenched in dark magic," Harry explained bitterly. "How quickly that will dry I cannot say. I will have to stay on guard against myself.

"Consequently, do not rely on me to follow whatever impulses my twisted brain tells me to. However, I do wonder how we got into this situation in Slytherin's Burden in the first place. Where the hell did Dumblesdore's followers get goblin-made armour?"

"Does that really surprise you, Mr. James?" retorted Riddle almost mockingly. "Why do you think it was so important to me to establish good relations between the Fellowship and the Highland goblins? It was only a matter of time before the influence of human magical Britain over Gringotts became great enough to compel the goblins there to manufacture such artefacts.

"This final submission will hopefully cement our alliance with the goblin tribes of Scotland. Should they agree to provide us with armour as well, the Order's tactical advantage will be lost. It will change the way we fight, but it will again be a fight between equals.

"Unfortunately, there is no sign of that yet. We may have to put our efforts in the town on hold for a while. Although your decisive action has certainly vaguely shaken the arrogance and self-assurance of our enemies, we cannot risk another fight. Few in the Fellowship have fighting skills comparable to yours.

"However, I would be deeply obliged if you would meet me next week to show me this devastating lightning spell in detail. It could be a good chance for a counter-strategy. I am aware of the stunning spell you used, but unfortunately this weakness in the armour can be fixed too quickly to be of any value to us."

"I'm sure I can demonstrate the spell again. Just let me know. I must admit I'm a little puzzled at how positive you are about this whole thing. Barlow had feared that Malfoy's death would cause problems for the Fellowship. Was he wrong?" Harry wanted to know, to divert the subject from goblins and their armour. It had certainly been Riddle's intention to smugly point out to him how misinformed he was about goblins. After all, Harry had only recently reproached him for his dealings with the mountain elves.

"Lucius is quite pleased with us. He's Abraxas heir now. A position he's wanted for a long time. And he will hardly mourn Titus, they never could stand each other. The two of them were like fire and water. Of course, this situation is not without its dangers.

"We now have less to offer him. Previously, we had held out the prospect of giving him this post in the event of a victory for our cause. The commitment to us is now less and the likelihood of betrayal is higher. However, he knows very well that we have documented his espionage as much as he has our requests.

"Should he be so stupid as to oppose us, we can easily destroy him socially. His father will then be only too happy to disinherit him and give this title to his youngest favourite son Aurelius. Lucius is still in our hands. If he tries to wriggle out of those, he will be crushed. And a clever man like him knows that he cannot but support us."

"And Black's death? Doesn't that cast a bad light on the Fellowship?"

"Well, Black is another matter. He wasn't exactly unpopular, as is to be expected with a jokester. And yet he is probably one of the most risk-taking Aurors in Britain. This is well known. He plays like a cat with its prey. If he were more prudent, he could have risen further up the ranks long ago.

"And he's had a lot of negative press because of it. Let people get away because he fooled around and didn't take his opponents seriously. I think, behind closed doors, the magical society will happily go along with the idea that his death was somehow his own fault. Of course, the propaganda forces will do everything they can to portray us as the villains, but in the end, this will only give us a higher level of notoriety.

"Before you ask, nobody cares two hoots about Weasley. That family is considered scum. It's surprising enough that Dumbledore has included one of them in his ranks. He's usually a bit more exclusive," Riddle explained calmly.

The man looked at Harry for a moment, lost in thought, and then declared, "Very well, recover now. I'll send you the date and time for a demonstration of your lightning spell via the postal system."

With a final nod, Riddle stood up and left the room. Its round shape reminded him vaguely of the Gryffindor common room - except that there were seven neatly arranged hospital beds and no armchairs. The room even had several false windows showing different landscapes.

With some effort, he rose from his bed. He felt a little dizzy and his gait was sluggish. Just at that moment he was startled when a sharp voice behind him asked indignantly: "Where do you think you are going? Back to bed with you, Mr James! Someone who has exhausted himself like that needs rest."

Recovering from his fright, he turned to the source of the voice and found an old witch standing in the doorway, who seemed to be the epitome of a stern healer in her stiff lime green cloak and tightly tied back hair. Her hands pressed to her sides, she said: "I am Maria Billoway, the chief healer of the refuge. Many witches and wizards believe, just because they happen to have magical powers, that they have unlimited resilience. Rest assured that this is not the case. You are exhausted and battered. I cannot help you if you behave like a stubborn Pure-blood."

