Chapter 18

It was a glorious day.

In fact, it was such a glorious day that if it wouldn't do irreparable damage to his reputation, Severus would have skipped all the way to Hogsmeade out of sheer, unadulterated joy. Severus wasn't even sure when the last time he'd felt such joy was. Certainly at least a decade ago, probably more. Sometime when Lily had still been alive, perhaps.

Severus had to work very hard to keep a satisfied smile off his face as he marched towards Hogsmeade. Such a thing would ruin his reputation just as much as skipping would do.

Sirius Black was dead!

Severus had witnessed it himself just that morning in the back of the visitor section, how Black was given a sham of a trial and then unceremoniously tossed through the Veil like yesterday's rubbish.

Closing his eyes, Severus inhaled a deep, deep breath to curb to urge to cackle in victory. Again, it was a Hogsmeade weekend and there were students around. Severus had a well-earned reputation to preserve.

But Black, his childhood tormenter, his would be murderer by werewolf, was well and truly dead! And Severus even had a hand in it. Albeit, a very small hand in the form of a signature Dumbledore told him to put on a scroll late last night. Severus had glanced over the scroll and seen that it was a completely false account of his encounter with Black and those three nosy students who firmly believed the world revolved around them that took place at the end of the last schoolyear. Severus hadn't cared one bit it was a false testimony and he'd signed it without pause. He'd done far worse for his previous master than falsify a court document, after all.

It was such a glorious day.

So glorious, that Dumbledore even told him to take the afternoon off. Severus' current Master was well and truly chuffed about having gotten rid of Sirius Black, though why, Severus wasn't entirely sure. If he had to take a guess, it was to do with Potter's spawn, who seemed to have disappeared these past two weeks, much to Severus' pleasure. But much like his father, Potter's spawn was arrogant and believed he didn't have to follow the headmaster's commands.

What a silly mistake to make. Potter was needed in the fight against the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore knew that. Potter may be thinking himself better than the rest of them, but Severus had learned long ago that what Dumbledore wanted, Dumbledore got. And if someone tried to actively work against that, they'd soon find themselves wishing they hadn't.

Case in point, Potter refused to play along with Dumbledore, Potter lost his godfather. It was as simple as that.

Severus snorted. What did it matter in the end why Black had been killed? Severus despised the man more than anyone else in the entire world (and Severus despised most people, so that was saying something), and he was really, truly happy the cur was dead for good.

It couldn't have happened to a more deserving criminal.

And thus, to celebrate the demise of Severus' tormentor, Severus decided to get well and truly drunk, and nothing was going to ruin this glorious day. Rosmerta had a bottle of fire-whiskey with his name on it, she just didn't know it yet.

But right before Severus could enter the Three Broomsticks, he heard a clunking noise behind him.

"Snape!" Moody barked.

Severus sighed deeply, squared his shoulders and turned around to see the despicable Auror gesture at him.

"Follow me." Moody limped towards a nearby alley, waving a scroll for Severus to see. "Dumbledore's orders."

Severus wasn't even surprised Dumbledore found a way to ruin Severus' afternoon off at the last moment. Dumbledore might act like a nicer, more reasonable Master than the Dark Lord, but in many ways he could be just as cruel.

"Here," Moody said as Severus stopped in front of him in the alley. The moment Severus touched the scroll, Moody said, "Azkaban!"

A familiar pull yanked on Severus' body, transporting him to where Severus had no idea. For a few very anxious seconds Severus worried that lunatic Auror had just sent him to the wizarding prison, but that didn't seem to be the case the moment they landed inside a large entrance hall. By the looks of the unmoving portraits hanging over a grand staircase, this was a muggle dwelling, but Severus had no idea whose it could be.

That was, until the wave of unmistakable magic crashed over him.

Oh, fuck.

The Dark Lord was back.

"This way," Moody said with a satisfied smirk, and Severus could not wrap his head around the idea that Alastor Moody, famed and feared Death-Eater hunter, would ever side with the Dark Lord, yet here he was.

"Thank you," the Dark Lord said with a nod at Moody, who simply nodded back and then limped away again, leaving Severus standing just inside the doorway of a classically furnished sitting room.

"Ah, Severus," said the man who looked nothing like the Dark Lord that Severus remembered. The Dark Lord had been misshapen, more monster than man, but this wizard was tall and handsome and looked utterly human. "Come closer."

