The moment Tom, Harry, and Severus reappeared in the lavish entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, they were bombarded with a seemingly never-ending flood of questions.
"How did it go?" Draco asked, while his mother was trying to determine if all three of them had not harmed their still frail health and magic with the lengthy trip to Gringotts, "You have been gone for far too long. You should not have disrupted your recovery so soon. I was beyond worried. How do you feel, Harry? My Lord?"
"Did the Goblins keep up their bargain?" Corvus Lestrange's voice boomed through the entrance hall, an octave lower than the voices of both Malfoys, "is it safe for you to ingest the Inheritance Potion?"
Ignoring the questions for now, Tom rolled his eyes as he and Severus pulled Harry off the floor, who quietly muttered to himself how much he hated Portkeys.
"Trust me, you will get better the more often you use them," the Dark Lord said quietly, as his equal went on to dust his clothes, before raising his voice to drown the onslaught of questions, "Enough! Harry and I are both as healthy as one can be, and we were in fact successful. The Goblins kept their word. I am a Prince."
For a moment, no one spoke a word as the information which had just been revealed was being processed by those present. Sadly, the silence did not last for too long as a new wave of questions crept up on the horizon. Sighing, the Dark Lord braced himself for a lengthier explanation of the events at the Goblin bank.
Once all questions had been answered, Tom leaned back in his lavish wingback chair in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, his crimson eyes boring into the nervous eyes of his oldest friend, "Corvus, I demand your decision now. Do you, or do you not want to employ the help of the Longbottoms?"
For a moment, it appeared like the Lord of the Lestrange family was deflating in his seat. On one hand, Tom could understand him since his decision could severely harm the long and proud history of the Lestrange family, possibly even seal the end of the line entirely. On the other hand, a collaboration with the Longbottoms could free Rodolphus and Rabastan as well as open a lot of doors that had been closed for the Lestrange family ever since the disappearance of the Dark Lord. Survival and opportunity were just a decision away.
"As much as I hate to admit this," Corvus began after a tense minute of silence and contemplation, "I think I have to try, for the sake of my sons, for the sake of myself, and for the sake of my line…"
"Thank you for your decision, old friend," Tom said, patting the back of the Lord of the Lestrange family reassuringly before focussing his attention on the Lord of the Malfoy family who had remained oddly quiet throughout the entire exchange, "Lucius, you know what to do."
"I do, my Lord," the blond confirmed, his voice silky and smooth, "I will set up the meeting for Friday. Are you sure that you do not want to stay here?"
"I am most certain," Tom replied, "as much as I would like to accept your invitation, I have a cover to keep. Living anywhere else but Spinner's End would certainly only arouse suspicion."
Thanks to the help of Severus, Tom and Harry materialised in a familiar living room, lined from floor to ceiling with shelves which were filled to the brim with books upon books, stretching from the Dark Arts to Muggle fiction.
"I am more than aware how small this house is," the Potions Master said after clearing his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of hosting the Dark Lord in his father's house, "if you two want to, we can magically expand a few rooms, and maybe even add a personal room fo-"
"That will be unnecessary, Severus," Tom chuckled, while his crimson orbs catalogued every detail of the room, "the house is perfectly fine as it is. If there is a problem, Harry and I will take care of it ourselves."
"We could always relocate to Prince Manor," Severus suggested, despite sounding far from pleased, "once my new status has become public."
"No," Tom said, shaking his head, "we talked about this before. We all know that you would never willingly choose to live in the Manor of those who struck your mother from the family tapestry, disinheriting her. Also, Dumbledore would never expect me to live in a Muggle neighbourhood. In his deranged mind, it would only seem natural for me to bully you into moving to the ancient Prince Manor. Because of my dismal upbringing, he cannot see me living anywhere but surrounded by vast luxury and grand splendour, preferably sitting on a gilded throne with quivering followers at my feet as I torture them into madness. Anyway, I like it here. There is no need to change anything, especially not on my behalf. This is your house, not mine."
"Soon, it will be yours, too," the Potions Master drawled, "once Thomas Nero Prince has been officially discovered."