Without protest but with an unhappy sigh, he stumbled back to his bed and sat down. He asked the healer with scepticism in his voice, "Do you really think there is a difference between blood statuses when it comes to the way one behaves in a hospital?"

As he said this he looked further around the room to find only Barlow asleep and a witch he did not know with blonde hair, her face largely bandaged. There was no trace of Lupin at all.

"It is perhaps a little blatant," she allowed. "But Muggle-borns are much less inclined to question a specialist's judgement just because they come from good stock. I never understood what that had to do with anything anyway. They seem to think that their ostensibly good genes would ensure that they would be more far-sighted in all situations than the rest of humanity.

"Not even the non-magical nobility in the Muggle world are so alienated from reality. When Mr. Riddle asked me to work for him, I was already looking forward to not having to treat Pure-bloods anymore. Unfortunately, there are quite a few of those here, too."

"As I understand it, the art of magical healing is reserved for Pure-bloods here. How did you get your qualifications if you are, I assume, of Muggle descent."

"Saint Mungo doesn't allow Muggle-borns to be healers, that's true. But private healers can do what they want as long as they don't advertise it," Billoway replied with a raised left eyebrow, as if she didn't quite understand where his interest was coming from. "I was cheaper and better than my competition. It's as simple as that. The small damage to his reputation was gladly accepted by my old master."

When Harry only nodded, she motioned for him to lie down flat so she could run her diagnostics. As the healer did so, Harry asked, "Could you check me for a self-induced dark compulsion? I have recently used dark magic several times and am suffering somewhat from distorted perception. I'd like to know how bad it is from your professional point of view."

"It cannot hurt. I must commend your self-awareness in this regard. But perhaps a basic level of sanity is to be expected in someone who teaches offensive magic. Unfortunately, no one really takes the dangers of dark magic seriously," she replied kindly, waving her wand in a pattern he vaguely recognised. He himself had never learned much healing magic and even his diagnostics were rather primitive. But he had endured their application many times in the past.

"There is indeed something that has already dug deep into your mind," she said with a worried expression. "It is, however, a fading influence. If you remain aware of its existence and purposefully question your own actions, it should be possible to avoid it taking permanent hold. It should fade over time."

"How long will the effect last?"

"That's hard to say, Mr James," Billoway said thoughtfully. "In most cases where an affected person consciously works against the compulsion much of the effect is gone in a month. However, in most cases, a certain amount remains.

"Hardly anyone is able to monitor the workings of their own mind for a long time. Once patients no longer notice the influence, they usually cease their efforts and a residue of the darkness can cling to the mind and take up long-term residence there."

Harry sighed and nodded in reply, "That's consistent with my experience. Where I come from, counter-compulsions were experimented with at times. That was not successful. Subjects were ultimately in a constant flux between the two compulsions. Murderousness and compassion fluctuate chaotically. I wish there was a quick, promising solution. I don't suppose you know of one?"

"There are, beyond relying on time, two hard options," the woman now explained with a mischievous grin. "Curse breaking and Occlumency. The former usually causes permanent damage to the sufferer's mind and the latter turns them into apathetic, cold drones where it's fair to question whether this state is that much better than the one they started from. Not very nice alternatives, are they?"

Harry was silent on this. It was the nature of dark magic to be easily conjured, but yet simultaneously to have a damaging after-effect for a long time. In his time as an Auror, he had never been forced to use more than one dark curse per situation. And even those circumstances were sparse. So the effects had remained limited.

His current situation was worse than ever. As he had told Riddle, his mind had been contaminated for quite a while and who was to say how he would react in a new stressful situation? Harry was potentially dangerous. Not even his wonderful Tego Mensim could help him here, as it could only fight off foreign interference and the compulsion was, after all, his own doing.

The obscure dragon machinery was ultimately to blame for everything. He simply hadn't been sure if any other magic would have been effective. For seconds, cutting and stabbing curses had run through his mind, but safeguards against them were simple. So a Killing Curse followed.

And from that moment the corrupting influence was upon the duel with Dumbledore and the influence of the Dementors, which together urged him to act quickly and aggressively. And again a situation where he needed certainty of death. A second Killing Curse and the dams that were only dripping before were now broken. He had no choice but to hope that he could mend it.