Severus went, having learned long ago never to keep the Dark Lord waiting. While his stomach churned with fear and his heartbeat picked up speed, Severus kept his back straight while he crossed the room. He fell down on his knees once he reached the Dark Lord and kissed the hem of his black robes. "My Lord, let me tell you how overjoyed I am to see you alive and well."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the Dark Lord said, stepping back from Severus and seating himself in an opulent leather chair. "Sit down, Severus."

Slowly getting to his feet, keeping his head down, Severus backed up until he encountered a sofa with a cheerful floral print, and he sank down in it, still barely meeting the Dark Lord's eyes. This was an absolute disaster. Severus was in no way prepared to deal with the Dark Lord. Dumbledore had been making noise that the Dark Lord had returned for a while now, ever since the Philosopher's Stone went missing. Severus had believed the headmaster, at least for a while, but when a summons from the Dark Lord never happened, Severus eventually concluded that Dumbledore had been wrong and the Dark Lord was still only seeking for a way to regain a body.

Oh, how wrong Severus had been. Here sat a wizard who looked in his prime, and whose magic felt much the same.

"And how has life treated you while you lived comfortably in Dumbledore's lap?" the Dark Lord asked with a knowing glint in his eyes. Severus was prepared to tell the whole list of lies he'd come up with years ago to explain away his life since the Dark Lord's downfall, but he was never given a chance to do so. "It matters not, my old friend. From now on, we will come up with… tighter bonds to ensure your loyalty to the cause." The Dark Lord looked over his shoulder towards an opened door. "Quirrell! Come here for a moment."

Quirrell, looking whole and hale came strolling through the door and gave the Dark Lord a deep nod of respect.

"Quirinius will be our bonder," the Dark Lord said while he pulled out his wand. "A little Unbreakable Vow will go a long way in ensuring you won't go spilling all of my secrets at Dumbledore's feet."

Severus swallowed, trying desperately to come up with a reason, any reason, why an Unbreakable Vow was a bad idea.

"And afterwards," the Dark Lord said while he pushed himself up from his chair. "Afterwards, Severus, you are going to give me every single memory of Harry Potter that you have."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus mumbled, staring at the Dark Lord's outstretched hand. He was trapped, and he knew it. An Unbreakable Vow would mean he could probably never share a single shred of information with Dumbledore ever again, which meant that his days as a spy were truly over. Severus didn't want to know what Dumbledore would do to him once he figured out his precious spy was useless.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut as he grabbed hold of the Dark Lord's hand. This was the worst day of his life.

000000000000000000000

"This is what you're wearing?" Remus asked.

Harry descended the castle's main staircase, dressed as he always was, in a linen shirt and pants, high leather boots, and a leather vest, and he gave Remus and Sirius a curious look. "What's wrong with this?"

"Well," Remus said, and only now Harry noticed that both he and Sirius were wearing rather severe black robes. "It's not everyday that you're receiving a Dark Lord, and you look rather…"

"You look like a muggle from the middle-ages, is what Moony's trying to say," Sirius said with an amused grin.

Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and looked himself over again. "I'm clean. I even washed my hair and everything." And it had taken a long time the previous night in the bathtub, to get all the beads and finicky trinkets out, undo the random braids and listen to V tell him over and over again to shave. Harry hadn't, but he had washed and combed his beard. And now he looked as put together as he was ever going to be.

"If Voldemort doesn't like it, he can go visit another magical island for all I care." And with a shrug, Harry reached for his fur cloak and pulled that on as well. There, he was ready to meet his former enemy.

It had taken surprisingly little convincing to get Remus and Sirius on board with a visit from Voldemort, though they did both insist on being there. Harry didn't mind, could use the support, probably. Then again, Keket was sitting on the ceiling while keeping a careful eye on him, so Harry had all the backup he'd ever need. If Voldemort thought he could attack Harry in his own castle, he'd be in for a very toothy surprise.

Harry had answered Voldemort's very polite letter with a note of confirmation, and he'd added an empty wine bottle he'd turned into a portkey, which would activate at ten in the morning and which would drop Voldemort in front of his castle.

"Let's wait outside," Harry said, and he stepped into the cold air, his friends following him to stand on either side of him while V came flying over to land on Harry's shoulder. Harry hadn't yet told his family about Voldemort's letter and Harry's invitation, not quite sure how to explain it to his parents without them freaking out about their son entertaining their murderer. Harry figured it would probably be better to see how a meeting between them actually went before involving his family.

