Of Ordinary Wizards

by Delaine

Of Ordinary Wizards is about the tangled knots of enmity and having the courage to unravel them. It's about realizing you don't have the whole story when you were certain you did. Post HBP. An Albus Severus Harry fic. An AU book seven story. Complete.

32. Deliver Us From Evil

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for your reviews. I know I said one more chapter till the end, but as it turns out there were two. Here they are. I hope you enjoy them.

excessivelyperky is brilliant! That goes without saying, but I really enjoy saying it none the less. Thanks so much for all your edits, support, and insight as I've muddled my way through this fic. You're the best.

Bigstew was a big help on the last few chapters as well. Thanks a bunch Stew.

The lion's share of this chapter was beta'd by Kirinin. I thought I'd give her a sneak peek, and she edited the thing. Thanks a bunch Kirinin. You rock!

Warning: Character deaths

Enjoy

Chapter 32

Deliver Us from Evil

The first thing Severus did after severing their Occlumency link was hit Potter with a powerful sleeping curse. He favored the spell for immobilization more than a body bind or Petrificus Totalus. It felt less brutal somehow, and he would not run the risk of the spell wearing off until the boy was Ennervated. Before Harry's body could sink to the ground, he gathered the small form up and held the young man against his chest. Severus forced a feral, triumphant look upon his face. He hoped Lucius would not recognize his hold on Potter for the fiercely anguished embrace it was, nor realize how desperately Severus was trying to reign in his emotions. He probably need not have worried; Lucius was sweeping his worried, gray eyed gaze toward the castle, apparently dealing with intense emotion of his own.

"Were you not able to bring Draco as well?" the man asked, with seemingly equal parts apprehension and relief.

"I was not," Snape informed the blond man. He did not bother to mention that producing his godson again, for Voldemort to torture, had never been part of his plan.

In fact, last night after supper, when Snape had discussed the details of what Draco and Harry had still thought was to be a mock capture, it was decided that Draco was to remain behind. Severus and Harry would go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to ostensibly gather the cotton feather leaf for the Noche Suprema potion. Draco complained that the illegal potion had been his idea in the first place. Severus assured him he hadn't forgotten that fact, with a dry, casually threatening attitude that made the blond boy retreat and Harry laugh a bit nervously. The wisdom of affecting the ruse while Harry's guests were still present was discussed, but the boy pointed out, rightfully so, that the Gryffindors, save Granger and Longbottom perhaps, would certainly wish to participate in such mischief. It would leave most of them fighting to go outside as well, while the others threatened to report the adventure to the Headmistress.

"Welcome to my world," Harry had quipped, when Draco chuckled about the oddness of Gryffindorks.

The plan became to proceed when the guests were otherwise occupied, or if need be, after they had left the castle. Severus had always planned to immobilize Harry with a sleeping curse before any of the Death Eaters present could do the young man harm.

Little else had gone according to plan, however. Things had first gone astray when Remus Lupin had cornered Severus at wand point in the first floor boys' loo during Harry's coming of age celebration. Lupin insisted that the Order members, and in particular McGonagall and Moody, wished an interview with him in the Headmistress' office. The Potions Master had stalled for time as best he could. He told Lupin that if they only meant to talk, it was hardly necessary that he be led there at wand point.

"There is significant distrust, as I'm sure you are aware, Severus," Lupin pointed out in that gentle manner of his that Snape always found rather annoying. "Hagrid took the children down to dungeons for safety. We would hate to see any of them harmed. I'm sure you understand."

"Quite," Severus had agreed, trying to sound somewhat cooperative. "But I have been here since yesterday, as I'm sure you understand," Severus pointed out with a hint of mocking snide. "If I had wanted to hurt anyone, especially Harry, I could have done so a dozen times over. Not to mention I have had custody of the boy since he left Privet Drive and protection of the Order. He has yet to come to any obvious harm."

"Well, that at least seems to have changed now," Lupin had opined amiably though his wand never wavered. "It seems that today you might see Harry brought to considerable harm, Severus"

"Not by my own will I assure you," Severus admitted and adopted the air of a man trapped by circumstance. It was only partially an act. "There are many things Minerva didn't tell you," Severus let out a resigned sigh. "What would you have me do, Lupin?" He asked after a brief pause.

"You can begin by giving me your wand," Lupin offered in a grim tone, as though saying it bothered him somehow.

Severus did his best to capitalize on the werewolf's discomfort.

"They do mean me harm you realize, Lupin," Severus told him as he reached for his wand.

"Surely not McGonagall," Lupin insisted.

"No, surely not," Severus agreed, "but, Moody, you said?"

