Everything is J.K. Rowlings. I only claim the plot. Everything else is hers, all the characters and the magic, all of it. Please let me know what you think though, I encourage feedback of all kinds, just be nice about it!
Hello all! Here is a little early holiday present for you all. I can't promise when the next chapter will be posted. As I mentioned before, I am moving, courtesy of the military, in less than two months - to Alaska, so if any of you know anything about that or have tips they are very welcomed - and so the next chapter might not be until March. I will try, try, try, to get something in January but I don't want to stress on the promise. So definitely something in March though.
Anyway, a little Death Eater torture and an angry Dark Lord followed by a little vulnerable scene between Harry and Marvolo. My two hopelessly smitten idiots. Things are starting to get into motion and they have a plan for Dumbledore, but will it work or will Dumbledore grandfather smile and eye twinkle his way out of repercussions? Who can know? Besides me, that is. Let me know your thoughts, I tried to do a decent balance of torture and strategy and fluff and reality.
Also, I'm not rich, so I've never actually had foie gras or white truffles, but it sounded pretentious enough and Google said that they sometimes went together.
Again, comments are so very welcomed and I wish you all a Happy Holiday! Enjoy!
It's Your Bloody Dark Mark
"Master Death Master. Master Death Master."
The squeaky voice grated on his ears and made him aware of the headache pounding at his temples. Harry groaned. This seemed to only encourage the voice that had now grown an arm and was shaking him gently. Raaja hissed in displeasure at the disturbance.
"Master Death Master, you is being needing to be awake. It is being urgent."
Harry sighed but opened his eyes. His body felt heavy like it usually did after a meeting with Death, but he could feel that his magic was stronger than normal. The veil had worked as it was meant to. However, despite not being fully magically drained, the standard levels of
physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion were just as prevalent. With great effort, Harry raised his head to look at Tobi who stood at the side of his bed wringing the Daily Prophet fretfully between his hands.
"Tobi?" Harry asked, his voice rough and scratchy. Luckily there was a glass of water on his bedside table. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he grabbed the glass and proceeded to drain it. Judging by the anxiety radiating off of the small elf, he'd need to be fully focused on the conversation.
"Oh Master Death Master, Tobi is being sorry for waking you but Great Master is wishing you is being informed."
"Informed about what, Tobi?" A cold pool of dread started to grow in Harry's gut.
"Oh, Master Death Master," Tobi whimpered fretfully, twisting the paper in his hand even more.
"Let me see the newspaper, Tobi," Harry said as calmly as he could. The elf immediately handed over the wrinkled paper — which was actually two different papers — and without them to occupy his hands proceeded to start wringing his ears and rocking on his heels. Raaja uncoiled himself from his preferred place on Harry's pillow and slithered onto Harry's forearm as if sensing that something unpleasant occurring.
Slowly, Harry unfolded the papers and smoothed out the wrinkles, laying them out on his blanket-covered lap before allowing himself to actually look at the front pages: a morning and evening edition apparently. The picture caught his eye first — the same one for each paper — and the pool of dread in his stomach hardened into a ball of lead. It was black and white but Harry could vividly imagine the sickly green color of the skull and snake hovering in the night sky. The burning remains of buildings took up the bottom section of the picture. The headings and subheadings varied but all said similar versions of the same thing.
Death Eater Attack - Dark Mark Spotted - Muggle Town Destroyed - Death Toll Unknown
Harry sucked in a breath. Cold anger flared in his chest, burning away the heavyweight of dread in his stomach. Mayhem, destruction, fear, and panic were surely running rampant around the wizarding world right now.
Why would Marvolo do this? What had sparked the sudden change in direction? This went against all of their plans! What happened to disrupt everything? Had Marvolo gone insane! Had this happened before or after Marvolo met him in his office last night after returning from Calling the Longbottoms? Had Marvolo escorted him to bed fresh from a muggle murdering rampage or had Marvolo sent him off to bed with the intention of slipping away as Harry naively slept?
Anger building and thoughts swirling, Harry threw off his covers and stumbled out of bed. He pulled off the white ritual shirt and pulled on his soft, post-Death meeting pants. Raaja tightened around his arm and hissed for him to remain resting but Harry ignored him. Tobi stopped wringing his ears to watch Harry with wide, fearful eyes.
"Where is Marvolo?" Harry asked tightly, pulling his softest hoodie over his head.
"Great Master is being in the Gathering Room. But Master Death Master—"
Harry didn't wait to hear more before storming out of his room. Anger fueled his shaky limbs, allowing him to arrive in front of the office door quickly and without stumbling too much. His magic, while stronger than normal after a Death meeting, was still a bit too raw and the journals had cautioned against casting too much the following day. Harry's anger flared too hot to care about caution though and without drawing his wand, he blasted the double doors open with enough force that they banged against the walls.
The screams cut off at the sound. Marvolo in full Voldemort regalia stood on the dais. The Death Eaters were in a variety of positions on the floor — none standing and most contorted. The Dark Magic hit him in full force but Harry pushed through the electrifying pain as his own rose up to combat it. The journals advised against casting but said nothing about letting it loose and wild.
His own magic rippling from him in waves as his anger grew, Harry strode through the mass of followers who all scurried and crawled from his path. He'd left in such a hurry he'd forgotten shoes so he had to jump over the puddles of blood, limbs, and bodies that couldn't move from his path quickly enough. But he did so without so much as a second glance, fully focused on Voldemort standing tall above everyone else.
"What the bloody hell!" Harry shouted before he even reached the dais.
Voldemort's magic flared painfully and Harry pushed his back just as viciously. A few Death Eaters whimpered weakly. "Watch your tongue," was the cold, hissed, reply bordering on Parseltongue.
Harry grew angrier as he stormed up the stairs to the stage. "No. You owe me an explanation." The red of Voldemort's eyes burned like a raging inferno but Harry met him head-on and refused to look away. Raaja tightened around his arm, the wild magic obviously upsetting him. "Was this before or after I got back last night?"