"True," Tom chuckled, his words playful, "but that will not happen for a week or two."
"Enough talk," his equal spoke up, "I have had to share you long enough for today. Let me show you the house."
Life at Spinner's End was surprisingly pleasant as the three inhabitants slowly got used to each other over the next few days.
The first and only real shock had come when the Potions Master had opened the door to Harry's and now Tom's room the first morning to tell them that breakfast was ready, only to find the two of them lounging in the same bed, as the Dark Lord's fingers were gently brushing through the thick, untameable mop of black hair of his equal. Once the dour man had managed to rip his eyes from the scene ahead of him, he quickly spun on his heels and fled.
"I thought you wanted to Conjure a second bed?" Severus cleared his throat much later, lowering the latest copy of the Daily Prophet he had been hiding behind, an empty, heavily coffee-stained mug that spoke of many emptied fillings in front of him, while the rest of the food on the battered table appeared to be untouched.
"We will," Harry chuckled, while letting himself fall on the nearest chair, not caring the slightest bit about proper etiquette , "but last night after the grand tour of our house, neither Tom nor I had enough magic left for such a feat."
"You could have asked me," the Potions Master grumbled, scepticism lacing his words.
"We could have, Severus," the Dark Lord said, his words neutral and his face void of emotions despite his inner amusement. He would never ask the man for his benign help for such a mundane task. Besides, he had no intention to ever willingly sleep not within the proximity of his equal. Decades of solitude and a later lack of a bodily vessel had certainly helped to change certain perspectives. Therefore, his next words were nothing but teasing, "But we did not want to be a bother. Especially after enduring our presence for most of the day."
In answer, a sarcastic snort escaped the Potions Master, "I have to get used to this, will I not?"
"Quite possibly," Harry chuckled, reaching out for the chilled pitcher of orange juice, "it would help though if you knock first before bursting into our room."
"I will try to remember," the dour man sighed before finally meeting the eyes of the Dark Lord, "has my snappish, rather questioning, and controlling behaviour lived up to your expectations, Thomas ?"
The corners of Tom's lips twitched in amusement as he thought back on the conversation he had with the Potions Master shortly after the man's decision to offer his blood for the Resurrection of his Lord.
Avada green eyes had changed to a deep and dangerous crimson as the Dark Lord had come to the front, "Severus, since you have agreed to become my future… guardian, I want to make sure that we see eye to eye regarding our future… parental relationship."
"Yes, my Lord," the Potions Master answered quickly, "I am all ears."
"Once my future self has emerged," the Dark Lord began, his eyes glittering dangerously, "I want you to treat your long lost cousin twice removed just like you would treat any other child. Snap at me, question and correct me, and discipline me. Do not hold back. Not at Hogwarts, not at home, nor in any other public setting except Death Eater meetings. I want you to be your usual dour, snappish, children-despising self. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my Lord," the Potions Master said, although quite hesitantly, "still, are you sure that you want to be treated like a child all the time?"
"Of course, Severus," the Dark Lord chuckled, "the more convincing your act, the better. The old fool is under the impression that I, as a megalomaniac prima donna, refuse to be treated with anything but the uttermost respect and fear of those cowering at my feet. Therefore, the exact opposite, if maintained at all times, should be enough to quiet the suspicion he will undoubtedly spread after our first encounter. Therefore, I want you to treat me just like any other Slytherin. Hence, I want you to use my real name. No more titles. Is that understood?"
"Yes, it is, my Lord… Tom- Thomas," the Potions Master coughed out, as if he had almost swallowed his tongue, "are you sure that you do not want to change living accommodations?"
"Ah, Severus," the Dark Lord laughed, "this would just be another thing the old man expects me to do. After my abysmal childhood, bullying you to move into the grand manor of your abhorrent ancestors would just perfectly fit into the picture he has of me. Willingly living in a small house in the middle of a poor muggle neighbourhood on the other hand would be something the evil Dark Lord would never endure. While he is more than aware of my acting skills, living in 'hovel' surrounded by filthy Muggles under the care of a snappish guarding for a lengthier stretch of time would certainly stretch my non-existent patience. Luckily, the last decade taught me patience, plenty of patience."
