Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Fifty—Unleash the Storm

"I know that you don't believe me, Severus. But I know that Harry has turned on us."

Severus said nothing. It wasn't that he didn't believe the Headmaster—exactly. He knew how malicious the Potter brat was, and Severus could easily accept that he was more powerful than the Dark Lord. It wouldn't be the first time that a wizard less cautious and clever than Severus had begun to play with the Dark Arts, only to find himself mastered by them.

No, Severus had trouble with the way that Albus's eyes continually darted from side to side as he spoke, and the way he spun around and pointed his wand into the shelves of the library.

"Headmaster?" Severus asked quietly. He touched a crystal vial of a certain potion tucked deep in a pocket of his robes, one that would dispel hallucinations.

"I know that he's here and watching us," Albus said. At least he lowered his wand, but his face as he collapsed at the table next to Severus was terrible. Severus wished momentarily that the spells he had spun to keep students out of this section would affect the Hogwarts professors. "I see him all the time."

"Professor. Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey…"

"I tell you that I see him." Albus leaned forwards insistently. "He was in my private stairwell the other day. He told the truth I've long suspected, that he has Tom on a leash and he can use him like a mad dog. He wants to rule, and he'll take all that power for himself if someone doesn't stop him."

Severus again thought that could be the truth, but he was growing increasingly convinced that Albus wasn't the one to stop Potter. He knitted his hands together and said only, "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Albus did. His eyes showed the glassy look of true belief. Severus cast a few subtle spells under the table, and all of them came back negative. Albus wasn't under the influence of the Imperius Curse, and he wasn't hallucinating from any potion or poison that Severus could detect.

Which left the possibility that Potter had tampered with his mind in some other way. But Severus wasn't a good enough Legilimens to slip through Albus's shields without him noticing.

There might be another course of action, however, one that Severus, and no other, was clever enough to discover. When Albus paused in his recitation, panting a little, Severus leaned forwards and said with concern, "Perhaps you could show me the memory? I won't understand how horrifying it is until you do that, and I feel that I should. I have to know our enemy to be able to fight him, after all."

Albus nodded rapidly and then spent a moment with his eyes closed, his breathing slowing. When he opened his eyes again, Severus slipped easily into his mind.

And found no signs of mental tampering or alteration of memory. Such a thing was not easily hidden from someone as skilled as he was, despite the power Potter had. His uneasiness growing, Severus followed the path towards the memory Albus was trying to chivvy him at anyway.

He watched the Potter brat confront Albus in the stairwell, and had trouble keeping his own heart from beating triple-time. Yes, he understood now full well how terrifying Potter was, and how even a powerful wizard could be afraid of him.

But at the same time, it wasn't right, the way he vanished like that. Not even the Master of Death could be so casual around Hogwarts's wards, Severus thought.

And the laughter and the insults he hurled, the truths he whispered. They were all exactly what Albus had thought he would say. Of course that could show how prescient Albus was, and that he had anticipated their enemy's need to move in certain directions, but…

Severus did not believe it.

He rose from the memory and studied Albus, convinced that he was so convinced that he wouldn't believe Severus if he tried to argue against the delusion. Severus ended his scrutiny by simply nodding. "And what would you like me to do?"

"Spy on Tom."

Severus flinched before he could help it. He had been lucky to be able to leave the way he did, he thought, with his knowledge of the Horcruxes intact. That he might have to go back and be close to the man who had cursed him—

Severus might know in an abstract way that Potter was more powerful than the Dark Lord, but he did not believe it, he realized then, in his heart of hearts. The Dark Lord was the terrifying one, the one who had had a chance of winning the war even before Potter sided with him.

On the other hand, there might be a kind of sense to this plan that he hadn't heard yet. So he braced himself and asked, "Why?"

"Tom will like it if you come crawling back to him. He probably regrets letting you leave with the knowledge that you gave me, anyway. And if I'm right about the way that Harry has him enslaved, then he will be desperate for someone who is voicing any kind of loyalty to him."

"How do you think Potter has him enslaved?"

Albus merely shook his head, one of those habits that made him infuriating. Severus had tired of serving the Dark Lord long before the end, but service to Albus had its downsides as well. "I cannot tell you that yet. I don't want him pulling it out of your mind. But I do think that it is a kind of complicated ritual."

That I can't seek information about in books now. Severus's hand tightened. It was true that he could get someone else to read the books aloud to him, but he hated that kind of dependence and saw no reason to seek it out. He did control himself with a deep breath before he demanded the name of the ritual, though. "All right. But what would I be looking for?"