"I owe you nothing," Voldemort spat back and this time Harry did wince at the agonizingly painful wave of magic. Voldemort looked momentarily surprised at the wince and the feel of his magic receded marginally before adding in Parseltongue, his tone a bit softer but no less vicious, "This was not my doing."
"It's your bloody Dark Mark," Harry spat back, waving the papers in the Dark Lord's face. "Who else could have done it?"
"A question I am attempting to solve." Voldemort gestured to the Death Eaters, most still whimpering in pain but some, the stronger and more familiar with Voldemort's methods, were now struggling to their knees.
"Just tell me why you did it!"
"It was not me."
"Don't lie!"
"I was betrayed!"
The edge to Voldemort's tone stopped Harry more than the words themselves. Panting lightly, Harry took another look at Voldemort. Despite the skeletal body, his cheeks were flushed, shoulders tense, and he had a knuckle-white grip on his wand. Voldemort was borderline frantic, Harry realized.
"Okay" Harry hissed softly. Running one hand through his hair, he dropped the other hand holding the papers to his side. Whether it was the gesture or the sudden loss of anger, Voldemort eyed Harry suspiciously while his magic retreated further but still clung to the air, warily cautious. But Harry wasn't angry anymore. Well, he was, but not at Marvolo or Voldemort. So instead, he tucked the heat of his anger away, allowing it to simmer in the pit of his gut to be unleashed at a later moment. Now he was concerned.
If Marvolo hadn't done this, then who did?
"Alright, let's figure this out," Harry hissed soothingly. Voldemort nodded his head – a strange jerky, desperate, bobbing motion that further proved how destabilized the Dark Lord must feel. He turned back to his followers and unleashed a tidal wave of pure magic. Harry was saved from the blast due to where he stood slightly behind Voldemort but he grimaced at the shrieking screams that rose from the masses. "How about we figure this out away from the minions?" he said once the initial screams had died down and before Voldemort could do anything else.
"They deserve to be punished," Voldemort said, his voice tight. He swept his wand in an arc, snapped out a spell too fast for Harry to decipher, hitting a group to the left with a pink curse that resulted in the sounds of snapping bones.
Harry nodded his head, working to keep the vomit from rising in his throat. Raaja hissed wordlessly at the discomfort he evidently felt radiating from Harry. "Agreed, but how long have you been punishing them?"
Harry was certain Voldemort would have shrugged if it wasn't such an uncouth action. "Since noon."
Harry resisted the urge to pull at his hair. Considering Tobi had given him the Evening and Morning Edition, Harry guessed it was definitely past dinner now. "Okay. How about you give them a break from the suffering, While we figure out what is going on."
"No. They don't deserve respite." Another curse, more screams.
"Right, but let the anticipation of more build. You know some added mental torture," Harry offered.
Voldemort looked considering for a brief moment but it passed just as quickly. He sent a few purple hexes into the crowd.
"Come on, I'm sure you need to eat something. I know I do since I just woke up and fasted all day yesterday," Harry coaxed. Voldemort immediately looked at him critically, the crazed gleam diminished slightly and Harry pounced on the opening. "When we know more we can focus on the actual culprits and the others can even help. It'll be like a good old-fashioned minion torture bonding session."
"It has been many months since I allowed my followers the opportunity to torture anything," Voldemort admitted contemplatively, staring out at the crowd of Death Eaters, but he didn't cast any curses and so Harry counted it as a win. "There hasn't been a proper torture session in far too long. And there is a new technique that I encountered in an ancient text I read a few weeks previously, it requires a large gathering."
"Right, so let's go, eat some dinner and figure this out and then come back for...for group torture." Harry silently hoped he would not be invited to that event.
Voldemort glanced at Harry for a few more seconds before nodding. He turned to the masses again. "Death Eaters, you are not to leave this room. I am granting this short reprieve to heal yourselves, but the night is young yet. Be sure, those not guilty will have the chance to release their own punishments on those who disobeyed me. And those guilty…enjoy your last remaining hours."
Another wave of magic was unleashed that pushed everyone back onto the floor and held them there as Voldemort turned on his heel and swept off the stage. Harry glanced back at the mass of people and the sight finally hit him. Only a week ago the ballroom floor had been pristine and filled with dancers, with wintery decorations sparkling and dangling from the ceiling. His friends had stood in this room, he'd danced with Marvolo in this room. Now the floors were barely visible through the pools of blood and contorted bodies; the cries of pain, muffled but audible, reached his ears and Harry withheld a shudder. Swallowing thickly, Harry turned and fled the stage, towards the small parlor off the Gathering Room where he had first made his deal with Voldemort all those months ago.
Harry sank into the nearest couch gratefully, his anger had fed his adrenaline, and with it gone the exhaustion hit him even harder. "Are you well?" Marvolo asked, looking like himself once again as he claimed the other couch. Their seats were reminiscent of where they had sat half a year ago. So much had changed, Harry thought with a flash of tired amusement.
"Tired and hungry. Went a bit too hard during the Calling last night."
"Mimsy," Marvolo called and the small elf appeared instantly, "bring dinner here, now."
"Yes Great Master," Mimsy said with a curtsy.
Seconds later two trays of probably the most pretentious meal Harry had ever seen arrived. He would have preferred a simple stew or a plate full of sandwiches but Harry knew not to push his luck right now. Marvolo needed to eat fancy, a reminder of his power probably, tonight. So foie gras topped with white truffles it was. The portion was ridiculously small and Harry felt hungrier just looking at the empty space on the plate.
"So, when did this happen?" Harry asked, his food devoured in a few seconds. He couldn't even remember what it tasted like. Marvolo ate at a slow and dignified pace, so most of his food still remained. Hopefully unraveling the puzzle, talking facts, and putting the pieces together would help distract Marvolo from his anger. It had seemed to help when they discussed his Horcruxes anyway.
"Didn't you read the articles?" Marvolo asked with a derisive scoff. Harry chose to ignore the condescension and blame it on the stress that the Dark Lord was obviously feeling.
