Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.

WARNING (!seriously!): In this chapter is a very explicit suicide scene. If this a TRIGGER for you, just stop reading at: Coming out of his mindscape Harry and start again after the two rows of ... and scene chance line and with "Dumbledore." Marvolo nodded to his old transfiguration teacher. Then you will have skipped the actual scene.

AN: Thank you all for your reviews and support. Thanks to everyone who followed, favoured and reviewed. subscribed, bookmarked and commented. And for all the kudos!

So, we are finally here, at the climax, at the scenes which compelled me to start writing this in the first place.

Harry's action in here don't reflect what I feel on the matter of suicide. I was in a seriously dark place two years ago myself, but I had help, I crawled out of the black hole before it was too late. Mental illnesses are a serious matter. So, if anyone of you feels like to hurt himself, feels like to end it all, please please seek help. I beg you. Every last one of us is important and precious, everyone deserves a happy life. There is no shame in not managing on your own (I certainly didn't), in needing help. Talk to someone, a friend, family, a professional therapist. Talking helps, even of you feel like it is going in circles, even if you think it doesn't help at that point. Just, think before you act, you can never undo it.

The chapter's title is from my favourite Evanescence song 'Breathe no more' (the live version from the Album 'Anywhere but Home') it is also the song I had on eternal repeat while writing Harry's scenes.

This chapter is beta'ed by the brilliant a-bit-of-madness, many thanks and hugs to her.

On with the story.

Chapter 17: Breathe no more

Severus' voice had broken several times during his report and not only because of physical reasons. The shock he felt since he discovered what was hidden behind that oath in Draco's mind was mirrored briefly in his Lord's eyes, but the man's overall expression never changed.

Severus was too drained, too tired and too shocked to have the same control in the moment.

At first, he had thought Potter had played a prank on his godson, still thought – hoped – that it was a prank if not for the Truth and Oath Parchment. Not even a Potter could write such an elaborate lie on that kind of parchment.

Then he had been furious that the selfish arrogant boy had drawn his godson into this mess. He was fairly sure before he even cast Legilimence that Draco was the backup person Potter had chosen. He had put Draco in a dangerous position because of it. Despite Lord Slytherin's newfound sanity, Severus was sure that he would prefer that less people knew of his Horcruxes.

Then what the letter contained, what it meant had become clear to him.

The whole content together with Severus' own memories of some of the happenings the boy described, memories he saw now in a different light, made him physically ill and if it was possible to throw up while being in the mind of another person Severus would have done that.

He had done that the moment he had been fully awake again.

The rather severe headache he still had was a welcome distraction from the emotions swimming in him, too many to differentiate them. It felt like his whole life, everything he believed to be true, everything he believed of himself, had been turned over his head.

He had always been rather proud of his iron control of his emotions (at least if nobody from the Potter family was involved) and he had prided himself as a Wizard who could see behind the façade and masks people showed in various degrees, hear their lies and see them for what they were. As a spy, he had needed to be observant without judging what he saw, but also be able to draw conclusions on logic. He had thought he had used the same set of skills in every aspect of his life.

Yes, he had made mistakes as an angry and arrogant young man and yes, he had been eaten by guilt for it for years now and knew himself that he was cold, surly and bitter. He knew of his misgivings, or so he thought.

He knew he was a vindictive man, malicious even, he knew of the deep and dark pool of rage and hatred in himself. He had been beaten down by the world for his whole life, paying for his mistakes, trying to atone and knew that he never could, and had never found a way to live with it.

But despite everything else, he still had been proud of his intelligence, his analytical mind, his eye for detail and his observational skills. How then, could he have been so blind?

He had thought himself justified in his behaviour against the child of James bloody Potter. He had happily played the cruel teacher who loathed the boy, as in his eyes the child had turned out exactly as he believed he would, as spoiled and arrogant as his father.

When had what started as a way to keep his spy cover if needed, turned into reality? He never wanted to be cruel to children who already had experienced the cruelty the world could hold.

Had his hate for everything Potter and the guilt he still felt because of his role in the death of one of his best and only friends in the world, made him blind to such an extent? How could he have overlooked the signs?

