AN: It's been over a year since I last updated. It goes without saying I found this chapter incredibly difficult to write, and what with graduating, getting a job and my own place, and then a global pandemic - things have been pretty hectic. I spent forever trying to get this chapter right, and I can't say I've ever felt entirely happy with it but in the end I decided I didn't want to abandon this.

Also, it goes without saying but I hope each and every one of you is staying safe, healthy and happy.

I hope you like the chapter!


Chapter 28

Voldemort had no sooner warned him of the impending arrival of one Bellatrix Lestrange than black smoke began to materialise in the garden with the accompanying sharp crack of apparition. Harry, distracted by the noise had glanced away for just a moment, but by the time he turned back to where Voldemort had stood, the man was already gone. He had only moments to gather his thoughts and beat down the hollowness that followed him from the moment he'd left Tom, before Bellatrix appeared fully, her expression quite something to behold.

"Potter!" she exclaimed, coming forward and seizing his face in an almost motherly act of concern. She turned his face from left to right in a quick examination, before taking a step back to take in his new appearance. He noted with only slight satisfaction that he was now a good few inches taller than the imposing witch. "Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, her voice suddenly all steel and menace.

Harry took a moment to compose himself, drinking in the first truly familiar face he'd seen in years. Bellatrix hadn't changed. Perhaps her hair was a touch longer, but the witch was as beautiful and intimidating as she'd ever been. He wondered offhand if he could take her in a duel nowadays; he thought perhaps he could match her, but certainly didn't want to test the theory. She was known as the second best dueller in the world for a reason.

"I've been travelling, Bella. I've only just returned to the country today," he had meant to deliver the words calmly, but realised belatedly that they merely sounded stiff; aloof even. He realised his mistake even before he saw fury colour her eyes, and wondered if he was going to be testing himself against her prowess sooner rather than later.

"Travelling?" she repeated, her tone dripping with acid. "Travelling?! Do you have any idea how much worry you've put my daughter through? My nephew and everyone bloody else stupid enough to worry after you?!"

Her voice had risen in volume with each passing word until she was shouting; vibrating with rage. He froze in the wake of it, her words setting in. Of course he'd known that his departure would cause concern, that his friends were liable to worry about him. At the time, when he'd first entered the diary, it had seemed to him he had no choice. He'd been sure if he did not escape that he'd break irreparably and there would be nothing left of him for his friends to worry about. Plus, back then he'd felt so unworthy of their concern, thought it be better that he disappear from their lives. As he'd recovered, it had never been the right time to contact them. There were too many concerns about being tracked, too many worries over how he would explain his absence. The world of the diary stood still in a way; two years had passed by in the blink of an eye and if he were honest, there'd been long periods of time where the worries of his friends hadn't crossed his mind. His world had been utterly filled up with Tom Riddle. Worse still, there was so little of it that he could even tell Bellatrix, to soothe her rather justified anger.

"I'm sorry, Bellatrix," he said softly, earnestly. "There was no other way at the time. I was… quite unwell, back then."

The witch's eyes softened but for a moment, before she seemed to shake herself free of it. "And I suppose you've been quite beyond even letting anyone know you're alive for all this time?" she barked. "Couldn't even send a bloody owl?"

He could have found a way to let them know, he realised with a pang. There were ways that would have been difficult to trace. He just hadn't been able to summon the wherewithal to manage it. It had been like telling them would cement something into reality what had often felt like nothing more than a rather wonderful dream. It was no excuse.

"I-I was indisposed for a while. After that it was- it was difficult to find the words."

Harry was not surprised when Bellatrix stepped forward, and a fish-net gloved hand found his right cheek in a stinging slap that sent sparks of pain through his jaw

"I am sorry," he emphasised again, rolling his jaw and blinking away the pain of the blow. It was no ladies admonishment; this had the full strength of her arm behind it. "It was not my intention to cause anyone pain."

