"You do know you can't hide in here all day, right?" Severus asked about an hour after he had finished examining him.
"Sure I can," Harry replied. He was sitting on a small stool watching the other man chop up ingredients for a healing potion that one of the Lestrange brothers needed.
The potion master gave him a searching look before sighing and looking away. For several minutes they stayed like that. Harry watched quietly while Severus worked away on his potion. He caught the older man looking at him from the corner of his eye several times, looking as if he wanted to say something but refrained.
"What?" he asked when he finally got annoyed with the looks.
"I was expecting screaming, ranting, maybe even things being thrown. Instead, you are just sitting there watching me." The man said, looking up from his potion.
He sighed, "I don't think I know how to react. I'm not even sure I can wrap my head around it," he took a deep breath, "I mean, how the hell am I supposed to understand that the man who killed my parents and has been actively trying to kill me these last couple years is really my grandfather? And that he suddenly wants to know me instead of ending me? Or what about that he was supposed to be my enemy, the bad guy, the villain, but it was Dumbeldore who betrayed me. Not just when he sent me here to die, but at Hogwarts with my friends!" His voice raised, and he had to take a second to calm down before he found himself shouting at Severus. "He probably betrayed me before that; he knew about the Durselys and kept sending me back. What if he knew the whole time and just didn't care?"
He looked away from the man trying to hide the fact that his eyes had started to tear, "everything I thought I knew was wrong. And now, now I'm left trying to piece together the truth and figure out who I can trust and who I can't." He sighed, "not to mention figure out how I feel about Voldemort."
He heard Severus set something down on the countertop and the careful steps as the man walked up to him. The Potion Master knelt before him, "Perhaps you need to step back and look at it differently. For the first time that you can remember you have a family member who genuinely wants to know you. One who wants to protect you, teach you, care for you. Something I personally didn't think the Dark Lord was capable of."
Severus let out a breath, "Harry, I'm not saying you forgive him. I don't think that is possible, at least not yet, but maybe just give him a chance to prove to you that he wants to be your grandfather. As for the Headmaster, I think you should let the Dark Lord handle him. You are still young, despite everything you have been through. So many people had expectations of you, myself included, but those don't matter, not anymore. Right now, all that matters is you. Your health and your happiness, forget the rest. After all, I'm sure your grandfather would be quite happy to punish Albus for his actions."
Harry snorted. Then it turned into a full-blown laugh when he realized how screwed the Headmaster was. The man had set him and Voldemort against each other, plotting and scheming for them to kill each other now; instead, the fool would find they had teamed up against him.
Suddenly he stopped laughing. Teamed up? Had he already made the decision then? That he would accept this, stay here, help Voldemort defeat Dumbledore. What did that mean for the rest of the Wizarding world? What did that mean for him?
He sighed, "I think I need to talk to Voldemort."
Severus had offered to go with him, but Harry had turned him down. This felt like something he needed to do alone. Thankfully he knew his way around the Manor, even if the view was slightly different now that he was back on two feet instead of four.
He stopped outside Voldemort's office door. Hand raised to knock, but for some reason, he couldn't get his arm to move; doubt started to fill his mind. What if the man changed his mind? Or worse, what if he decided he didn't like Harry and regretted not killing him? Maybe this was a bad idea. After all, his aunt and cousin were family, blood, and they still wanted nothing to do with him. He shifted, turning away from the door.
The door opened before he could step away. Rabastan Lestrange stepped out and froze, clearly surprised to see Harry standing there. The man quickly bowed his head, "Mister Potter."
Bewildered by the act, Harry stumbled over his words, "M-ister Le-Strange?" He heard the man snort. When he looked up, the older man looked amused, not offended. Harry let out a relieved breath.