No matter how efficient the child was at hiding them, there had to be some. Or was he lying after all? On Truth and Oath Parchment? Not likely.

He briefly closed his eyes and went through several memories regarding the boy. What he found made him nauseous. Yes, there had been signs, and if Severus had seen them in any other child he would have been alarmed. He had wilfully pushed aside what normally would draw concern because it had been Potter, had attributed suspicious behaviour to arrogance and foolish Gryffindor behaviour.

He had happily pushed them aside, interpreted them in a way that pleased him and fitted to his own image of the boy and felt righteous in his behaviour to teach the 'spoiled, arrogant Gryffindor' some manners.

Oh, Merlin and Morgana, Potter had been right, he had been a bully to the child, an already hurt and abused child.

Severus did throw up – again.

Someone vanished the mess, he hoped it was one of the house-elves and not the man still sitting beside him.

He remembered the unease when he had read the boy's letters, which had simply shoved aside and hadn't thought about anymore.

His mind still had problems linking what he had learned about the boy with the image he had of him for the last five years.

He felt like he had been sleepwalking or looked in a dream for too long and now someone had woken him up in the roughest way possible. This rude awakening now, was nobody's fault but his own.

But he couldn't analyse his guilt and feelings now. His own mindset wasn't important. Despite that it was a Potter – and Severus was sure that beside everything he knew now, he still would never like the boy, and that it still didn't feel right - there was an abused child.

And if he thought of him simply as a child and put the hated family name aside, he was sure he would manage to treat him in at least a neutral kind of way, anything else wouldn't help in this situation.

Severus understood now – and marvelled a little bit about it – that the foolish, brazen and defiant Gryffindor had been a front, a mask of a child full of mistrust of the adults in his life.

A child in dire need of help.

A child who thought to end his own life in parts because of hopelessness and obligation to do the right thing, if you could call it that.

That was another thing he had to think about later. How could Potter grow up even worse than Severus himself and still be a good person at his core? How was it that he was not bitter and angry at the world?

Oh, Lily…

He shoved the thoughts and emotions behind his strongest Occlumency shields, even if it increased his headache by tenfold, and looked at his Lord.

They had a child to rescue.

He would have time later to sort through his thoughts, emotions and memories, if he ever found the strength to do it.

Severus glanced at his Lord - and tried not be disturbed by how easy it was for him to think of him as his Lord again and as Lord Slytherin instead of the Dark Lord - who didn't look at him. Who looked to be as far away and as deep in thought as Severus had been.

"My Lord? What would you want us to do?"

Red eyes met his. "The Muggles can't be trusted with the care of the boy; he never should have gone to them. Dumbledore should have never left him there."

There was an anger in his voice Severus had never heard before. Not the unhinged rage they all had been afraid to be at the end of it, as it always had meant a round of Cruciatus, not even the cold anger he had displayed sometimes when he had displayed a short moment of not complete insanity.

He remembered the stories from Lucius's father that Tom Riddle had in one or two occasions made his point of view on Muggles and magical children clear. The fury in the man's voice showed that he hadn't changed in this regard.

"And his attempt on giving you the soul piece back?" Severus carefully enquired.

"I have to talk it over with him. If he really wants to get rid of it… We can't watch him all the time. I have to research to see if there is another method to free it of a living container. Perhaps if he saw that I am not as… insane and volatile as before, he would be willing to keep it. I am not even sure what effects a Horcrux has on a person." He sighed, the anger leaving his voice. "But that isn't important now. We can still think about it after we get the boy."

"You want to bring him here?" Severus was a little surprised and wasn't sure if he followed, but then his mind wasn't completely up to his usual level.

"Yes. Dumbledore can't be trusted with my Horcrux; he would kill the boy himself if he thought it would help to actually get rid of me. And the people in his merry little band would just simply bring him to the old man. I can't bring him to Riddle Manor, it is not really habitable at the moment. At Malfoy Manor he will be safe behind powerful wards, will have a companion in young Mr Malfoy –" At that Severus had to choke, which got him an incredulous look." – and there will be sensible adults."