Bellatrix withdrew her hand again, eyes full of barely contained anger, but Harry caught her wrist firmly before she could strike him again. His hand tightened briefly, and a little wandless magic coursed from his fingers, sending a barely perceptible shock into her own skin. He focused on keeping his own temper.

"I would advise you not to hit me again, Bella," he said, his voice still soft, but firm.

The outraged glare she'd been directing at him shifted into something else as she looked at him. For a moment, she seemed confused; almost alarmed. This passed quickly enough however, and she ripped her wrist from his grasp and took a step back.

"The Dark Lord has ordered me to enrol you into DE basic training. Given it's the middle of the night and you have no home," she jibed, obviously still irritated. "I suppose I should take you to Malfoy Manor; to my daughter. Salazar knows if anyone should get to strike you, it must be her."

He nodded gravely, and as Bellatrix grudgingly stuck out her arm, he took it with a deep breath and was apparrated away.


Lucius' announcement sent the group into a frenzy. Draco immediately demanded to know what state Harry had been found in. Blaise had gotten to his feet so quickly that he'd sent a glass nearby clattering to the floor. Theodore and Daphne seemed stunned into silence; disbelief and confusion colouring their features. Hermione cut through the din, standing herself as she raised her voice over the others.

"Where is he?" she said, her voice all urgency and demand.

Lucius looked at her, answering several questions at once. "He's alive; Bellatrix has gone to him, that's all I know for now."

This unsatisfying answer was met with several more demands for information – where had she gone? Who had found him? What was she going to do with him? The Q&A was cut short however, when Lucius and Draco stilled momentarily.

"Bellatrix is here; she just crossed the wards," Draco announced, his voice barely above a stunned whisper.

"Where?!" Blaise and Hermione demanded in unison. Only Lucius, Narcissa and Draco could tap into the wards of Malfoy Manor.

"The foyer," he said, moving towards the door quickly even as he said it.

Without any need for discussion, the whole group rushed to follow him.


Appearing within Malfoy Manor momentarily robbed the breath from Harry. Not only was the apparition particularly rough, as Bellatrix's tumultuous magic crackled around him and dragged at his skin like a harsh wind, but the familiarity of the place set his chest to aching. It was only as he gazed up at the familiar portraits and staircase, feeling the wards settling back into place around him, that he realised exactly how much he had longed to be home. Home wasn't precisely Malfoy Manor, and it certainly wasn't Malfoy Orphanage, but it was where his friends were and he had spent many a day in this place in their company.

He had little time to compose himself, as seemed to be the mood of this day, before hurried footsteps and raised voices echoed through an adjoining hallway before opening out before him. His friends – if he dared to hope they still considered themselves such – came piling into the room from the right-hand door atop the entryway staircase, having seemingly ran from wherever they had been.

Seeing them was – well – something else entirely. As they rushed towards him, he had scant moments to take them in.

The first person his eyes were drawn to was Hermione. He had missed her, deeply and with such ferocity that it momentarily startled him. Somehow, the world of the diary seemed to dull such things as longing, but seeing her now it was as though the last years of their separation hit him straight in the stomach. He barely registered his body moving towards her, meeting her in the middle of the staircase and pulling her into a rough embrace. He'd not been so much taller than her before, he noted dully as he held her light frame easily in his arms, the questions she was no doubt going to ask silenced momentarily. He held onto her for some time before he finally forced himself to let go, and set her down. He took her in, holding her at arms length. She had only grown more beautiful; her wild hair longer and yet tamer. Her face had changed little, except that there was an age to her eyes that hadn't been there before; even as he took that in, they were welling with tears.

"You're crying," he said, numbly. Guilt flickered through him like a gentle flame.

Hermione sniffled. "So are you," she said with a teary, half-hearted smile.

He touched his face, surprised. So he was. He hadn't noticed.

It was only then that he stepped back, looking around at the other faces.

"Draco, Blaise," he breathed, grinning. For all of his feelings in the previous hours, it was good to see them. More than good, he realised, though he could hardly put a name to the feeling. They had grown too; acquiring some height. Draco's hair had grown and Blaise had developed some facial hair worth talking about. It was Blaise that hugged him first, asking no questions as they held one another. Draco didn't hold him; he kept back, watching him with an impassivity that had clearly become more practiced since last they saw one another.

