True Colours

Chapter 66

Voldemort clasped his hands behind his back, deep in thought as he contemplated the unlikely circumstances surrounding his well-laid plan. The revelation that the soul in his Horcrux had somehow latched onto Potter was beyond astounding and deeply concerning.

The locket could not be separated from Potter's person, which meant that the bonding was stronger than he had first assumed.

The boy had somewhat realized that the locket was trying to take over his mind. He had been putting up a fight for the better part of the past few months, but he was hardly succeeding.

Voldemort smirked at the knowledge and the conviction, that he had in effect, beaten Potter. He would no longer need to put himself in agonizing pain to take control of Potter's mind. His Horcrux was succeeding and with little damage to itself.

He remembered the memory he had witnessed inside the boy's head…

A miserable house-elf was bawling its eyes out, hiccupping, "And he ordered… Kreacher to leave… without him. And he told Kreacher… to go home… and never to tell my Mistress… what he had done… but to destroy… the first locket. And he drank… all the potion… and Kreacher swapped the lockets… and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water…"

White fog covered his vision and he pressed harder wanting to know how—

The fog cleared. Dumbledore and Potter were in the Headmaster's office… discussing the Horcruxes… Potter was counting on his fingers, "So, the diary's gone, the ring's gone. The cup, the locket, and the snake are still intact, and you think there might be a Horcrux that was once Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's?"

"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," said Dumbledore, bowing his head.

He had no longer been able to maintain the connection, not with the abject horror he had been facing inside him. He had slipped out of Potter's mind, seething.

Somehow, that old fool had figured out his secret! How had he done it? And he had ensured to pass it down to Potter before he had died too. He, Lord Voldemort, had been certain no one could know… had been so confident… had grown… complacent.

He shook himself out of the reverie, trying to bring himself back to the problem at hand.

He would need to find a way to release and re-encase his soul back into the locket, a task which was hitherto unheard of.

Voldemort had always been a pursuer of knowledge, priding in the fact that he was beyond all of his contemporaries and would be that way. Undoubtedly, everything about the situation now was enticing him with curiosity.

Merely removing the locket from Potter did not work as he had witnessed with his own eyes, which meant that he would have to find a way to break apart his soul piece which was clinging to Potter's. Killing Potter to save his soul seemed a plausible idea to him.

But if his soul was already too attached to his, would it die as well?

That was a risk he could not take. Not when he knew that already three of his Horcruxes were gone.

Of course, he could always make more. But the last attempt with Nagini had been nearly disastrous. He closed his eyes for a moment, grieving the loss of his pet snake.

He had always known that he was pushing the boundaries, warping the known limits of magic. Many before him had theorized that there were only a finite number of times that the soul could be divided before it became too unstable and would result in the annihilation of all of them at once – a counterintuitive process for the maker of the Horcruxes.

No, it would be a very last resort only. Besides, he still had two Horcruxes intact and Potter had had no inclination as to where it could be. They were safe for now.

His only concern then was the Horcrux which was with Potter.

A part of him was curious to know what would happen if he let his soul take complete possession of Potter's mind. The boy was still fighting it, but he was certain it wouldn't be for long. But Voldemort was not feeling particularly excited to risk his soul in the process.

There ought to be a way to precisely separate his soul from its host. And then it came to him.

Of course, he could think of one way he could get to make it happen.

Potter would have to create a Horcrux himself.

oOo

Harry had been moved to a small room somewhere else in the building wherever it was that Voldemort was keeping him.

The room he was in was only as big as his bedroom in the Dursleys', but it was devoid of furniture. A single window was the only source of light into the room, but even that was kept firmly shut and out of his reach.

Harry was shackled to the floor with the heaviest iron manacles that he had ever seen wrapped around his ankles. It made him unable to move around much, except to a small alcove in the room which held a set of chamber-pots for him to use if he ever had the need. At least they were magical – the contents of the chamber pots always vanished immediately — and made it more bearable than it should have been.

Hunger became his sole companion in the cold, empty room, occasionally broken by a random assortment of Death Eaters, who thought it entertaining to Stun him into a state of unconsciousness, completely disrupting his measure of time or day.