"No. Just saw the picture and headlines."
Marvolo growled and stabbed at the food on his plate. "Last night, Privet Drive was attacked, houses burned and muggles killed. The first house to be hit was Number Four. Based on the articles, I'm led to believe it was the home of your muggle family. The Dark Mark appeared shortly after which is what drew wizarding attention. Nothing else has been released at this time. I summoned my Death Eaters shortly after the news was released and have been punishing them for their betrayal since."
Number Four Privet Drive was the target. Petunia and Dudley were dead.
Or at least, they most likely were. Harry had no idea if they still lived in the house after the events of the summer or even if they had been home, but Harry felt safe in the assumption that the last remaining blood family he had were dead. It had been a targeted attack. The odds of a random Death Eater choosing to attack Little Whinging, coincidentally starting on Privet Drive, and then selecting Number Four to begin were too astronomical to even bother considering.
Marvolo paused in the mutilation of his dinner, he sat tense and poised but the enraged flush was fading from his cheeks as he focused his gaze on Harry. "Harry, are you well?"
Harry leaned back on the sofa, staring sightlessly at his hands while he absently stroked Raaja's head. Was he upset that his aunt and cousin were dead? Should he be? He hadn't mourned Vernon's death after all. Technically they were related, but there had never been much affection between them. He'd hardly had much interaction with them in recent years anyway, all of them choosing to avoid and ignore the other unless absolutely necessary. Though he and Dudley had been on the mend before his Inheritance had resulted in Harry being locked away. And his aunt had taken him in despite her hatred of all things magical and there'd been moments of kindness scattered through his childhood...
No, Harry decided. He didn't mourn the loss of Petunia and Dudley. At least not as the people they were. Harry would admit to mourning the loss of what they represented; mourned what could have been if things were different. If they had been the loving family he'd wished for as a child; if Petunia had set aside her childish jealousy and bitterness; if Dudley had grown to think separately from his parents at an earlier age; if he'd been treated with a modicum of respect or affection. Yes, if any number of things had occurred differently then maybe Harry would feel more sadness, but as it was he would deal with proper contemplation over his feelings regarding Petunia and Dudley later. Now, he had to focus on who had committed the crime.
It was someone who had wanted to target Harry specifically and that could be any number of people. His list of enemies wasn't exactly short.
"You did mention that the lesser ones were getting restless," Harry said softly.
Marvolo stared at him a few moments longer, his eyes scanning Harry with a razor-sharp intensity. After a moment, Marvolo accepted his avoidance without pushing. He nodded his head with a frown. "Yes, but this betrayal was conducted by one of my Elite. Only they know the spell. It is an honor to cast the Mark, an honor to lay claim in my name. No meaningless lesser member would know it."
Harry frowned. "Marvolo, I know the spell. It's Morsmorde."
"How did you come by this information?" Marvolo asked, brow furrowed as he stared at Harry.
"Heard Barty shout it at the World Cup."
Marvolo made a small hum of acknowledgment but waved a dismissive hand. "It is more than just knowing the incantation, Harry. The Dark Mark is needed. My Mark on their skin is required to cast my Mark in the sky."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, pulling it lightly as he slumped further into the sofa. "So it was definitely one of your Death Eaters."
"There is no other option. One of my own directly disobeyed my orders and on top of that, they targeted you. In addition, Morsmorde is no simple Lumos charm, a great deal of magical power is required, hence why only my Elite are allowed to cast it."
Harry watched Marvolo with his head cocked. "You weren't this upset when Travers betrayed you."
"Travers was a peon. I expect the lesser to riot occasionally, it's why they are not provided with valuable information. But this –" Marvolo gnashed his teeth together "–this was performed by one of my Elite, by one of my Inner Circle, my most trusted. This was a direct affront to everything I have worked for. On top of that, there had to be multiple Death Eaters involved based on the devastation wreaked. This is not just a mere individual upset over some ill-perceived slight. This is an uprising, a coup." Marvolo snarled as he spat the words out.
"We'll figure it out, Marvolo," Harry said, an attempt at reassurance but it sounded weak even to his own ears. It broke his heart to witness the crumbling of such a powerful, strong man. "Everything isn't lost. We will find out who did this and punish them. Then we will plan our strategy. We can bounce back from this."
Marvolo shook his head. "Oh, I shall make them rue the day they thought they could double-cross me. Perhaps I have been too lenient. I'll punish them all severely and kill the traitors once their screams are torn from their throats and their blood drained from their bodies."
Harry repressed the shiver at not just the description but the vivid, bloodthirsty enthusiasm Marvolo expressed with each word. "Why did you call everyone if you know it's someone from the Inner Circle?"
"They must all see and suffer. Even if they are innocent of this betrayal, they must know to never even consider the thought. If I do not provide a strong front and show my displeasure then others will think they can attempt something similar."
"Torturing the innocent might not be –"
"Don't think to lecture me on methods of gaining loyalty," Marvolo snapped, standing from his seat and stalking towards him with his red eyes blazing with the same demented insanity that Harry remembered seeing in the Graveyard and in the Ministry. Harry swallowed thickly at the sight, keenly aware of how weak he currently was, and felt – for the first time in a long time – the first tendrils of fear in Marvolo's presence.
Just as suddenly the bloodthirsty demeanor evaporated and Marvolo sank onto the sofa beside Harry, his half-eaten plate of food obviously forgotten on the other side of the table. "How many have turned against me, Harry?" Marvolo whispered, his shoulders hunched forward, head in his hands, and looking so defeated that Harry longed to comfort him.
This was just wrong. Marvolo was confident, calm, collected; a genius mind always five steps ahead. Instead, Harry was witness to the image of the small orphaned boy, ruthless and desperate for recognition but still longing for basic human connection. Knowing a hug would be rejected, Harry tentatively lifted his hand and gently placed it on Marvolo's shoulder. It wasn't immediately shaken off and so Harry counted it as a win.
"I wish you to be present during the proper administration of justice tonight," Marvolo said quietly, lifting his head from his hands and staring at something on the other wall.
