Embracing His True Self

Chapter 93

Harry fell to his knees as he was roughly Apparated to Godric's Hollow, scrambling up, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. To begin with, he had sucked at all means of magical transportation. Fortunately, as he aged and used it more frequently, he got better, this had to be the first time in over a year that he even so much as remotely stumbled. They were hidden in the graveyard, but they could see Godric's hollow. Including the house, he'd lived in for the first year and a half of his life.

"I'll go see her, alone," Harry said glancing at the both of them, "Three of us turning up might frighten her." she was old as it was, last thing he wanted to do was induce a heart attack in the old woman.

"We'll remain just outside," Barty declared, "She knew Dumbledore, we must be cautious."

"I will," Harry said, giving them a nod, flicking his wand and the stretcher and Gellert's body disappeared from view. Now that would raise eyebrows if they were seen walking around with a dead body. It would be the Muggle authorities that would be called if anyone saw. It was a Muggle town after all, even if a few magical folks lived there.

With that Harry split from Barty and Macnair, making his way directly to Mathilda's home, the other two were slow to follow but followed nonetheless. Not that Harry could see them, a glance back told him they'd made themselves invisible.

Knocking on the door, Harry waited patiently, aware that the old witch would take time to answer the door.

When she finally did, Harry opened his mouth to talk to her but before he could she spoke, "Harry…oh, you look like your parents," she said, eyes wide in astonishment as she stared at Harry. "I knew them you know; I was friends with you parents…"

Harry smiled, it was a little fixed, but a smile nonetheless. "I have some things I need to tell you," Harry said softly, pity stirring in his heart. She had no other family, Gellert had been all she had left, she'd had lost her sister and brother-in-law young, and took in Gellert and lost him too.

Quite perplexed and surprised, she shuffled back, "Come on in, come in," she gestured for him to come into her home.

Harry had seen the shrewd look in her eye as she shuffled back, clearly not as 'unaware' as she liked to play. Crafty little witch, Harry thought in amusement, as he wandered into her home. Looking around in curiosity, it was like from another time. There were no new pictures, all of them seemed older, including lots of Gellert in various stages of growing up and his heart lurched. It reminded him of Figg's place, only much tidier, cleaner and without the smell.

"I just made a pot of tea! Would you like one?" she asked, shuffling towards the bookcases, and picked up a box and plodded towards her seat, where the aforementioned tea sat. "I don't often get visitors these days, who wants to sit with an old witch and hear her natter on?"

"I imagine you get quite a few," Harry replied dryly, "And no thank you, I don't drink tea, and please don't go out of your way for me."

"Are you here for Nitch?" Mathilda asked, looking a little heartbroken, as she fiddled with the box latch.

"Nitch?" Harry queried in confusion, what or who was Nitch?

"Why, your cat of course! I told Albus…well, never mind," she murmured subdued, "I am guessing you were never told?" shoulders sagging in defeat.

"My cat?" Harry asked entirely confused by this conversation.

"Lily and James bought a beautiful black cat with them to Godric's Hollow, it was still young mind, a Kitten really," Mathilda confessed, handing over pictures Harry hadn't seen of his family. Pictures of a birthday celebration, and just every day pictures, some with his parents dressed down and just happy. "You named him, you couldn't say Snitch properly, so it was Nitch you named him."

Harry swallowed thickly, looking through the pictures, they looked like any loving couple, not war torn 'hero's' the light liked to portray them as. Yet despite with so much to lose they'd continued on fighting, they could have left with him, forgot the damn war. Hell, they could have done it after learning about the prophecy.

"He's sixteen-years-old at least…you looked after him all this time?" Harry asked, staring at the picture of the kitten that was sniffing baby him in the picture, still young itself. Did cats live so long? He wasn't entirely sure, but then again it might be a magical cat, and he'd learned magical animals tended to have a much longer life span.