"I'm sure the Dark Lord will be happy to know you're awake and here, one moment." Before Harry could stop him, the Death Eater turned back into the office. He could hear voices but not their words, and again he gave thought to just walking off. However, this time, he reminded himself that he had faced Voldemort a number of times already. That he had gotten to know the man a little in the time he'd been trapped as a cat and that he didn't need to be afraid. Nervous, sure, but not afraid. Just as he finished talking himself down from a full-blown freakout, Bastan walked out again, smiled at him, and waved him inside Voldemort's office.
Steeling himself for an awkward conversation, Harry muttered, "Thank you," and walked inside.
He expected the Dark Lord to be seated behind his desk, waiting for him. Instead, the man was standing, waving his wand over said desk; papers were flying about, putting themselves into neat piles. When he saw Harry, he gave a slight nod, "One second, please, and then we can go."
"Go?" he couldn't help but ask, where were they going?
"I have something I wish to show you."
"Oh," he whispered. Already thrown, this was not how he expected this meeting to go. Thankfully whatever the Dark Lord was doing only took a few short minutes. Then he turned around and gestured for Harry to follow him.
He was tempted as they walked to start asking questions. Well, a little tempted. The part of him that was freaking out and nervous as hell was just fine with their awkwardly silent walk. Another part of him that wanted to know what the man wanted from him pushed at him to get the conversation going.
"I wish for you to know that if there is anything you don't like, you are more than welcome to change it." The man in front of him suddenly stopped in front of a set of double doors.
Confused, he asked, "change what?"
"Your room, of course," Voldemort said, waving his hand at the door. The doors opened without a sound. Harry found himself stepping past the man and into a large bedroom. Unlike Draco's room, the walls didn't hold a massive mural of moving dragons. Instead, the walls were all white except one; the wall behind the king-sized bed was dark forest green with black tree branches stretching toward the ceiling. It was simple yet beautiful.
Next to his bed, which was covered in the blanket Barty got him for Christmas, was a night table that held his little whomping willow tree. It was swaying slowly back and forth. There was a dark brown wooden dresser across from the bed. Harry noticed a small jewelry box on top of it. His stomach dropped as he rushed across the room to open it. Hoping that his parents' rings had been placed inside.
He let out a relieved breath when he saw them resting inside against black felt.
"I believe all your gifts have found their way into this room over the last day and a half. Though I can't tell who brought what." Voldemort said softly behind him. "I hope you don't mind that I placed your parent's ring there. I saw them on the night table and didn't want them to get lost." The man sounded worried? Harry spun around to look at him.
The Dark Lord stood in the doorway like he wasn't sure he was welcome inside Harry's room. He even shifted a little, taking a small step back when Harry had turned to look at him. Like he was thinking of backing out further. It put Harry at ease, at least a little. He wasn't the only one nervous.
"Thank you," he said, holding up the box. Voldemort seemed surprised but nodded his head. The man opened his mouth, paused, then cleared his throat. "This room is yours. But I would like it to be temporary." something twisted in Harry's stomach. Was the man about to tell him he wanted him to leave?
The man ignored his sudden panic, or perhaps he didn't notice because he kept talking, "My house should be finished soon, and I would like it if you came and stayed with me."
Harry's mouth fell open. That was not what he expected.
"Your friends would, of course, be able to come to visit. Though I'd wish them to take a vow of secrecy." He nodded his head, already agreeing to that before realizing that he just agreed to move in with Voldemort before they talked about what the man expected from him. Silently, he cursed himself before turning around and putting the jewelry box down. Then taking a deep breath, he turned back to the man, "What do you want from me?"
One of Voldemort's dark brown eyebrows shot up. Then he seemed to understand because he stepped into the room and gestured for Harry to sit on the small couch he hadn't noticed in his dash for the jewelry box.
"Mostly, I want to get to know you." the man said as they sat. "Not what I've heard through gossip or rumors or read in the papers. I'd also like to teach you, about our family's heritage and history, about the magic that runs through our bloodline. There are other things, like naming you my heir and instructing you about the Wizengamort. But that can wait, and of course, it will be your decision, not mine."