"My Lord, Draco and Mr Potter are… as far from being simple amicable acquaintances as possible."

"I know this, Severus. But Potter's decision to use Lucius' boy as a backup… and the state you found Mr Malfoy in; I would assume, at least from Mr Malfoy's, side it isn't blatant hatred anymore."

Severus mulled over this shortly and had to agree. Draco had wanted to find a way to rescue Potter and there had been some things in his godson's mind… he hadn't seen much aside from the contents of the letter, but he had got a glimpse on Draco's feelings, reactions and thoughts about it. It didn't seem as Draco was hating Potter as strongly as last year suggested. Perhaps there was hope for them.

A movement beside him brought him out of his thoughts.

"Now then, Severus, if you are strong enough, I would appreciate if you would accompany me. I will warn Lucius and Narcissa that they will have a guest with the need of medical help shortly."

Severus carefully swung his legs out of the bed and tested them. Good, it seemed the restorative potion he had taken had reached its full effect. Now only the headaches remained, of which he couldn't do anything against. If he took another potion now, his body would be overloaded with it. That would lead to negative side-effects and none of the desired effects. He could live with the headaches; he certainly had experienced worse pain in his life.

Taking his wand from the bedside table he slowly but steadily followed his Lord out of the room.

Harry woke slowly to a beak nibbling at his ear. He groaned and turned around. The protesting shriek of Hedwig, who had to flap her wings to be not thrown off Harry and the bed, woke him up completely. He blinked at his owl, who was sitting on the headboard and smiled.

"Morning Hedwig." He yawned. "Had a good flight? You were really fast."

She hooted and ruffled her feathers.

"Breakfast?" Harry asked, while moving to get the rest of the food he had stored away out from under the bed. Theoretically it wasn't necessary to do that when the Dursleys weren't here, but habits die hard. His stomach rumbled and he had the brief thought that it wasn't important if he ate today or not, but then he shrugged and savoured his food, while Hedwig nibbled at the pie pieces, he held out for her.

They sat like this for a while.

Washing the last crumps down with water, he sighed and stood up.

"You know, I have a last letter for you to deliver. But if you are tired, it can wait." Harry hoped she would want to deliver the letters immediately. He had long thought about if he wanted to have Hedwig here or not, but in the end decided it would be too cruel. His owl was very intelligent, and he had no doubt she would understand what happened.

Hedwig looked disgruntled at him – or as disgruntled as an owl could look - but held her leg out for him.

Harry let out a small sigh of relief and retrieved the last letter. Hedwig held still while he tied it to her leg, then nibbled at his ear again and shortly combed through his bird's nest of hair. He carried her to the window and watched her as she easily slipped through the bars and took flight. He remained by the window till his beautiful snowy owl had disappeared.

It was early morning; the sun barely had climbed over the horizon. Harry watched as the sky became slowly brighter, breathing in the fresh morning air.

As peaceful as the morning appeared, Harry somehow felt disconnected from his surroundings. He wasn't really afraid – or was he? He wasn't sure, his emotions were a mess.

He knew what he had decided to do, had laid all the reasons down why he would do. He even had thought over all the reasons why he shouldn't do it. It wasn't a spontaneous, rash decision. He just felt it was the right decision, at least for him.

Why did he feel so… wrong now that he finally would go through with it?

Trying to understand and make sense out of his feelings, he settled down on the floor and dived into his mindscape. The cosy room filled with shelves full of boxes and books and the comfy armchair was the same as always.

He turned and took it all in. These boxes and books held everything that made up Harry, all the bad things, the good things. Everything.

Without really thinking about it, Harry stepped up to one shelf and picked up the box containing the Horcrux.

Settling into the armchair, he opened it. The familiar mass of red and green, not entirely solid but clearly not mist, swirled around the midnight black lightning bolt wound. Only two strings of red were left, the one connecting him with the last other Horcrux, Nagini, and a thick one leading to Tom Riddle.

Harry stared for a long time at the thing which had defined his whole life, without him knowing for the most part, and now defined his death.

The moment he had become a Horcrux he had been marked for death; it was inevitable.

If there were a way to get rid of it, either by destroying or sending it back to its owner without him dying, would he try it?

