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An Old and New World
by Lens of Sanity

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Chapter Ten: Back in Black

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Harry and his companion eventually made their way to the domain of Poppy Pomfrey, finding it looking at lot like the kind of place you would expect a medical wing to look. Albeit following a particularly long and brutal battle, one where neither side really won, but most of the soldiers had evidently lost. Albus' left arm was even in a sling which Harry guessed was pretty much the worst non‑Voldemort injury the man had sustained in the past couple of decades.

Hermione was glaring at him from her position in one of the beds, leg lifted above her heart and firmly secured, indicating the bones were probably being re‑knit with Skele‑Gro. He felt a little sympathetic at that, knowing from personal experience that the stuff hurts like crap. Tonksy was not glaring at him, but that was mostly due to the fact she was currently being healed from a spell known as an eye exploding hex. Harry was only able to recognise it because of the potion she was sipping had the very distinctive look about it of a swirling rainbow.

A fair number of the other beds were also occupied by people injured to a greater or lesser degree, and after his curious glance around the room, Harry innocently asked, "Oh my. What in heaven's name happened here?"

"Your pet psychopath went on a rampage and tried to kill everybody." his oldest friend practically screamed at him from her sickbed. "That is what has happened here Harry Potter!"

He looked over at pretty innocent Bella, who was quite securely fastened to her own bed, and had a familiar magic limiting choker around her neck. "She wouldn't have done that without a good reason Hermione. What really happened?"

"When Mrs. Lestrange regained consciousness this afternoon she requested your presence." Dumbledore began in an indecipherable tone. "And when informed that you were out of the castle, she concluded that we had harmed you."

Harry's mind instantly skipped ahead several sentences in the conversation, and he finished Dumbledore's explanation. "One of you tried to shoot her in the back or something, didn't you?"

"She was becoming quite agitated, it was an obvious solution." Albus continued. "Although in hindsight I think that it was a bad decision on Sirius' part."

He added that last when Harry began glaring at him, selling out a comrade in order to neatly shift any ire onto the animagus. Eventually Harry strolled over to Bellatrix and attempted to dispel the ropes. The damn things looked like a pale green fire whip about the size of a man's wrist and were clearly strong enough to moor a cruise liner to a harbour in high seas. After several failed cutting curses Harry gave up and used the one spell which he knew would break through the magical bindings:

"Avada Kedav‑"

"Expelliarmus!" screamed Tam, once more linking the brother wands with golden light. "Stop, Harry. Just stop."

"What do you want now woman?" he demanded with another glare.

She just looked over at him and stated, "This is a binding of the highest order. If you use a Killing Curse to sever it, the magic will cascade and probably explode, killing us all."

"Can you cancel the spell?" Harry asked putting up his wand.

When Tam was sure the danger had passed she said, "Yes."

After a long time Harry realised she had answered the question, and only the question. "Will you cancel the spell?"

"I am not sure I should. I know what she is as well as you do. I do not know if freeing her would be safe."

"Just do it you idiot, you wanted to be on my side so start helping." Harry said with annoyance.

"Yes, I want to help." Tam's eyes narrowed, and in no uncertain terms continued, "...but this fact does not make me your servant. We must get that straight right at this moment."

The room had been ignoring the redhead since she entered the room given that other, far more important things were happening, but now she was the centre of attention. "Sorry. Ladies and Gentlemen let me introduce Tamsyn Riddle. The newest member of our ragtag band of misfits..."

"Do not introduce me using a name you have made up yourself!" she commanded, with Harry blithely ignoring her.

"...she is a five foot five inch proto Dark Lord from the forties. Sexy slim, with an evil pet snake, and the mindset of a seventeen year old heterosexual male. Oh, and her thoughts are still blatantly geared toward world domination." He then swept his hand across a room filled to the brim with incredulous stares. "Tam, let me introduce everyone else. They all have their own names and so forth, I'm sure you will be able to figure them out in no time. Now undo these damn ropes!"

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Bella's large purple eyes opened slowly and when they finally registered who was standing over her she squealed, "Harry‑ee!" and a big smile overcame her features. "I thought something had happened to you."