He had only been offered the same stale piece of bread and half-cooked beans to eat a couple of times thus far by a mottled looking elf, which did not linger for longer than the three seconds it took to place his food beside him.

Harry had detested the food and desperately called for Twitchet, but his house-elf did not respond to his call. To know that help was so far out of his reach, was making him question his decision of not going back home with Twitchet for the hundredth time.

His regret did not help him in his current predicament. What's done was done.

Harry felt lethargic and light-headed in a way that could only be attributed to lack of food. Clearly, Voldemort did not care that Harry was starving, as long as he was alive.

Harry unsteadily propped himself up against the cold wall and let his head rest against it, thinking.

Voldemort was allowing him to live, but with the way he was being treated, it didn't feel anything like mercy as he had so claimed. No, Harry knew he was only on borrowed time.

He was being spared because of the locket. Had Voldemort understood how much power it was already holding over him? Was that why he was asking Harry to join him?

He took the locket in his hand, staring at it. Take off the bloody locket…

Harry had tried to remove the thing and put it in his pocket to keep it safe. But it somehow always ended up around his neck and Harry was growing a bit fearful of the thing.

At that moment however, pleasant warmth originated from the locket and enveloped his body, dispelling the cold, like it had done so every night he had been in this dark room. It seemed to Harry like it had sensed the trepidation in him and was trying its best to show him that he shouldn't be afraid of it, that it was a friend.

There's no use fighting against it.

Harry was so deep into his contemplation that he did not even open his eyes as he heard the door opening with a low, creaking noise. Quiet footsteps made its way towards him and then he could sense someone was standing over him.

A whispered incantation later, the manacles on Harry's leg clattered open.

"Get up!"

Harry had already suffered enough humiliation with the rest of the Death Eaters and he was in no hurry to comply with the likes of Severus Snape.

"For Merlin's sake!" Snape hissed at him, before hoisting him up by his collar.

"Get the hell away from me!" snapped Harry, jerking away from his grip. But Harry's left leg had been healing from a fracture only recently. He still had a slight limp in his leg and his balance was not as good as he hoped it would be. He nearly crashed into the ground, when he was prevented from hitting the floor unexpectedly by a pair of hands steadying him.

Harry could hear Snape muttering under his breath close to his ear. "Don't make me regret this, Potter!"

"What do you want?" asked Harry, his voice raw from disuse. Snape was looming over him, his greasy black hair hanging limply on either side of his face. His black eyes were staring into his and Harry floundered, trying to put up some mental wall between him and the Legilimens, but to no avail.

Harry was running away from home in the dead of night… and then there was a girl, cowering beneath him, crying… Harry had drugged himself to sleep when the Death Eaters found him in the dilapidated hotel… Voldemort's red eyes staring into his…

Harry staggered back and leaned against the wall, breathless.

"You fool!" spat Snape viciously. "Do you realize what an easy prey your mind is to the likes of the Dark Lord? All of your secrets, everything you know, he knows now too!"

Harry frowned, unable to comprehend what Snape was saying. Wasn't he supposed to be a Death Eater? He had killed Dumbledore, hadn't he?

"Why does that matter to you?" rasped Harry. "That's what you've wanted all along, isn't it?"

"Idiot boy!" hissed Snape under his breath when there was a distant, echoing clang from somewhere outside, which jolted him to his senses.

"Here, quick! There is not enough time," whispered Snape hurriedly, producing a rucksack that he had magically shrunk to fit inside his robes.

Harry recognized it was his own. "How did you—"

"I'm itching to give your good-for-nothing godfather a piece of my mind," muttered Snape through gritted teeth. "Can't even do the one thing expected of him…"

"What're you talking about?" said Harry weakly. Had Dumbledore been right after all? Was Snape truly on their side?

At that moment, Snape waved his wand and the window flew open, letting in a gust of cold air. "Accio broom," whispered Snape, holding out his arm.

