In the last chapter: Harry delves into Necromancy and creates his own totem. Anthony is keeping a close eye on his friend to make sure he doesn't get in over his head. Because of Severus, Remus is let go from his position as DADA professor and Harry confronts Snape, giving the man a reality check so that he can really maul over his past actions and reflect. Harry retrieves the Diadem from the room of hidden things and the school year ends.

NOTES: Hey guys! I know, I know, it's been wayyyy too long since I've last updated and I am so incredibly sorry about that! I've been really sick lately and haven't been able to do anything but sleep and try to not throw up all over the place. It's nothing serious or life threatening! I just have a pretty weak immune system which means that 24 hr stomach bugs usually last two weeks for me! I am getting better though and hopefully will be posting weekly again!

This chapter is part 1 of 2 and I have most of part 2 done, so I'll be getting some rest once this is posted and finishing it up later today/tonight. Thank you all so much for the support, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and have a wonderful day!

-Pleasant readings!


The sky was a deceiving pale grey that promised shade and relent from the summer heat. Instead, it left the air thick and humid, filling the lungs with lethargic dense clouds that were heavy and hard to drag back out. Harry's stomach was in knots, his excitement a flat press of a cool blade against his mind as he gently trailed his fingertips down the thin brittle bones of a snake skeleton still nailed to the decrepit wooden door.

A week had passed since school let out and once he'd settled in and found some time to himself, Death wasted no time directing him towards the last Horcrux. He was shocked to hear that the final Horcrux also contained one of his friends hallows. The Resurrection Stone. As fascinated as he was, Harry had no desire to use the stone. He had no need for summoning shades from the peace of the afterlife.

The Horcrux was a ring that had belonged to the Gaunt family, but was stolen by Tom's father. When Tom killed him, he got the ring back, made it into another Horcrux and hid it in the abandoned Gaunt house. Which is where Harry now stood.

The house was more of a shack than a place where people actually lived and looked like it could be blown down by a strong wind. The wood rotting away quicker than normal under the broken and malevolent magic that had seeped into the property from its previous owners. The residual magic eroded at Harry's, making him feel more uncomfortable with every passing moment he stood there.

Without any more preamble, Harry stepped inside. The inside was no less worse for wear than the outside, dust covered everything, the spiders had clearly taken residence if the thick curtains of webs were anything to go by, and various creeping plants and weeds had slipped in through broken windows and cracks in the walls to reclaim the home as theirs.

But there was something else there, as well. A thick atmosphere that Harry could practically taste; a splash of rich black cherry cut through with the bitter sweet bite of dark chocolate. It was not quite alluring in nature, but still intoxicatingly dangerous. Harry hesitantly wandered around the main room, only stopping when he stood where it seemed the most concentrated—the very middle of the room. Since that area was barren, Harry knelt down and skimmed his fingers over the surface of the stripped wooden floors. There was something underneath, something of immense dark magic.

Harry easily pried the already loose board up to find a small compartment with a wooden box within. It was clear that the magic had nothing to do with the Horcrux itself—no other Horcruxes had behaved in such a way—and clearly Harry was dealing with an incredibly dark curse. Setting the box on the ground next to the compartment, Harry slowly flipped the lid with the tip of his wand, not wanting to touch it just in case.

As he suspected, inside lay the crude gold ring with a black stone that he'd been looking for and was indeed the item that had been so heavily cursed. Cupping a hand over his nose and mouth, Harry tried not to choke on the overwhelming smell and taste of black cherries and chocolate. Carefully dumping the ring out from the box onto the floor, Harry pulled out his totem and put it on while forcing himself to breathe through his mouth.

Slicing open the pad of his thumb with a cutting hex, Harry began to chant as he ignored the grimy floor in order to begin drawing the crude visage of Ouroboros, the serpent devouring its own tail for eternity. With that done, Harry ended the first part of the chant and harshly spit on the ring before starting up the second part as he dragged his bleeding thumb in a circle around the snake twice. The ring began to shake and spin as it slowly lifted a foot into the air above the bloody drawing.

The magic pooled under Harry's skin as his body became his conduit and his head tipped back as his eyes slid shut. His body hummed with power as he carefully stripped away the layers of the dark curse from the ring without damaging it or the Horcrux, his hands hovering in the air—not quite touching the ring.

Like the cracking of stiff joints, Harry felt his magic suddenly give way and the curse leaving the ring with a sharp sound. When the curse was successfully removed, the dark magic skimmed over his own briefly before dissipating and Harry was left drained and triumphant as he apparated back home with the ring.

