"What Poddy is doing for Harry Potter?"

Harry crouched down when the elf appeared. "I want to thank you for what you've told me. Ithink Ido understand much better what you were talking about."

"Poddy is happy to hear that, sir." The elf beamed, stroking his ear in a preen.

"Yes. Well. I'm not there yet."

Poddy beamed. "Is getting there. Is beinglike the old ceremonies the house elves is performing. Teaching other races how to understand. We is no longer doing the ceremonies, but is happening. Is all happening in Harry Potter's head."

He blinked. "Yeah?"

"Of course. Ceremony isn't always for chanting and robes as wizards are thinking." He smiled brightly. "Important ceremony isinside, in your head."

Harry shook his head. "Your kind is really much more intelligent than you're given credit for."

Poddy laughed, a tinkling sound. "House elves is not wanting credit. House elves is not needing to be known. Is enough to be knowing ourselves."

Harry smiled, then hunkered to sit, cross-legged, in front of the elf so he could meet him eye to eye. "I'm afraid there's still something I'm having trouble with."

Surprise touched the house elf's face.

"Iwent to...er, to talk to someone I never bothered trying to understand before. Ilearned some things baout him, and it got better. Enough that I know the truth of what you're saying. But I don't see how it will help with Voldemort. I still don't understand him, and I don't know if I ever will."

Poddy's ears went flat at the name, but he didn't cringe away. He nodded. "Even house elves is not understanding He Who Must Not Be Named."

Harry frowned. "It's him I have to kill. It's him I need that magic for."

Round eyes widened. "Harry Potter must not be killing He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Of course I must!" Harry sat up. "That's the whole point of all of this."

Poddy ducked his head. "Forgive Poddy, he is not being clear. Harry Potter is not killing He Who Must Be Named because Harry Potteris killing the man inside."

Harry drew in a breath. "Tom Riddle."

Poddy beamed. "Yes! Harry Potter is killing the wizard, not the Dark Lord. It is he who we is understanding."

"That seems easier, but I really don't know if I can do it."

Poddy bowed. "Begging Harry Potter's pardon, but he is trying it before he is saying no."

"Right." Harry smiled at that, sitting back and wondering how it would be possible. "Right."

Remus opened his door and blinked out, looking half-asleep. "Severus?"

Snape grimaced. He hadn't realized it was so late. He held his fist up, parchment crumbled between tight fingers. "I..." He hesitated, tightening his jaw and raising his chin with no small amount of pride. "I need help."

Remus, to Snape's grateful surprise, hardly seemed phased. He opened his door and allowed Snape entrance. "Come in. Tell me what's going on."

Snape strode into the room, shoved the parchment into Remus's hands and stalked over to the small fireplace, where flames were burning low and hot. A book sat open by a chair near the fire. A glass of wine. Interesting. Lupin spent his nights very much as Snape was spending his these days.

Behind him he heard the sound of parchment unrolled, and he tensed and waited.

Remus spoke a moment later. "I will never get used to this. I taught him as a child. "

"He was malicious even then."

"True. But to see him come to this."

Snape's spine straightened. "It's no surprise. He was the last child I would have been able to help. I could never risk him doubting I was loyal, because he and his father shared everything."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Help me settle this matter."

"Right." Remus moved into his line of sight, face looking more drawn under the flickering orange of the fire. "What are you planning?"

"I'm going to do exactly as he says."

"What?" Remus looked surprised, finally. "Severus."

"Seamus Finnigan is innocent. Malfoy only wanted him because he was here with me. That is not something I am prepared to let him die for."

"But to sacrifice yourself..."

"Sacrifice?" Snape raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Like you I taught the boy. There is nothing he can do that I can't counter. He is reckless and egocentric. I can defeat him."

"He won't play fair, Severus."

"Nor will I."

"He will have the advantage. He has Seamus."

Snape bristled, but drew in a breath and forced himself to relax. "That is what I need your help for. There is a potion Seamus must take. He will need some the moment he is brought back, and should I not return someone will need to be found who can brew it regularly."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You came here to ask me to prepare for your not returning."

"Come now, Lupin. Surely you've got something of a fatalist in you after all these years. Of course that's what I'm asking for. I will not play games with his life. I will not resort to foolish Order trickery that might backfire. I don't trust it, and Malfoy will be too smart to fall for it."

"Then it's you falling into his trap, Severus."

He cocked an eyebrow, daring Lupin to tell him his old student's plan, as if he could understand better than Snape himself.

Remus flashed the parchment, then dictated part aloud. "'Yet I know your pride will not allow you to refuse.' You're admitting he's right."

"No." Snape stared hard eyes at the werewolf. "It isn't out of pride that I act."

Lupin regarded him, and though Snape knew the man would be able to see he was being honest, he also knew Lupin would never agree to support his plan.

But that was alright. He didn't have to. All he had to do was agree to help Seamus if things went badly. "Don't try to reason with me. Your energy is needed elsewhere. You've got that brat to raise, and that's enough for any person. Focus on that. Just tell me you'll help him if I am unable to."

Lupin shook his head, his expression dark. "You know I will."

"Yes. I suppose I just wanted to hear it. I don't want anyone's ill feelings towards me being reflected on Seamus. Especially if something does happen to me. He is an emotional child. He will be hurt."

