"I'd say not bad," Tom said, peering down at a sweaty, exhausted, and slightly nauseated Harry. "But considering the state you're in, and the amount of times you've tried this, I'm just... well ."

"Shut...up...," Harry managed to say, words losing their bite as he tried to regain his breath. He knew he'd have to get up soon if he wished to avoid catching a cold. "I've been practicing this for a week already, and I'm still not good at it."

"Don't take it to heart. Most people usually spend weeks, not days, trying to figure it out."

"I hate apparating."

"It's the fastest way to get anywhere," Tom pointed out, shaking his head. Unlike Harry, he was perfectly fine with the cold, snowy weather. "Most people stay upright after they apparate, however."

" How ?" Harry snapped, pushing himself to sit up. Ah, Merlin, he still felt a bit dizzy. "It's like being forced through a... a really tight... tube!"

"It will be fine," Tom said dismissively. "You've got the hang of actually doing it. It'll become easier for you the more you practice it. Therefore, we'll move on to other things you need to learn, and leave only an hour of apparition practice for you to do every morning."

"You should have been a teacher," Harry huffed, finally standing up and brushing the snow off his clothes as well as he could. "Or a private tutor. Merlin, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Enjoy seeing you suffering? Circe, no."

" Lies ."

Tom smiled, fleetingly, and something about that smile made Harry feel better about himself. "Your performance when dueling that man and his creature in Istanbul was good, but it could have been better. Your reflexes are fast and your spellwork is excellent. However, as admirable as it is of you to use the Killing Curse at such a young age – twice in a row, even – mastering one strong spell will not be enough for you to survive in the long run."

"Yeah, but we have something else I'd like to do first," Harry said, trying to walk towards the house - well, the mansion , because apparently anything less than twelve rooms for a single person wasn't good enough for a Dark Lord - Tom had taken them to. Merlin , he could barely feel his legs. "Help me inside."

"I think I'd rather see you try on your own, first," Tom replied, and with a frustrated groan, Harry began making his way indoors on his own. Tom followed, still amused, and said after closing the front door behind them: "You said there's something else you'd like to prioritize above spellwork?"

"The life debt," Harry clarified, sinking into the first chair he could reach with a relieved sigh. "I think that needs to be removed before I can focus on anything else."

"Indeed," Tom murmured, shrugging his coat off and flicking his wand at Harry's shoes, making them unlace themselves and head to their place by the door. "I'll start preparing for it, rest assured. And once that is done, I trust that you'll be able to, once more, access the other side more freely?"

"Yes," Harry replied, thinking of the train station, and Albus and Merope. "Is there anything specific— I mean, you've been quite occupied for the past week. Is there a threat of some sort in the horizon?" The question slipped out naturally, and Harry didn't stop to consider that it wasn't actually a question he should have had the authority to ask. Luckily, Tom didn't seem to mind.

"A threat... yes, I do think so," he said, and gestured for Harry to move to the sitting room. The boy instantly headed towards the soft rug in front of the lit fireplace, and lay down with a happy sigh. "I have spoken to you of Regulus Black."

"Briefly, yes," Harry said, and briefly contemplated sitting up when a house-elf popped in to set two cups of tea on the table. He dismissed the idea, however, as he had just found a comfortable position. "I thought you said he might be dead?"

"There's a larger probability of him being very much alive and active, unfortunately," Tom said. "I have tried to track him down and erase him, but with no luck. He... he is a rather notorious Rebel, and one of the finest strategists I have ever had the misfortune of knowing."

Harry fell silent for a few long moments, before he hesitantly asked: "Is it... I mean, am I in the way? I can go back home if I'm holding you back from something important."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom sneered, and flung a stinging hex at the boy, making him yelp. "If you were in the way, I would have sent you back already. No, you stay here and I'll keep training you. And do remember that I'm not doing this out of my good will - we have a deal."

"True," Harry said, feeling a bit better again. He finally pushed himself upright, and reached for one of the cups. The tea was still steaming hot. "After undoing the life debt, what kind of spells will you teach me? Shields? Healing spells?"

"Merlin, no," Tom replied, bored by the mere suggestion. "It seems that everyone who has ended up tutoring you has taught you more and more shields and healing spells. You're fine on that front. What you are lacking, however, is variety in your offensive spells. And no, Expelliarmus doesn't count."