Focussing back on the here and now, the smile of the Dark Lord turned all teeth, "So far, I have been very impressed by your behaviour, Severus. Please, keep up your good work and it will stay that way."
After the first shock, life at Spinner's End progressed at a pleasant pace. Despite Tom being Tom.
Since he had always been driven by the pursuit of perfection, the current state of his body was simply unacceptable. Instead, it was screaming for rectification. While his usual exercise routine was out of the question because of the weak state of his muscles and the brittleness of his bones, some light yoga and regular doses of the Advanced-Nutrition Potion Tom and Harry had brewed after their first breakfast at Spinner's End would do for now until his body had become stronger. Hopefully, it would not take too long for his meagre body to reach an acceptable state once more, at least as long as the changes were not too noticeable.
Still, the physical shortcomings of his body were far from being the only things the Dark Lord was trying to rectify as quickly as possible. While his magical reservoirs were still as vast and endless as they had been the day he had lost his former body – thankfully, one's soul and magical core were inseparable and not as closely connected to the physical body as most believed - his new body was in no way fit yet to channel the amount of magic the Dark Lord had at his disposal. Trying anything above NEWT level would inevitably result in severe, long-lasting damage. To slowly adapt his body to his magic, a lot of meditation and magical stretching was in order before he could hope to one day move on from the simplest Charms and Transfigurations to greatness. Hopefully, this day would be in the not too distant future. Maybe, he could start with light duelling in a few weeks. Maybe.
On Friday morning, Tom was already wide awake when the magical alarm echoed through the small room at Spinner's End which had once been Severus' office.
"Are you ready to re-enter the world of politics?" a soft mumble to his right brought him out of his thoughts as the alarm was silenced.
Tom sighed. On one hand, he was relieved to finally have the opportunity to continue his grand schemes after a long decade of absence due to the forced exile in the Muggle world under the splendid care of the Dursleys. On the other hand, there were voices in his head urging him to simply take Harry and disappear from the face of the earth. Surely, the tasks of the Dark Lord were of the uttermost importance. Still, he could not deny that a reclusive and peaceful life far away from the schemes of the Light Lord together with his equal would be equally fulfilling. It was tempting. Tempting for sure. Then again, he had always been a man of ambition, a man with greater goals than anyone could ever imagine and unlike most dreamers, he had every intention of fulfilling them.
"With you by my side, I am ready," the Dark Lord purred, "let the games begin."
At precisely 10 o'clock, the Floo of Malfoy Manor flared up.
Obscured in the shadows of the small conference room of the lavish manor, one surprised eyebrow of the Dark Lord shot up as he sensed the magical signatures of the magic wielders stepping out of the hearth. Next to him, a chuckle escaped the lips of his equal, "The upcoming meeting certainly has the potential for the unexpected."
Tom could not agree more.
A minute later, the door to the small conference room was opened and the shrill voice of one of the many House Elves of the Malfoys spoke up, "Master Malfoy, your guests have arrived."
Heavy steps accompanied by the sound of a walking stick connecting to the stone floor echoed through the room as the Lord of the Malfoy family strode towards his guests, "Lady and Heir Longbottom, welcome to Malfoy Manor. It is a pleasu-"
"What sort of trap is this?" Augusta Longbottom bellowed, cutting short Lucius Malfoy's little welcoming speech, while drawing her wand with surprising speed for a Witch her age, pointing it at the tall figure of her adversary who so far had remained quiet, "WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?"
Thankfully, Corvus Lestrange managed to evade the three Severing Charms aimed at his tall form, although one of them just barely. Before Augusta Longbottom could fire off any more attacks, Tom stepped out of the shadows, his bare hands on clear display, "My, my, Augusta. After all those years you still have lost none of your viciousness and temper."
In front of him, Augusta Longbottom spun on her heels. Fractions of a second later, her wand was directly aimed at his face. Unlike the encounter with her adversary before, no spells were flying in his direction. Instead, Tom could clearly see the reflection of his own crimson eyes in her frozen pupils as the witch stared at her opposite, her mind ferociously trying to process everything. Suddenly, a spark of realisation dawned in her eyes as she lowered her wand while her whispered words cut through the silence of the room like fire through ice, "Tom, is that you?"