"Of course, the ensuing tragedy…people forgot, he came home a few nights after…I couldn't let anything happen to him," Mathilda said with a loving smile. "I tried not to get attached, I knew one day I'd have to return him to his rightful owner, you were so close, he slept every night next to you without fail. I expected you to collect him six years ago, I wrote to…him, more fool me." She couldn't get over everything she'd learned. Her poor Gellert, she'd written to the Ministry demanding that he be released, that she would look after him. She didn't care that she wasn't in the best of heath, he just wanted to take care of the only family she had left.

"Thank you," he said to her, "Thank you so much for taking such good care of him, I doubt very much he remembers me, nor I him. Will you continue to look over him for me?" his first pet was a cat called Nitch, he thought, snitch, that was something he hadn't known about himself.

Mathilda lit up, "Of course!" she said, nodded her tone enthusiastically.

"I'm glad he had a good life," Harry said, "But he isn't why I'm here."

"No, I'm guessing not," she agreed shrewdly, sipping her tea.

Harry inhaled sharply eyes closed, before he opened them again, "The potion Dumbledore used on Gellert…there was no possible antidote that wouldn't kill him…do you understand that?"

The cup rattled in the saucer as she put it down, "Gellert?" she asked, her tone so hopeful that it hurt.

"The antidote kills the recipient's," Harry said stiffening his spine, "We tried to create something to help him but we were never able to. He was given the antidote, but I'm afraid he…passed away." Giving it to her as kindly as possible as she cried quietly.

"I'm really sorry," Harry said feeling all sorts of pathetic, wanting so badly for her to realize how sincere he was…but the words felt so banal. Having to be careful of what he said to her, he didn't exactly want to end up in Azkaban after all.

"Did he…did he say anything?" Mathilda asked, staring beseechingly at Harry.

"He cared about you, missed you," Harry said, lying through his teeth. It was a little white lie, but a good one especially if it brought her peace.

Unbeknown to Harry, if he'd used the word 'Love' she would have rumbled him. As it stood, Gellert had never used those words towards her, he hadn't wanted to get too attached. The people he loved always seemed to leave him. Yet it couldn't be denied that Gellert had been very fond of his aunt, he'd doted on her endlessly, until the potion of course. As it stood, she was under the impression that Gellert had thought of her during his last minutes. While it might not be the entire truth, Gellert had gotten through a lot of years stuck in is own mind with the memories of her comfort and love.

Mathilda straightened up, tears running down her face, "Where is he?" she demanded to know.

Harry watched as the witch went from grieving witch to the matriarch of her dying line, "He's nearby," he reassured her, "I…wanted him to have a proper burial. You're his only family…" awed by the transformation she went through.

"Bring him to me," she demanded, standing up, "I'll give him his last rites. He'll join the rest of the family in the family plot." She declared, luckily, she'd bought the two plots, after her husband fell ill with dragon pox. She'd wanted to be buried beside him, and bought an extra one for Gellert when he settled down and seemed content to be there.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said quietly, standing up he left the house for a minute or two before he brought Gellert's body into his aunt's house. In that time, she'd brought out a basin with warm water in it, and a soft wash cloth. He realised she was going to give him his last rites.

Harry stood at a respectful distance as Mathilda took those awful robes Gellert had been in off him, and dressed him in a white robe. It covered him from neck to foot, as she cleaned his hands and feet, and said what Harry thought might be prayers? He wasn't sure if he was even welcome, but he reckoned if she didn't want him there, he would have been asked to leave. What hair he had left was reverentially brushed as she groomed him. Dipping his feet into something.

Time ticked by, but Harry just watched as a beautiful protective flower and resins were hung around Mathilda's neck, offering one to Harry without a word for him, but she continued her prayers, "For I am the Soul of Nature, who giveth life to the universe; from me, all things proceed, and unto me must all things return; and before my face, beloved of gods and mortals, thine inmost divine self shall be unfolded in the rapture of infinite joy."