"I didn't think I'd need more than that and the killing curse."

"Which, if you recall, I had to coerce you to learn."

"Yes, yes, thank you."

"I doubt your soft heart can handle the Cruciatus," Tom said, "but the Imperius Curse is something you ought to learn. Perhaps you should be taught how to overcome it, first."

"That's possible?" Harry asked, curious. "I thought people couldn't just shrug off that curse."

"No, it's not a curse people can just shrug off ," Tom replied, with a roll of his eyes. "Which is why you need to be trained to do so. Even then, it might be impossible for you. Not everyone can do it, but I suspect that your abilities and... well, the way your brain works. I suspect those may help you."

"Let's hope so."

"But before that, we have the life debt."

The late afternoon of the following day found Harry, once again sitting by the fireplace, reading through the theory behind the ritual that Tom said he'd be using to undo the life debt. By his side there was a plateful of pastries so fancy that he couldn't even name, but apparently had been a gift from the Malfoys to the Dark Lord.

'What they don't know won't upset them,' Harry thought, trying not to feel too guilty for indulging. To be fair, Tom had said that he had found the pastries to be too sweet for him, and Harry reasoned that without him, the pastries would go bad. 'I'll be really nice to Draco after the break,' Harry decided. 'I'll... go look for him and say hi, or something.'

"Here you are," Tom said, walking into the room. He had clearly just come from outside, and there was an annoyed expression on his face. "Still reading the ritual notes?"

"Yes," Harry replied, and squinted at him with a suspicious look on his face. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Tom said, and dropped several papers and what looked like maps onto the table by one of the couches. "Except, well . Considering your special circumstances, I can keep you updated on some issues. However, I trust that it needn't be further clarified that none of the things I tell you are allowed to be shared with anyone else. If so much as a whisper gets back to me—"

"Of course," Harry said instantly. How could he explain his access to sensitive information, anyway, without making himself look suspicious? Besides, most of the things Tom told him were of no importance to anyone else in Harry's life, really.

"Seven large Rebel camps have been identified in Europe," Tom began, walking slowly across the room. Some strands of his usually neat hair were standing at odd angles, but Harry didn't see it fit to mention them. The moment just didn't feel right, even if he looked rather silly. "In addition, twenty-four smaller camps have also been realized, resulting in a total of thirty-one camps that we know of. I have no doubt that there are even more hidden somewhere."

"So you're aware of there being at least thirty-one camps in Europe," Harry repeated, "but what about their locations ? Have they been found?"

"The exact locations of only five have been confirmed so far," Tom replied. "But even that is unreliable information, as the camps can move or split into fragments at any moment. And there are no ways to trace their movements, really. They have no behavioural patterns outside of the battlefield, and even there it's a matter of not using certain spells - such as the Killing Curse."

'No behavioural patterns?' Harry thought with a frown. Were there any differences between the way Death Eaters and Rebels behaved? He didn't know any rebels, so it was hard to think of anything. Except, well, he doubted that they referred to Tom as the Dark Lord. In all likelihood they just referred to him as Voldemort. "It's a pity you can't attach a tracing spell of some sort to spoken words," Harry said. "I mean, they refer to you as Voldemort, don't they? Imagine if you could locate every person who said that name." Harry shook his head, and tried to refocus on the papers in front of him when he realized that Tom had suddenly frozen in his tracks, staring at Harry in disbelief.

"I know, it sounds stupid," Harry said, feeling defensive. "I've never heard of anything like it, to be honest. I just thought it, I don't know, makes things easier. I'm sure you've already tried everything."

"Of course," Tom said, sitting down slowly. He was still staring at Harry, before he suddenly shook his head and looked down at the map on the table. "Designating a word as a key to reveal someone's location... what a... crazy idea. Absolutely ridiculous."

"I know," Harry said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "No need to repeat it."

"You do not refer to me as Voldemort, do you?" Tom suddenly asked. Harry shook his head.

"No."

"Good, good. The Dark Lord sounds far better anyway, doesn't it?"

"Well," Harry started hesitantly, but decided to remain quiet after all.

"I'll see what I can do," Tom murmured then, not clarifying his thoughts to Harry, but appearing less annoyed. "Well, do you have any questions about the ritual so far?"

"You said you modified it a bit from these notes, didn't you?" Harry asked instantly. "How much?"