Harry nodded without a second thought. "Of course I'll stand at your – wait, Marvolo, I can't do magic right now. I mean I know I have already but no concrete spells, the journals all warned against it And I really don't think I can handle taking all those potions again."
Marvolo shook his head, still not dislodging Harry's hand. "No, I will be the one inflicting the punishments, along with my innocents. I simply wish you to be present. You may sit in my chair if you wish."
"Thank you."
They sat in silence for a few moments more. The upcoming torture session hung over their heads and Harry wasn't looking forward to it. His mind tried to determine the culprit but kept getting distracted by the fact that this was the closest he'd ever sat to Marvolo. They'd certainly never shared a sofa before and they'd never had such prolonged contact.
Clearing his throat, Harry gave his head a slight shake. Focus, Potter, he scolded. "Alright. Let's prepare our plan of attack. Who are our top suspects?"
"Yes, quite right. I must consider every angle before dealing with the traitors directly," Marvolo said, muttering mostly to himself as he stood up from the sofa and moved back to his previous seat on the other couch. Harry felt the loss of his presence keenly but it was for the best, he needed to have a clear head. Harry also bit back the question of 'why did you not consider every angle before torturing everyone?' because he didn't think it would help anything. "One of my Elite led the assault," Marvolo began. "This narrows down quite a few. It also had to be someone with a grudge against you."
"That doesn't take many off the list," Harry muttered. Though he felt like he'd gained a solid footing with a few of the Inner Circle – Snape, Avery, Nott, Malfoy, and the Lestrange brothers, specifically – he knew most of them just barely tolerated him and even the ones who seemed to be on his side could just be faking it.
"It must also be someone who had knowledge of your muggle residence." Harry frowned. He hadn't thought of that. His address had been closely guarded, after all, not even Marvolo – who had the most motivation to uncover it – hadn't known it. "It can be only one person," Marvolo said, heaving a heavy sigh, "Severus. He is the only one who fits the criteria. I supposed he has finally shown where his loyalties lie."
Harry shook his head in immediate denial. "No. It wasn't Snape."
"Harry, betrayal is never easy to accept but the facts fit," Marvolo said, only a little patronizing. "It is well known that Severus dislikes you. It is well known that he is in Dumbledore's confidence and thus must know your address. It is also well known that he is of my Elite and very magically powerful." Marvolo shook his head, a slight frown forming as he continued. "Though his motivation eludes me."
"It's not Snape. I know it's not."
Marvolo narrowed his eyes, his gaze shrewd and calculating. "How do you know with such certainty?"
"I can't betray that confidence but I know it isn't him," Harry said. He had promised Snape after all that anything the Potions' Master told him would not be revealed to Marvolo and Harry wasn't about to let slip about the Unbreakable Vow.
"Who else qualifies?" Marvolo asked sharply, standing abruptly to begin pacing. He looked more thoughtful and annoyed than he did angry so Harry relaxed a bit more into the couch.
Harry shook his head helplessly. "If we had a clue as to some motivation, aside from just attacking my family, we could narrow it down more." Thoughts spinning in useless circles, Harry felt the exhaustion of last night's ritual even more prominently and stifled a yawn. "Alright, let's think of all the things that killing off my family can do."
"The obvious assumption is that you will be distraught and react irrationally," Marvolo began. "What would this affect? What gain does this provide?"
"Are they hoping that I go mad with grief and make a scene and scare people with Dark Magic?"
Marvolo tilted his head. "That could be a factor. With the people scared you lose a great deal of influence. Currently, you still hold many cards by being the publics' Golden Child, once you lose that and the press turns against you, you will have to work much harder."
"But making people scared of Dark Magic goes against everything Death Eaters are supposed to stand for. Don't they want people to accept Dark Magic?"
"Betrayal doesn't always offer the sanest of perpetrators."
"Could they be expecting a press conference? I held one last time something affected me directly."
"But what would a press conference gain?" Marvolo questioned, pausing behind the sofa to tap his long fingers against the backrest. "If you held one so soon, the public would expect you to be distraught. If you aren't, then you appear callous and unfeeling and again you lose your public image." Marvolo frowned and continued pacing.
"It is pretty callous to hold a press conference the night after a family massacre too," Harry added thoughtfully. "Okay, so, me going all emotional and impulsive and losing the public favor is a possible motive. But aside from making things much harder, what does that gain?" Harry sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. It hadn't been a full hour yet and Harry wondered how long they would keep the Death Eaters waiting for their next torture session. He thought longingly of his bed upstairs. "Honestly, this feels like something Dumbledore would do. Not the mass murder of a bunch of muggles, but the puppet strings of forcing our hand."
"That is an even worse betrayal," Marvolo commented with a sigh, looking absently at a potted fern tucked in the corner that Harry had never noticed before. "Because then not only did they disobey my orders, but they purposefully went to assist my enemy. Again, Severus is the most likely option."
"Yeah," Harry sighed, slouching on the sofa even more and resting his head on the back. "Slimy git just has a suspicious air, makes it easy to pin stuff on him. But it's not him." Harry rubbed at his forehead, headache growing and suddenly feeling so hopelessly depressed. Why could things never just be easy? "Alright, so let's tackle this from a Dumbledore-orchestrated-event angle. What could he gain?"
"The publics' fear over my return."
"Yeah, but attacking any muggle neighborhood would have served that purpose. But he attacked my family. Why?"
Marvolo paced a few more circles before snorting lightly. Harry looked at him in surprise at the sound. "You answered that yourself Harry. He wants to force our hands. He is a puppet master of the highest level. You're still the publics' Golden Child, remember? He wants to force you to either publicly denounce my actions or to support them. Denounce them and you are putting yourself back on his side in the eyes of the public and any derision between you two will be ignored in favor of providing the public with a strong front. You support my supposed actions and you prove his claims as being an evil, vicious Dark Lord in the making and one of my allies."
It was so simple, it was brilliant. Harry wanted to utterly destroy Dumbledore. "So what do I do?" He asked, fatigue had him closing his eyes as despair swept through him.