He unclasped the choker allowing her to once again move her arms and legs, then tossed the thing carelessly at the Headmaster who must have wandlessly summoned it for the catch to be so seamless. Bellatrix looked terrible really; emaciated, starved, sallow skin and tiny almost childlike arms. She had looked worse in Azkaban of course, what healing Harry had managed to smuggle into the prison was worth less than nothing overall. Yet the few weeks of relative freedom since Voldemort had broken her out must have done her some good, and Harry would be going to one hell of a lot of effort to get her back into shape.

It was a good thing the kine did not know what their idiotic Dark Lord had done to Bellatrix, because it was one of the few things left in his life which Harry still took seriously.

"You look great Bella Black, better than I've ever seen you." he said confidently. Then nodding to the still upset redhead he went on. "And I was fine, just went on a little stroll this morning and ran into a new friend."

She looked Tam over for a long while, and under her breath Bella eventually whispered, "Harry, you know she's the Dark Lord's favourite right?"

"I've no doubt she was." Harry laughed before asking, "Are you fit enough to go for a walk or do you want to hang around here all day?"

"Can I have a piggyback?" she asked in an innocent little voice.

Wasting no time he scooped the woman up and onto his back, making his way toward the door. Once he reached it Harry looked over at the silent, concerned occupants of the room. Piercing green eyes grave as he locked onto Albus and ordered, "Veritaserum, twenty minutes of deep Legilimency. I would like you to make sure dear Tamsyn here is more or less on our side."

Then he was gone.

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Voluminous brown hair tied back in a practical bun and book bag in hand, Hermione Jean Granger was once more walking the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She'd noticed two constants in her life which had existed virtually unceasing since joining the magical world at age eleven. First, no matter the number of lightening charms one puts on a book bag, it will always be too heavy. And second and infinitely more overwhelming, was a pretty much constant state of worry.

At the root of which was, as always, Harry Potter.

It was as though giving Hermione something to be concerned about was the boy's entire purpose for existing. For the first two years of school this was bad enough, but overall Hermione had been quite pleased with how she had helped keep Harry from you know, dying horribly in some fantastical and totally unbelievable way. Then he was thrown into Azkaban Prison for absolutely no reason at all, and she had ended up spending her entire third year essentially alone. She even completed every single class Hogwarts had to offer in order to avoid thinking about her friend and what he had to be going through.

Looking back Hermione knew that she'd not been at all happy that year. It reminded her too strongly of how alone she had been when in primary school.

Still, the year ended and Professor Snape had saved her. There was no life debt as far as she understood things, likely due to the fact that helping students was an implied duty of being a professor. But for what he'd done Hermione still felt, if not warmth toward the man, at least a measure of gratitude.

Then Harry was back. And he was so... horrible to everyone. She'd even heard a story about one of the younger students and what Harry had done with the boy's camera, not to mention the sheer number of times he had hexed her! Strangely, despite this behaviour it had never occurred to Hermione that she might not be his friend anymore, and instead the old feeling of worry had encompassed her once again.

Then events surrounding the Goblet of Fire rolled around, and she and Harry were friends again... sort of. That was just it, the Harry before Azkaban was a completely different person than the Harry as he behaved once he'd been released. She would admit to herself that he was still the same in some ways. Every once in a while it was like he would forget, and then start acting like he was going to grab her hand and they would go rescue a Philosopher's Stone together or something.

Heading up a flight of stairs Hermione released an audible sigh.

It had been nagging at her a little, even before her father had been getting on at her to sever any ties with Harry, and her mother had not so subtly been at her to start going out with him. Hermione shuddered unconsciously at that idea, the thought of so much chaos in her life was just too much to bear.

But the thing that had been nagging at her was that maybe she shouldn't be here, or be so close to Harry. Ever since Azkaban certain phrases had been cropping up in his everyday speech, the worst of which: 'let the chips fall where they may,' was something Hermione didn't even completely understand, but totally cemented the fact the Harry really did not care anymore about pretty much anything. He made that speech yesterday telling the wizarding world that he would simply sit back and allow them all to die, unless they paid him.

And that was not the Harry Potter with which she was friends. Least of all was the fact that he clearly didn't even need the money at all.