Albus smiled and seemed more like himself than he had since he began ranting about Potter to Severus today. "Information on how to get past Horcrux defenses, for one. I encountered ones that drove me back."

Severus nodded. He should have suspected that of course Potter was not really more powerful than the Dark Lord, not if the Dark Lord was more powerful than Albus. "And ways to defeat Potter?"

"See how they interact. See what weaknesses you can find in their attachment."

"Their relationship must truly have changed," Severus ventured. "The last time I saw anything concrete, the Dark Lord treated Potter like a toy that he didn't want anyone to take away from him."

Albus turned grave blue eyes on him. "I was the one to collect Tom from the orphanage where he grew up. From what I remember of the way he treated his toys there, Severus, I would say that he could do that, be fully under Harry's domination, and still be a grave danger."

Of course he is the greater danger. It is only Albus's delusion that makes him think otherwise. Severus kept his expression smooth. "When would you like me to leave and begin spying upon the Dark Lord?"

"Immediately. Or at least as soon as you can, Severus. Now that Harry knows a way past the defenses of Hogwarts…what he might teach Tom…"

That was something Severus hadn't considered. Of course the Dark Lord might come into Hogwarts and attempt to murder Severus to silence knowledge of his Horcruxes. That meant building friends on both sides was imperative. Severus stood a better chance of survival that way.

And his own survival was all that he truly cared about. He would give up vengeance for the sake of that.

He nodded. "I will begin devising a way to return."

"Severus Snape would have me believe that he was loyal to me all along and only 'defected' to Albus because of the curse I placed on him. He says that he has thought it over and wants to return and serve me."

Harry stared at Lord Voldemort blankly. Then he threw back his head and laughed with that joy Lord Voldemort had seen more and more often since Harry had resumed his full powers as the Master of Death, and in fact had come to crave.

"Tell me you weren't fool enough to believe him," Harry muttered once he had stopped laughing.

"I am far less of a fool in my choices and preferences than you want to believe," Lord Voldemort said. A few weeks ago, that would have made Harry start and stare at him before he tried to change the subject. Now, Harry only smiled. Lord Voldemort felt free to continue. "Nonetheless, I am inclined to indulge his application, if only to find out what Dumbledore wants. And what is amusing about this?"

"In some of the other worlds I've lived in, including my first one, Snape used to be your loyal servant. But he left because you threatened my family, and he was in love with my mother."

Lord Voldemort blinked for a moment. "He said nothing to me in this one when I announced my intentions to my closest servants."

Harry shrugged. "I think he must be a very different person in this world. But then, just about everyone is." He smiled at Lord Voldemort. "If you allow him to return, could you refrain from killing him unless you really have to?"

"You sound as if you retain some fondness for him."

"I'm not fond of this one," Harry said, with enough conviction that Lord Voldemort believed him. "But I want to know what made him so different. I'm trying to trace back some of the differences between worlds and figure out where they came from."

"Why?"

"Because it's interesting."

Something that had been awakening in Lord Voldemort calmed down at the words. It didn't sound as if Harry wanted to resurrect whatever relationship—whether mentor, professor, or closer—he had once shared with the Severus Snape of other worlds. This sounded more as if Harry was talking about research.

And Lord Voldemort well understood that fascination.

"Unless he gives me clear provocation, I will try to avoid it," he conceded. "What is the next move, now that you think Dumbledore sufficiently distracted and the Minister more or less bound to our side?"

"We resurrect somebody."

Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes, both at the use of a word that had filled his thoughts just a moment ago—although he had not felt any trace of Harry sliding past his Occlumency shields—and because Harry was grinning in the way he did when he was about to say something outrageous, such as his idea to introduce his brother to Lord Voldemort. "I wish to know what you mean by that."

"Well, yeah, you sort of have to, since you're the one we're resurrecting."

Lord Voldemort spent a moment stroking his wand with long fingers. Harry continued to lounge on the bench in the clearing, the faintest of smiles tilting his lips up. Lord Voldemort sighed at last and conceded he could not intimidate someone who was more powerful than he in every conceivable way. "Tell me what you mean by that."

"We're going to put you back on the political stage," Harry said calmly. "Explain that, yes, you started a war, but you are very sorry for it, and also, you were young and didn't know what you were doing. Now you want to negotiate. You have something about you that appeals to pure-blood ideals, and those people aren't going to want to discard you right away. Explain that you were misguided, but after listening to advice—"

"Whose advice?"