"Thy crown penetrateth the height of heaven, thou art the companion of the stars, and the guide of every god. Thou art beneficent in decree and speech, the favoured one of the Great Company of the Gods, and the beloved of the Little Company of the Gods." Harry joined in much to her pleased surprise.

A coffin was transfigured using an old wooden box, encompassing Gellert within. Hydrangeas were hung around his neck, as frankincense and Myrrh was released around the body. His final resting place, and with that the two emerged from the house. A small pained smile appearing on Mathilda's face when a wreath was placed atop of the casket by Macnair and Barty who nodded solemnly as they stepped back.

Macnair's was a wreath filled with sunflowers and Rosemary, for all is not what it seems and Rosemary for remembrance. It was quite fitting really. Barty's was filled with sunflowers, rosemary and a lot of irises, those were for respect and honour. Harry pointed his wand, and a wreath made of sunflowers, rosemary, irises and Zinnias for missing and absent friends, for surely at some point Gellert did have friends before all this.

Mathilda created one as well, lungwort, you are my life, Lotus for the purity of that love, magnolia for dignity and marigold for grief, there were a few others Harry didn't recognize.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, perplexed, when Macnair began to turn east, sunward with the body, instead of going directly to the plot.

"Of course, you've never been to a funeral, have you?" Barty murmured quietly, "Especially one where Paganism is respected. The casket must travel around the cemetery three times, sunward, turning from east to west. It protects the deceased. Usually there are more people here but this will have to do."

"And the Hydrangeas?" Harry whispered, so as not to jar the sombreness of the occasion.

"Protection," Barty explained, giving Harry a shrewd look, "You really don't know much, do you?" it surprised him, it really did.

"Unfortunately, not, no, anything remotely magically related was banned when I was a kid, and it's not like it's openly celebrated here yet." Harry pointed out, "Although, there may be books in the Potter vaults, I haven't really had the time to go through it all yet." Paganism wasn't exactly solely belonging to the magical world after all, Muggles practiced Paganism too. Although, he reckoned that thought would cause heart attacks in many of the purebloods.

"You'd have nothing magical anyway," Barty said, throwing Harry a look, well aware of Harry's past as he joined Macnair Harry followed as did Mathilda. Including the fact, he'd been raised by filthy abusive muggles. He hadn't known anything remotely magical until he was given his Hogwarts letter. Exactly as Dumbledore had planned it, and that's where his plans began to unravel whether the old fool realized it or not.

The funeral was short, but all rites were performed.

Voldemort stood, and walked out of the meeting, leaving his three Death Eaters to wonder what was going on. The door to his office was abruptly closed. Cutting them off from hearing anything that might be said. He didn't have to wait long; he could sense the two coming towards his office. The emotional turmoil he had felt coming through the bond had made him thoroughly distracted.

He stared at Macnair and Barty rounding the corner, Macnair was as always impassive, but Barty had a tenseness to his shoulders that wasn't present often anymore. Both of them were covered in sand and copious amounts of dirt, sweaty and disgusting, he could smell their sweat from here. "I assume he didn't last long?" able to deduce what had happened, without their earlier return, the emotions he'd felt through his bond with his partner had given away that things weren't going according to Harry's plan. He had tried to tell Harry but he hadn't wanted to hear it.

"No, he didn't," Barty replied, "He's been buried in Godric's Hollow, per his Aunt's wishes,"

"We made sure nobody could disturb his body," Macnair told the Dark Lord, inclining his head respectfully.

"Where is Harry now?" Voldemort requested, he could feel him on the estate, just not exactly where he was. He could of course, it would be a matter of just focusing on the wards or Harry himself. Considering what he could feel through the bond without focusing on it, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to go to him or just leave him to work through everything on his own. Luckily, he had to get through this meeting first, before he made any decisions.

"Aviary," Barty told the Dark Lord.

"Go get cleaned up," the Dark Lord said, which was a dismissal if they'd ever heard one.