She opened a door across from the Tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and walked inside... to the view of Bellatrix Lestrange and Luna Lovegood chasing her friend around the room with bats and a net.

"Hey Hermione, we're playing Mudbloods and Mugglekillers. Do you want to be on my team?"

Hermione spent most of her time in the magical world with a background sense of worry as has been stated, but recently she was beginning to suspect that her friend had gone evil.

Sighing, and in a dreary little voice, she just asked:

"What are the rules?"

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The four were a little sweaty and breathing heavily but they'd had quite a fun time and now were talking casually, sitting on a big pile of beanbag chairs. After a while a thought occurred to Bella and she rolled to her feet, looking at Harry.

"I've got a surprise." she said with a smile. "Learned it after you left and I had no one to talk to anymore."

"What?" said Harry, and tilting his head to the side answered. "Show me."

The newly renamed Bellatrix Black then proceeded to morph and change, her mass and size increased, arms and legs stretched out, and as her skeletal system began to alter, thick fur started growing out from her skin.

The whole process took far longer than the ease with which Harry was used to seeing from his godfather, but eventually Bella was gone and in her place was a large cat, snow white with intricate black stripes standing out starkly on her fur, the shining eyes Bellatrix's distinctive purple shade.

"You're a Royal Bengal tiger? That is the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life"

"How do you know the breed Harry?" Hermione asked him as Bellatrix turned back into a woman with a pleased look on her face.

"You're not going to believe this," he said, the smile he'd been giving Bellatrix turning on Hermione, "Expecto Patronum!"

An identical Royal Bengal tiger burst out of his phoenix wand and began padding around the room, glistening with silvery energy. Swiftly shifting back into her animal form Bella began chasing the silvery creature around the room.

"I didn't know you could do a corporeal Patronus." asked Hermione

He simply winked and didn't reply.

Thirty minutes later Harry had a purring tiger's head in his lap and was scratching behind her ears absently as she slept. "Maybe I should actually learn how to transform into my animagus form." he distractedly muttered.

"Harry," Hermione made sure the 'animal' was in fact asleep before summoning enough courage to ask the question which had been bugging her so much over the last few hours, "why do you trust her? I've heard about some of the things she has done under Voldemort's orders, and she is supposed to be completely insane."

"She was in love with him," he said softly to his bushy haired friend. "Did you know she never voluntarily took the Dark Mark? At least not really."

Luna was on the far side and clearly listening in as Hermione pressed on. "She tortured innocent people, killed families. It was not propaganda either, I read the trial transcript and she admitted to doing some quite horrible things. She was proud of having done them."

"Bellatrix is what's called an Escort Guard. What was done to her is easily Voldemort's greatest crime." He quietly breathed in and out. "What you do if you want to become a Dark Lord is get a bunch of followers and bind them to you by giving them a Dark Mark using a specific branch of soul magic. You then have to ether kill the previous Dark Lord, or commit two acts of 'Greatest Evil,' otherwise you are just another dark wizard. Severus Snape for instance, has killed a bunch of people and so on but isn't anything more than a wizard with a murky past who specialises in the Dark Arts."

"One sure fire Act is to create an Escort Guard." Harry continued. "You take the pretty talented daughter of a family who has slighted you, do unspeakable things to her, and eventually force her to fall in love with you. She becomes your most loyal servant, and will do quite literally whatever you tell her to. It is not a simple process, from what I can tell it is extremely expensive in potion and ritual ingredients to brainwash her in such a way, it takes an incredible amount of time and effort but is far from impossible..."

He paused in thought for a few beats, running his eyes and fingers over the tiger's sleeping body.

"It really is the worst thing I can imagine to do to someone. Bellatrix loved Voldemort to her very core, to her very soul maybe. And yet she knew, knew the entire time by the way, that the man did not love her back. Would never love her back, and that everything she did for him, sacrificed for him, everyone she tortured and killed for him would not make Voldemort love her back. But she loved him anyway, because that was what he had made of her."

Harry continued to stoke the huge feline's coat as Hermione responded. "Yet she still did all those horrible things."

At this the green eyed man transfigured a small puppy with huge green eyes of its own, and a cute look of adoration on its face. Then transfigured a claw hammer, and with great care not to wake his friend, silently bashed in its brains.