"The Dark Lord is travelling," said Snape, still with his arm out. "But he will know of your absence come morning. By then, you will be back under Black's Fidelius for good, you hear me Potter? And you will never speak of how you escaped from here."

A whistling sound pierced the air, growing louder and the next instant a Nimbus 2001 had jumped into Snape's outstretched hand, who then handed it to Harry.

"Why?" asked Harry, unable to come up with a reason as to why Snape was helping him of all people.

"The Dark Lord knows the truth," said Snape with a hint of worry in his eyes. "Only that can explain why he has not killed you yet."

"What truth?"

"His soul!" exclaimed Snape, speaking fast, his eyes widening. "His soul inside your body. He knows it now, which is why he spared you."

Harry could hear a loud ringing in his ears and his brain seemed to working slower than he needed it to. "How do you know about that?" he asked, alarmed. Snape could not have known about the locket or the fact that it held Voldemort's soul.

Snape held a curious gleam in his eye. "He no longer wants to kill you, but one can only assume what he has planned for you is much more sinister than you can even imagine. Which is why, you must leave. Save yourself, for there's no hope of defeating the Dark Lord now. And if I find that you escaped from the Fidelius again, I will kill you myself, Potter!"

And with that foreboding warning glinting dangerously in his eye, Snape dashed out of the door as noiselessly as he had entered.

Harry was frozen in shock at the sheer improbability of the situation – not only had Snape helped him, he had told him things which he was having trouble wrapping his head around.

An owl hooted somewhere outside the window on the cold, dark night and Harry jumped in surprise. There would be time to ponder on it later. He pulled on his rucksack and mounted the broom. He kicked hard and was off into the night.

oOo

Friday, November 7

"Good evening, fellow wizards, witches, and other magical beings to another Potterwatch live broadcast, your voice of sanity in these dark times. This is Popinjay today, your favourite host," said Lee happily. "We've been on a roll, haven't we, Peacock? Third broadcast in two weeks."

Tonks chuckled in the background. "Peacock? That's what you came up with?"

"It's a handsome bird, Purple, much like myself," remarked Fred, before continuing, "Why yes, Popinjay. Let's not jinx our luck. It is safe to assume we haven't yet reached the ears of our hooded friends, which is all the better for us. Because we have some interesting news about them."

"Oh, and what would that be?"

Fred resumed, "As our listeners must have known by now, from the blokes at the Wizarding Wireless Network, our dear Imperiused Minister had recently signed the new clause which criminalizes half-bloods and pure-bloods for even being suspected of helping out our fellow muggleborn friends. This is now posing a range of problems for our kind, since the Anti-Muggleborn movement that's being spearheaded by our puppet minister is not exactly kind to muggleborns, who have been trying to get out of the country.

"While I do understand your desire to pack your bags and leave, I'm afraid that train has already left. All existing International Portkeys have been suspended and a new law has come into effect. If you're believed to be a Muggleborn you have to register yourself mandatorily in the Muggleborn Registration Commission to be able to receive an international portkey. Now, we already know what happens when you register. Unless you wish to be carted off to Azkaban, we would kindly request our muggleborn friends to go on the run or hide instead."

"That's not exactly good to hear," said Lee. "But I'm sure a lot of you will appreciate the heads-up. And if there's one thing we've come to understand from our Minister's doing, it is that they don't care if you're a half-blood or a pure-blood or a muggleborn. Unless you're on their side, we're all fair game. That should put a lot of our perspectives in place, if you've been thinking we can remain neutral in this war…"

Sirius tuned out the rest of it, leaning back in his armchair beside the toasty fireplace. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment while he held a lit cigarette on the other hand. Harry had unfortunately taken the Marauder's Map with him which was a shame. It would be of much better use than the hand-drawn one he had to draw out of memory, filled in by Ron and Hermione when he thought he had forgotten bits of it.

Minerva had apprised him of the security situation at Hogwarts: all the tunnels in and out of the castle were being watched and had enchantments around it as well as Dementors. Naturally, this meant that Sirius had only one option to get inside the castle which was through the front gates itself.