"Long time no see, Augusta," the Dark Lord said as his lips morphed into a wide smirk.
For a long moment, no word was spoken as Augusta Longbottom stared at the Dark Lord.
"So, you have returned," she finally breathed, her words a statement, not a question.
Before anyone could answer, Neville stepped out of the shadow of his grandmother, "Gran, who is this?"
Instead of answering, Augusta Longbottom's eyes kept firmly glued on her opposite, unsure if she was allowed to reveal the identity of the Dark Lord. Deciding to release her from her inner dilemma, the smirk on Tom's face grew wider, "Go ahead, tell him."
"Neville, I believe that this," Augusta Longbottom began, her voice trembling slightly, "is the wizard formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle… better known as… Lord Voldemort."
Instead of cowering in fear, Neville stepped forwards with surprisingly determined and quick strides, positioning himself between his grandmother and the Dark Lord, pulling out his new, perfectly polished wand, aiming it at the later, a threatening and stubborn glint in his eyes while the rest of his emotions were concealed behind an impressive mask of indifference.
"Neville, please lower your wand," Harry said as he stepped into the light, positioning himself next to the Dark Lord.
"But Harry," Neville protested, his mask crumbling as his facial features morphed into an expression of shock, while his fingers clutched tightly around the trembling wand, "he will kill us!"
The hand of Augusta Longbottom grabbed the arm of her grandson, gently lowering Neville's wand, "If he wanted to kill us, we would already be dead."
The smirk on Tom's face was all that was needed to confirm her words.
"I think," Augusta Longbottom continued after a short moment of contemplation, "if he truly wanted us dead, we would not be standing here. There is something different you want, Tom, do you not?"
"As sharp as ever, Augusta," Tom chuckled before his eyes turned calculating, "there is indeed something I want."
"Before we… negotiate ," the last word rolling strangely from Augusta Longbottom's tongue, "you have a lot of explaining to do, especially given his presence."
All eyes in the room wandered to Corvus Lestrange, who so far had remained quiet.
"That I will," the Dark Lord said, his voice smooth and down to business.
A few minutes later, they were finally seated around the large, although in the books of the Malfoys it was only a moderately measured conference table. At first, Augusta had adamantly refused to sit at the same table as her adversary. A few well-chosen words from Severus about a proud Pureblood woman behaving like a stubborn child had finally made her reconsider her previous behaviour.
"Gran," Neville spoke up, once everyone present had sworn a Vow of Secrecy to prevent anyone from spreading sensitive information, "how do we know that they will speak the truth? Would it not be better to demand them to pledge an oath or swear an Unbreakable Vow to tell the truth?"
"That will be unnecessary, Neville," Augusta chuckled, despite her Pureblood mask remaining as impassive as ever, "because the Dark Lord never lies."
"Well, that is true. My words might be cruel and vicious at times, but they are always honest. I never lie. I give you my word for that," the Dark Lord said, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes moving between the two Longbottoms on the opposite side of the table, "before I start with my explanation, I must ask if you are aware of the reason why Frank and Alice Longbottom were targeted by the Dark. Are you?"
"They were on opposite sid-" Neville began, only to be silenced by his grandmother, "While that is true, it is not that easy. They were targeted because of a Prophecy."
"That is correct," the Dark Lord said quietly, "was the exact wording or its content ever disclosed to you?"
"No," Augusta spat bitterly, "no matter how often I urged Dumbledore to reveal the exact reason behind your apparent obsession with my son's family, he repeatedly refused to disclose any information, stating that it could pose an unnecessary risk if more people than absolutely necessary were aware. Instead, he repeatedly insisted that their protection was sufficient despite them not staying behind the ancient wards of Longbottom Manor."
"As I expected," Tom sighed, "he left you all in the dark much like the Potters."
"But will you ?" Augusta said, her eyes narrowed to slits, "will you finally tell me?"
"I will," the Dark Lord said in a no-nonsense voice, before taking a deep breath, looking both of them in the eyes, "you certainly deserve as much."