"Mine, if you want to name me. But it might be more effective to leave me as a mysterious presence of the kind that people think advised Merlin."

"What presence?'

"Oh, do people not believe that in this world? Damn." Harry shook his head. "I've lived in several dimensions in a row where no one would have believed Merlin could accomplish everything he did alone, so they attributed some of his wisdom to a spirit who advised him. Or an elf, or a raven, or an owl, or a demon." Harry shrugged when Lord Voldemort looked at him. "It's a useful bit of trickery in a situation like this, although the stories vary so much you can't rely on them. But you don't have anything like that here."

"No." Lord Voldemort felt the coiling excitement rise in him. He would have to move carefully, but he might be able to persuade Harry in the end. "We have few choices. I would like to announce you as you are."

"The Master of Death?'

"The Master of Death, Harry Potter, whatever title you would be willing to go by." Harry opened his mouth, and Lord Voldemort stepped swiftly ahead, although he knew that speed might cost him his objective. "I want the world to know you."

Harry was frowning slightly. "You know that we might damage the credibility of the war effort if we make it clear a ten-year-old child is advising Lord Voldemort."

"The peace effort, not the war effort," Lord Voldemort corrected him. "And with Dumbledore sadly delusional...well, it won't be as damaging as if he had open eyes and could oppose us. And do you need to appear as a child?"

Harry looked thoughtful. "An illusion, then? To give me that semblance of a helpful spirit that we would use if you had the stories about Merlin in this dimension?"

"Do you need to stay in this young body?" Lord Voldemort asked, and he knew his voice was deeper than it should be and that Harry would look at him sharply for it. He found himself unable to care. "Do you need to never do something to age yourself? Would you grow up only as you are to make your family more comfortable?"

"My family's comfort matters to me."

"But now they all know who you really are. And you needn't assume that semblance around them. You could use it when we were negotiating and no other time."

Harry was quiet, motionless as a hunting cat. Then he shook his head. "I would still need to appear in it in public. And that would make James uncomfortable. Not Jonathan, maybe not Lily, but him."

Lord Voldemort said nothing. It was true that he wanted the semblance to appear in the papers, to show forth Harry's splendor and power, not disguise it. He had few other arguments that he could make in opposition to the ones Harry raised.

Harry finally lifted his head. "You wish me to be older so that you could touch me."

And there it was, in blank, bald words that Lord Voldemort paused for a moment to honor. Then he nodded. "Yes," he said simply.

Harry sighed. He said, "I don't want to—alternate back and forth between ages. It would disconcert me, and I think it would disconcert my family."

"But you have the power to do so."

Harry paused, staring off into the distance. Lord Voldemort followed the line of his gaze, but could see nothing that could possibly justify the intensity of his stare.

Then Harry took a deep breath, and Lord Voldemort could have sworn that he felt a distant sensation like a wall collapsing. It wasn't a noise as much as it was a pulse traveling through the earth. He half-rose, holding his wand, wondering if someone had attacked the manor house while he was with Harry.

"Look at me."

The whisper traveled around the clearing and shook it—and him. Lord Voldemort spun to face Harry.

There was a seething ball of darkness there, shot with lightning. Lord Voldemort remained still. There would have been nothing to defend himself against, and he knew at once that he couldn't defend himself if Harry was determined to strike.

"I try to remain human," said the voice, a voice like someone speaking Parseltongue through trees instead of a mouth. "But I cannot always do it. I am a human skin floating on a sea of inhumanity, and in my darkest moments I know that."

Lord Voldemort looked back at him, and said nothing, because he disagreed with that declaration so much he couldn't put the disagreement into words.

"If I change myself, if I begin to play with my age and my appearance, what will be left of me to anchor myself to the human? What will convince me that my morals and my concerns still need to be restricted to the field of the mortal?"

Lord Voldemort sighed. He waited until the immense attention behind the words turned to him, and said, "I would do it."

"What?"

"I would hold you to humanity. I would remind you of what you would be forsaking if you dived into power and did nothing else. Were you expecting a different answer?" he added curiously, as the boiling shape in front of him became motionless. "Of course I would hold you."

"You are not human enough to do so."

Lord Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, but the darkness said only, "Absorb the rest of the Horcruxes, forsake whatever memories are tied to the ring or tell me about them and let me make my own judgment, and I will consider it."

The darkness and lightning faded, and with them, Harry. Lord Voldemort stood alone in the middle of the clearing for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.

He did not, and would never, fear Harry's inhumanity. And in the end, if he had to choose between Harry and the memories that the ring Horcrux represented…

The choice was not a choice.