This was easier said than done, but Sirius had devised a rather convoluted plan. He was going to have to ensure that there would be no room for errors, especially since Ron and Hermione would be making the trip with him.

He was looking over their old plan that they had come up with months earlier, detailing what they would do once they got inside the castle. He was deeply engrossed, making modifications to it since they would no longer try to use the secret tunnels. He had not realized the Wireless had dissolved into static a while ago.

That was odd, he mused looking up, finally having taken note. The airing usually lasted for a lot longer than that.

Was there some issue with their broadcasting range? Since Potter Manor was up north, there had been instances when it had proved to be unreliable the past few times. Perhaps, Oliver and Lee should try to find somewhere in the midlands next time?

He made a mental note to let the boys know before the next meeting, when a bright flash of bluish white light materialized right in front of him. Sirius snapped up in alarm, gazing at the large werewolf Patronus which spoke in Tonks' urgent voice, "They've found us! We're trapped on site!"

Sirius was on his feet at the first word. He made his way to the abandoned church in the small town in the suburbs of Kent where the Order was using as a broadcasting station for the evening. It was the same place that they had used for their last airing and so Sirius was able to Apparate to the place with relative ease, having finally made it to one of the Potterwatch's airing for the sake of security.

A light drizzle was raining down in the deserted town, its streets empty and made up of houses that were nearly all boarded up. Sirius saw the church absent of lights, but behind the side chapel where it led to a graveyard there were sparks and flashes of light weaving itself into a dome – the tell-tale Anti-Apparition Jinx in place.

Sirius made his way around the dark church, planning on using the element of surprise. There, outside the dome of light were three Death Eaters with their wands aloft and holding the jinx in place.

He could make out people duelling inside the boundaries of the Anti-Apparition Jinx. Clearly, there were a lot more than three Death Eaters there.

Sirius wasted no time in Stunning two of them, when the other one caught sight of him and let go of the enchantment, turning to attack him instead.

Sirius was duelling the masked Death Eater when a flash of lightning illuminated the man's hand which seemed to be glistening, like he was wearing a silver glove. Sirius frowned at the sight, remembering something Harry had told him a long time ago, while sitting in Dumbledore's office.

Sirius was removed from the fighting that was happening away from him, when he realized who this Death Eater was. His temper which had been simmering for a while now, what with the knowledge about Harry being possessed and him being unable to do anything about it, was enough to erupt into a point of no-return.

"Peter!" he growled, slashing his wand and sending a hex that the vermin managed to deflect, but made him lose his mask in the process. Sirius barely avoided the cutting hex thrown at him, his anger clouding his instinct to survive. He paid for it dearly when Peter's hex flew very close to him, and Sirius had only time to jump out of the way to avoid it. The hex still managed to graze the side of his torso, ripping through his robe and cutting skin. The precious few moments when he was taken aback was enough for Peter to disarm Sirius, who lay on the ground, half-sitting up.

Peter had his wand pointed at Sirius, but was making no move to attack him. A stray curse came zooming out of nowhere straight at Peter who, in a moment of alarmingly good reflex, put up his silver hand and simply deflected the spell like his hand itself was a solid shield.

He gazed at his hand with a mixture of reverence and awe. Sirius took that moment to summon his wand from the depths of the darkness and he shot a Stunning spell that Peter deflected easily using the silver hand.

"Look at what the Dark Lord has given me!" he proclaimed with a manic glint in his eye. "Power beyond your comprehension, Sirius!"

"You're a fool, Peter!" hissed Sirius. "Power without honour doesn't make you a better man."

A flash of something shone across Peter's face before he turned into his Animagus and tried to make a run for it. But Sirius would not allow him.

Sirius waved his wand, shouting, "Lapis consurgam!"

Large rocks the size of him erupted all around in a wide circle from the ground, effectively sealing all means of physical escape for the rat. With another wave of his wand, the Anti-Apparition Jinx was brought into place.

Sirius spotted the rat Animagus, trying to scurry through and waved his wand causing it to turn back to human again. Peter's face was ashen with fear, but he still held his ground, hoisting his wand at Sirius. "Sirius… you don't want to do this."