For a moment, deep and dangerous crimson eyes stared into the dark blue orbs of the witch opposite him.
"In early 1980, a spy of mine," Tom began, gesturing towards Severus before reverting his attention back to the Lady of the Longbottom estate, "eavesdropped on a job interview between Albus Dumbledore and Sybill Trelawney for the position to teach Divination conducted at the Hog's Head. Since my spy was caught by the barman, he only overheard half of the prophecy."
As if on command, Severus began reciting the lines he had overheard, " The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…. "
"Augusta, you are aware that death was the only thing I have ever feared," Tom continued before anybody else could, "whoever this prophecy referred to would pose a serious threat not only to my plans and ambitions, but to my life. Therefore, I decided to eliminate the threat as soon as possible. Unfortunately, two couples who had thrice defied me gave birth at the end of July: the Potters and the Longbottoms. Since Harry was born on the last day of the seventh month and he was a Halfblood just like me, I decided to target him first."
"You are a Halfblood?" Neville gasped, "but you ar-"
"Yes, I am," Tom said curtly before continuing with the most painful part of the story, "since both couples had gone into hiding, hidden behind the Fidelius Charm, chances were slim to lure them into the open. Thankfully, a spy within the Order, Peter Pettigrew to be precise, eagerly disclosed the location of the Potters, since he had been chosen as their Secret Keeper, while the thief Mundungus Fletcher revealed the location of the Longbottoms after he got captured by a few of my Death Eat-"
"Mundungus Fletcher was their secret keeper?" Augusta asked incredulously, "that piece of dishonest, larcenous filth?"
"In retrospect, it is indeed a strange choice of Secret Keepers," the Dark Lord chuckled, although there was no humour to his words, "as if somebody was keen to leak their whereabouts to the other side. It is most peculiar indeed. What happened at Godric's Hollow on Samhain 1981 is even more so. I killed James and Lily Potter, before aiming my wand at Harry here. Instead of eliminating my apparent threat, the Killing Curse rebounded due to Lily Potter's life sacrifice I had failed to notice, thus destroying my body, and reducing me to a discarnate spirit. Only then did I realise that I had walked straight into-"
"A trap," Augusta concluded, the wheels inside her head spinning.
"Indeed, this was not a coincidence," the Dark Lord confirmed with a slight nod of his head, "being who I am, I wanted to figure out how this could have happened to me. For that, I had to stay. Since there was only one living being left, the only option was staying with Harry, attaching myself to his soul. Sadly, instead of answers, I got to witness the true face of Albus Dumbledore as he forced Sirius Black to go after Peter Pettigrew instead of taking care of his godson, while eighty percent of said godson's magic was being bound before the poor child was dumped on the doorsteps of the most magic hating, abusive Muggles I had ever had the displeasure to come across in the middle of the night."
"Eighty percent?" Augusta exclaimed in horror as she looked at Harry with large eyes, "how are you still alive?"
"Tom helped me to undo the bindings," his equal explained calmly, "once we had established a stable mental connection, he helped me in every way he could an-"
"Were you aware," Neville interrupted his explanation, an expression of horror tainting his usually cheerful expression, "that he was your parents' murderer back then?"
"Yes, I was," Harry answered without hesitation, "he was always honest to me. I am deeply thankful for that. Since there was no way to uncover the true nature of the prophecy while being stuck with my lovely Muggle relatives, we established a truce until the time we would have access to the truth at Hogwarts."
"Does Dumbledore suspect that your magic is now unbound?" Augusta asked, her eyes narrowed to slits.
"No," Harry explained, "Tom and I have wondered a few times ourselves. Then again, I always keep my magic under tight wraps at Hogwarts and magical binds have the tendency to deteriorate over time, especially if subjected to powerful outburst of accidental magic caused by traumatic experiences. Still, even if he would try to get a read on my magic, there are ways to shield myself and I doubt that he would try unless absolutely necessary since he does not want to antagonise me. I think I am safe in that regard."
"Good," Augusta said, a faint smile gracing her stern face, "what did you discover at Hogwarts?"