Still, Harry knew him, he could see a great well of emotion hiding behind those grey eyes.

"Draco," Harry began, careful and measured. Around him, others stood; Daphne and Theo were keeping their distance, letting the four of them have a moment. Lucius Malfoy had entered at some point after the group, and Harry had yet to acknowledge him. He imagined Bellatrix was still seething somewhere behind him.

"Where-" Draco began, but his voice seemed to catch. He cleared his throat, his expression firming into displeasure, at least partially at himself it seemed. "Where have you been? Where did you go, Harry?"

He thought of how badly his half-arsed explanations had gone with Bellatrix. He'd rather not do this in front of others, outside of the very closest circle of his trust, but he needed to say something now as Draco's eyes blazed with some potent mix of utter relief and anger.

"I can't tell you," he said simply, with utter solemnity. "I wish I could, but I have been expressly forbidden to do so."

Draco frowned, confused. "Forbidden? Forbidden by whom?"

Harry did not need to answer the question, he merely offered the other man a grave look. There were few people that could forbid Harry anything, but one was obvious. He ignored his own internal assertion that even were he able to tell them, he wasn't sure that he would or could. Draco relented.

"I see," Draco said, crisply. He too seemed aware of the witnesses. He gave Harry a look that promised they would discuss this much further later, and Blaise was looking at him with an open puzzlement that promised the same. Still, Blaise seemed too caught up in the moment of reunion to press further.

"Harry," Hermione began, frowning. She'd been staring at him since he let her go. "You seem to have changed… quite considerably."

The significant look she gave him caused him to curse internally. Of course Hermione would be perceptive enough to sense the aura of dark magic around him; he'd been too busy trying to get back to them these last days to take the proper precautions.

"It's been a very… productive few years," he said calmly. This time he threw all three of his closest friends the same look. The look that had always meant 'I will tell you later, keep this in the family'. It was with no small amount of happiness that they seemed to understand immediately, despite their years of separation.

Bellatrix took this moment to interject, her tone still cold. "I'm to enrol Potter into DE basic training. I'll come collect him in a few days, when the other new recruits will be taken to the basecamp."

"Basic training?" Draco questioned, surprised. "With the seventeen year olds? Won't that be a little...unnecessary?"

"It was the Dark Lord's order," Bellatrix said sharply. Draco fell silent. "Besides, Potter here didn't even complete his AMGS' - he'll be the least qualified candidate. I think he should be rather grateful."

Harry turned to regard her, surprised by her spite. Bellatrix wasn't precisely a friend, but she had been good to him. There had always been a mutual respect and affection for one another. He wasn't a fool, and knew that she was one of the most ruthless individuals he'd ever met, but it still took him aback. However, his control over his emotions was practically total these days. In truth, basic training was at best an underestimation and at worst, a flagrant insult. Still, Voldemort could have had him killed.

"I am eternally grateful for your willing and benevolent help, Bella. And of course, I bow to the will of our Lord and Master in all things," he said with a wicked smile.

He was unsurprised to see the flustered irritation in Bellatrix's eyes at his playful mockery. He was however, caught off guard by the uncomfortable shifting around him. He cursed himself once again. It was not, after all, normal to jest about ones subservience to the Dark Lord. He had spent too long with Tom, he thought. Too long jesting about his future position as Leader of the wizarding world, with a young man that had become his equal.

Harry cleared his throat, melding his expression into something more genial.

"Perhaps I ought to show you to the guest wing, Harry," Draco said carefully, clearly once again taking his measure and eager to part him from Bellatrix and his watchful Father. "I expect that you're tired."

"Yes," Harry said quickly. "I have had an arduous journey. I would be grateful for a bed."

Draco, Hermione and Blaise began to guide him quickly away, forming a kind of barrier between him and the elders. Just as they'd escorted him to the door to the manor proper, Bellatrix called out.

