Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot, and a couple of the characters (the ones you don't recognize). Everything else is the intellectual property of JKR, whom I do not claim to be.

Author's Note: I like Harry.

o.o.o.o

When You See Yourself

Harry Potter was "prickly," as his mentor put it. Even after six years of training, he still threw an occasional tantrum, like the one he'd just directed at Cain. Even after six years of training, he still had an extraordinary amount of buttons that it was just too easy to push.

'At least I've got better control of my magic, if not my temper,' he mumbled, still angry after the semi-row he and his teacher had had just moments ago.

He looked around. He'd told his mentor he was going to nap, but really didn't feel like doing anything of the kind. Letting out a small sigh, he twitched several fingers -- laden with magic -- and spelled the door to his room so no-one could get in.

Quickly, he took off his everyday wizard's robes, since he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, out in the Muggle world.

To anyone that didn't know him, the body under his robes would have inspired a great deal of worry, either for him or for themselves. There was a faint pale sheen on both his shoulder and inside of the opposite elbow; not exactly scars, but something that gave off a sense as if there should have been scars. On the lower part of his chest and right side was a thoroughly appalling tracery of thin, whippy white lines; true scars. Thick, rough-looking marks on his back and one thigh spoke of yet more scars.

Strapped to both of his forearms were sheaths that held a wand and knife each. Another such was on his left calf, though that held only two blades. A long, slender wire was wound around the other ankle like a piece of jewelry, though there was somehow a sinister feel to its appearance

In the robes' place he put on dark, cotton slacks and a shirt, as well as a pair of heavy boots. From a chair by his bed he picked up a battered wide-brimmed hat, just as dark as his clothes, and perched it on his head, treating it almost like an old friend. He grabbed the long, thick coat from where it had been under the hat, and easily shrugged it on.

Looking around his room again, he opened the window and smiled slightly.

Then he jumped out of the building, to land like a cat three floors down, in a dark alleyway. His coat flapped and then flared artfully as he landed. The hat stayed on his head, held there by his magic.

'I do so love comic book heroes,' he whispered, a very pleased smile on his face.

A boy of maybe nine years stood a little way away, staring at Harry with huge eyes. 'Bugger,' he said feelingly, taking a step backwards, toward the hotel service door he'd just come through.

Harry waved his hand, shooting a powerful -- but gentle -- memory charm at the lad. 'Can't have anyone knowing where I've run off to,' he thought wickedly, darting out of the alley.

Behind him, the boy blinked and sat down hard on the stone, thinking he'd done nothing more than pick up the comic book he now held. (Harry Potter was really very good with memory charms; he'd had a lot of practice.)

Two hours later, when Harry returned to his hotel room-that-was-now-a-suite via the front door, an extremely annoyed old man was waiting with crossed arms for him. 'I knew you'd left,' he snapped, watching the younger man remove his hat and ruffle his hair tiredly.

Cain paused and his dark blue eyes surveyed Harry's appearance and blanched slightly. The young man's pristine (if slightly worn) clothing was covered in dirt and grass stains, with bits of moss and grass clinging here and there. One of his coat sleeves was torn near the shoulder, the caked blood and dirt giving evidence to a cut lying beneath the material. Harry himself looked the worse for wear as well, with a bruise on his cheek and a cut above his eyebrow.

But he was grinning.

Abruptly, Cain's expression turned rather exasperated. 'Where have you been, Harry?' he asked, with a bit of a sigh.

'Out,' chirped Harry. He seemed to have forgotten the argument they'd had earlier. He tilted his head to the side sharply; it popped loudly; he tilted it the other way and it popped again. He let out a pleased moan. 'That was fun.'

'Boy...'

Harry shot him a look, saying, 'Not now,' as he slid past to the door of his bedroom. With a tap of one finger against the wood, all the spells he'd put on dissolved, and Harry was able to open the door and walk in as if they'd never been there.

'You're going to get yourself killed one of theses days!' Cain shouted through the door, as it closed behind Harry. 'You're still too bloody decent for this job!'

Unexpectedly, the door reopened and Harry stuck his head out, glowering at Cain. All traces of a good mood seemed to have vanished. 'I was never aware that being decent was a crime.'

The door shut again with a slam.

Cain sighed. He just wasn't used to having to watch what he said this closely. For the past forty-four years, he'd been more or less alone. Now he was back with his student, but... something had changed. He'd forgotten how touchy Harry could be; Harry himself hadn't forgotten because, to him, virtually no time at all had passed.

That was the trouble with time travel, really.

o.o.o.o

'Please, Mum,' Ginny begged, placing an imploring hand on her mother's arm. She glanced back over her shoulder to Ron for help. Neither of them wanted to miss out on the chance to get out of the building and do something. Diagon Alley for school things would be perfect if only Molly would let them.

'I said "no",' snapped Molly, not looking up from the stew she was fixing for supper for the dozen or so Order members now routinely stationed at Grimmauld Place.

Ron stepped around to her other side, so that they flanked her, 'C'mon, Mum. We need to get out, you know that. You can't keep us locked up in here like criminals or something.' Ron paused, as if considering the wiseness of his next words. 'Like they were.'