"I've been meaning to do this for sixteen years!"

Peter attacked at that moment and the two launched into a relentless duel inside the boundaries of Sirius' enchanted cage. Spells whooshed past, colliding mid-air or hitting the walls of the rocks right behind him, making it crumble in places. Sirius was intent on getting closer to him – Peter might have grown confident in his magical ability but Sirius knew him better.

The closing gap between them was unsettling Peter, whose spells became hastier and weaker. Sirius pressed forward, parrying his hexes. With one final Impedimenta, Peter was thrown back off his feet and he crashed to the ground.

Sirius approached him, murder intent in his eyes as he pointed his wand at Peter, conjuring ropes around him tightly.

"Sirius, don't…" rasped Peter, eyes wide in fear. "Y-you promised Harry… you wouldn't…"

"Pitying you that day was the second biggest mistake of my life," said Sirius. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Si-rius…" croaked Peter, as the ropes bounding him tightened further.

"I saw what you did to Dedalus," said Sirius seething. "I still cannot believe you of all people had the stomach for it!"

"Tha-that— wasn't m—," Peter was cut-off as the ropes binding him caused him to choke for air and Sirius waved his wand. The ropes loosened by a smidgeon and Peter wheezed in relief.

"You want me to believe," snarled Sirius, "that you were merely an unwilling bystander when the other two of your friends mutilated every limb in his body?"

Sirius' voice had grown steadily louder by the end of the sentence, when Peter abruptly whispered, "He's g-got him." His eyes were wide as he gazed at Sirius, whose breath hitched. "H-He's got… H-Harry—"

Sirius, who had been starved for any news of his godson, could hardly hear him with the blood rushing in his ears.

He was lying. Peter was only saying that to escape his wrath.

Sirius jabbed his wand against Peter's neck, the latter slumped against the enchanted boulders, cowering under the ropes. "Don't even think I will spare you if you drag in Harry's name!" growled Sirius.

"The t-truth… t-telling the t-truth…" said Peter, even as Sirius waved his wand and the ropes binding him tightened once again.

Sirius knew Peter was only trying to buy himself time. And he hated to admit that it was working, for it had made him stop and wonder: Was it possible? Had Harry been caught?

At that moment however, Peter quite literally tore through the magical ropes that Sirius had conjured with his overpowered silver hand. Startled, Sirius put up his wand again ready to attack, but something incredible happened. Peter's eyes widened as his hand wrapped around his own neck.

Sirius could hardly fathom what was happening as he stared back uncomprehending. But Peter was overtaken by terror as he whimpered, "S-Sirius, h-help…"

Sirius, who did not put it past the rat to trick him like he had done once before, made no move to help. And yet, he was unable to tear his eyes off of what was happening either.

Peter fell on his knees, his breaths coming in wheezes. "S-Sirius," he croaked. "S-Siri—"

The sound was too inexplicably painful to be faked. Sirius somehow knew that the hand Voldemort had rewarded him with was killing him.

Sirius would be damned if he felt any pity for Peter. He stood stock still, watching warily from a few feet away with his wand raised and ready to attack. Peter was looking at him with unhidden desperation, tears streaming from his pale blue eyes, long past making coherent sounds.

Sirius was vividly caught by a flash of memory of Peter when he had been twelve, crying in their dorm two weeks after his father's funeral. He had been upset when his mother had sent him back to Hogwarts so soon, when his father's death was still a painful wound. Remus, James and Sirius had comforted him, distracted him and made him laugh.

Peter was sagging to the ground and for a moment, Sirius forgot every notion he had ever held of Peter for the last sixteen years. For a moment, all he was reminded of was the boy he had once been friends with.

He waved his wand, "Relashio!"

The hand Voldemort had given him did not relinquish its grip on him. Peter was looking at him with wide eyes, neither tears nor words left as his breath halted to a shuddering gasp.

Sirius gazed back at the lifeless eyes, unable to believe what he had witnessed. Voldemort had effectively installed a failsafe in Peter and the fool had thought he was being given power.