"Let us hope your new found confidence holds up in training, Potter. You wouldn't want to fall short of your obviously grand estimations," she said nastily, glaring up at him from the floor below.

His temper flared. "If you estimate me at all, Lestrange, then you underestimate me."

Perhaps not total control of his emotions, after all.


Hermione kept close to Harry as they walked down the hall of Malfoy Manor, but no one said anything. She held Draco's hand tightly, as though it could ground her as her mind whirled. She couldn't stop staring at Harry, taking in his new visage. He was taller; older of course. There were far more important changes that her friend had undergone, however. Everything in his demeanour was different from what she was familiar with. He walked differently; he had always been confident, but he had never seemed so self-assured as he strode through the manor hallways. He spoke differently; seemingly having developed a more formal elocution. His eyes were different; physically, there was a red ring ring around his irises, but the most striking thing was the hardness to them. The steel of resolve evident. Harry was also, most interestingly, soaked in dark magic. It came off him in black, delicious waves that she as an experienced dark witch could sense only too much. It had been two years since she'd seen her friend, but she still couldn't fathom how so much had changed in him. Where had he been? What had he done?

It seemed to take an age before they made it to the guest wing that typically housed Draco's guests, and they took a suite near to Draco's own. When they reached the entrance to the room, Daphne excused herself, claiming that she was tired and asking Theodore to escort her back to her rooms. Hermione could have kissed the girl for that, knowing Harry would only divulge his deepest thoughts to she, Draco and Blaise. Assuming that was still true of course, for who knew what more the years had changed. Wordlessly, the four of them swept into the room. Harry eyed them with a look that seemed to be part relief and part trepidation. He wanted them there, she thought. He was just worried about what they might ask.


They arrived in one of the many luxurious bedrooms of the manor in excellent time, having been hurried through the halls with utmost haste. Harry could sense the complexity of his friends' response to his return; worry and trepidation over his dramatically different aura and bearing, relief and wonder that he was alive, anger and confusion at his lack of communication over the years. He'd been preparing himself for the impending altercation through the walk. He wondered what they would ask, and he worried over what he could even tell them. Certainly he could be less guarded with them than anyone, but he also couldn't risk their safety by being utterly forthright.

Without a word, he allowed Draco to guide him to a small table with several cushioned chairs, sitting in the alcove of a large bay window. The four of them sat, and he said nothing as Draco poured each of them a glass of fire whisky from a nearby cabinet. They were all silent as he poured each glass and presented it before each person. Finally, Draco sat down with his own glass and pinned Harry with a penetrating look.

"What happened to you?" he said, finally. Both Hermione and Blaise looked to Harry, seemingly happy to have Draco as their ambassador for this conversation.

Harry held eye contact with the man for a long moment, considering his words carefully. "When I was in Durmstrang, I became unwell. I- I didn't handle the death of that witch well, and things quickly spiralled out of control," he began, his words soft and even. He took a sip.

Draco nodded, his eyes not unkind as they listened. "I remember the state you were in when you contacted me through the mirror," he said, tentatively.

Harry nodded. "I allowed what happened to consume me. Durmstrang didn't know how to handle my foul mood," he gave a wry, if a little sad, smile. "And so my condition only worsened."

"Why didn't you contact us, Harry?" Hermione asked, but there was no recrimination in her voice. Instead, she merely sounded sad, and as though she already knew the answer.

Harry shrugged helplessly, the wry smile not leaving his face. "Honestly, I don't know. I felt like I didn't deserve to have friends, that I should never be happy again. I stayed away. In retrospect, I think I was just too ashamed to face you all."

Draco nodded, his eyes still serious but far from cold. "And then what happened?"

"I-" Harry began, before pausing to take another deep swig from his glass. "I had in my possession an object of deep magical power. I'd had it from Hogwarts. I can't tell you everything, but I mishandled it that night and was… taken possession of by it."

Blaise's eyebrows rose and Hermione simply looked perplexed. "An object at Hogwarts? What object?"