But there wasn't, not without involving someone else, not without giving important decisions in his life away again, so the point was moot. It had to be done. And even if there was another way, what could life offer him? There was nothing more for him. He had suffered enough, grieved enough, lost enough. He simply had nothing more to give.

He was tired. Tired of the manipulations, tired of the expectations, tired of being told what to do, who to be. Was he the boy who lived? Was he the deranged liar the Prophet had painted him to be the last year? Was he the arrogant troublemaker Snape saw in him? Was he James Potter's son? Lily' Potter's son? The chosen one? Dumbledore's pawn? Why couldn't he simply be Harry?

He didn't even know who he was anymore. And he found no energy in himself to try to find out.

Harry let out a long breath. So, that was it.

Narcissa had insisted on accompanying them, had argued with them that somebody else with knowledge of at least basic healing spells to have with them would be prudent. Lucius had wanted to, but as he still was an Azkaban escapee that was simply not practical, and somebody should be there in case Draco woke up.

Neither mentioned they felt they owed Potter a debt, and that they were horrified and angered, for this was a magical child, despite the boy's age, something precious.

It was a gamble to apparate, as none of them ever had been there and therefore they didn't have a very clear and detailed picture of their destination point, which was dangerous in Apparition. But Severus could easily imagine the home Petunia Evans had chosen, and therefore would be the one to apparate them, while all three together firmly fixed the address in their mind. Together with how skilled and powerful all three were as witches and wizards, they were confident they would manage without splinching.

Taking a deep breath, they all focused. Narcissa had gripped his left arm, while Lord Slytherin had an iron grip on his right one, then Severus spun, they felt the typical feeling of being squeezed through a keyhole, then they appeared on an unassuming street, obviously muggle.

They looked around and saw the street sign 'Privet Drive' to their relief, but there weren't anywhere near Number four, which wasn't a surprise as Apparition tended to be unspecific if your picture of the destination wasn't completely clear and detailed.

Without a word to each other they hurried along the street, the correct house only a few buildings further down when Severus felt like he walked into a wall. He knew instantly what it was and that they were at the right place.

Narcissa and Lord Slytherin stopped beside him.

"What is this?" The red eyed man murmured while tracing the invisible barrier before them.

"The blood wards the Headmaster put around the premises." He frowned, sliding his own wand out of his sleeve and prodding the barrier. "Theoretically it should prevent individuals who harbour malicious intent against the boy from crossing."

"But we want to rescue the boy, not harm him." Narcissa crossed her arms and glared at the wards, as if willing to part before her on her will alone.

They were silent for a moment, while Severus and Lord Slytherin cast spells and analysed the wards. Albus had explained the blood wards to Severus, and he had been sure that they could cross them without problems as they had indeed no ill intent towards the boy, quite the contrary.

If it was based on dark magic, then Lupin would never have been able to step on the premises, as he was a Dark Creature, but Severus knew Lupin had been one of the people who retrieved the boy last summer. The resistance they met could not be based on this and the barrier should let them through.

But they were all three prevented from doing so. So, what was the reason?

Frowning he cast another spell, which made the barrier before them light up, and mulled over everything he knew about the kind of Blood Wards Albus had described he had casted. Then it hit him.

"Oh, Merlin…"

"You know what the problem is Severus?" Lord Slytherin asked.

But before Severus could answer and explain, they heard several loud pops and cracks behind them. They whirled around, and despite realizing instantly who had appeared on the Muggle street Severus wand joined his Lord at pointing at Albus Dumbledore and his whole damn Order of Phoenix and – Severus blinked – it seemed the whole brood of the Weasley family with Hermione Granger.

It would make his alliances clear, but Severus could only think about the fact that Albus Dumbledore was capable of sacrificing a child to try and destroy a Dark Lord and he was sure that he couldn't allow that, not with the life of Lily's child on the line, a child who could very well take the matter in his own hands this very moment. They had no time to deal with the Headmaster.

The eyes of said man found his own and Severus was surprised by the sadness and guilt they contained; the man's typical twinkle entirely absent.