"We refuse to play his game," Marvolo said, sounding much more confident than Harry felt. Harry cracked open an eye and saw Marvolo's pacing had grown more fluid and faster, his eyes distant and his hands clasped behind his back. It was the posture and gait of a man who was lost to the world as his genius took over. Harry smiled softly at the sight. This was the man he had fallen in love with, the confidence, the brilliance, even the savagery, not the desolate, manic wreck he'd been earlier. "We use this to our advantage. The next Wizengamot meeting is in three days. You make your first appearance then. Don't respond to owls in the next coming days, there are already a few notices waiting for you in my office just from today. When asked you tell them you were properly grieving the loss of your relatives. This should pacify them. And you still appear Golden in their eyes, because of course, a young teenager would want to mourn his only relatives properly." Harry nodded his head slowly, but Marvolo didn't see still lost in his thoughts. "You can be sure Dumbledore will try to overtake the Wizengamot session and focus it on building a defense, whipping up the newly terrified and raw populace to support his agenda against me. You will be the catalyst. You can't let him manhandle the Wizengamot."
"My school vote is supposed to be this session," Harry muttered quietly, the realization dawning as he slowly sat up straight. "If Dumbledore gets his way and declares a state of war, he can postpone the voting of all bills and legislations, possibly for months."
Marvolo nodded absently. "Yes. I don't believe that was his goal when setting out to pull these strings but it is certainly another mark in his favor. Now, you need to turn this in your favor and use the destruction as more reason to have the school, to have order and consistency, unity for children, and such. It's a fine line to balance. You can't seem too dismissive of the deaths because then you appear callous and unconcerned over your relatives and the lives of muggles, but you can't appear too emotional over it because then you are dismissed as a grieving teenager who should have remained at home."
Harry grimaced. He was not looking forward to the next session. "We will need to strategize with your Inner Circle, specifically those in the Wizengamot who can help me prepare."
"That can be done tonight. They will already be in attendance."
"Suggestion, do you think you can just deal with your Inner Circle tonight and the masses tomorrow?"
Marvolo glared furiously, freezing in his pacing circle. "What have I just said about attempting to interfere with how I run my followers?"
"Hear me out," Harry said with his hands held up to stave off any anger. "It's getting late and I don't think I'll be able to last much longer and I want to be there to support you. But also, if you just focus on the Inner Circle tonight you can find out who betrayed you and properly gather the information, and then tomorrow you can punish the rest of the minions at your leisure all day long."
"I've already said that the traitors would not live through the night. I cannot counteract my word."
Harry sighed. "Can we do the punishment first and then talk to the Inner Circle?"
Marvolo gave a conceding nod. "There is still the issue of determining who the culprits were."
Groaning slightly, Harry rubbed at his eyes. Raaja took the opportunity to flick his tongue soothingly against his cheek. "I wish there was some spell or potion that just provided the information we needed. Like Veriteserum but on a grand scale, you know?"
Marvolo stopped in his pacing and stared at Harry but his gaze was distant again. "Stay here," he ordered before leaving the room.
"Where else would I go?" Harry grumbled to the empty room before a jaw-splitting yawn consumed him.
He glanced at Marvolo's unfinished dinner but could tell it was already cold. Was foie gras good cold? Was it good reheated? He knew some posh food didn't taste right after a warming charm. Harry laughed a little at the hilarity of what his life was now if he was debating the merits of cold and reheated foie gras while his stomach rumbled.
Just as he was deciding to give it a shot and try it cold, Marvolo returned with a thick tome. He reclaimed his previous seat and laid the text out on the coffee table, vanishing his half-eaten plate with a careless flick of his wand. "Harry, my little lion, your moments of genius are glorious."
"Thanks?" Harry said, leaning forward to look at the page of the book that Marvolo had opened it to. The text was incredibly small and looked handwritten. Was that even English? "What did my moment of genius inspire?"
"There is a spell that hasn't been used in centuries, originating in Russia. Essentially it is a mass truth compulsion spell."
"Brilliant, why didn't you use that first?"
"There are limitations, however," Marvolo continued as though he hadn't heard Harry at all, leaning forward in his seat, eyes on the page of handwritten old Russian. "It requires a question, yes or no preferably, ironclad in wording and as specific as possible. Much like Veriteserum if it is not worded properly the skilled can evade the answer."
"Still doesn't answer the question."
"The biggest limitation is the power required. It typically requires more than one person to cast the spell and a great deal of trust between the individuals."
Ah, Harry thought grimly. "How many other people?"
"If they are powerful enough, two." Harry looked at Marvolo and saw him studying Harry intently. "I came across it in my younger years but immediately dismissed it. The thought of relying on another so thoroughly was ludicrous to me." Marvolo paused momentarily before continuing almost hesitant. "I'd never had an ally at my side before."
Gruffly Harry cleared his throat and stared at the book on the table as if his stomach wasn't performing summersaults and his cheeks weren't burning. "I don't know if I can cast a spell this powerful right now, maybe tomorrow when I'm fully restored but…"
"You need not cast the spell, that shall be me," Marvolo said quickly. "In addition, I don't believe you speak Russian well enough to say the spell. However, I will need you to assist me in providing power. Not all, I am vastly powerful myself, but some."
"Okay," Harry said simply. He could have tomorrow and the next day to properly recover he supposed, and they needed to figure this out soon. How bad could it be? "How do we word the question?"
Marvolo stared at Harry in silence, his face unreadable. Harry stared back, confused at the reaction, or lack of reaction. "Did you assist Albus Dumbledore in the inception, orchestration, preparation, or completion of the attack on Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey last night?"
It sounded pretty ironclad, Harry thought, turning the words around in his head. His fatigued mind at least couldn't think of anything better. Harry yawned. "Okay, now how do I assist you with power?"
"We shall need to maintain physical contact and allow our magic to flow freely. You will direct your magic through the spot of contact and allow me temporary control of the magic lent me."