Lupin knew only too well of his and Moody's short history of violence. He'd been there at most of those early Order meetings, when Albus would leave the room and others like Minerva, who might intervene, were absent as well. The Auror would hex the 'young man with Death Eater affiliations' using curses that were brutal and nasty, but not quite illegal, all in the name of the cause of the Light. Severus had for a time wondered if Albus knew what Moody was up to while others like Lupin stood by, too afraid, perhaps, to lift a finger. However, one time Albus had reentered the room while the one-eyed bastard was still having his way with him. He found a sweaty nineteen year-old Severus who had apparently shat himself. The old man was so angry that the temperature in the room dropped several degrees, but in the end the only spell he cast was a Scourgify. Then he ran a gentle, shaky hand through the younger wizard's hair and lightly caressed his cheek before ordering him to retake his seat. Moody had become more careful after that, and others more vocal about telling him to leave off. Not Lupin, though. He just sat in the corner wearing an appalled expression, as though afraid if he protested he would be next. It was extremely reminiscent of when they were boys at school and the fear that mixed with his friendship with Sirius Black and James Potter.

But as adults in the first floor boys loo, on the day Harry Potter came of age, Severus made eye contact with Lupin, certain their thoughts had traveled the same path. He waited for it, that brief moment when Lupin glanced away in slight indecision. It was all he needed.

"I can't let that happen, Lupin," Severus explained as he cast a concussion hex at his former year mate and colleague. It was the same one he had thrown at Flitwick the night Albus died. Well, Minerva really couldn't get any angrier with him, he reasoned, as he flipped the Angelth open to discuss the latest development with the Headmaster.

"Are you certain they mean to do more than discuss the situation, Severus," Albus had asked in that irritatingly reasonable tone of his.

"No, I'm not bloody certain, Albus," Severus admitted tartly. "But Moody has kicked my arse rather thoroughly a time or two, as you may no doubt recall." Severus took a breath and tried to get a hold of his temper before he spoke again. "I'm only guessing, Albus," Snape continued in a deliberately calm tone. "However, if I am correct," he went on, "it could certainly interfere with what you have ordered me to accomplish today."

Albus took that in and then continued to speak calmly, as though discussing a particular flavor of sweet.

"Remus is secure for the moment?" He asked.

"He is, Headmaster," Severus confirmed and spared a glance at the still form of the werewolf.

"There is a charm," Albus explained, "that you may apply to the right ear of the gargoyle at the left hand side of the entrance to my former office. It seals the tower from anyone entering or exiting, including through the floo, for the period of one half hour," he informed the Potions Master.

Severus had cast the charm and made his way quickly to the owlery. He informed his master that if he wanted a shot at the Potter brat it was now or never. He gave a brief overview of the situation. His note said that the powers that be at Hogwarts were on to him and perhaps Voldemort should send no more than two Death Eaters to meet him at the Apparition barrier. Severus confirmed he would see to it Potter that was captured there. Once he had sent the brief missive forth, Severus had raced down to the dungeons. He caught his breath as he entered through the portrait hole only to have that breath thoroughly knocked out of him again, as he saw and heard Potter on the verge of casting an Unforgivable at the Weasley boy. Severus had been furious, as the young man pleaded excuses that would only make sense to someone as reckless and irresponsible as Potter. Before he could stop himself he was chewing the boy out thoroughly. It took a great deal of effort to stop, as he forced himself back to the real purpose of his mission.

He secured the boy's wand, and as he led him from the school, Severus tried not to contemplate their chances of success. From what little he understood of what they would soon go through, the boy would be subjected to some sort of test of his ability to resist darkness. Albus counted on his essential goodness and purity of heart to see them through. Severus dared not contemplate how well he might fare, if the boy had suddenly taken to threatening with the Cruciatus Curse good friends who had the unmitigated temerity to annoy him.

Severus had to admit, the boy had given him the perfect opening for demanding his wand. He doubted Potter would have been so compliant if he hadn't thought himself to be in extreme trouble. And if the situation were different, he would have been. Severus had to seriously restrain himself from assigning the boy consequences on the spot. Somehow it was not remotely similar to his old anger, when he had wanted to punish and humiliate Harry for simply being alive. But despite that distinction, it was more intense. He found himself appalled that Harry would behave so outrageously, and felt almost duty-bound to see to it that Harry damn well never behaved in such a manner again. As it was, Severus had made the error of speaking first and thinking later in regards to Harry for the second time that morning. Who knew what dark acts Harry might be compelled to commit once Voldemort had him in his clutches. Severus was a spy for the love of Merlin, as such he was supposed to be clearheaded and cunning. Yet for the second time Severus began to chastise Harry without proper consideration as to how it would play out when he was forced to betray him. With that betrayal so very imminent, Severus' behavior was every bit as outrageous as Harry's.