Coming out of his mindscape Harry was calm and sure about what he would do. He felt settled. Now all that was left was the thing itself: dying.

He actually looked forward to it, morbid as it was, even as a little fear remained. Would it hurt? He remembered the burning pain when he was dying from the Basilisk poison in the Chamber of Secrets years ago. Would this hurt like that? He shuddered, but then he also remembered how peaceful he had felt, till today he didn't know if that had been based on the presence of Fawkes or that he really had nearly died.

But what was a little pain? His whole life had been filled with one kind of pain or another.

Living had been hard, dying should be relatively easy.

And he would finally be able to rest. He would be free of the guilt, the tiredness, the soul deep feeling of being lost, free of everything. He hoped to see his parents and Sirius again, he hoped that death would be as peaceful as he imagined.

He hoped everyone would forgive him.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Harry thought of his parents, of Sirius and Remus, of his friends, of Hedwig, of Hogwarts.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't afraid anymore.

Opening the drawer on his desk, he brought out three things. A letter addressed to Sirius, which he placed in the middle of the desk, the shard of the mirror his godfather had given him and the razor blade he had nicked from the bathroom a while ago.

Settling on the floor again, leaning back against his bed, he put the piece of mirror in front of him and looked at the small piece of metal in his hand.

Taking a deep breath again, thinking of the people he would finally see, Harry brought the blade to his left wrist, pressed down on his skin and without further hesitation and a steady hand made a deep and long cut down his inner forearm.

It definitely hurt, the pain first sharp and then burning, but it was insignificant in the face of Harry's resolve.

The blood immediately started to stream, dark red on his pale skin. The sharp metallic scent filled his nose.

He shifted the blade from his right to his left hand. The cut he made down his right arm starting at his wrist wasn't as straight as the other one, but it was long and deep, and Harry watched fascinated by how fast the blood was flowing out of his body.

He already felt more tired, the energy leaving his body alongside his blood, which was starting to pool under and around him, an almost beautiful vibrant red on the dark wooden floor.

Placing his arms on his thighs, ignoring the wetness soaking into his trousers, Harry looked at the piece of mirror, surrounded by red now. His mind was on Sirius and his parents.

He slowed his breath.

In. Out.

His heartbeat loud in his ears.

In. Out.

His arms started to go numb.

In. Out.

The burning from the cuts gone.

In. Out.

His vision went foggy.

In. Out.

He managed to focus on the mirror for a moment and saw his own green eyes in it, his mother's eyes.

In. Out.

His whole body felt heavy and numb now.

In. Out.

He felt drowsy, so drowsy.

In. Out.

His breathing slowed even further.

In.

His mind felt sluggish and his thoughts were slowing.

Out.

He felt removed from his body, like he was floating above it.

In.

His body? Did he have one? Should he have one? Where was it?

Out.

The thoughts slipped away.

In.

His vision went darker.

Out.

And darker…

In.

Darkness.

Out.

…

…

"Dumbledore." Marvolo nodded to his old transfiguration teacher stiffly. His voice seemed to wake the group before him as they all startled and brought their wands up to point at him. Narcissa beside him had her wand out but held it seemingly relaxed at her side, while Severus was pointing at the Headmaster.

"Tom." Dumbledore answered, calmly.

Marvolo registered with interest the different reactions to his identity, they certainly had heard from Dumbledore his previous name. The mother of the ginger family accompanying Dumbledore, reacted instantly, shoving her children behind her and taking a stance in front of them with her husband, despite that some of them were clearly off age. They didn't even seem to register their mother's action; all of their attention and their wands were on him now. Surprise, then wariness and suspicion in all of their expressions.

The redheaded girl in the brood was the only one who didn't look surprised at his identity. Her eyes narrowed in a mixture of anger and fear. Interesting, he would have to ask Severus if he knew why this young girl seemed to know the face of Tom Riddle.

"Lord Marvolo Slytherin, actually." He reminded Dumbledore, who nodded shortly in agreement.

"Forgive me, Lord Slytherin, but if you are as old as me and saw so many young people coming through the halls of Hogwarts, they always will be the young students in your mind, despite them growing older, changing names, appearances or coming back from the bodiless existence of a wraith."