It wasn't as though Hogwarts was lacking in dark magic items; they were regularly used in classes, and some of the things used by the upper years were particularly potent. Something that could take possession of someone would be rarer though, especially something that could take Harry by surprise.

"Something more powerful than I had realised at the time. I found it in the Chamber of Secrets."

Silence. It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Finally, after a long, long moment Draco spoke.

"You-You found the Chamber? I didn't think it was real."

"What was in it?" asked Hermione, breathlessly.

"Don't the legends say only the heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber?" said Blaise.

Harry waited patiently for the torrent of questions to slow before continuing. "It was real. There were many things in it… most notably a fairly friendly basilisk. And well, the whole parseltongue thing helped with that last part, I think."

They all stared at him, before Hermione finally seemed to shake herself. "We can discuss the Chamber later. So, you took an object from it and it possessed you?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Well it's a little more complicated than that, and I meant it when I said… I can't tell you everything. I would if I could, but…"

"So you've been imprisoned by this thing for the last two years?" Draco asked, astonishment and anguish in his tone.

Harry knew he could have easily lied there, and said that he'd been detained the entire time. He considered it for a moment, but then shook his head. "No. No it was only in the beginning I was trapped. After that I- I stayed because I wanted to. I was learning things and, well- it's complicated, but I was happy, for a while."

"So why couldn't you contact us?" Blaise asked, now dubious.

Harry stilled, considering his glass. "The only explanation I can give you is that… I just couldn't. It would have been possible – difficult, but possible – I just, I didn't know what I'd say. For a long time I was busy beating myself up, and after I got better there just didn't seem to be any way to explain."

He didn't look up from his glass, and the silence took hold once more. His emotions were somewhat muted since he'd created the horcrux; still there, but more distant at times. This didn't stop the guilt currently crawling around his chest when he remembered the tears in Hermione's eyes, however.

Finally, the silence was broken by Hermione. "Harry?" she said. He looked up, surprised when he saw nothing but warmth and understanding in her too wet eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I'm just glad that you're safe and that you got better."

Harry was more than surprised. He simply stared back blankly, unable to process what she'd said. He'd been expecting fireworks. He was even more surprised when Draco and Blaise followed suit.

"I was worried sick about you," Draco said slowly, his grey eyes serious and calm. "For a long time I thought you'd… I thought you'd done something stupid. But it seems you actually did something rather clever; you put yourself back together again."

Blaise was the last to speak. He surprised Harry by offering a shaky, emotional smile. "I'm just so fucking glad you're alive, you idiot."

What came next was a rather embarrassing display of group hugs, tears and reassurances. Harry couldn't quite be sure who started what and rather suspected it might have been him. Any worries he'd had that the horcrux would prevent him from feeling strong emotions had clearly be unfounded, and he pondered that perhaps he'd been so bloody emotional to begin with that it barely made a dint. Although he knew that wasn't really true; his emotions had never left, he could simply choose to switch them off if he wanted to. He could push his emotions away to a far off place, perhaps the body of his horcrux itself. There was no part of him that didn't want to feel the embrace of his family, however.

It was a long while later that they all finally settled back into their chairs, having refilled their glasses and resumed a somewhat more dignified conversation. The relief Harry felt was palpable. He was back with his friends, and though they had all grown and changed significantly, it still felt like coming home.

They talked of many things. Draco bragged about Hermione's achievements in the Death Eater's with abandon after a few drinks, and Blaise waxed lyrical about his wife and the child he was expecting. Harry had been taken aback by this last revelation, but had clapped Blaise on the shoulder and promised to teach his child to swear and fight long before Hogwarts which earned him a playful punch in the arm. Finally, as if his friends had been stepping carefully, conversation turned back to that of his time away.

"So… your eyes," Hermione finally said when it was late into the evening. "Is it an effect of the dark object?"

Harry considered the question, still sober enough to think clearly. Tom had spent time on his education in the matter of fine liquor, and he had a far greater tolerance than he'd had several years ago.