Molly dropped her wand, which she'd been using to direct the stirring of the stew, and it went clattering to the floor. She whirled around to glare at her son, but ended up glancing at the kitchen door sadly instead. 'Don't you dare, Ronald Weasley,' she warned fiercely. 'I will not be convinced by anything you say to let you leave this house for one instant, until it comes time to go to King's Cross. So you needn't go likening yourself to Sirius Black and... and Harry. Do you hear me?'

Grumbling, and slightly pale from the way his mother had faltered at saying Harry's name, Ron nodded to indicate that he did, in fact, hear his mother. Ginny, her lips pursed glumly, nodded as well, though their mother could not see her.

She turned to leave the kitchen, and her face went totally blank as the monster inside her felt its anger boiling up. The Dark Lord didn't like being disappointed.

'Besides,' Molly was saying, 'Hermione's not going to Diagon Alley, either. The Order's picking up her things, as well.'

Ginny growled softly, a low, inhuman sound. No-one heard it, as the hall was deserted, and their was a thick wooden door between her and the kitchen.

The Dark Lord did not like being disappointed.

'Hermione won't be there, either?' asked Ron, somehow seeming to take comfort from this fact. Hermione'd only left the morning before, but already it was obvious to everyone how much Ron was missing her.

'Dumbledore's instructed that she remain at home,' Molly assured him, patting his cheek lovingly. 'I wish all this wasn't necessary to keep you lot safe...'

'Mum,' muttered Ron embarrassedly, even though there was no-one to see him. He edged out of her reach and hung his head, feeling guilty for trying to manipulate her into letting them go out.

His mother looked at him sadly. 'Run along, Ron.'

o.o.o.o

Lord Voldemort was not happy at all. His week (or rather, month) had started out badly, and only gotten worse as it went along.

First, several of his servants had been attacked, not far from one of his more prominent meeting houses. Then, he'd been unable to get the Weasley brats and their friend Granger out in the open, where he could continue exacting his revenge against Potter's friends. And that was without mentioning that Severus had had absolutely nothing new to report.

Voldemort was beginning to suspect that his most useful spy was either losing his touch, or had been found out by the bumbling fool Dumbledore. He would have suspected betrayal, of course, if it hadn't been for the usual quality of Severus's information -- not always completely accurate, but normally mostly so.

Never being wrong and never being right meant the same thing: double-agent.

Bella, of course, his ever-loyal servant, was convinced that Severus was secretly working against them. Bella, of course, his ever-loyal servant, had conspiracy theories coming out of where the sun didn't shine.

Voldemort found it rather amusing, really.

'I have decided, Bella.' Voldemort spoke musingly, rubbing his chin. Bella, kneeling next to his throne with her head bowed over his left hand, perked her ears up attentively.

'Yes, my lord?'

The scheming was evident in Voldemort's voice when he answered, 'Since Severus Snape is getting so little out of our old nemesis the Muggle-loving fool, we should make him useful elsewise.'

Fearing she knew his plan, Bella froze, waiting for him to elaborate.

'You do not ask what I mean. I see I've trained you well,' remarked Voldemort. His voice was approving. He went on to explain, 'Given he be proved worthy, Severus shall accompany you this evening, when you carry out your next mission.'

Bella almost dared glare at her master. 'But, my lord, Nagini and I are perfectly...'

'I am not insinuating that you are less than capable of performing such a simple chore, Bella,' murmured Voldemort, reaching down to caress her head, through her black Death Eater hood. 'I merely wish to make it easier for you. And, naturally, to provide our Potions Master with something to do, lest he become... bored with his service.'

He could tell that Bellatrix wished to object, but was highly satisfied when she managed to hold her tongue. Trained her well, indeed.

'Your arm,' Voldemort instructed Bellatrix. Obediently, she pulled up her left sleeve, baring her Dark Mark. He touched a finger to it, concentrating on Severus, and Bella moaned at the pain.

A minute and a half later, Severus appeared before them and bowed low. 'You called, my lord?'

Voldemort sat and looked his masked servant for a moment. While he considered the precise, single wisest move in the situation, he did something that he very rarely resorted to; he roughly, brutally probed Severus Snape's mind with Leglimency. He found no trace of the event he was looking for.

Well, they'd soon see about that.

'Severus,' Voldemort began in a falsely conversational tone, while Severus knelt on the floor breathing heavily from the outright mental attack, 'Three of my Death Eaters were killed recently, outside a safe-house. The one in Kent.'

Obviously, they both knew it was useless for Severus to lie. So when his head snapped up and he stared at his lord, his incredulity visible even through his mask, only Bella was really surprised.

'My lord?' gasped Severus, his voice an octave off his usual pitch. 'Surely... We have a safe-house in Kent?'

Voldemort chuckled with dark amusement. Severus let his head drop again, realising that he'd just spoken out of turn, and very foolishly. 'I... That is... And how is this connected to me?'

Voldemort did not answer, merely smiled.