The mother of the ginger family, Weasleys he presumed, looked between Dumbledore and himself in fury. She took a step forward as if to interrupt them, but was beaten by one of her sons, who stepped around his mother, and pointed accusingly at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I would think the same thing you are trying to do. Rescue young Mr Potter." He answered amicably. Hostility would not help the situation and the atmosphere was charged up already. He wasn't sure how much control Dumbledore had over his little band, but the expressions and body language of the witches and wizards before him told him that not much was needed to turn the situation violent.

The boy narrowed his eyes. "And you think we would believe this? Why would you want to rescue him? You are the reason he is in danger!"

A brown-haired witch appeared at his side, put a hand on his arm and whispered something in his ear that made the boy snarl something back. Then he did nod in agreement and stepped back, albeit reluctantly. But the suspicion and anger were still there, and he never lowered his wand, pointing it directly at his heart. Marvolo could respect this in another wizard, even in one as young as this teenager.

He shifted his attention back to Dumbledore. The curious expression in the old man's face made Marvolo wary, especially as he looked from him to Severus and back.

"It seems, a lot of people have an interest in Harry's wellbeing." Dumbledore stated in a calm voice. "But why are you standing here then? At the edge of the wards?" The expression in those eyes changed to something sharp and piercing.

Dumbledore's party looked even more hostile and suspicious at them if that was possible, and more than one glance in Marvolo's direction was fearful, but he also noted that the whole ginger family switched their attention between himself and the house further down the street. Worry, sorrow and a hint of desperation in their expressions.

Especially the mother looked like she wanted to simply take action, but her wariness of himself and - strange enough - Dumbledore seemed to hold her back.

One man, young but with greying hair entirely ignored Marvolo and stared at the house behind them, his body stiff as if he had to prevent himself from running down the street and tore the door open.

Which would be stupid, he would simply break his own nose at the ward.

Severus stepped forward. He got more than one hostile and confused look, Marvolo registered, it seemed despite them knowing that Severus was a spy they didn't know where his true loyalty lay.

"They won't let us past. I have an explanation for it, but if you wish to confirm that nobody, with or without good intentions, can cross, feel free to test it yourself." Severus gestured to the still from his earlier spell shimmering barrier.

Dumbledore threw a short questioning and concerning look to the Potions Master, then frowned. "That shouldn't be possible. I designed and cast the wards myself."

Ignoring the whispers that had broken out, the old wizards stepped forward, directly between Marvolo and Severus and placed a hand against the barrier. "Curious."

He prodded the barrier with his wand and cast a few spells. Marvolo could feel the old man's magic wandering over the barrier, calm and unassuming but Marvolo knew the hidden depth, the power the man wielded, the burning heat his magic could feel like.

"Curious indeed. What is your theory Severus?" The old man did sound worried now.

"The wards around Mr Potter's residence is based on intent as far as I know and are designed to keep out everyone who wishes him harm from the magical community." Severus explained, while Dumbledore nodded alongside.

Everyone else was listening with focused silence.

"Now, we deducted from certain sources -"

"He wrote you letters, I presume?" Dumbledore interrupted him, and Marvolo barley prevented himself from taking a step back from the sudden sadness, grief, guilt and anguish in his old teacher's eyes. He had never seen him like this. Perhaps the old man really cared for the Potter boy, beyond his value for the war.

This could play in Marvolo's favour, the more people cared for the boy the better his Horcrux could be protected. As long as the light wouldn't try to destroy his human Horcrux, and he was sure as he observed them that most of them would be vehemently against it, Marvolo wouldn't need to make a too obvious move for the boy's protection. It would be enough to appear amicable towards Potter, which would further distance him from his alter Ego in the eye of the magical population.

Severus nodded and Marvolo also inclined his head in confirmation, and the Potions Master continued. "We came to the conclusion that Mr Potter would attempt to end his own life. As we didn't know that somebody else was aware of his plans, we decided to interfere. Mr Potter is rather powerful for his age and I heard he even had cases of accidental magic after acquiring his wand, what should normally end such occurrences. Now, Accidental magic is also intent based, but the intent of the caster. My theory is, therefore, that Mr Potter's own magic interacts with the Blood Wards, directing them and fuels them."