Hermione looking quite ill and even more disturbed at the brutal thing Harry had just done, quietly hissed, "What the hell did you do that for?"

"I didn't do anything. It was the claw hammer that did it not me."

Her mouth dropped open, but Hermione was nothing if not quick on the uptake, so she thought it through for a span without speaking her mind aloud.

"So you're saying that everything she did wasn't really her fault. She was more of a tool, and it was really all Voldemort's fault not hers? He was the one ultimately responsible?"

"I'm not entirely sure why she likes me so much, but over the past few months I have come up with a theory. My Horcrux connection and the fact that I apparently act a lot like the Dark Lord sometimes must have been enough to fool her subconscious response. Once I'd gotten sovereignty over her Dark Mark she was free to choose. And if you don't mind me saying, I think I'll treat her better than Voldemort ever would."

Since her father refused to do anything more than passively support the Dark Lord, Bellatrix had not lived a very happy life. And that was a state of mind with which Harry could more than merely sympathise.

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"It will be fine." Harry assured his friend. They were making their way back to the Hospital Wing later the same evening, with Bella shuffling her feet and acting overly nervous. "I'm sure she'll understand, you saved her life the other day remember."

"I've never apologised to anyone for years Harry. What if she doesn't accept it?"

"She will, I bet you anything. And even if she doesn't you still have to try don't you?"

"...okay." she agreed bleakly, shuffling over to her niece's bed. Harry though the card was actually quite sweet, albeit in a really weird and uncomfortable way. Bella had confessed that the last time she had apologised for anything, had been when she was nine years old and had broken her father's favourite vase. So the two of them had decided to do the same thing she'd done last time.

A hand drawn card with a picture of a sunflower on the front looked like a child had drawn it, although the words on the inside had been an impressive flow of calligraphy of which Harry was actually quite jealous. 'I'm sorry I exploded your eyeballs, please forgive me. Signed: Bella Black,' was not the kind of card most injured people received at their bedside, but Tonks was a romantic at heart and throwing an honest sentiment in someone's face was just not her style.

Harry moved over to where Tam and Albus were chatting. While it made no sense at all to Harry, the non‑invasive mental interrogation left them still spending time in the Hospital Wing, but in a flash of dubious wisdom he refused to comment.

"Is she evil? ... No scratch that, it was a stupid question. Is she on our side?"

"Ms. Riddle is working toward the defeat of Voldemort, and was telling the truth about having absorbed one of the Horcruxes." Dumbledore answered before continuing. "What we are going to tell the Weasley family however, I do not know."

Tamsyn's gaze snapped to Harry, who hadn't thought of that either.

"Oh gods in heaven, that is going to be one awkward conversation."

The three pondered that understatement for the longest time, and Tam eventually changed the subject. "So what is our next move against the Dark Lord? While I only know of one of his active plans I can tell you quite a bit about his current organisation."

"Yeah? What's he getting up to now he has the prophecy?" Harry asked, a little interested despite his current attitude.

She flicked her mane of hair over her shoulder in a disturbingly attractive way and went on, "He has begun gathering supplies and I believe he intends to seed the woods around his primary fortification for defence. Much in the way Hogwarts is protected by the Forbidden Forest. I am unsure if his other plans will change now that he knows the implications of the prophecy, however I see no reason for that one to change."

Albus asked a few more questions and Harry immediately lost interest. Eventually a shove brought him back to awareness. "What?"

"I asked what plans you have for moving against the Dark Lord."

"Oh, I don't have any," he said frowning. "I wasn't blowing smoke when I addressed the nation you know. I'll probably end up fighting in this war but I'm not going to do it out of the goodness of my heart. Most of the magicals in this country deserve their Dark Lord for Merlin's sake!"

"You fought and killed Voldemort not forty eight hours ago." protested the redhead.

Nodding in agreement Harry just said, "Yeah, well I saw the opportunity to get Bella back. That has nothing to do with your war though does it?"

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The Dark Lord was not having a good day, and he was... quite angry. That said, while this description was perfectly accurate and summed up things rather nicely, it didn't quite encapsulate the scope of the situation. The depth of it, the wildness.