Abruptly, Snape realised that he'd been tested (again) and had passed (again). He gave a barely audible sigh, secretly counting himself fortunate that, had Dumbledore been behind the three deaths, he hadn't mentioned it to his spy.

'I have a task for you,' announced Voldemort, breaking the brief silence that had descending on the small gathering.

'Yes?'

'Go with Bella and Nagini, tonight. Help her kill the parents of that Mudblood, Granger. Nagini will take care of the Mudblood herself.' He gave a vicious smile, his red eyes flashing. 'Just like Potter's filthy Muggle Aunt.'

Severus's heart stopped for a bare few fractions of a second. He had just been ordered to help in an attack against Hermione Granger. The Dark Lord did not notice his hesitation, or made no sign of noticing. Severus swallowed quickly, and managed to speak without faltering.

'... Yes, my lord.'

Voldemort nodded. There was no emotion in his voice or on his snake-like face. 'Good. Now, get out of my sight.'

The harsh dismissal, empty of any kind of torture whatsoever, was better than most Death Eaters would ever hope for. But Severus, preoccupied with considering Voldemort's latest horrifying command, simply bowed again and disapparated.

'What did I tell you, Bella?' purred Voldemort smugly, as soon as Severus was gone. 'He is loyal. You should never have doubted him.'

Bellatrix gritted her teeth as quietly as she could. No matter what Voldemort said, she would never fully trust the Potions Master. 'Yes, My Lord.'

Though he appeared very pleased -- with Severus and, indeed, the day in general -- Voldemort nonetheless drew his wand. He pointed it purposefully at Bellatrix. They both knew that she deserved what was coming.

'Crucio.'

o.o.o.o

Bellatrix Lestrange's devotion to the Dark Lord was unquestionable. She was the most loyal, the most committed of all his Death Eaters. In her eyes, he was above every other person on Earth; he was more than a person, a kind of twisted, demented god. She would do anything for him, anything at all.

Even things he didn't know he needed done.

As the only Death Eater completely aware that their lord could do absolutely no wrong, she considered it her personal responsibility to ensure that he not do the sorts of things others would see as mistakes. If this meant intentionally mutilating her interpretation of a direct order, then, well, it was for his own good.

When the Dark Lord had told her to follow Severus, she hadn't really had a problem with it. It was the smart thing to do; she didn't trust Severus at all, and liked him even less than that.

When the Dark Lord had told her to murder Potter's aunt, and torture his other relatives, she'd approved and enjoyed it. The filthy muggles only got what they deserved after all. True, she would have preferred it if she could have killed the man and boy, as well, but -- ah, well -- she wasn't going to quibble. The net effect had been much greater than if she'd done it her way, truth to tell.

When the Dark Lord insisted he could trust Severus, however... This was a mistake, one she blamed Severus for. To mislead their lord and master in such a fashion! Absolute folly. One she'd make sure Severus pay dearly for, someday.

Worse than that, though -- the Dark Lord wanted her to work with Severus! Against that Mudblood friend of Potter's! Bad enough she had to take the snake again...

As if she couldn't do the job on her own!

Forcing down an angry growl, Bellatrix squared her shoulders bravely and marched off into the night. The Dark Lord could make some bad decisions. Not mistakes, mind, just... bad decisions. And it was up to her -- the greatest of his servants -- to protect him from those bad decisions.

Now she had to find away to obey his latest order, without actually obeying it.

This silly obsession of his with that Potter boy would get him killed someday, she knew it would. Even if Potter was already dead.

She would do anything for her lord and master.

Bellatrix's devotion to the Dark Lord was unquestionable.

She would kill her husband if her lord asked it of her.

Bellatrix's devotion to the Lord was unquestionable.

o.o.o.o

'Reg?' queried Sirius, looking thoughtful as they trekked along.

His brother turned his head to look at him. 'Yes?'

'Where're you taking me, anyway?'

'To the Boss,' explained Regulus, his tone suggesting that this should have been obvious.

'The Boss,' repeated Sirius. He looked more than a little skeptical.

'Yes, that's right. Well, I suppose, really, it's to the Underbosses, because the Boss doesn't really trouble himself with... well... anything, but-- Yes, that's right.'

Sirius blinked several times, and soundlessly mouthed his brother's words. He seemed to be having difficulty believing they'd actually been said. 'The Boss,' he repeated again, openly disbelieving.

'Yes, that's right,' said Regulus. He was nodding patiently.

'And, er, what is the Boss going to do to help me?' demanded Sirius gruffly.

'Oh.' Regulus thought about this for a moment. 'I'm not sure, really. Perhaps nothing.'

Sirius took this statement in stride. In fact, he looked rather remarkably calm, considering.

'I see.'

Regulus nodded helpfully. 'Yes.'

Bringing up a hand to rub his aching temple, Sirius sighed wearily. It was a damn good thing he didn't need to eat or sleep while in Death.

'Look, Reggie,' he started, with forced reasonability, 'You've got an Entrance here, right? Well, why don't you just take me to the Exit, then, eh?'

Regulus processed this suggestion. '... Oh. That's a fair idea.'

'I thought so, yes,' agreed Sirius, his tone laudably level.

'Come on, then.'