"Come to the point! Harry could be…" The redheaded boy interrupted Severus. The Potions Master only send him an irritated glare, shutting him up quite effectively.

"As it is Mr Potter's own will to die, his magic acts on it and with it the Blood Wards. An attempt to prevent him from doing so is interpreted as a direct act, and therefore harmful, against the intent now behind the Wards."

Stunned silence filled the street. Then the young brown-haired witch whispered brokenly. "So, he really means it."

Severus nodded shortly. "If his resolve wouldn't be strong enough to go through with it the barrier wouldn't be as strong as it is. Intent and resolve are the fuel in this kind of magic."

Nobody said anything for a short moment, shock visible on most faces.

Then Marvolo startled as he felt a tug deep inside of him. Slightly confused he shifted his attention inwards and was alarmed at what he found when he looked at his connections to his Horcruxes.

The one to the boy was starting to weaken, the edges frayed. Coming out of his mindscape he turned around and stared at the barrier. His mind analysing and searching for a solution, based on Severus deduction, he was sure the man had come to the right conclusion. But what to do about it?

If the boy's own magic read his intent, strengthening and controlling the magical barrier, then they would dissolve the moment the boy died, but that would be too late.

Somehow, they should be able to either trick the wards or go around them. What did he know about Blood Wards?

Blood Wards…

Marvolo sucked in a breath and looked down at his hands, or specifically the blue veins under his skin.

Was it possible?

Could it be that simple?

Behind him a heated discussion had started, but he was surprised that there weren't any accusations or insults, instead it seemed that for the moment the life of one wizarding child was more important.

He turned around and found Dumbledore looking at him with an expression Marvolo found hard to decipher.

"Could someone with the same blood cross the wards?" He hadn't spoken loudly, so only Severus and Dumbledore heard. He saw the moment they understood, saw how both of them thought it through.

"It could be, should be actually. Yes, it is based on the intent of the one trying to cross, but the Wards are anchored in Harry's blood, precisely in his mother's blood. Someone with the same blood running in his veins theoretically should be able to step through." The infernal twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes were back and Marvolo only barely managed to keep himself from grimacing. He hated that expression.

Instead he turned to the barrier again, brought out his wand and cast a small cutting curse across his palm. The cut was shallow but deep enough that a little bit of blood started to well and gather on his skin. He brought his bleeding hand flat against the barrier.

There was no flash or explosion or whatever big reaction some would have imagined, but the effect was instantaneous.

Marvolo felt his hand go through the barrier, and without thinking about it, took a step and went through, there was no resistance at all.

Behind him the discussion stopped, and he felt several pairs of eyes stare at him in shock. He ignored the demands of explanation which started shortly after, instead choosing to hurry to the house.

He took in the perfectly presented front lawn, the sickening ordinariness of the whole building.

Everything was silent.

No movements behind the curtains, the door was closed.

A quick Alohomora changed that and Marvolo stepped into a completely unassuming hallway, he took in his surroundings briefly before he came to a sudden halt when he registered the doors to a cupboard under the stairs. Severus had told him what it had been used for.

Harry Potter had been his enemy since he had first heard the prophecy, but he also was his Horcrux and these two contrary aspects made it difficult for Marvolo to just be neutral concerning the boy. No magical child should grow up like this, or like him, or like Severus.

He felt the connection to the boy weaken even further. This was not the time and place to think about what had been done to a magical child, again.

Walking past the cupboard, Marvolo cast Homenum Revelio.

The only other human in this house was upstairs, so he took the stairs to another completely unremarkable hallway, only to stop in front of a door with too many padlocks.

The anger filling him was familiar, one of the only emotions which he had felt during his time of insanity. But it also felt different then he remembered, sharper, focused, more cold than hot.

He spelt the padlocks away, opened the door and stepped through.

AN: Thanks for reading.

Please don't kill me, I know it's a mean cliff-hanger. The next chapter is already written, thank Merlin, and I hope to upload it at the beginning of next week.

First published: 25th of September 2019