"Right," Harry said slowly. "Once the culprits are unveiled, we do the group torture and killing of the culprits then have a quick chat with the remaining Inner Circle to make an outline of a plan for dealing with the Wizengamot." Then I can go to bed, Harry added silently.
"We can rest a bit more if you require it," Marvolo offered, his face twisted in concern before smoothing over again. "It will prolong their mental anguish."
Harry smirked a bit but shook his head. "No, let's get this over with. If I rest any more I'll just fall asleep. After though, when we talk with the Inner Circle, can I have some tea and biscuits? That food was not enough." Harry half expected Marvolo to say no because it would disrupt the all-powerful image but he must have looked more pitiful and exhausted than he thought because Marvolo simply nodded.
"Let us begin," Marvolo said. Waving his wand, he transformed into Voldemort and Harry repressed the shiver at the sight. He wasn't as repulsed as he was when he first saw the transformation months ago but it still wasn't pleasant. Harry nodded and pushed himself off the couch and followed Marvolo as he strode out of the parlor and back into the Gathering Room.
Most of the Death Eaters still lay on the floor but at the sight of Voldemort, they scrambled to their feet. Most of the minor wounds were healed, but some were still evident, mainly the severed limbs and broken bones. Bones and muscle couldn't be regrown in the span of an hour after all. Dried blood still stuck to their torn robes and painted their faces but they all stood as tall as they were able in the presence of their Lord.
Standing on the stage, Harry finally realized his subpar clothing and lack of shoes and felt highly self-conscious. He kind of wished Marvolo had mentioned something or just transfigured his clothing into robes or something before they left the side room. Voldemort stood at the front of the dais, surveying the Death Eaters below him. Harry stood a step behind him, watching him carefully and hoping he didn't just forgo the plan and start torturing them all again. The silence stretched and Harry's heart beat faster.
Finally, Voldemort thrust his hand out towards Harry. Harry stared at it for a moment before realizing that he was supposed to grab it and fought to keep the heat rushing to his face. Physical contact, holding hands…right. He glanced from the hand to Voldemort who was now looking at him expectantly. Taking a breath, Harry gripped the offered hand with his own. The long, skeletal fingers, cold and dry, wrapped around his own. Merlin, Harry hoped his hand wasn't sweaty.
He felt Voldemort's magic a second later and Harry responded accordingly. He closed his eyes, released his magic, and focused the flow of it through their joined hands. It was a delicate balance of letting his magic flow free and wild but also pushing it in a specific direction. He jerked when he felt Voldemort take hold of it. It was very disconcerting to feel his magic literally dragged from him. Harry struggled to breathe through it, to allow it to happen. His every instinct screamed at him to fight and pull his magic back or to let it go fully and attack.
Now he could understand why the spell wasn't widely used, why it had been lost and forgotten in time. The degree of trust necessary to let another use ones' magic – not only use but pull and wield and control it – was extreme and discomforting and borderline unnatural.
Voldemort began to speak in Russian and Harry could only hope and trust that Voldemort was doing as he said he would. Trust that this all wasn't some elaborate trick meant to steal Harry's magic permanently with some foreign spell. But Harry trusted Marvolo – though he was Voldemort now – loved him even, enough to allow the flow of their magic to continue. Voldemort fell silent but continued to pull his magic and Harry kept the flow open. But curiosity was proving too strong and he wanted to see if it would work, so Harry opened his eyes.
The faces of every Death Eater were glazed, empty, and lifeless, like a strange combination of Imperius and Veritaserum. It was unnerving to see so many blank faces, like a sea of manikins or unfinished puppets. The room was silent and no one moved. Harry pushed more magic into Marvolo's hand, willing the spell to work.
Slowly seven hands were raised.
Harry felt his pulse quicken at the sight. There was another minute of waiting to see if any others would step forward when Voldemort stopped pulling on his magic. Harry latched on to his freed magic with a frantic, greedy, desperation that terrified him. He swayed as his magic rushed him once again, settling beneath his skin. Voldemort gripped his hand tighter, holding him steady and grounding him as the lightheadedness swept through him.
"Yaxley, Selwyn Senior, Pericles, Coote, Higgs, and the two Crockfords, step forward."
Awareness returned to each of the faces in a series of several slow blinks and after a slow shuffle, the seven stepped forward. Harry swallowed against the nausea that threatened to consume him and the dizziness that didn't dissipate. Apparently sharing magic so soon after a Calling was too much of a stretch. He should write that down in his new journal for the next Child of Death to know. Harry clenched his jaw tightly to keep the delirious giggle from escaping.
Soon the seven stood in a line a few feet from the stage and the remaining Death Eaters stood five feet behind them, giving plenty of clearance space and excluding them even further. Harry blinked past the dark spots darkening his vision, he would not pass out in front of all the Death Eaters. He refused with every fiber of his being.
"My loyal followers," Voldemort said, hissing out the 's' to the point that it caused Harry and the Death Eaters to all shiver, though Harry didn't think they shivered for the same reasons. "Standing before you is a group that sought to disobey me, sought to betray me, and sought to overthrow everything the Dark stands for and is progressing towards. They are the reason you have all been so severely punished. Their treachery is a taint that must be extinguished." Voldemort paused to survey his followers. Harry breathed lightly through his mouth, kept his eyes focused on the back wall, tried to keep his knees slightly bent, and kept swallowing down bile. All tricks that he'd heard that delayed fainting and throwing up. "Now, I'm sure you're all eager to show your displeasure over their actions." There were a few grumbles and sneers of displeasure directed towards the seven, who all looked petrified. "As the generous Lord that I am, I will allow you to properly express your displeasure. Their lives belong to me, but you may all draw out the agony as you see fit."
Harry swallowed back his distaste at the sickening grins that some sported. Luckily he was much too focused on staying conscious to pay attention to the obvious display of depravity Voldemort's forces presented. A loud cheer rose up from the Death Eaters as they moved to encircle the traitors. The seven traitors began to scream, cry, shriek, and beg as the crowd started to cast spells. There was a strange choreography involved with the group torture, Harry thought distantly. The Inner Circle cast first then the two rows behind them began, followed by the next two rows, and so on until the Inner Circle began again, creating a continuous cycle of curses and hexes in a rainbow of colors. It would be beautiful if it wasn't so horrific.