With all of the Horcruxes obtained, he was eager to join them together and begin planning how he was going to get them back to Voldemort (hopefully without dying again).

'What's next, then?' Harry inquired, excitement buzzing under his skin as he silently consulted his companion in the darkness of his bedroom as he lay awake and restless.

'Patience, little one. Remember, we need to wait until Tom makes a move of his own towards his resurrection, that is the only time he will be vulnerable and bodiless. If we were to try to force the remainder of his soul upon him while he holds a body, it would be far too much and would end in disaster.' Death replied, causing Harry to sink a little in disappointment. Death may have an eye on Voldemort at all times, but Harry didn't; he didn't know if they were at all close to the resurrection, or if it was years away.

'Is there anything we can do? Or do we just have to sit and wait?' No, that was not bitterness in his voice, he was just . . . a little frustrated at all of the delays. When Death spoke again, he sounded amused, which Harry pointedly ignored.

'Actually, there is something we can do to nudge him along the right path a little quicker.' The being drawled, testing Harry's recently short patience by drawing it out longer than need be.

'Well?' Harry could practically feel the morbid, skeletal grin his companion wore in that moment.

'The stone.' It was all that was said, but the silence that followed was busy with rolling clouds of thoughts and the pleasant hum of plans being stitched together. Right as Harry began slipping into sleep, he noted that there was someone he needed to get back in touch with that probably wouldn't be thrilled by the reunion.


The box sat innocuously on the scuffed and worn oak desk. Pristine black velvet stretched over hard plains, adorned with a delicate silver silk ribbon wrapping around the box and tied off in a neat bow. Tucked under the tails of the bow was a plain white envelope addressed to the very same Auror that now stared down at the mysterious box with apprehension.

Philias Henry Green plopped heavily down into his chair, frown unwavering. The Ministry employee who had delivered it had said that the only spell on the box was a strong security spell that prevented anyone but the intended recipient from opening it, which made it technically safe, and that the box had just shown up among the other mail, not coming by owl. However, one did not live a double life as an Auror and secret Death Eater without unhealthy amounts of paranoia and survive. So, when Phil picked up the envelope and saw no return address on its cover, he became extremely cautious.

Opening the letter, Phil found that it only contained a short note, but the contents had him freezing in place.

I know what you are and who you really work for. If you wish for this information to remain private, then meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in room 8 at midnight tonight to discuss your . . . incentives to keep me quiet. Bring the box with you. If you are not there by the stroke of midnight, all of wizarding Britain will know of your duplicity by morning.

-A Friend

By the end, Phil's hand subconsciously curled around the threatening note until the parchment creaked in his tight fist. With a jittery glance around, the Auror quickly vanished the note and shoved the box into a large pocket in his leather coat.

Phil had hoped that with the fall of his master, his life as an Auror could become real, that the fake life he'd constructed around himself could really be his. It was his naivety that most likely led him to being caught. The life he thought he'd left behind was now nipping at his heels and threatening to drag him under. Well, then he'd just have to eliminate the threat and then he can go back to his life, go back to pretending to be the hero so hard that he could begin to believe it himself.

Oh, he'd certainly be going later that night, but not to give in to the demands of some fool who thought they could make a pretty penny playing with fire. He would do anything for this beautiful lie. Even if it meant once again donning the shadows he thought he'd left behind.


With only minutes remaining, Philias Green emerged from the shadowed alley beside the pub with his deep hood up to cover half of his face while the rest was blurred by a disillusionment charm. From the moment he entered the rowdy pub, Phil kept his head down and moved with purpose, not even stopping at the counter to chat with the inn keeper, Tom.

Up the stairs and all the way down to the end of the hall, Phil paused outside the door to check the time with a tempus spell and listen for a spare moment for movement within the room, but it remained quiet. One hand on the door knob and the other raised and ready with his wand pointed true, Phil steeled himself for a moment.

Ripping open the door and striding through, the deadly curse caught in his throat when his eyes landed on the only other occupant in the room. Phil stumbled to a halt and simply stared in utter bafflement as Harry bloody Potter casually turned his head to him as he sipped at a steaming cup of tea. A dark brow rose curiously over vibrant and unnerving light green eyes.

"Wha—"

"Come, have a seat Mr. Green." Harry cut in, looking not at all uneased by the wand that was still leveled at his face, left forgotten by the stunned man before him.

Numbly, Phil dropped his hand down to his side and walked over to the round table where the young teen was sat. Another steaming cup of tea appeared before him when he sat, but he didn't touch it. The door, which he'd left open in his shock, softly closed without a single spell uttered and Phil was jolted out of his trance by the faint click.