Why in the devil did you find it in yourself to betray us, Peter?

It had been one question that he had asked himself for so long all through his stint in Azkaban. He had never yet received a satisfactory answer. Peter had mumbled something about fearing Voldemort when Sirius and Remus had rounded on him in the Shrieking Shack. But then, he had ran right back towards that same wizard that he so 'feared'.

It served him right to die at Voldemort's hands instead of his own, thought Sirius scathingly. But the triumph he had envisioned for himself, when he had fantasized about finishing Peter for so long did not come.

He stood up, feeling quite numb as he took down his enchanted cage and saw that there was nobody else left. The Order must have already gone back to their Headquarters. With one final glance at Peter, Sirius Disapparated to Headquarters, wanting to make sure that everyone had made it out unharmed.

He was stunned by what he saw instead: Death Eaters by the dozen were surrounding the building, engaged in heated duels which were spilling outside the gates.

Somehow, the Fidelius was broken.

Sirius ducked when a stray spell came hurtling towards him and he spun around, his wand at the ready. Angelina and Lee were fighting one, the twins another. Hermione and Ron were taking on one each and Sirius aided them first. Remus was unavailable, what with the full moon that night and Tonks was nowhere to be seen.

Before Sirius could wonder where she'd headed off to, he heard a deep rumble, and the heavy footfalls of something huge making their way to them and Sirius turned towards the sound.

The filthy ghoul which was usually staying within the entrance hall of their headquarters came crashing out the door, swinging a club. People were yelling at the sight of the enchantments coming off of it, revealing its true nature as a security troll, which was part of the Combe Abbott's protections. Tonks was making her way out of the building, having set the thing loose.

It was a clever move for half of the Death Eaters had stopped their duelling and began to attack the troll. Fred and George were simply loitering and watching the proceedings open-mouthed. They seemed torn between fighting off the Death Eaters and yet not really wanting to intervene with the troll. None of the other Death Eaters gave them even a sideways glance.

"What are you doing? Get your arses out of here!" shouted Sirius, ducking a spell from one of the masked men that he was duelling. Though he couldn't see clearly with all the spells flying past and the Death Eater fighting him, he could make out people running and Disapparating from the periphery of his vision.

When Sirius finally subdued his opponent with a Reducto and looked around him, there were only three of his people still left. Tonks, Ron and Hermione were engrossed in a duel opposite Dolohov and Travers respectively. The troll had clubbed two men and left them unconscious; it was now making its way towards the only fighting pairs, raising its club with a threatening snarl.

Sirius, who had no plans to stop their only levelling piece on the field, ran towards the witches instead. "Let's go now!"

The Death Eaters caught sight of the troll approaching and all of them, friend and foe, made a run for the gates. Tonks reached outside first and turned on the spot, wasting no time and vanishing into thin air.

At that moment however, Sirius felt his blood run cold when Travers grabbed hold of Ron and Disapparated as well.

Hermione screamed, "No! RON!"

She had not noticed the troll charging towards her out of the gates, just a few feet away. He caught hold of Hermione and Disapparated to Potter Manor just as the troll took a swing at her. Tonks was already up ahead, making her way into the gates unaware of what was happening behind.

"Ron! Ron! Sirius, do something!" Hermione was desperately looking at him, even as she kept calling for his name.

Before Sirius could properly comprehend what he could possibly do, there was a loud crack just beside them causing him and Hermione to jump back in alarm.

It was Ron, who miraculously had Apparated right next to them. The joyous moment was snuffed as soon as it came when it became apparent that he had arrived along with Travers, who was having him in a chokehold. Both of them seemed unaware of where they were, as they tried to throw off the other.

Hermione shrieked and a bang let out from the end of her wand hurling Travers away from Ron. Sirius raised his wand, but before he could attack him, Travers, took one look at Sirius and pressed the Dark Mark on his forearm.

Sirius had no doubt the place would be swarming with Death Eaters or even Voldemort at any moment. Without further ado, Sirius let go of his plan of attack and held on to Ron and Hermione and Disapparated once more.

oOo

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