Who knew? Voldemort might act aggressively, in which case Harry would do away with him entirely, or he might want an official truce, which Harry would be happy to grand him if the conditions were right.

Voldemort had already promised Harry to share his personal anti-phoenix wards in exchange for a meeting and a tour, for with Harry was truly grateful.

"Any minute now," Remus whispered while Sirius swallowed audibly.

"Just don't do anything stupid, either of you," Harry felt compelled to point out. "Just follow my lead. If everything really goes to shit, Keket will take him out, don't worry."

Keket, who had migrated to the outside wall, rumbled in agreement.

At ten o'clock sharp the portkey activated and two men appeared on Harry's lawn, right in front of them, holding an empty wine bottle.

Harry stared.

Auntie Eustice hadn't been lying when she said Voldemort was a tall and handsome man. He was tall, and he was handsome, very much so. He was dressed in black robes, with a thick black cloak over them.

Beside Voldemort stood Barty Jr, without his Moody visage this time, looking around curiously.

"Potter," Voldemort said with a regal nod while he dropped the bottle to the grass.

"Yeah, nobody calls me that. I really don't respond to it. Harry will do," Harry said while returning the nod. "Welcome to Silgram." Then he added a short nod in Barty's direction. "Nice to finally meet you while you're wearing your own face, Barty."

"What," Barty stammered, looking from Voldemort to Harry and back. "How?" When no answer was forthcoming, Barty blew out a frustrated breath.

V flapped his wings as he stared at Voldemort with a tilt of his head, but surprisingly he kept his beak shut. Harry wondered if Voldemort even felt like his own soul anymore to V, since they'd been separated for well over a century, at least from V's perspective.

"I see you have made a full recovery of your recent run-in with death," Voldemort said while he addressed Sirius. "Let me guess, you used a muggle under the imperius who you'd fed Polyjuice potion?"

"Huh," Harry said thoughtfully. "That would have been a good option, but no, that was really Sirius."

"How is that possible?" Voldemort said while he furrowed his brows. "I saw for myself how they threw you through the veil, Black."

"Yeah, they did, but I pulled him out again." Harry waved a careless hand around. "You've got only a short window to do so, but if you can get a person out quickly enough they'll live." And then Harry thought about what Voldemort had just said and something occurred to him. "You were there, you said. You were the guy with the grey beard beside Moody, weren't you. Polyjuice potion, then." Harry gave Voldemort a knowing smile.

"Indeed. I wouldn't miss one of your public performances for the world, Harry."

Somehow the way Voldemort said his name sent a small shiver down Harry's back. How curious.

"Look, the only reason you're here is because Harry here is as dark as they come, and because I'm done playing by the Ministry's rules," Sirius said, taking a step or two towards Voldemort. "I don't care anymore what you two get up to from now on. But I have one question I'd like answered."

"If I have the answer I'll give it to you," Voldemort said, looking rather amused by Sirius' little monologue.

"What happened to my brother Regulus?" Sirius' voice was steady as he asked the question but his eyes shone with a hidden grief.

"Ah," Voldemort nodded a few times. "I honestly have no idea." When Sirius looked like he was about to protest, Voldemort held up a hand to silence him. "I truly don't, Black. Regulus was a loyal follower, one I had no personal issues with. One day he disappeared, and I looked for him, asked my followers what they knew, but no one had any idea what happened to him. I'm truly sorry to say it remains a mystery to this day."

Sirius tightened his jaws and shook his head in clear frustration.

"The Ministry might have done away with him," Barty suggested softly, almost apologetically. "Merlin knows what some of those Aurors got up to when dealing with us. Regulus was my friend. I looked for him, Black, and I never found a thing."

Sighing, Sirius nodded but didn't say anything.

Harry pursed his lips for a moment. He had no idea Sirius was wondering what had happened with his brother. Sirius had certainly never mentioned it before. Perhaps seeing Voldemort in the flesh jolted Sirius' memory or something, or awakened long repressed grief. Because if Sirius wanted to talk to a dead person, any dead person, all he had to do was ask Harry. Of course, Harry wasn't about to give away all his secrets in front of his maybe-enemy, so he kept his mouth shut for now but he'd bring it up with his godfather later.

For now, it was time to get away from such heavy subjects, Harry decided. "You came for a tour, right? So let's take a walk."