"We can't kill Yaxley," Harry hissed with a sudden realization, leaning heavily into Voldemort's shoulder.
"We can and I shall," Voldemort replied fiercely, tearing his eyes from the gruesome scene to look at Harry. Something softened around his eyes as he stared at Harry leaning against his arm, which was a strange look for his Voldemort face. "Come on Harry, that's it," he said softly, readjusting his grip on Harry's hand to hold his arm and properly guide him to the back of the stage where he conjured his silver throne with a flick of his wrist. Gently, Voldemort helped lower Harry onto the throne. "Now, tell me why Yaxley must not pay for his treachery."
"Not saying to not kill him later, just not now. We still need him," Harry said panting. Sitting was much better than standing though and the dizziness was thankfully fading.
"What further purpose does he serve?" Voldemort asked, looking back at the traitorous seven at the foot of the stage, near-comatose from pain and blood loss.
"Dumbledore," Harry replied savagely. "Yaxley is the evidence we need to prove the truth. Have him go to the Aurors, turn himself in, and provide memories of that night or of him talking to Dumbledore if the old git wasn't actually at Privet Drive. Ruin Dumbledore with Yaxley's testimony and then kill him."
Voldemort snapped his gaze back to Harry in surprise and then slowly his lipless mouth twisted into a sinister smile. "Oh my little lion," he breathed. Harry swallowed against the intensity of Voldemort's gaze and shifted uncomfortably.
"Death Eaters," Voldemort called out and strode toward the front of the stage once again. The casting stopped instantly, the Death Eaters stepped back from the seven in the center and faced Voldemort. "Separate Yaxley, I have use of him still."
There was a rush to comply with the order and soon Yaxley's limp body was dragged away from the other six, tied in chains and ropes, and left near the corner of the stage with a few Death Eaters remaining to stand guard while the others went back to the other six.
"Now, to remove this traitorous filth," Voldemort said.
Harry shifted in his seat on the throne as Voldemort spread his arms wide, his wand pointed towards the cowering group on the floor. The words spoken were Parseltongue but Harry couldn't hear properly enough to distinguish the words considering he was behind Voldemort and still trying to stay awake. But he could feel the power charging the air.
Black lightning sparked from the tip of Marvolo's wand, arcing and curving to reach the tip of his other hand creating an arch of lightning over his head. The electricity built until there were several bands sparking between the wand and hand growing thicker, as thick as Harry's thigh. Then Marvolo slowly brought the arch down in front of his waist, his hands still spread wide to keep the arch uninterrupted. There was a breathless moment as the black lightning arch crackled in the silence before it shot forward, cutting the six traitors through their centers like a scythe. Electrocuting and slicing each traitor immediately. The smell of burning flesh reached Harry. His stomach revolted at the smell and he clapped a hand to his mouth and pinched his nose to stop himself from throwing up. Cursing Voldemort because he'd only just gotten his stomach moderately settled.
Voldemort fully lowered his hands and stared out at his followers and the crisped corpses. "Leave and remember the price of disobedience." After a simultaneous bow, the Death Eaters turned for the double doors, none bothering a second glance at their dead former brethren. "Inner Circle, remain." The nine men called stopped in their tracks, turned in unison, and returned to the stage as the rest of the minions left. The Inner Circle members fell into a kneel immediately, grouping up slightly off-center of the stage to avoid the corpses of the traitors. Once the room was empty, Voldemort took advantage of no one looking and reverted back to Marvolo with a flick of his wand.
Leaving his Inner Circle to remain kneeling and Yaxley still tied up – and Harry was pretty certain the man was unconscious and hopefully not dead – Marvolo strode back to Harry and the throne. He frowned at the sight of Harry covering his mouth and cast an air freshening spell before calling for Mimsy.
"Yes, Great Master?"
"A nausea potion."
"You promised me tea and biscuits," Harry added tightly, extremely grateful to Marvolo for clearing the air, but that didn't mean his stomach had fully settled again. The thought of food was offputting but Harry knew once he had the potion his hunger would return.
"And some tea and biscuits," Marvolo added with a sigh.
"Yes, Great Master," she said with a quick curtsy before popping away.
"Foolish lion, you didn't need to offer so much of your magic," Marvolo scolded quietly.
"Not my fault. Never done it before. 'Sides, it worked didn't it," Harry snapped back but was too tired to put much bite into his words. Marvolo tsked and Harry curled into the throne properly with a tired sigh, his bare feet tucked up under him and off the ground.
"Yes, but now you're almost fully drained again. It was a risk to request the transfer so soon after a Necromantic engagement. It was irresponsible and negligent on my part." Harry couldn't help but smile softly despite his weariness, his heart fluttering traitorously at the thoughtful, caring attention Marvolo employed.
"Eh, worth it," Harry said with another yawn.
Mimsy returned then with the nausea potion, a tray of chocolate chip biscuits, and a pot of tea. She also brought Nagini who hissed in displeasure at the apparition.
"You brought the little hatchling but left me, Master," she hissed. Raaja hissed back smugly from his place on Harry's arm.
"My apologies, Nagini, it was not my intention to exclude you," Marvolo replied. Harry laughed lightly as Nagini hissed at Marvolo angrily before slithering up the back of the throne and draping herself over it.
"You owe me rats," she hissed. If snakes could be haughty then Nagini had mastered the skill.
"Better, you can have the bodies of the traitors I discovered. Six of them are already fried and cut up."
Nagini bobbed her head through the air in compilation before hissing in agreement. "That will be acceptable."
"I want traitors," Raaja hissed, uncoiling from Harry's arm to slither up to his neck, draping himself like a golden necklace.