"What the hell is going on?" He demanded, his confusion morphing into frustrated anger. Harry calmly set his cup down as he examined Phil blankly.

"What do you mean? I do believe that we are having our meeting, as planned." Phil's stomach dropped into his shoes at the thought that Harry Potter was the one who knew his secret, who was blackmailing him. Not only would everyone believe the kid if he were to accuse Phil of working for Voldemort, but now there's no way he could possibly 'get rid of the threat.' And if all of that wasn't hard enough to processes, there's also the fact that the fucking Savior of the Wizarding World is fucking blackmailing him! The kid's only, what, thirteen?! It's insane!

"Actually," Harry continued, as if the man before him was not silently imploding, "The reason I asked you to come here was not to get money out of you or threaten you. I assure you, Mr. Green, your secret is quite safe with me. I wanted to ask you for a favor." He said pleasantly. Phil immediately scoffed in disbelief.

"'A favor?' You've got to be taking the piss! Why not just ask me then? Why go through all . . . this?" Phil exclaimed, waving a hand vaguely to the room and themselves.

"Because the favor I am asking for is not strictly legal and would require your status as a Death Eater, not an Auror. I cannot simply pop into the office where anyone can see us together, and although I am asking, it should be noted that I do know some sensitive information about you and I do not intend for my request to be turned down." Harry answered, sounding nothing like the young teen that he was supposed to be.

Phil's expression hardened when he recognized the thinly veiled threat for what it was. There had always been something unnerving about Harry Potter, ever since the little devil had first shown up at the Ministry and demanded Phil take him to Azkaban to see the man that had betrayed his parents. It felt as though Harry always knew far more than he ever let on and that he was constantly ten steps ahead of everyone else. Now Phil knew that he was. Harry was clearly not the pure and righteous savior they had all expected him to be, the kid was playing for a side and Phil suddenly had no idea which.

"So, what? You want me to sniff out other Death Eaters to save my own hide? You want help taking down the dark wizards and witches? You want me to rough up some school bullies?" Phil's tone was flat and slightly condescending, but Harry didn't outwardly react.

"No. With your help, we're going to save the greatest man to ever live." The words held a conviction unfitting for someone so young. It was a tone Phil had heard before, during the first war and while he was still in school. Both sides had been recruiting Hogwarts students as quickly as they could, getting to them as young as possible for their spies and soldiers as soon as they left school. He heard that tone from the ones who held die-hard convictions about their beliefs, the ones who knew only the path before them, the ones who saw no other end than through their cause.

And now he heard it again, straight out of boy who lived, and he had a feeling that it was not for the light.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but he knew he had to. "And who might that be?"

Harry didn't answer him, just tilted his head slightly and appeared to be studying the older man for a long moment.

"Tell me, Mr. Green, why did you become a Death Eater?" The question caught Phil so off guard that he stumbled over his words before spitting out the truth without really stopping to think about the consequences.

"I-Well-I-uh . . . I was young, I guess. There were things wrong with the world and I was angry, angry that things were not as nice or fair as everyone tried to make them seem. It was the middle of a war, my peers were dying or loosing family or being torn apart by the sudden demand for 'picking sides.' At the time, it wasn't really an option to leave school and get a normal job and stay out of the fight; many of us knew that we would not live to see our eighteenth or nineteenth birthdays. Because of that, I was angry.

"And Voldemort . . . well, sure he was a bit off his rocker in his methods, he was violent and he nurtured some of the prejudices that the dark pureblood families held to make his cause more appealing, or whatever . . . but there was something else to it. It's hard to explain, but there was this life, this passion and drive behind the man that was infectious. He made us feel like what we were doing was the most important thing in the world—that we could change the world. We weren't just a rebellion, we were a revolution! We were an idea and an unstoppable force that could save the world that was crumbling under corruption and false morals." A spark ignited in Phil that he'd thought long since extinguished. Thinking about the first few years of his time as a 'freedom fighter' as he'd seen it then brought up the memories and emotions that had first gotten him into a situation he never thought he'd escape from. Which now turned out to be right.

The light dimmed inside him a little as he thought about the time following those first few glorious years.

"Then something changed. It was no longer a movement, but a purposeless slaughter of enemies and innocents alike. He became the monster everyone now remembers him as. Those who had loyally sworn themselves to him in solidarity became his slaves, our badges of honor became our collars and leashes." Phil trailed off, having been swept away by his memories, he soon came back to himself, having remembered exactly who he was sharing his war memories with.