"That the prophecy was fake," Tom spat with more force than he had first anticipated, "that it was fabricated to lure me into destroying myself as one of two scenarios hinted at by the real prophecy which was uttered the day before during the real job interview of Sybill Trelawney."
"What was the other scenario?" Augusta and Neville asked simultaneously, their voices equally eager.
"That we would rule together, preserving our magic," Tom explained before Harry continued, "quite possibly saving us all if the contents of a much older Prophecy is to be believed."
Over the course of the next hour, Tom and Harry explained the content and implications of the original prophecy to the eagerly and intently listening Longbottoms. Once they had finished, Augusta cleared her throat, "To sum it all up, Dumbledore lured you in a trap with a fake prophecy, risking and sacrificing the lives of two young families on his path to obliterate the Dark and establishing closer relations to the Muggles, thus aiming to nullify the International Statute of Secrecy which would most likely end in the obliteration of all magical beings."
"That is the core of it," Tom said, as always impressed by her sharp thinking, "but we are not here to talk about the manoeuvring of the Light and the Dark. For now, there are far more important things to address. I know that most of my actions in the past, especially around Samhain of 1981, were caused by the manipulations of Dumbledore. Still, that does not entirely excuse the harm, sorrow, and grief I have caused to your family. For that, I sincerely apologise."
"While that is good and well and I appreciate the sincerity of your apology," Augusta said sternly, "I hardly think that this is the sole reason for this meeting today, is it not?"
"As sharp and perceptive as ever," Tom chuckled, before turning serious once more, "indeed, it is not."
"Then what do you want?" the witch asked, her words stern and underlined by a faint hint of urgency.
"As you are surely aware," the Dark Lord began, his eyes piercing his opposite, "Sirius Black's trial is scheduled for next Monday. He, much like many others of those currently residing inside Azkaban, was never granted a trial. Instead, his wand was snapped, while he was immediately thrown into that hellhole. Given the discovery of his innocence, I hope that a lot of cases will finally be investigated the way they should have been a decade ago since I am most certain that a lot of witches and wizards inside Azkaban were unjustly condemned to life imprisonment. Still-"
"Are you trying to tell me," Augusta spat, her magic swirling around her in anger, "that the scum who tortured my son and my daughter-in-law into insanity deserve a trial after everything they have done? They were found at the scene of the crime, laughing, and decla-"
"So was Sirius Black, yet he was innocent," Tom raised his voice to cut short the witch, "please listen to me, Augusta. I am not saying that all of them are innocent. Still, I believe that there is more to this than first meets the eye. Are you willing to listen?"
After a long moment of silence, the stubborn witch finally signalled him to elaborate.
"When I decided to go after the Potters," the Dark Lord began to explain, "only my most trusted were aware of the Prophecy and my plans. While some of them were eager to assist me, they were under strict orders to not interfere since I had decided to take care of the threat by myself. A few weeks before the faithful night of Samhain 1981, I explicitly forbade my followers to go after either the Potters or the Longbottoms. Most of my followers would have never questioned my decision. They would have accepted and obeyed my orders, even in case of my disappearance."
"And yet they did not," Augusta spat, "they did not!"
"Yes, they did not," Tom sighed, "and that is the part where it gets messy. I have not spoken to them personally since their incarceration. Therefore, I cannot be entirely sure. Still, I have trained all four of them personally and pride myself in knowing my followers. Augusta, I trust my own judgement. I always have. Rodolphus and Rabastan never revelled in mindless torture. They could be vicious and violent when necessary, but they never tortured for the sake of pleasure. Never. And neither did Barty. The three of them would have never disobeyed my orders. They were too loyal for that. Even if they had, which I sincerely doubt, they would have killed your son and his wife after extracting any sort of useful information instead of torturing them into insanity."
"How is that supposed to be better?" Neville screamed, his face a mask of pure fury and rage, "how is death better than being alive. How-"
"Neville, tell me, do you enjoy seeing your parents at St. Mungo's reduced to an almost lifeless shell?" the Dark Lord asked, his words clipped, well aware of how cruel yet honest his words must feel, "to see them unable to move on, not even speaking about the torture they had to endure? Be honest with me. Can you stand their sight, their presence, without the thought crossing your mind that death might be preferable to their current state? That death might be salvation?"