It sounded so normal. So simple. Something that didn't happen to him. Was there really nothing else? Did Voldemort not want to use him as a puppet, a tool? Exploit him to get the wizarding world on his side? He let out a breath. He'd seen Lucius and Voldemort talking; he remembered what they had talked about.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered. He felt he should be the good guy. The one he'd been proclaimed and molded to be, that he should stop the man who killed his parents for doing whatever he wanted to their world. But at the same time. He didn't want to. They loved to hate him. They tore him down and called him names both publicly and behind his back. The worst was that they had decided it was his job to fight for them and fix everything when they wouldn't do it themselves.
Plus, standing aside and letting Voldemort do what he wanted screwed over Dumbledore and his old friends. He couldn't stop the gleeful feeling he got when he thought about the old man's plans crumbling.
"Do nothing." Voldemort said back, "Stay here, hang out with your friends, be a teenager; hopefully, in time, you will get to know me, trust me, and we can be more than just acquaintances living in the same house."
That sounded nice, but "what about the memorial?" he asked.
"I've decided against a big show or dramatic announcement. Lucius was right at this time it isn't needed. That doesn't mean my people won't be there, nor that they won't mess with Dumbledore and his Order a little," Voldermort looked at him with a grin. It took Harry a second the realize the man was trying to lighten the mood. He returned the smile.
"What about after?" he asked.
Voldemort hummed, "I would like to declare you my heir, sooner rather than later, as a precaution. Thankfully that paperwork only needs our signatures and that of a Goblin or Ministry member; with Lucius here, that is not difficult. But as soon as it's filed, it can be found."
"Which means people will see that I'm alive," Harry muttered. The Dark Lord nodded.
He wasn't sure what to do. The idea of a family member claiming him made him feel almost giddy. A feeling he hadn't experienced since he met Sirius and the man had wanted him to move in with him. But a part of him was afraid of what would happen when the world found out he wasn't dead. When Dumbledore found out he was alive.
It wasn't just him that he was worried about. What would happen at the Order headquarters? Would the Headmaster go after Sirius? Remus? Bill? Charlie? Would he think Severus was a traitor for not telling him that he was alive? He didn't want to put his wants above the safety of the people he cared about. And he didn't want to tell any of this to those people because he knew that they would tell him they would be fine, not to worry about them and that they wanted him to be happy. He could even hear Sirius telling him, "not to be ridiculous to accept Voldemort's offer."
"Tell me what you're thinking about?" The Dark Lord said softly from next to him.
"I don't want to put anyone in danger," he whispered.
"Will you explain?"
He fiddled with his fingers as he tried to think of how to voice his concerns. He let out a slow exhale, "If he knows I'm alive, he'll go after others. He'll use them to get to me." His voice shook a little, "Sirius is trapped in that house, full of Dumbledore's followers; he isn't safe. I can- I can't do anything that would put him or Remus in danger." He looked up at his grandfather and hoped the man would understand that he didn't think Harry was turning him down because he wanted to, but because he didn't have any other choice.
Blue eyes met his, and instead of anger or hurt, he saw understanding, and Harry was relieved.
"Is that your only worry?" the man asked, a sly smile appearing on his face. Confused, Harry nodded his head.
"Good." Voldemort stood and held out a hand to help him up. Still lost as to why the man seemed to be happy about this, Harry took the hand and was pulled to his feet. He expected the man to let go of his hand; instead, it was held tight as he was dragged out of his room and through the hallways. After a couple of bewildering minutes, they stopped outside Severus's bedroom door.
The Dark Lord didn't bother with knocking, just threw open the door with his magic, startling the potion master, who'd been lying on his bed reading.
Seeing who it was, the man jumped to his feet, "My Lord, did you need something?"
Harry couldn't help but look up at the man, whose magic was filling the room with a weird, almost excited, happy feeling, "Severus, are you up to kidnapping the werewolf and Black?"