Barty and Macnair looked down at their selves, and grimaced, but nodded in agreement. They didn't think there was a clean patch of skin anywhere on their bodies. Macnair was still a little magically exhausted, and Barty was too, having Apparated them all from the Dominican Republic. Plus, this dirty there was only one thing they really wanted, a shower.

"Yes, My Lord," they both easily acquiescing to his request.

Harry exhausted and bitterly wrung out emotionally, made his way to the aviary they'd had created for Fawkes. There were wards on the aviary, to stop the phoenix from being able to get out. It was all they could do to ensure Fawkes had some freedom from that tiny cage he'd been in. At least until Dumbledore died and the forced bond was relinquished once and for all. Like in all things, it seems, that Dumbledore made sure that his damn alterations were permanent. He thought bitterly, not that it would work right away, no, they'd need to wait until Fawkes had a burning day after Dumbledore died before they could release him.

Harry sighed as he sat down next to the aviary enclosure, "You'll soon be free," he told the phoenix who was watching him with sharp intelligent eyes. "I'm tempted to make it sooner rather than later…" absently putting some fruit through the spars, Hedwig spent a lot of time here with him. Not that it was unusual, even while at school Hedwig stayed in the Owlery with the other birds.

Fawkes thrilled softly, as if he understood what Harry was saying. Who knew? Maybe he did.

"I just wish there was something I could have done, Fawkes," Harry confessed, leaning against the wall tiredness swamping him. Tear tracks still stuck to his face, mingled with dirt. "He was innocent just like you…and I couldn't save him. What use is magic if it can't be used to help people once in a while?" hating that Dumbledore had beat him, and not really meaning anything he was saying about magic itself. "At least you're going to be okay, once it's over." He didn't think there was a way to actually kill a phoenix, they were immortal.

His stomach grumbled hungrily, he hadn't eaten since breakfast, he wasn't even sure of the time if he was entirely honest. What a bloody day, nothing had gone according to plan. Tom had warned him, and he'd been foolish enough to think he was more powerful and would be able to hold the stasis charm long enough so that Gellert could enjoy his freedom for at least a few hours. More fool him, of course, Tom would know better. He'd been around the entire reign of Grindelwald's drug induced terror, courtesy of Dumbledore.

There was someone in this world who had loved Gellert fiercely, who would grieve for him. Who was actually grieving for him. Who would visit his gravesite, he wouldn't be forgotten. Clenching his hands into fists, the urge to go down to dumbledore and just end him right now was so strong. Yet another part of him wanted to see him suffer further still, for decades after what he'd done to everyone. The pain and suffering he'd caused. Death was too good for the likes of him, after all Dumbledore thought that 'death was just the next great adventure', right?

Merlin, he could only imagine how much betrayal Gellert Grindelwald felt that day, when he was given that potion. Locked up in his own mind, unable to do a damn thing. He couldn't imagine it, he really couldn't. He loved Tom deeply, and would follow him to the ends of the earth just like Gellert would have seemingly followed Dumbledore. At least he knew that Tom would just bloody well kill him. Not condemn him to something like that.

He couldn't help but wonder how the world could be so blind, so stupid to give someone such power. Then again, weren't they doing the same thing with Tom? Giving a little huffed laugh, yeah, but at least he knew Voldemort wouldn't do something like this. When had Tom become the lesser of two evils? Oh, yeah, when he was fourteen-years-old. When he stopped just counting the days until he could run away and found his side, what he believed in.

The soft thrilling of Fawkes' song notes lulled Harry's exhausted mind and body to sleep.

That was how Voldemort found him, staring down inscrutably at his partner. Sometimes, just sometimes mind, he just couldn't understand Harry at all. Harry had never interacted in any way with Gellert Grindelwald, barely heard his name he'd bet before they started digging into Dumbledore's past. Yet it seems that this had hit him very hard indeed. It seemed he was more emotional over this than losing his friends, could they be called friends if Harry was using them as much as they had used him in turn? He cared in his own way for the Granger girl, who was really a Malfoy descendant. More so for Neville and Luna, he was an enigma when he wanted to be.