"By all means." Voldemort gestured at Harry to lead the way and he soon fell into step with him. Harry was quite tall himself, but Voldemort still almost had a foot on him. "I'm curious what kind of magic you've used to create this island," Voldemort said as Harry led them across the meadows in the direction of Black Manor, while Barty, Sirius and Remus trailed after them, with Keket bringing up the rear.

"Transfiguration, for the most part, combined with duplication," Harry said, grinning when he saw Voldemort's disbelieving expression. "For the bedrock, at least."

"It cannot be that simple," Voldemort said, almost to himself.

"Why not?" Harry asked with a cheeky smile. "The ocean is full of water. All you have to do is transfigure some of that into rock."

"But the sheer volume," Voldemort mused and then he looked down at Harry with narrowed eyes. "It would take a very powerful wizard to transfigure this much mass in such a short time."

"I guess," Harry said, knowing full well he was very powerful but it seemed rude to rub that in someone else's face.

"How far out into the sea is the island now?" Barty asked, walking a little faster to address Harry personally.

"I started out with about 25 kilometres, but Remus told me to add another 50, so right now about 75 kilometres," Harry said as he glanced across his shoulder at Barty.

"That's not enough," Barty said with a frown.

"What do you mean?" Remus asked. "It's well out of the territorial waters of both Ireland and the UK."

"Ah, yes," Barty said, clearly warming up to the subject. "I've briefly researched this since learning Harry made his own island. The Exclusive Economic Zone for any country extends out 200 nautical miles, which is roughly 370 kilometres. Both the muggle UN and the wizarding ICW have agreed on the Law of the Sea, which means that any artificial island that forms in the Exclusive Economic Zone of any country automatically belongs to that country."

"Oh bugger," Harry said while a chill ran down his back.

"So if the British Ministry knew about the island, they could claim it?" Remus asked while Barty nodded vigorously.

"You'd want to make an island at least 200 nautical miles, so 370 kilometres away from any established country, muggle or magical," Barty finished with a satisfied nod.

"Ravenclaw?" Harry guessed while glancing up at Voldemort, who answered him with a nod and a knowing smile. "All right, we'll move the island again and make sure we're 400 kilometres away from the coast."

"Move?" Voldemort asked.

"Again?" Barty gave Harry a wide-eyed look.

"Yeah, it's simple enough, just takes some time. I use runes to turn the whole island into a moving ship, basically. It works fine." Harry started walking again once he realized they'd all stopped.

Voldemort released a small little sigh, seemingly deciding to carefully choose his conversational battles with his once enemy and to keep quiet for now.

"Wait, is that Black Manor?" Barty asked in astonishment when they spotted Sirius' home in the distance. "How is that here?"

"Yep, I brought it here," Harry said, thoroughly entertained by everyone's reactions. You'd think he was giving a tour to a couple of muggles with the way they reacted to the kinds of magic Harry used all the time. "I used dimensional magic."

"Dimensional magic?" Barty threw his head back and released a sound of sheer frustration. "That's not even a thing!"

Remus gave Barty a comforting pat on the shoulder. "It's best not to think about it too closely, I find."

"But…but…" Barty gave Remus a hopeless look while Harry kept walking.

"You transported the whole grounds here as well?" Voldemort said while he gestured at the mature woodland behind the Manor. "All the other trees we've seen so far are no more than a foot high."

"Yep, once you know the magic it's really not difficult."

"And you could transport any house and grounds here?" Voldemort had a shrewd look on his face.

Harry nodded. "As long as I have access to the wards, yeah, that's no problem."

"That is certainly going to make it easier to convince certain families to move here, knowing that they can bring their ancestral homes with them," Voldemort said and then he gave Harry a questioning look. "You do want to invite more people to live here, don't you?"

"Of course!" Harry gestured at the mountain in the distance. "I'm still decorating the island, get the ecosystem settled. I made that mountain, added a river, got the layer of topsoil seeded with life. I was planning on collecting some hedgehogs and other small critters from Britain soon, to start populating the island with."

"You already have some cows," Voldemort observed as they spotted the fold of Scottish Highland cattle grazing in the distance.

"Coos," Harry corrected him with a grin. "They're called coos, don't ask me why."

Voldemort shook his head and then turned to look at Harry. "Talking about names. You've named this island Silgram?"

"Yeah."

"It's an absurd name."

Harry felt honestly a little insulted and he narrowed his eyes at Voldemort. "I'll have you know it means 'my own land' in Santireen."

"Well, that's just wonderful," Voldemort said with an amused chuckle. "There is exactly one person in this whole world who speaks Santireen and that's you, Harry. To the rest of us it's an utterly absurd name."