He had decided to turtle behind the defences offered by his fortress for the duration of the time he would spend possessing the Malfoy scion. This was not an ideal solution for obvious reasons, his magic was limited to what the boy could channel, and unless he was willing to completely subsume the boy's soul, Voldemort was forced to use an unfamiliar ten inch hawthorn and unicorn wand.

And the boy, Draco, was weak. Voldemort was used to having the strength in one arm which could punch through a stone wall, or crush a transformed werewolf's skull without effort, yet here he was in this fortress, stalking around the dungeons woefully weak. He even had to sleep, which was one of the things he had hated most about being in the same body as that fool Quirinus.

Lord Voldemort knew of any number of ways to craft himself a new body, and to do so right at this instant should he desire. Yet he chose otherwise due to the optimal method of rebirth requiring a quarter day, and a most powerful foe. Meaning he had to wait seventy four sunrises until three days before the winter solstice, and he had to do so in this boy's body.

This was not what had Voldemort angry however. No, Voldemort was an immortal, and one thing any true immortal knows is that time is the single resource one has at infinite disposal. Time and waiting was not a problem. Timing however was crucial, you did not get anywhere with planning unless you were willing and able to time your moves with great precision and skill.

He tilted his neck sideways with a loud click and set about going to work, allowing his mind to dwell further on his anger as his hands and wand went through the long ago memorised process necessary to create the constructs of snow and stone. Voldemort really was brilliant at magic, no mere prodigy as he had been labelled long ago at Hogwarts, but a full blown genius. It was doubtful anyone else in the world had such an understanding as to the true nature of magic, that they could construct a simulacrum directly from memory without the aid of books or notes. And the feat was nowhere near complex or involved enough to hold his full attention.

The waif had betrayed him.

The Diary, one of his earliest and arguably greatest accomplishments, had betrayed him. And she had taken his family's ring.

Lord Voldemort had taken to naming the waif Tam as Tamsyn was the feminine of Thomas, and as it was once the Riddle Diary it would still think of itself with his filthy muggle name. He had taken to using Wormtail as Pettigrew's form of address for similar reasons, given the man hadn't yet proven himself a capable Death Eater. So he had opted to hold fast to a less forceful or noble title, knowing that for some men these rewards mattered much.

The waif however had been a constant irritation, least of which was when she offered good advice it was always in an unconscionably condescending tone. Hence Tam, as the name clearly irritated her no end.

The waif had betrayed him. And it was that fact which so angered Lord Voldemort.

How could a piece of one's own soul betray you?

The question had driven him to the level of ice cold rage beyond which mere madness was but an afterthought. It was worse in that Voldemort knew the magic of the Diary was supposed to prevent any such duplicity, and therefore it had been his own failings as a student which had allowed this to happen.

She had also taken his snake, a fact which brought Voldemort as close to swearing as he had in many, many years.

When the four mannequins were finished a short while later he turned to the stoic figure in the corner, who had been standing silently and without any sign of impatience for however long it had taken for Voldemort to deign acknowledge him. Had it been time dependant news the man would have interrupted, and had he interrupted without good cause there was always the Cruciatus Curse.

"You may report." Voldemort commanded in his distinctive sibilant hiss.

Without missing a beat the man did as he was ordered, some of his Death Eaters were competent at least. "The last muggle is dead, and the town has been cleansed. As commanded, falsework wards have been erected around the town, and are ready whenever you decide complete construction."

"I will do so now. Have three of the uncharged simulacrums delivered to the portkey room, but leave the last one here. Go now." Without wasting further words the man ran off at a dash.

Once the town was secure it would be time to do some shopping, and he already had a plan. Planning was so easy for all those who were both talented and sorted into his ancestor's house. The trick was to make it so no matter what happened, success or failure, the plan will ensure you come out on top regardless.

Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, or even the waif Riddle. While they may have had a few small victories so far, Lord Voldemort had not even begun to move against them. With the prophecy in hand and a firm decision to sacrifice the proto‑Horcrux inside his enemy, there was no more need to hold back.

With a smirk at the very thought Lord Voldemort departed.

It was time to start a war!