"Not much at all," Tom lied. "As you can see, the version you're reading requires a lot of preparation. I've simply found out ways to shorten the preparation time, and we can therefore begin in a couple of days. On Christmas, coincidentally."

"Before or after opening the gifts?" Harry asked, feeling both nervous and excited.

"Before," Tom said. "Due to security reasons, all of your gifts will be checked for spells first. You'll receive them a few days after Christmas."

"All right." So he could simply focus on the ritual, for now. Finally, the life debt would be dissolved, and he could go back to the train station again. "I wonder if Truls will feel it... or if it will change him. I mean, Björn - that's a friend of mine from Durmstrang - once said that life-debts can amplify certain feelings. What if Truls won't be my friend anymore?"

"Then you will just have to let him go, I suppose," Tom said, uninterested in the existence of Harry's best friend. "Surely you can find other people to spend time with."

"You know," Harry suddenly said, sounding contemplative. "You're the person I spend most of my time with, really. Aside from classmates during lectures, I mean. Voluntarily spending time with you."

"I'm a good choice," Tom told him. "Excellent, in fact. Is there better company that you could come up with? I think not!"

Harry shrugged, a small smile appearing on his face. In all honesty, well... "I guess not."

The thing about Bella's sitting room was perhaps that it didn't appear to suit her at all.

Sirius wasn't sure how a woman such as her had decided that including every colour imaginable in one room was a good idea - Bellatrix had always given him the impression of preferring dark colours and tasteful designs. The sitting room however, was nothing like that. The carpets on the floor were red, white, and a dull shade of green, one of the couches was blue, the other two red, the round table was covered in a white tablecloth and a large flower arrangement rested on it. There was a statue of a cat dressed in a suit standing by the flowers. Near the doorway there was another statue of a large horse with golden hair and bejeweled reins, surrounded by plants. The windows, spelled to let sun in constantly regardless of the weather outside, were made of glass as colourful as the room itself.

"Sit down," Bellatrix said, gesturing toward one of the couches. "You do this every time. Stop acting like you've never been in this room."

"It's just... so warm and colourful," Sirius muttered, but did move to take a seat. "Tea?"

"Already served, if you could stop eyeing that horse and look at what's on the table."

"Oh, you have scones, too! You're spoiling me, dear cousin."

"Don't get too happy about it," Bellatrix said. "I asked you here to discuss a matter important to us both."

"Oh?"

"Your godson Harry, that is."

"Your interest in Harry remains a mystery to me," Sirius said, instantly wary. "Why are you so concerned about him?"

"Why aren't you concerned about him?" Bellatrix shot back. "I like the boy. He's bright and polite. Which is why I'm quite surprised as to why he isn't spending this holiday with you - this is his first Christmas after the passing of his father, isn't it? I would've thought that you'd rather have him spend it with you."

"We decided against that," Sirius told her, smiling a bit as he thought of Harry. Merlin, how proud he was of the boy! "I have to make sure that the third task goes without a hitch, and having him with me would cause a conflict of interest that the other competitors would capitalize on."

"Even if he doesn't win the third task, he's bound to win the tournament as a whole," Bellatrix said dismissively. "No one who saw his performance at the second task can argue against it. Even Delacour's admirers couldn't rank her above him."

"He did rather well, didn't he?" Sirius sounded delighted as he spoke. Bellatrix fell silent for a moment, before she said:

"Do you know where he learned the killing curse?"

"It's not taught at Durmstrang," Sirius said, and shook his head. "But there's no way for me to know how he— I don't even know how to ask him about it."

"Will he stay with you during the summer, at least?"

"Yes, I do believe so. Most of his personal belongings are at Grimmauld Place already, and his own house is sealed for now. He could technically go there, but it won't be properly his until he's of age. Which is why he's better off spending the summer with me while preparing for his fifth year at Durmstrang."

"Will he be fine with that?"

"I think so. Although, if he prefers to stay at his own home, I don't think I want to force him to move. I love Harry, but he's very independent and capable."

"After he wins the tournament, you know his life will be quite different," Bellatrix pointed out. "The Dark Lord will want to have him participate in Death Eater activities, and there will be quite a few journalists asking for his statements on irrelevant things. They'll try to turn him into a celebrity, and he has to be ready for that."

"Haven't you seen the things Skeeter writes? They're already trying that," Sirius said. "But for now, I think it'd better to focus on what comes next: the third task."