"All names are absurd," Harry argued with wild gestures of his hand as he stepped up to Voldemort. "England is an absurd name. Land of Engs. What does that even mean?"

"Actually…" Barty started.

Harry whipped around to glare at him. "No!"

"Harry," Voldemort said, mouth pursed tightly but dark eyes shining with clear humour. "What I'm saying is that perhaps you should name this land something that reflects our heritage, and our magical pride."

"I like Silgram," Harry argued, prepared to die on that particular vocabulary hill.

"How about…" Voldemort narrowed his eyes and leaned a little closer to Harry. "Magica."

"Ooooh." Harry's heart skipped a beat while he stared into Voldemort's brown eyes. "That's sexy."

Voldemort snorted. "That is not what I was going for."

"I mean, it's got magical pride and all that," Harry said, unable to hold back a grin. "But it's also a very sexy name."

"Should we give them some time alone or something?" Sirius whispered loudly to Remus.

"It is a name that reflects the purpose of this land," Voldemort argued right back at Harry, standing almost nose to nose with him. Harry's stomach was doing very strange flips, but he ignored those because he was having far too much fun with his once enemy.

"Sure. I like it. Magica it is from now on."

Voldemort's resulting smirk was entirely self-satisfied. "Very well, that's settled. Now for the politics."

"What politics?" Harry asked a little wearily.

"International politics," Voldemort said in a tone that made it sound like a challenge.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Oh, those politics."

Voldemort chuckled. "Exactly. You obviously have no desire to enter the international political stage. You'd much rather remain here, playing with your hedgehogs."

"You're not wrong," Harry was forced to admit. He did not want to have to play nice with dozens of other countries. He'd never needed to in the past, after all. If a country did something to piss Harry off enough, he dealt with it, but otherwise he was happy to ignore them.

"You need an ambassador," Voldemort pointed out and then waved a hand down his own body. "I'm rather good at politics, if I do say so myself."

"You're good at killing people until you get your way, is what you mean," Sirius said, as if he just couldn't help himself. Even when Voldemort turned to stare at him, Sirius only gave him a defiant glare back.

Voldemort sighed and deflated a little. "I must confess that in the past I've gone about accomplishing my goals with far too much violence. However, I have changed my ways." Voldemort gave Harry a look that could only be described as admiring. "Harry has given us magical users our own home, where we can practice all the magic we want to. There is no more need for violence and I'd be honoured to become Magica's international ambassador. If you'll have me, of course."

"Hmm." Harry offered Voldemort an amused smile while he mulled over that idea. "It's certainly an intriguing offer, and I'd happily discuss the details for that with you at some point."

"Excellent." Voldemort continued walking and Harry fell into step with him.

"You couldn't fulfil such a role as yourself, though," Harry was quick to point out after he gave the whole thing some thought.

"Obviously I'd take on a new identity. Someone related to myself. Perhaps an illegitimate son." Voldemort frowned in a way that meant he was seriously considering that option. "Marvolo Gaunt."

"What the fuck is a Marvolo?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

The insulted look Voldemort gave him in return was almost funny, and at once V started cackling with laughter on Harry's shoulder. He flapped his wings, but he cackled so hard he couldn't stop himself from falling right off Harry's shoulder, landing on the grass in a loudly cackling ball of feathers.

"Marvolo is my name," Voldemort said, just a little snootily.

Before Harry could reply, V, still lying on his back, wings spread, skinny legs sticking up, crowed, "Your name is Tom!" And then he started cackling again.

Voldemort had his wand in his hand in a second, but Harry quickly stepped in front of V, holding up a placating hand. "You don't want to hurt him, trust me. He's a rude chatterbox, but I'm rather attached to him."

"Control your bird," Voldemort snapped, before sliding his wand back up his sleeve. "Anyway, my birthname is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I despise the name Tom and therefore I would opt to use Marvolo instead when impersonating a close relative."

"Okay," Harry said with a nod, glad to see the situation calmed down again. V chattered a little as he flopped back the right side up and flapped his wings fast so he could fly back up to Harry's shoulder. "Marvolo Gaunt works for me."

"I'm delighted, truly," Voldemort said in a droll voice as they continued walking. "Have you considered what sort of people you're going to invite to live in Magica?"

"What sort of people?" Harry said with a confused frown. "Magical people, of course."