Luckily for Harry, he was able to leave the hospital wing after just one more day. Andromeda had fortunately taken over Harry's classes for that day and the previous one. That was one less worry plaguing him.

Recuperated, he did not feel. The most pressing question in his mind was whether his plan with the Tracking Potion also sprang from his dark compulsion, or whether this course of action was still a valid idea. Doubtful as his plan might be, he could not make a direct connection between the intentions to kill and the infiltration of a private household.

Deep in thought, he entered his office. Here he noticed that there was a piece of parchment and, curiously, a pebble in the inbox. He had not expected a letter, so he approached it with a furrowed brow. The stone was engraved with a Mannaz rune.

Harry took the parchment in his hand and read: "Mr. James, you have proven over the last few weeks that you are a true enemy of the regime. However, helping Riddle with his agenda is a big mistake. He gave up trying to tackle the root of the problem decades ago and that root is Albus Dumbledore.

"The secluded group I speak for does not have this glaring flaw. Unlike Riddle's increasingly decaying shadow of an opposition, we have been operating unseen in the background for decades. But we could also do with a man of your abilities. We may have more to offer you than a miserable place to live and a meagre income. We have the capacity to find a way home for you.

"If you should decide to cut the strings you dance by, then leave the refuge and use the portkey we have given you. To do this say the words: My prayer is victory. Hoping for fruitful cooperation JF."

The letter caught him completely off guard. He had no idea who JF could be, nor could he place the group he was talking about. As far as he knew, Riddle's Fellowship of the White Sun was the only relevant resistance JF was able to infiltrate those unnoticed made Harry lose the sense of security this place had given him previously.

Even the gently hinted possibility of bringing him back to his dimension left him wondering. Only four people knew of his origins. Riddle, Asterope and the two Snapes. Either one of them had passed on information, or someone had been eavesdropping. Harry couldn't rule either out. Or maybe it was just an attempt to lure him in with guesses.

Whoever JF was, he or she had not made it clear what exactly this group might want from him. And he was sure it was more than just a vague interest in his abilities. Whoever these people were, they might have known about his transdimensional journey. Who could say what that might mean to such an obscure coven? Perhaps to them he was like an exotic animal that needed to be examined.

This train of thought summoned the Unspeakables before his inner eye. He knew that this ministry also had a Department of Mysteries. It was not too absurd to assume that these enigmatic people had an ear in Riddle's organisation. They had always been quite apolitical and only interested in solving the mysteries of the magical world.

The Department of Mysteries had a motive to lure him into their clutches. In fact, moreover, the letter said nothing about whether the group was actually opposed to the reigning order. It was merely implied. But even if it was the Department of Mysteries, they could also be sincerely interested in recruiting him, after all, he had proven to be proficient in many unknown spells. If that was the case, it explained why they did not lie openly, they wanted his trust after all.

The phrase for the port key, on the other hand, did not really correspond to the style of the Unspeakables. It was a bit too martial. He was also sure that he had read this statement somewhere in his research, but he couldn't remember where exactly. Once again he missed something obvious. He was sure of that.

Harry sat down behind his desk and let his head fall into his hands. It was as if new ballast was constantly being loaded onto him. He had time to think about contacting these people, of course. But it was strangely convenient to get such an offer now. Suspicious. Of course, only Asterope knew of his despair at the lack of context and knowledge he suffered from here. And not long after he had voiced that, an obscure splinter group contacted him, with presumably a very unique perspective?

That brought him back to a more pressing decision, namely whether to make his home visit to the Potter family after all. Here he had less time. It could never be said exactly how long the Tracking Potion would take effect.

But it couldn't hurt to know the whereabouts of a member of Dumbledore's Order. He didn't have to act on it, after all. Once he knew the location, he was free to break in whenever he wanted. Or he might not.

The house elves had kindly brought the uniform to his private chambers. He stood up and took out the vial filled with watery red liquid from one of the pockets. After staring at the vial uncertainly for a moment, he went to a table in his small flat, sighing.

He had prepared this for just that purpose before he left. A large map of Great Britain lay on it. Invisible to an uninvolved person, the map was thinly coated with a potion which would provide the so-called conceptual resonance.