Harry leaned forward and captured Phil's gaze, expression serious and surprisingly open and genuine like Phil had never seen on the teen before.

"That man, the one who had purpose and actual beliefs, the one whose conviction could divide an entire country for the sake of changing society, the one who gained comrades and not followers, the one who flickered through the monster and gave you something to believe in, that is the one we're going to save." Harry allowed his words to take hold, but continued before Phil could really start freaking out. "There was a man before 'Voldemort,' a man whose ambition was more powerful than his blood or background. That man was drowned out by the beast before he was old enough to reach his full potential and I believe that bringing him back could do something wonderful for this world."

"But why? Not even going into the fact that bringing people back from the dead is impossible unless they're Inferi, why on earth would you want to try to bring Voldemort back? If it doesn't work, if you can't save him then you've brought back a genocidal psychopath!" Phil didn't even know why he was indulging what were obviously the misinformed delusions of a mentally ill child, but he couldn't stop himself.

"He's already back! You must believe this on some level, you probably felt it—the sudden throb in your mark three years ago, the slightest darkening. Voldemort had . . . certain fail-safe's in place to ensure that he could not easily die. Through a very dark and forbidden form of bastardized necromancy, he was able to anchor his soul to the living world. The decade following his supposed 'demise' he'd been bodiless, but unable to move on to the afterlife. As of right now, he is very weak, but is slowly regaining his strength. Soon, he will attempt to procure a permanent body and will once again be able to call on his Death Eaters and resume his war. We need to act before it's too late and undo the physical and psychological damage done by anchoring his soul in such a way." Harry was taking a risk by confiding so much in the Auror, but as he'd said before, he was not planning on leaving without getting what he needed from Philias.

Phil eyed him suspiciously, not willing to let himself believe all of the things Harry was saying, even if a few of them struck a little too close to a few of his own suspicions.

"How would you even know all of that?"

"Let's just say that I have a partner that I trust with my life who is very well informed." Harry didn't share anymore about his companion. Philias seemed to consider him for a long time.

"This favor that you mentioned before, what is it exactly?" Phil finally asked.

"Well, in short, I want us to work together. Because of my . . . reputation, I cannot get close to Voldemort, that is where you come in. Right now, his only focus is getting his body back, he will not be hosting any raids or calling on his Death Eaters, he currently only has two in his company to help him along. All you need to do is reconnect with him and when the time comes, help get me near him so that I can do what needs to be done." Harry answered honestly, when he finished, Phil huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, as if it's just that simple! I don't know if you know this, but Voldemort happens to be a powerful legilimense and would know immediately about all of this. On top of that, I don't know where he is and I was never a part of his inner circle, there's no reason for him to trust me or allow me to stick around enough to be of any use to you. If anything, he'd torture and kill me just for knowing he was alive before he was ready to make his debut!" Phil argued, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You don't need to worry about all of that, it's taken care of. This is a very sensitive matter and if we are to work together, we will both need to make unbreakable vows. If worded correctly, I can make it so that the vow will protect any memories you have of me and what you do for me, it will also be protected from veritaserum. The same will go for me, nobody will know anything about your status as a Death Eater nor will they know that we've met at all outside of those two previous public meetings. As for Voldemort not killing you on sight, that is where the box comes in." Harry nodded towards Phil's jacket pocket. Surprised, Phil pulled out the box and placed on the table, confused as to how the box could possibly help.

"Inside that box is something that Voldemort wants very badly. It is absolutely invaluable to him. Once we make the vows and your mind is thoroughly secure, I will give you a new note very similar to the one you received earlier. The note will entail blackmailing you and asking that you meet up with your blackmailer. The only difference will be the location and time. The location will be Voldemort's current hide out and you will go there intent on meeting your blackmailer. I will remain the anonymous sender of that box and the intrigue about me will be enough to protect you. Because he has so few with him right now, he will use the opportunity before him and you'll be kept on a short leash for a while, but if you prove yourself capable I'm sure it'll get easier." Harry explained, having planned out exactly how he wanted to give Voldemort the stone.

This way, he remains a mysterious and anonymous helper and gets someone on the inside. When Voldemort moves forward with his plans for procuring a body, he will need blood from Harry, as he sees Harry as his biggest enemy aside from Dumbledore himself, and between him and the headmaster, a naive fourteen-year-old is the far easier target. He just had to make sure that Voldemort's plans went along without a hitch up until the point where Harry needs to intervene, it'll be a lot easier if he has someone in his corner for that part.


To be continued. . .