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said delicately while he looked at Harry as though he was addressing a particularly dumb child. "But not all magical people are created equal."

"I don't get it."

Voldemort sighed in a way that signalled he might be running out of patience soon. "Magical people with magical ancestry are the sort of people we should aspire to invite here."

"All magical people are welcome here," Harry said, still unsure what Voldemort was trying to say. "I don't care who their parents are."

"That is a very unwise stance to take, Harry." Voldemort stepped a little closer to Harry but Harry didn't back down an inch.

"Barty, would you like some tea?" Remus asked as he slowly backed away.

"I'd love some," Barty replied, also walking backwards.

"The Manor is that way," Sirius said, quickly turning around and hurrying away. "You can tell me how you escaped Azkaban."

"Sure." Barty was also almost running by now. "I'll trade you for your escape story."

"It's a deal."

And just like that, Harry and Voldemort were left alone, with only V and Keket left for company.

"I like my stance in my own country just fine," Harry said, not at all intimidated by the Dark Lord getting into his personal space. "All magical people are welcome here, no matter where they come from. That is how it's always been, that's how it will always be in the future."

"Not many people have challenged me to my face and lived to tell the tale, Harry." Voldemort's lips curved up in a sinister grin, showing far too many teeth.

"Let me tell you about the Dark Lord of the prophecy," Harry said conversationally, as if he didn't have an increasingly angry Dark Lord breathing in his face. "His name was Rylan. Charming fellow, much more powerful than you could ever hope to be."

"I doubt that," Voldemort whispered.

"I know that," Harry said with conviction. "Rylan tried to dominate me, tried to turn me into his personal little slave." Harry's face was utterly calm as he spoke, since those old memories no longer had any effect on him. "I killed him when I was 17."

A deep rumbling sound came from behind them.

With a chuckle, gestured at the beast seated in the grass. "Well, Keket helped."

Keket licked her lips with her blue tongue and showed far too many sharp, silver teeth.

"The point is," Harry continued, still sounding utterly pleasant, not even bothering to narrow his eyes. "If you've come here today with the intention to turn me into your servant, you need to leave now, Voldemort, because if you don't it will be the last thing you ever do." Harry paused for a moment, never breaking eye contact with the Dark Lord. "However, if you truly want to see Magica become a thriving country where all magic is legal and all magical people are welcome, I would be happy to have you onboard, because I can recognize my own limitations and I'm beginning to see that you'd be a very useful addition to the team." Harry smiled at Voldemort and briefly raised his hands. "The choice is yours."

Voldemort remained quiet for a few long moments while he gazed into Harry's eyes. Harry felt a very soft brush of Legilimency but he easily blocked it with his natural Occlumency shields and Voldemort didn't try again.

"There is no way that you are only 28 years old," Voldemort finally said as he took a step backwards.

"I never said I was," Harry replied with a careless shrug. "People just assumed that when I told them I was at least twice as old as I should be."

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed, and it was a surprisingly warm and deep sound, which made Harry's stomach flip. "It's going to be a real challenge to figure you out, I believe. Very well, I accept your conditions as you've set them. I'll become Magica's international ambassador, and you can invite whatever magical people you want to come live here."

"Eventually," Harry said with humour in his voice. "First I've got hedgehogs to collect."

"Naturally, the hedgehogs come first," Voldemort conceded with a nod. He gestured at Harry to join him as they walked back to Black Manor. "Tell me how you're planning to create the layout of the island, what you're planning for the infrastructure."

And Harry did as they walked side by side across the meadows, Keket loping around them while V took to the sky, stretching his wings as he peered down at them.

"Ah, you're both still alive," Remus said with a relieved smile as he opened the door for them. "We've got tea ready in the sitting room."

Harry and Voldemort sat down together on the only empty sofa that was left while Remus poured them tea.

"How soon are you going to start constructing the villages?" Remus asked as he sat down and picked up his own cup of tea. "I just got a few replies to letters I'd sent out. There are several werewolves who are very interested in coming to live here."

"That's great!" Harry beamed at Remus, happy to know they had potential new citizens lining up. "I can probably start building houses in the next few days." Then Harry frowned when he remembered something rather important. "Crap, that stupid tournament is also coming up. The first task is in less than two weeks and I haven't a clue what it is."

"Oh." Barty sat up and gave Harry a wide smile. "I can help you with that, since I know what's coming."

"So what is coming?" Harry asked, just a little impatiently.

Barty gave Harry a worried look. "Dragons."