Opposite of him, Neville had disappeared in his chair, all anger vanished as tears started flowing down his cheeks, "I… I… Yes… I have thought that… many times…"
"I am sorry for what happened to them, Neville," Tom said in a much softer voice, "nobody deserves their fate. If I could help them, I would. Sadly, not even I can. I am afraid that the damage caused by the lengthy Cruciatus Curse is too severe to be reversed. Be assured that I would have never left someone like this. I would have ended it. I would have shown mercy and killed them. So would have Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Barty. I doubt that they would have tortured your parents into insanity, and they would have never left them that way. This whole debacle lines in with the things one specific individual would just have loved to do."
"Bellatrix," Corvus Lestrange's impressive voice boomed through the room, "this is just one of the things Bellatrix would have loved to do. Augusta, you cannot imagine how much I regret agreeing to the marriage between my eldest and that insane and unstable woman. When I signed the marriage contract, I was unaware of her true nature since Cygnus and Druella had kept her true self expertly hidden until my signature underneath their marriage contract had been completed. I quickly learned that she loved to torture, revelled in the pain she caused, viewing it as a sign of loyalty to the Dark Lord."
"Then why did she disobey his orders?" Augusta asked coldly, "if she was so loyal ?"
"I can only guess," Tom began, an image of the insane eyes of the eldest Black daughter flashing past his inner eyes, "but my sudden disappearance must have devastated her. Since she was aware of the identity and whereabouts of the two families that gave birth to my supposed nemesis, she must have gotten the idea that the Longbottoms must have known something about my supposed demise in her crazed quest to get back her Master. I would not be surprised if she had come up with her deranged plan in an impulse and that the others tried yet failed to stop her. I doubt that Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Barty cast a single curse on your son and his wife."
"That is impossible," Augusta whispered, "their wands must ha-"
"Their wands were snapped without being checked," Corvus cut her short, "I bribed Auror Dawlish to get access to the files. Their wands were snapped immediately and the joke of a trial they received was nothing but a charade and a media spectacle to throw them as fast and as publicly into Azkaban as possible. All of them."
"Then what do you want me to do with that information?" the Lady of the Longbottom estate asked, her voice still not above a whisper, before turning steely once more, "do you want me to turn a blind eye on those who have tortured Frank and Alice?"
"No," Harry said after clearing his throat, "all we ask is that you assist us in finding the true perpetrator to ensure that justice is served. For that, we need a trial. Even with the possibility of some of the cases of those incarcerated in Azkaban being investigated due to the discovery of the innocence of Sirius Black, we all know that this specific case would be the last one to be presented to the Wizengamot, if not at all. Nobody would push forth to put the Lestranges' on trial since they represent the scapegoats of the last Wizarding war. Even if somebody would push for a trial, it is unlikely that the Wizengamot would agree. There is only one person who could do that and that is you, Lady Longbottom."
"You want me to demand a trial?" Augusta spat, her eyes narrowing to furious slits, "a trial for the torturers of my family?"
"Yes, that is the main reason why we are gathered here," the Dark Lord said, his words accompanied by his most seductive smile, "to discuss you pushing forward a trial for the supposed torturers of Frank and Alice Longbottom."
For a moment, Augusta stared at him, a perplexed look on her face which was mirrored on the face of her grandson, "Are you insane?"
"Maybe," the Dark Lord chuckled, "but I have good arguments and an offer you will find hard to refuse. I can assure you that you will get the better end of the bargain."
"Just to clarify things," Augusta hissed, "what do you want?"
"Apart from secrecy about my new identity," Tom smiled, "I only want you to suggest the reopening of the cases of the Lestranges once Sirius Black has been declared innocent and Peter Pettigrew has been sentenced. Nothing more."
The eyes of the witch opposite him narrowed, "Nothing more?"
"Nothing more," the Dark Lord confirmed, "I swear on my magic."
"And what would I get in return?" Augusta hissed.