Harry carefully poured a small amount of the tracking potion onto the card. Like a liquid life form, the fluid spread over the map, forming little rivers that seemed to be searching for something like groping arms. Eventually the liquid gathered in a spot in western England.

Harry made the liquid disappear with a wipe of his wand and put the map aside. He had previously divided it into a hundred squares and got a larger partial map for each of those. He placed the corresponding section on the tabletop and repeated the process.

After some stretching and contracting of the liquid, it formed a circle around an empty spot quite far from the nearest Muggle villages. The circle surely meant that there was a Ward there, shielding the home from any form of Scrying. Now that he knew the approximate surroundings, he could make further plans.

"Harry, are you here?" suddenly called Asterope's voice from his office.

He answered her with a grumpy, "In my quarters."

She entered it smiling in response and began to say, "Madam Billoway has informed me that she has found you-" but then faltered and fixed the set-up on the table.

Curious, Asterope asked, "What exactly are you doing?"

"I have found the target for our reconnaissance mission," Harry said more confidently than he felt. "This is where the Potter family should live. I don't know to what extent the parents are involved, but young Charlus Potter is a member of the Order. If we could outsmart the Wards, it should be easy to enter the house covertly and incapacitate the targets first with sleeping charms. However, I need to study the Wards first to be able to tell how problematic they are."

"You don't waste any time, do you?" she wondered with a mildly teasing note. "I thought this plan was just emerging."

"I saw an opportunity and I took it. I too did not expect to get a good chance so soon. The only problem is that my knowledge of Wards may not be as useful in this world as I would like. I may have to study the Wards for months before I can even think of breaking them unnoticed. You wouldn't happen to be a closet expert in the field, would you?"

"No. I only know the basics. But you know someone with a very intuitive understanding of Wards who will be happy to help," Asterope replied and at Herry's raised, questioning eyebrows she continued, "Durl. As much as he denies it he is part house elf. And protecting houses and warning of intruders is something that is no more than tired standard for house-elves.

"In addition, his goblin background makes him very talented in the field of static magic. If he looked at the Wards, he could probably make short work of them. People are always so quick to underestimate our magical brother races. Yet they are superior to us in so many ways."

"Well, there is no harm in asking him. I'll ask him. I'm just a little sceptical about involving more people. I don't want to put either of you in danger."

"Your concern is very sweet of you, Harry, but unnecessary," she explained with a lopsided smile. "Although it may not look like it to you, I've worked for my grandfather before when, on very rare occasions, the goal sounded honourable and wasn't a suicide mission. I can be professional, you know. And Durl, too, will work on such a task gratefully and with holy earnestness. He longs for nothing more than to be taken seriously. He would be grateful to you, really."

Nodding, Harry replied, "Well, we have time to plan this we can find out more about the target's daily schedule beforehand, too, lest another person swoop in unexpectedly that we really don't need in an already tense situation."

Asterope then asked him how exactly his scrying worked and he explained to her the preparation and composition of the potions he had used. For this, they settled down in the sitting area of the small appartment. Since this was her field of expertise, she listened to him enthusiastically and speculated about the exact functions of the individual ingredients. Finally, she asked him to write down the recipe so that she could experiment with them.

Then he still had to satisfy her curiosity regarding his employment in Slytherin's Burden. She demanded as accurate a retelling as possible, which he gladly gave her, although he omitted here how much he had been influenced by dark compulsion in this. The deaths of her refuge comrades seemed not to bother her, but she did indicate that she again blamed them on her grandfather, who had once again not played with an open hand.

"So you think these operations in Slytherin's Burden are wrong?" asked Harry finally, not sure how she really felt about the whole thing. No matter what Tom Riddle did, it seemed to displease his granddaughter, even if in Harry's eyes it was basically without alternative. She had an almost pathological dislike of everything the man seemed to do.

"There must be other, better ways to protect the people in the little town. We're just losing too many good people. I'm not going to lie now and say I was particularly fond of Walpole. She submissively believed everything that dripped out of Grandfather's mouth and has already chided me several times for not showing enough commitment to the cause.

"I just wonder sometimes what this "cause" actually is. By now I think we all have a very different idea of what "the cause" is in this refuge. There is a difference between simply wanting to help people and wanting to put my grandfather in power as a benevolent dictator. And I certainly don't want the latter."