Crouching down, he wiped the sand off Harry's face and tried the same with the mud. Unfortunately, all that happened was it smeared even further. As expected, Harry stirred at the light touches, tried green eyes opening. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, he'd do his best to understand.

"He went to Nurmengard to brag," Harry told Tom, straightening up. Seeing the look of question on Tom's face he elaborated. "He knew who I was."

"Ah, why I am not surprised?" Voldemort mused thoughtfully, "It sounds like Dumbledore, it's not as if he had anyone else, he could gloat to." grasping Harry's hand and helping him up, nothing about this would surprise him, except for Harry of course.

"Despite everything he did…some part of Grindelwald still loved Dumbledore," Harry said, so utterly bewildered, "I just don't get it…if you had done that to me? I would have done my level best to see you dead." Entirely serious about it.

"There's no way we can comprehend what he's been through, eight decades he watched life go by, unable to control his own body. All he had left was his memories." Voldemort pointed out, "There's little doubt he died a broken man. Driven crazy by circumstances beyond anyone's control except Dumbledore." Smirking in amusement at the not-so-subtle threat, Harry meant what he said. Also, the same could be said in reverse.

"A twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome?" Harry suggested.

"Entirely possible," conceded Voldemort.

"Luna was right, to make sure that potion was forgotten," Harry told him with a shudder, just imagining all the scenarios was enough to creep him the fuck out. Not that it was entirely forgotten, Severus and probably Tom knew the ingredients, it wouldn't take them long to create it if they truly wanted. "I want Dumbledore dead soon."

"You want to move up the deadline?" Voldemort shot Harry a look of surprise.

Harry paused, "Is it possible?"

"By a month, yes, but anything more than that would be pushing it," Voldemort told him, arching a brow. He had been the one vouching for the takeover to be done in increments so that the public didn't try to overthrow them. Which meant weeding out Ministry workers at a glacial pace, finding others to take over the positions. He would have preferred just going in and doing what needed to be done right away.

"So, May then," Harry replied, it wasn't as quick as he wanted right now, but he knew it was just emotions speaking.

"May," Voldemort agreed, he was sure he could up the ante a little, accidents happen all the time, plus with a Potions Master on his side, people can get very, very sick, so much so that they inevitably had to pack in their job. They'd get an antidote later of course, he was with Harry, he wasn't to keep the magical population up, they'd lost too many wizards as it was.

"It could have been me," Harry repeated.

"Yes, it could have been," Voldemort replied. Hands clenched rigidly at his sides; dark eyes gleaming with all those wonderful plans he had for Dumbledore. It was the only thing keeping Dumbledore breathing, that and he would never hear the end of it if he offed Dumbledore and Harry wasn't there. It definitely wasn't worth the sulk he'd have to put up with, he thought wryly. "It also could have been me, but neither of us were stupid enough to trust the old fool. You're intelligent enough to know it's a waste of your time and smarts to continue the what ifs scenarios."

Harry sighed, "Yeah, I know." he just wished his emotions would get with the programme. He just couldn't get over how close he had come to being just another Grindelwald. Forced to do things against his will, while raging against it in his own mind. "Only unlike Grindelwald…I suspect I wouldn't have survived to end up in prison."

"No, I don't doubt that," agreed Voldemort, well aware of what would have happened to him in Dumbledore's plans. Either he or Harry would have killed the other, and if Harry died, Dumbledore would have swooped in and ended him. Dumbledore might end Harry as well, and claim he died of his injuries or something. There was no plan where he or Harry survived.

Now the story was being re-written, and they would make sure Dumbledore did not survive to make a second attempt.

Harry huffed a quiet little laugh, yeah, he didn't think he'd have survived whatever Dumbledore had in mind for him.

"It's dinner time, go get cleaned up and join us," Voldemort demanded. "Not even the Phoenix has gotten close to you today, for good reason." He added to soften the blow of the demand. He didn't know how to make it better, but it was clearly something Harry had to work through, although it was much less prevalent than it had been hours ago.