"I don't think you're big enough for people, Raaja," Harry told him, stroking his head gently as Mimsy disappeared after setting up the potion, tea, and biscuits on a conjured table next to the throne. Harry downed the potion quickly and then swiped a biscuit eagerly. "Have a biscuit," he offered, holding a second one out.
"Harry, I'm about to host a meeting," Marvolo argued, his voice low and frustrated.
"So? You hardly ate any dinner and you need the energy after all that magic. Eat the biscuit."
"Harry —"
"Marvolo," Harry countered sternly, offering the biscuit with a raised eyebrow.
"Insufferable," Marvolo muttered but accepted the biscuit. Harry laughed brightly at his win. Marvolo ate it quickly and spun away before Harry could coax another biscuit into his hands. "Rise," Marvolo ordered the nine men still kneeling before the stage. Harry wondered briefly if they had heard their conversation. Judging by the lack of expression though, Harry felt safe in assuming the Death Eaters hadn't heard anything; they had been speaking quietly after all.
Briefly, Harry wondered what he must look like curled up on the silver throne with a golden snake around his neck and a massive python draped over the back with her head resting near his head, dressed in soft pants and hoodie. He ignored the Death Eaters for now though as he worked on pouring himself a cup of tea. The temperature was perfect and he mentally made a note to thank Mimsy again when he next saw her. From the taste he could tell the tea was an invigorating blend, meant to inspire energy. It was desperately needed.
"This meeting shall be brief," Marvolo began walking towards the front of the stage once again. "However, over the next few days expect multiple strategy sessions. Be aware of how tenuous your positions are right now. I've already encountered a betrayal from one of my Elite. This trust extended to you is fragile at best. Do not make me regret the confidence I'm about to bestow."
Marvolo let the silence linger and Harry observed the Inner Circle Death Eaters as he sipped his tea. They all stood straight-backed, their faces impeccable masks of impassivity but from this angle, Harry could see the gleam in their eyes. The desperation to please, the desire to remain trusted, the eagerness to prove useful to their leader, master, and Lord. It was impressive and inspiring to witness such powerful men yearning for the approval of a single man. Not that Harry was much different, he mused taking a bite of his third biscuit. He craved Marvolo's attention just as much.
"We have deduced Dumbledore was behind the attack." Each of the men displayed genuine surprise at this news. "I wish you each to speak freely in this discussion and the following on how to proceed. Lord Potter and I have already started the foundations, but you are my Elite. Your opinions could prove useful."
"My Lord," Lucius Malfoy began after a few moments of silence. "How did you come to the knowledge that Dumbledore was behind the attack? Forgive me, my Lord, I don't mean to question you but….mass murder isn't exactly Dumbledore's...typical action."
Harry watched Marvolo standing tall on the dais as he stared down at Malfoy. He knew it was just a tactic to make the man stress and sweat and it amused him to no end how efficiently it worked.
"A few things, Lucius," Marvolo began and Harry watched the collective let out a breath. They'd obviously expected some retaliation despite the offer of free speech. Based on the hours of torture they'd just suffered through, Harry wasn't really surprised at the trepidation and was actually impressed that it took such a short time for Lucius to actually speak up. "There were very few who knew the residence of Lord Potter, I myself had no knowledge. The only ones who did were in Dumbledores' confidence. Severus, admittedly you were my primary suspect, however, Lord Potter was adamant of your innocence." Snapes' dark eyes flickered to Harry. Harry stared back and took another sip of tea. "The most obvious reasoning was what an attack against Lord Potter would create. Dumbledore wished to force his hand. Whether to step back into Dumbledore's clutches as he tries to distance himself from connection to myself or to prove his point and force Lord Potter to publically align with me."
"Will there be a press conference, my Lord?" Rabastan Lestrange asked next. "It was the route Lord Potter took the last time he was attacked."
"No," Marvolo denied swiftly.
"Why ever not, my Lord? Getting ahead of this with a press conference allows you to manipulate the story in your favor, just as the last one did," Malfoy said, just simpering enough to not be considered argumentative.
"Because I'm in mourning," Harry answered, drawing the gazes of the Death Eaters, as he reached for another biscuit, "obviously." He savored the first bite of the still warm biscuit before washing it down with his tea. "How callous do you expect me to be? Honestly, my last living family was just slaughtered. I couldn't possibly be ready to face the press at the height of my grief."
The Lestrange brothers, Snape, and Avery eyed him skeptically but the others just nodded in acceptance.
"During the upcoming Wizengamot session, Dumbledore will no doubt attempt to use the shock and heightened emotions of the public to install a State of Emergency and postpone all voting for not just bills and legislation such as Lord Potters' school but also regarding the change in democratically elected positions such as the Minister and his own seat." Harry hadn't known that all aspects of voting would be frozen. Dumbledore could enact a state of war and be safe from a Vote of No Confidence indefinitely. "Lord Potter will be fighting to keep this from happening and I require those of you with seats to aide him in this endeavor."
There was a chorus of agreement. "What of the traitor, My Lord?" Rabastan asked, glancing at the bound, unconscious man. "Why did you spare his life?"
"He will be the next step in taking down Dumbledore," Harry explained easily before pouring himself a second cup of tea. "He interacted with the geezer at some point to coordinate the whole thing, he just needs to turn himself in and get the Aurors to view his memories or question him under Veriteserum. And then he names Dumbledore as an accomplice."
"It will be done a few days after the Wizengamot session," Marvolo continued.
"Why so delayed, My Lord?" Nott asked, breaking his typical silence.
"First, the traitor must be capable of moving on his own. He will need to heal. Second, to turn himself in now or anytime before the Wizengamot will take public focus away and no other work will be accomplished. If anything, the reveal of Dumbledore's misdeeds would cause more upheaval than my own return and will almost definitely create a state of war. Our plans for the Wizengamot this coming meeting must occur before such distraction takes place." Marvolo watched his followers for a few moments. "Now, return home and think on useful and applicable suggestions for how to manipulate this to our favor. Return here tomorrow morning. If you do not have noteworthy ideas, be prepared to taste my displeasure. Dismissed."