"I thought everything was already sorted out about it?"

"Well, we might have to work on the timeline a bit. Since the task itself will require a bit of setting up, I believe it would be best to tell the champions about it well in advance and let them prepare."

"Wouldn't it be more exciting to watch them prepare for whatever it is?" Bellatrix asked. "Or better yet - if it's a battle, send them unprepared."

"I think them being prepared will allow for a better show," Sirius said. "And unfortunately, making the audience watch them before the task itself begins would be quite boring."

"Tell me," Bellatrix said, leaning forward with an excited look on her face. "Is the third task anything like the first two?"

"Oh, Bella," Sirius replied with a grin. "It's much, much better."

Harry doubted that he'd ever spend another Christmas quite the way he would spend it this year.

"This does look like a place specifically made for suspicious rituals of unknown origins," the boy said, observing the gloomy atmosphere of the basement that Tom had led him to. "The floating torches are a nice touch, although the lack of skeletons is a bit disappointing."

"You'd do well to appreciate the things you see," Tom sniped, clearly not delighted by Harry's words. "The basement is just fine and the ritual is hardly suspicious or from unknown origins. In fact, let's reiterate the things I've already told you—"

"And the things that I've already read a few times."

"What the life debt did was create several connection points between you and that friend of yours. As time passed by, those connection points only grew stronger and stronger. What I will be doing is simply severing the connection points one by one, as cleanly as possible."

"Will it be painful?" Harry asked, and regretted his question immediately. He didn't want to sound weak, but he just... he didn't have a good feeling about this. Tom gave him a look, and surprisingly, didn't make fun of him. "How will you do the severing?"

"The ritual itself will make the connection points visible to me," Tom explained, moving towards a wooden table at an appropriately dark corner of the basement. There were a few books and bottles on it, and Harry wondered if they had been there before, or if they were somehow part of the ritual. "But they have to be weakened enough for me to be able to cut them without causing you magical or psychological damage."

"And how will that be done," Harry asked, noting the lack of mention of his physical well-being. "Will you use another spell, or something?"

"Or something," Tom replied, and moved towards Harry with a small bowl in hand. "This will take quite a while, and yes, it will be painful. Did you read about the complications regarding the severing process?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "The notes said that if the connection is too strong, it'll just cause damage all around."

"Yes, well, that's one way to put it," Tom said. "Therefore, to make it more likely for us to succeed, we must put the life debt under some strain."

"And... how is that done?"

"We'll poison you a bit."

"Poison me... a bit ," Harry repeated slowly, a cold feeling sweeping into the pit of his stomach. " Explain . As clearly as you can, please." Tom wouldn't kill him, would he?

"Being closer to death will put a strain on the life debt and make the bonds easier for me to sever," the man said, eyeing Harry with a carefully neutral expression. "It is the best way to do this without killing your friend." Harry stood still for a long time, watching the man in front of him, wondering if this was about to lead him somewhere he couldn't come back from.

"You want me to drink poison," he said. "And if I do? Will you heal me?"

"If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't bother with such a complicated way of doing it," Tom replied. "I could have done it at any other point during your stay here so far. Merlin knows you're in the bad habit of falling asleep everywhere except your own bed in the safety of your room."

"Unless you're working on something in which consent to drink poison is needed," Harry immediately argued. "Consent for that would signify a willing sacrifice."

"I can pour this down your throat with you kicking and screaming, if that will make you feel better," Tom offered, before stepping closer yet again. "Harry. I haven't led you here to hurt you. I need you to trust me." And wasn't it, well, something , that for once he had to ask for someone's trust? And why did the thought of Harry not trusting him seem so bothersome?

Harry took a few deep breaths before he nodded. What did he have to lose, really? His parents were dead, his friends would survive without him, and the Tournament would carry on whether or not he was a part of it. "All right," he said, finally. Merlin, he was really out of his depth, wasn't he? Why had he thought that he could match the Dark Lord in any kind of magic?

"I need you to undress enough for me to be able to cover at least half of your body in runes," Tom then said. "This will make locating the connection points easier." Harry complied without a word, feeling oddly detached all of a sudden. As if he was no longer associated with what was happening. All he could hear was the sound of his own surprisingly steady heartbeat as he undressed slowly.

Once done, he approached Tom.