"Sounds good actually," Harry said with a rueful grin, before quickly leaning over and rubbing his cheek against Tom's before taking off, laughing at the disgruntled sound behind him. Just hearing that caused him to relax further, the sleep had been needed, to process, to decompress.

After a quick jog, he entered his and Tom's suite, to find Hedwig had returned to her cage and was busy eating the fruit that had been left for her. "Hey girl," he murmured, stroking her lovingly, she'd been with him through the good and bad times. He wondered if she'd brought a letter, he'd find out soon enough.

Plodding through to the ensuite bathroom, he gratefully put the shower on and removed the dirty clothes. Shoving them haphazardly into the laundry chute. He then proceeded to scrub himself raw, probably as raw as he was feeling emotionally. It was over now though, Gellert was gone, was at peace as much as he could be given his life. he'd done what he would have seriously wished someone would have done for him. More sand than he could have anticipated ended up sloughing off him. It felt good, getting rid of all the dirt on him, metaphorically ridding himself of the emotional upheaval of the day.

Switching off the shower, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, startling when he saw Severus standing at the open doorway. A knowing sympathetic look on his face, Harry might like to play off being unfeeling, but he wasn't. He'd been there when the Dark Lord had demanded a complete rundown of everything that had been said and done.

"How are you really feeling?" Severus asked, not entering the room, remaining leaning against the open doorway, gaze slightly averted due to Harry's undress.

"A bit better now," Harry said, giving him a small smile. "I…hate the fact he won."

"He didn't," Severus declared sternly, "You not only revealed the truth to the world, his legacy is destroyed, everyone knows that Dumbledore is responsible. Gellert Grindelwald will go down in history as his first victim. You won, Harry, you bet Dumbledore at his own game. One he's been playing for at least seven decades. All you did was try to correct just one more injustice in the world. Gellert died with the sun on his face, free to move, to think, to speak for the first time. You gave him peace, he died with a friendly face above him. In the arms of someone who cared enough to help him. Believe me, it's not a defeat nor a failure."

"Then why does it feel like one?" Harry asked simply, but something untwisted in his stomach just listening. He knew Severus was right, this moment of doubt would pass given time.

"Because you see it as a failure, you see what could have happened to you," Severus told him softly, "But Harry, you can't live your life on what if's, it doesn't do to dwell on them…"

"Don't say forget to live," Harry raised his hands, vehemently shaking his head.

"A Dumbledore quote?" Severus deduced; the nod was all the confirmation he needed.

"Right after he watched me gaze into the Mirror of Erised for hours." Harry confirmed.

Severus narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring, unimpressed, but not truly surprised. "Asinine old fool," he couldn't help but sneer.

"I can think of other things to call him," Harry said wryly, heading to the wardrobe, and picking out some comfortable clothes to wear. "We've moved up the timeline by a month."

"I've been appraised," Severus spoke a little louder so Harry could hear him. If he was perfectly honest with it, he was grateful it would all go down while the younger generation was at Hogwarts. Which means none of his Slytherin's would be tested during the finalising stages. The Dark Lord liked to test those he wished to mark, especially if they had no remarkable skills. He'd been given the Dark Mark due to his Potion abilities immediately. The next generation didn't have that liberty, they would need to prove themselves.

"I don't want to wait that long to kill the bastard," Harry admitted, his voice slightly muffled.

"You should," Severus said in amusement, "I do believe that the Dark Lord has come up with a potion that will be likened to the potion he forced on Grindelwald. He'll be entirely paralyzed, unable to move, talk, or do anything for himself."

"You mean the Petrificus Totalus?" Harry asked poking his head out to give him a droll look.

"Hilarious," Severus retorted dryly, "But no, he will be forced to follow any commands."

"A liquid Imperius, lovely, just exactly what Tom needed," Harry said with a pleased lilt to his voice.