"How would you want to keep people safe if not through protectors?" retorted Harry sceptically. "Of course, you could train the people to defend themselves yourself, but that would only lead to further escalation."

She shook her head vigorously and said: "I'm thinking more of highly sophisticated portkeys, a Floo-network of their own or even your kind of teleportation. That way they can escape the situation and Dumbledore's followers will only find empty houses. That way you can reduce the fear of the Order and then get people to move away, even if it is illegal.

"In the long run, the Order would thus ensure that fewer and fewer Muggle-borns live in Slytherin's Burden, thus increasing the pressure on the Wizengamot to stop the activism. After all, it was their idea to create such a ghetto. If people are now being driven out one by one it is embarrassing for the parts of the leadership that are not clinging to Dumbledore's coattails. If the Fellowship succeeds in driving a wedge between factions of our enemies, much would already be gained. "

"Well, it's certainly an interesting idea. Are you sure it hasn't been considered?" asked Harry mildly. He just had a suspicion that the majority of the powerful weren't so keen on being in Dumbledore's focus.

"Of course they weren't. The meetings at which my grandfather decides things are not public, after all. But from what I've heard, dissent is mostly noted and ignored. Besides, Grandfather wants his organisation to look heroic, to attract young people to the cause.

"And don't get me wrong, what the community members did there, what you did there, is heroic. It's self-sacrificing and noble. But I don't think it's worth it. People tend to see us as gallant idiots. And the only ones who will follow us are equally noble fools.

"We are not attracting intellectuals to us, but misguided fanatics. Besides, you already said it, it only causes more escalation. We need peace, both in the sense of a ceasefire and tranquillity. The more we play war, the less this goal will be achieved."

"I think you're looking at this a little naively," Harry explained gently. "But sometimes it might be better to invoke a hopeful faith in humanity. It would be really nice if it worked the way you want it to.

"If our enemies were really rational, maybe it really would work out that way. Unfortunately, this kind of person is quickly offended and then will do anything to feel superior again. I've seen this too many times to hope for sanity anymore.

"I don't know if Riddle's plan makes sense. But my gut feeling is that I probably wouldn't do anything differently here. As I understand it, hidden escape tunnels have been created under Slytherin's Burden, through which the inhabitants can escape from the town. The guards are only there to facilitate the escape."

"I didn't know that," Asterope replied awkwardly, turning slightly pink.

After an awkward pause in the conversation, she turned the topic to her small potion shop, which she ran in Slytherin's Burden under a false name. She told of quirky customers and strange requests. This part of the conversation was strangely domestic. It was probably the kind of narrative one told family members or close friends.

Harry felt almost at home in moments like this. But in the end, he still had to prepare for his lesson tomorrow. So the conversation ended perhaps half an hour later and he escorted her to the door of his office.

When she was almost out, Harry still asked Asterope, "Does the saying, 'My prayer is victory' mean anything to you?"

She stopped her movements and looked at him in puzzlement for a moment. Then she replied, "That was the credo of Grindelwald's secret police, as far as I know. Next to 'For the Greater Good' it was the most popular slogan of his movement. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I'd read that somewhere and forgotten where exactly. I remember now, thank you."

She gave him another suspicious look and then left his office. Harry, meanwhile, now had a good idea who his new "friends", the secluded group pulling the strings in the background, had to be. An organisation in the tradition of this side's Gellert Grindelwald and probably the CMR.

He did not really know what to do with this information. In his world, there had been contemporary sympathisers of this ideology in some Eastern European magical states, but in magical Britain, they had never taken root. Here it had to be different.

Harry suspected it was because of the power-conscious Dumbledore of this world, who surely posed a threat to anyone opposed with a basic level of sanity. In his world, Dumbledore's influence had been minimal and he had imprisoned Grindelwald instead of killing him. Issued many amnesties to high ranking officials. That gave fewer grounds for revenge.

Here, on the other hand, they had probably been persecuted to the extreme. Perhaps even reprogramming was already an option. It was quite conceivable that scattered and displaced activists had gathered to continue fighting a small war against their arch-enemy. And Harry didn't know whether that was better or worse motivation to fight against the regime. In an emergency, however, he now had an option if everything went wrong. But he hoped he would not have to accept the invitation.