"Not precisely," he said carefully. One look to his friends reminded him he could trust them, and that this little fact wouldn't give anything about Tom away. "I made a horcrux."

Blaise and Draco merely looked at him blankly, not recognising the word. It was only Hermione who gaped. "You- But. Salazar, Harry that's- that's serious magic."

Harry nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. He could see her focus on them, taking in the red rings anew.

"Dangerous, heady stuff. I wouldn't even attempt it, and I've made quite the study of such branches in recent years. I- I trust you were adequately prepared?"

He could see she didn't quite know how to react. Years ago she'd have jumped right into scolding him, but he could see the way she took him in, assessing the seriousness with which he made the statement.

"I was," he said firmly. "I was very careful. It was complicated, but necessary."

"Can someone please explain to me what a horcrux is?" Draco asked, his face a little flushed with drink now.

"He split his soul," Hermione said distractedly. "Placed part of it in an object. I'd always suspected the locket you wore in school was a horcrux, to be honest. Ever since – Well, for a long while."

It was only Harry's years of training in impassivity that allowed him not to react. "The locket?" he shrugged. He was still wearing it, beneath his shirt. "Perhaps, I never considered it."

The conversation moved onto a practical discussion about the creation of a horcrux; the complexities of such a thing and how it functioned. Finally, Draco was the one to ask the question he could see in all their faces.

"So… you have to kill someone to create a horcrux?"

Harry nodded, his expression and demeanour nonchalant. He leaned back in his chair, considering the question. "Unfortunately, yes. I didn't want to kill an innocent. Fortunately the person I used for the ritual was so close to vermin that I'm surprised they counted as a human sacrifice," he said the words with more venom than he'd meant to, and he was taken back to the day he'd found the perfect victim. On the surface, the murder of the old woman was not something he'd thought he'd ever want on his conscience, especially not one so old and frail that she was practically dead already. Still, it hadn't been just any woman. He'd gone looking for her, shortly after an accidental and ill-fated trip into Tom's memories; something that happened now and then in the world of the diary, if you knew the trick of it. In Tom's memories she'd been only thirty or so, when she'd allowed… something terrible to happen to a child with beautiful blue eyes, that would never after that memory be unguarded again. If Tom had known how much that woman had wronged him, he'd have dealt with her himself. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to have ever occurred to Tom that as one of his carers, she should have cared enough to intervene, or at least tell someone. It mattered nought now; she was dead, and it had been a slow thing. If the act had made Harry a little colder for doing it, then so be it.

The three didn't question this further, and Harry wouldn't have told them even if they had. The kill was a private thing.

And so the night continued. They talked about many things, though there was so much he couldn't tell them that they mainly stayed in the territory of their lives and not his. Harry realised how eager he was to know everything that had gone on in his absence, and although one evening was only enough to provide the headlines, by the end he was as comfortable as he'd been with them all those years ago in Hogwarts.

"We should get to sleep," Hermione finally said with a yawn. "You won't want your sleeping pattern to be messed up for DE training. It's – it's quite brutal."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "I'm sure I can handle it."

"I know you can," she said with a wry smile. "Just try not to piss off the instructors."

"When have I ever pissed off a teacher?" he asked with mock hurt.

"One of them is Snape," came the slurred voice of a drunk Draco.

"Ah fuck."


Nymphadora was surprised to learn that morning from an obviously pleased Narcissa that Harry Potter had been found alive and well, and was due to start his training. She'd nodded and smiled in all the right places, getting through the weekly breakfast with her aunt and trying to ignore how much the stiff dress irritated her as she reached for a slice of toast. She continued to smile politely as her Aunt waxed lyrical about Nymphadora's recent engagement to the 'lovely' Carrow boy.

She'd only just managed to peel the painful smile off her face when she finally arrived home to her luxurious apartments close to Hogsmeade. She wasted no time in pulling out a quill and parchment, penning the note in rushed handwriting.

Moony,

Prongs' cub is back, and well. Starts snake training in two days. I await your instructions.

N