"While I would offer my help to improve the condition of your son and his wife, I know that it is a futile endeavour," Tom sighed, "therefore, I offer something else. We all know that a war is looming on the horizon. Although I hope it will be less bloody than the first time around, I sadly cannot promise nor guarantee that it will be. Hence why I offer you my full protection of the survival of your line. As long as neither of you openly sides with Dumbledore and the Light, Harry and I as well as those supporting our cause will assure that no harm shall fall upon you. Your safety will be top priority and I will swear to keep my word. After all the cruelty that was forced upon you, you deserve as much."
"While that is all good and well," Augusta said after a moment of contemplation, "I demand further reparations from those who have harmed me. Even if it was just Bellatrix, she was a Lestrange after all. A Lestrange by marriage but still a part of their house."
"As much as it pains me to acknowledge this, I have to agree with you, Augusta. Bellatrix is a Lestrange and thus a responsibility of my line. Therefore," Corvus sighed, taking a deep breath before uttering the next words, "I feel obliged to remedy the atrocities mine have caused to you. As a sign of redemption, I offer to bind myself and those of my line to yours. I offer a Vassal Bond signed and sworn in blood."
"A Vassal Bond?" the Lady of the Longbottom estate laughed darkly, "a Vassal Bond? Tell me, what use would that be since you are the last of your line? I researched your line and I know how paranoid your ancestors were. Your sons will not be able to take over the mantle of the Lordship because of their incarceration and neither will their children. This supposed bond is basically worthless since your line will die out anyway."
"No, it will not," Corvus' dark eyes were sparkling dangerously, "my line will not die out. It will live on with my granddaughter."
"You do not have a granddaughter," Augusta said, shaking her head before suddenly coming to a halt, "unless… unless… You had an affair, did you not?"
Closing his eyes, the Lord of the Lestrange family sighed, "I was only… unfaithful to my wife once and that was before we were wed. In retrospect, it is a blessing since I would now be without my granddaughter."
"Then why have you not made this public?" Augusta asked, her eyebrows narrowed.
"Because it was only discovered recently," her adversary explained.
Tom felt an elbow connecting with his side. Looking to the side the elbow had come from, he saw Harry pointing at Neville, who was staring at the Lord of the Lestrange family, the wheels in his head turning until realisation hit him and he whispered, "Hermione."
"Quite correct, Neville," Harry chuckled, "she is a Lestrange."
"My grandson's Muggleborn friend, a member of Gryffindor house, is your granddaughter?" Augusta asked in disbelief.
"She is," Corvus confirmed with a much firmer voice, his words laced with pride.
"Now, Augusta," Tom spoke up, the words smoothly rolling off his tongue, "do you accept our offers?"
"I do," the stern witch said, a calculating look on her otherwise impassive Pureblood mask, "under one condition. Since I assume that because of your youthful exterior you intend on going to Hogwarts right under Dumbledore's overlong, crooked nose, I want you to personally train my grandson to prepare him for the war in every way possible."
Next to her, the jaw of Neville dropped as his eyes flashed between his grandmother and the Dark Lord.
"He has come far in the last year," Augusta continued, "but I am afraid that it is not enough for the war that will without doubt come. He needs to be ready. He needs to be strong. Will you train him?"
"I will," Tom declared without hesitation, "we will teach him as best as we can. Do we have a deal?"
"From my perspective we do," the Lady of the Longbottom estate said, "but since I am not the one who was wronged the most and it is not my future that will be affected too much since I am already old, it is not my right to decide. Neville, do you think that the Dark Lord and the Lestranges offer enough?"
Shaken by the sudden attention and the gravity of the decision, the heir to the Longbottom estate sank deeper in his chair. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, a stern expression appeared on his round and chubby face as his back straightened in determination before he calmly stared into the crimson eyes of the Dark Lord, his blue eyes sparkling coldly, "I agree with your terms as long as you grant me the right to personally punish whoever tortured my parents."
Impressed by the strong urge for revenge, Tom stretched out his hand despite Corvus' protest from the side, "The right is yours, Neville Longbottom. Now, will you seal the deal?"
"I will," the heir to the Longbottom estate declared, accepting the offered hand of the Dark Lord.