Remus bowed his head. "Do you honestly intend to put yourself in Malfoy's hands? Not knowing how many Death Eaters he has on his side, or what tricks he has planned?"

"I don't plan to go without a fight."

Remus shook his head. "Severus. That's not good enough."

Snape hissed a breath, looking away from those grey eyes. "Don't pretend to care if I live or die."

"Severus."

Snape nodded after a moment. Lupin wasn't a liar. He didn't deceive. But Snape was having a hard enough time understanding why Seamus cared for him. Accepting that Lupin might prefer to have him alive and well was something he couldn't contemplate yet.

"I will come to you tomorrow before I leave, to tell you where the potions instructions are stored and show you how to measure a dose. I fear...he may need more than one. He's missed more than is healthy."

"Are you alright, Severus? Have you slept?"

Snape blinked at him. "Slept? Of course not. I dislike things not being where I want them. It's hard to rest..."

"Without him there."

Snape grimaced but didn't answer.

Harry shifted the awkward spiked ball from one hand to the other as he was led down the halls towards the cell. The guide was quiet. The halls were quiet. The Ministry itself was quiet.

It was obscenely late, though, so that was understandable.

Harry blamed Ron. Since the moment he asked Ron to borrow that toy, this ball he had bought in Hogsmeade for his brothers but of course had forgotten about entirely, Ron had demanded to know what he was planning. Harry hadn't given details, but Ron was smart enough to know it had something to do with Voldemort.

He had tailed Harry, unwilling to let him face danger without him. What if he passed out again, Ron had asked. What if Voldemort was strong enough to fight?

Harry wasn't worried. A test of the ball revealed that it only made walls invisible on the side it was sticking to, so he would have all the time he wanted to examine Voldemort without being seen himself.

He walked through the wall illusion that led to Voldemort's door and stopped, nodding at the two men who gaurded the door. "I'd like to be alone for a few minutes."

"Er, Mr. Potter sir, begging your pardon and all, but that's against our orders."

"Whose orders? Fudge's? Or Albus Dumbldore? Who do you trust more?" He looked at the two men.

They exchanged a glance. Fudge was their boss, true enough. But Unspeakables were intelligent, and anyone with a brain knew whose decisions were more sound.

"Dumbledore sent me here. I am the man who is going to free you of your prisoner. I want to be alone with him."

Another exchanged glance. "Right. If Dumbledore said it...but we'll be right on the other side of the wall. If we hear anything odd..."

"Don't worry." Harry nodded at them. "It will be fine."

"Since it's you, Mr. Potter. Don't guess you've got a reason to want him free."

They headed off, the guide and the two guards, vanishing through the wall illusion and out of sight.

Harry turned to the door. He hefted the ball in his hand, and pulled out his wand with his other. Just in case.

With a soft grunt he lobbed the ball. The spikes bit into the wall and hung there. The wall began to diminish, fading centimeter by centimeter like it was melting very slowly.

The white room came into view, the white cot and white-skinned figure on it. Red eyes were just a sliver of color, and Harry drew in a breath. He silently looked in, moving to the wall and resting a hand against it.

He could almost find sympathy for Voldemort. That he was a powerful wizard reduced to a half-conscious piece of driftwood in a sea of white was almost sad.

Harry had nightmares at times, after close calls wth Death Eaters and sneak attacks that wards and friends barely managed to alert him to in time. Nightmares of being in a black room, some stone prison. At the mercy of Death Eaters.

He wondered if Voldemort had ever feared this.

The horrible figure that lay there, helpless and withering, was the face in his nightmares. The man who had slaughtered Cedric Diggory. The man who had invaded his mind, killed his godfather. Killed his parents. Shaped the entire course of his life.

This was the man who had caused him to be raised by the Dursleys, shut up in a broom closet and half-starved. This was the beast who had ordered the deaths of Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Dean Thomas, and Tonks, who had survived but was nothing like she used to be. Who had himself murdered Charlie Weasley, the vibrant dragon tamer and Ron's hero.

How? How was he to have understanding and love for this?

Don't try to understnd the Dark Lord, he reminded himself with a sigh. Understand the man behind it.

Tom Riddle. Who had lured Ginny almost to her death. Who had led to Hagrid being expelled from school. Who led to the death of at least one Muggleborn girl at Hogwarts before he left. Who hated so feircely that be became Voldemort.

Harry tried. He tried to make himself feel a swell of compassion, of understanding and love. Tom Riddle was a person, and no person should live in a cage reduced to nothing. Unable to be fed because people feared to step into his cage. Helpless and hopeless.

Harry dreaded that fate, because he knew the reality of it. That gave him some real and honest sympathy.

The Killing Curse, then, but coming from a place of pity instead of a place of hatred.

He reached for the knob of the door, watching the figure through the wall.

Before the door was fully open he had the words out. i "Avada kedavra!" /i

His world went green. Then his world went black.

He was leaving Remus Lupin's quarters when he felt a roar of agony erasing the numbess the potion caused and searing from his arm outward.

He screamed, the first time in a long time, and hit his knees.

He heard his name being shouted as he fell, thinking that this was death.