Severus chortled at the reply, lips twitching maddeningly, it seemed Harry was in better fettle already.

"Has it been made already?" Harry asked, emerging fully dressed this time, Severus flicked his wand, drying Harry's hair, it was rather draughty in the castle today.

"No, I'm preparing it tonight," Severus informed him.

"Good, I have…something I want to try before we give him it." Harry confessed, as he exited the room, Severus moving so that Harry had more than enough room.

"Which is?" Severus queried curiously.

"I want to give him Veritaserum and put Tonks in his cell." Harry said darkly, "Nothing I've tried so far has worked…but with him there in front of her confessing all? It will break her, perhaps then I can get her to swear a Vow and she can leave. It doesn't look likely that Sirius will have any children. The Black line needs to continue and I certainly won't be doing it."

"You'd hand over the Black fortune to her?" Severus gaped, almost tripping over his own feet at the news.

"No," Harry said snorting in amusement, "But I'll give them an allowance, there's not really much else left of the Black estate except for some properties and money, most heirlooms are rotten, cursed or unsalvageable."

"But absolutely priceless to the family," Severus pointed out, "Except for one," aware of Black's utter disregard for his family and their money.

"Yes, hopefully I'll find someone to take on the Black Lordship," Harry commented.

"No interest in having a child?" Severus asked him wryly, and why not? it's not like he'd had plans to have children when he was a teenager either. In fact, it had never really been one of his wishes, but it would be nice to continue on the Prince name, which would happen when a child of Prince blood that's pureblood takes up the mantel. He wasn't able to, nor would any child of his, due to his rotten father. However, his grandchild – if he had any – would be able to become Lord Prince.

"Definitely not," Harry said dryly, opening the door to the Grand Hall, grateful that there were only a few people inside.

Severus hummed softly, wondering if that meant it would be the end of the Potter line, or if Harry would change his mind when he was older. He knew he certainly had, any child he had would certainly be less troublesome than the young man he'd just walked in with.

"Hey, what's that?" Harry asked, peering curiously at what Dolohov was doing, "Is your sister wanting her own place on the estate?" the Dolohov estate was definitely big enough for another place.

Dolohov laughed, "No, but it is for her."

"Wait…I know those streets…is that where the Burrow is meant to be?" Harry asked, gaping in surprise. "Er…is, where the Burrow is?"

"It is," Dolohov grimaced, of all the people his sister had to pick to end up enamoured with again it had to be Arthur Weasley. At least he wasn't as annoying as his dead wife.

"You have mail, Hedwig came with it while you were gone," Voldemort said, watching them interact with mild interest. He was very happy that his followers were not only beginning to respect Harry but he was getting on with the majority of them. He needed to be able to trust them with Harry. Then again, that respect was blooming out of things Harry was doing. Not his demand that they respect Harry like his partner was an extension of him.

"I noticed she was back," Harry commented, giving the paperwork another glance, impressed with the layout, if he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was a professional architect. It was from Neville, Harry realized, ripping it open as he sat down next to Tom.

It was quite a long letter, Harry couldn't say he was entirely surprised by the contents, Luna had said Neville would end up in Australia. The thing was, he was writing it as if it was a temporary thing, while his parents recovered. It was going to turn into a permanent thing, Hannah was going with them. Luna's visions hadn't been wrong yet.

He was just a Floo call away, but it still hurt, he felt like he was losing a friend, especially a friendship that was just beginning to recover from Neville's naiveite.

And there we go! Just a few more plans to see through until the takeover and then a lot of changes to write I'd say there's maybe 15/20 chapters left in total before we say goodbye to this one! :) it was just one of those days filled with self pity for Harry but he'll be back and fighting I wonder how many of you saw Neville's letter coming ;) and whether you thought that part of the plan had been scrapped :D so will Barty go though with the wedding without telling Hermione or will ignorance remain bliss when it comes to their Metamorphamagus abilities? R&R please