"I need you to relax a bit," the man told him, dipping his fingers into the bowl before reaching towards Harry and drawing something on his chest. "Let's talk, will that make you feel better? You do enjoy talking."

"I'm cold," Harry whispered, feeling vulnerable. Tom's eyes, red unlike any other, glanced up before going back to observe the runes he was drawing.

"Did you enjoy Istanbul?" Tom asked then, unsure of why Harry's obvious discomfort unsettled him so. Merlin be damned, but he did want the boy to calm down and trust him. "Did you know of your target before? You seemed quite familiar with his work."

"What?" Harry asked, frowning. "His work?"

"The painting," Tom clarified, and was just about to continue when he saw Harry's eyes widen in terror, and the boy's hands flew to Tom's mouth, silencing him. Surprised, Tom let him.

"Don't... don't mention that painting," Harry whispered, his green eyes wide and bright in fear. "Tom, promise me— I know you want to know everything, but—"

"Well," Tom murmured, pulling his head back and dislodging Harry's hold, "now you've made me curious."

"Tom, there are things that I know only because of where I can go," Harry told him, the thought of Tom becoming aware of the Fading Tribe terrified him. He didn't know enough yet to warn him, but there was something in Harry that made him feel - deeply, uncompromisingly - that Tom should never find out about the Fading Tribe. "Things that you, for your own sake, shouldn't approach or look into. Just... just carry on with the ritual."

The Dark Lord looked at him for a few long moments before he narrowed his eyes and continued drawing the runes. He hadn't come this far without a sense of self-preservation, and if a boy who could die and come back to life told him to not seek something, then he could let it slide – for now, at least. He didn't know what that painting could be about, and he had learned better than to investigate anything that could bring him closer to death than he absolutely had to be.

"Because of where you can go, huh," the man said. "Sometimes I forget that you can go and come back from where no one else could return."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "But, if it makes you feel any better, it has no impact on anything you wish to do."

"I suppose. Turn around, I need to paint some on your back."

Harry turned, cold and shivering, feeling strangely disoriented and confused. Merlin, to go from worrying about the ritual, to worrying about being poisoned, and then panicking due to what Tom had brought up... Harry couldn't wait for this all to be over and for him to just... be . Come summer, he would spend it all alone at home. He knew that Sirius wanted him to live at Grimmauld Place, but Harry only wanted to go home. Even if his parent's wouldn't be there, he just wanted—

"I'm done," Tom said, interrupting Harry's train of thoughts. "Now, I need you to drink the potion and trust me. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Harry replied, already feeling sick. The potion Tom handed him was colourless and smelled of nothing. When he drank it, it tasted metallic.

"Lie down," Tom instructed, and Harry once again complied. The floor of the basement was cold against his bare back, and felt almost painful.

"I can't believe I trust you this much," Harry said, and reached to hold Tom's hand. Tom let it happen, and held his wand with his other hand instead. He looked at Harry's face, at the boy's closed eyes, and couldn't help but reluctantly admit that perhaps the boy was worth knowing even without his ability of conversing with the dead.

A moment later the runes on Harry activated, and the web of the life debt became visible as strands of lowly burning fire that tangled up in large knots, signifying the connection points. Harry's breathing was heavy, and Tom could see him sweating already despite the cold. The connection points flickered in and out, telling him more than anything of the impact the poison had on Harry.

Harry's grip on his hand became even tighter.

Merlin, the boy really did trust him, didn't he?

And even more absurdly - Tom was acutely aware of his own desire to not fail that trust.

The runes on Harry's body shone brightly, reflecting the web of the life debt that Tom was untangling. He knew that somewhere - he didn't care to know where - Harry's friend was experiencing excruciating, unexpected pain. He had his suspicions on the long-lasting effects that severing the life debt would do but didn't see it necessary to inform Harry of the small details, especially if it meant Harry backing out of the ritual. He couldn't let the life debt remain, however, as it had been turning into a hindrance to the boy's development.

And, well, whatever ended up happening to Harry and his friend's relationship… Tom was sure he would be able to spin it to his favour. Besides, from what he had seen, the two had became far too close anyway. Harry, if he wanted to become the kind of Death Eater that Tom wanted him to, wouldn't be able to afford such a close friendship.

The effect that severing the life debt would have on Harry's friend would drive the two boys apart, and despite how much it would upset Harry, Tom was sure that the boy would understand the long-term value of that distance.