Severus was still seething at the boy's audacity in pulling such an idiotic stunt, when they came upon Lucius Malfoy. However, his anger instantly and completely abated at the boy's look of confused betrayal. It tugged painfully at the Occlumency link before Severus abruptly severed the connection. Albus had ordered that as well, and Severus had been unprepared for the excruciating sense of loss had he had felt.

Severus Apparated with Harry a moment before Lucius did so. As the two materialized on the outskirts of the lair, Severus continued to order his emotions as Lucius materialized beside him. Albus had warned that he and Harry would be subjected to unimaginable darkness during the course of this ordeal. At first, Severus had doubted that there was any degree of darkness that he would find surprising after his years of service to Voldemort. However, it already felt like one of the darkest acts he would ever commit to turn Harry over to the Dark Lord.

"Our Master will be angered we did not bring Draco as well," Lucius pointed out a bit tensely.

After years of acquaintance, Severus recognized the nervous tone.

"Here. Take Potter," he told the blond wizard, as he handed over the messy haired burden. "Perhaps you will be spared some of his wrath if it looks as though you were integral to the boy's capture."

Lucius grabbed Harry eagerly and began to handle him with rough enthusiasm. Although Severus winced, that had been the plan. His own handling of Harry at the moment felt, and he feared looked, far too much like he was carrying a cherished child, rather than presenting the spoils of a well executed plan to his master. Severus could have, of course, forced himself to tow Harry by his untidy mop of dark hair as Lucius was delighting in doing now, but it felt far too excruciating to do so. He admitted stoically that he would probably be required to do much worse before this ordeal was over.

"Ah, my Severuss," the Dark Lord greeted as he and Lucius approached the throne at the center of the room. "You bring me a gift," he intoned, though it was Lucius who dumped a still-unconscious Potter at his feet.

"I have, my Lord," Severus confirmed as he dropped to his knees at the same time Lucius did. He noted that they seemed to be the only ones present, at least in the throne room.

"And Luciuss," he hissed dangerously. "I see you would damage that gift before I have had an opportunity to look upon it," he accused lifting his wand.

After the Dark Lord ended the Cruciatus Curse and the blond wizard writhed beside him, Severus couldn't help thinking that perhaps carrying Harry like a cherished child had been the better strategy after all.

"Where is your treacherous son?" Voldemort demanded of Lucius, casting two quick lashes of a whipping hex for good measure.

"Severus said…" the blond man began as he touched his face where the twin lash marks had raised welts on his cheek.

"Severus has brought me a gift," the Dark Lord interrupted. "Your worthless spawn is your responsibility," he let the lash fall again. "Is he not?"

"He is, my Lord," Lucius admitted meekly.

"I am afraid you will need to be disciplined again in his stead," Voldemort hissed in a dangerously saccharine tone. "Do wait for me in my private chambers so I may deal with you at my leisure," the Dark Lord commanded in a way that made Severus' stomach turn.

"I shall. Thank you, my Lord," Lucius nearly whimpered, as though he had been given that order far too many times of late.

Severus could not remember Lucius being ordered to the Master's chambers for private chastisement since their days as apprentices. The man shuddered as he recalled the startling array of magical and Muggle implements of torture the Dark Lord kept on hand in there.

"Now, Severus," the Dark Lord reminded, drawing his attention away from the retreating wizard, "you have not kissed the hem of my robes. Have you forgotten yourself?" he demanded."

"I have not, my lord," the man denied and moved forward to touch his lips to the filth-encrusted hem of Voldemort's robes. Merlin, but they could do with a cleaning charm.

"Please have young Harry do the same, so that when he awakens we may already have begun tutoring him in his place."

Severus maneuvered the prone boy so that his lips touched the filthy hem as well and waited for the next instruction. He tried not to contemplate his master's interpretation of the boy's place, nor Harry's reaction to that place when he awoke.

"Place him at my knees, Severus. Just here," Voldemort ordered impatiently as though Severus should have anticipated the next order. The Potions Master balanced Harry in a sitting position near Voldemort. He watched as the boy's head lolled innocently against the Dark Lord's knee and carefully Occluded his thoughts.

"Now, I have a gift for my gift," Voldemort hissed sibilantly, and produced a thin silver chain. He carefully slipped it over Harry's head, and let it fall to his neck. As Severus watched it magically tighten around the boy's throat, he noticed that the Dark Lord took a sharp intake of breath as a similar chain tightened around his neck.

"Now his magic is tethered to mine," Voldemort explained and he ran an ugly gnarled hand though he boy's untidy hair and breathed in almost lustfully. Severus had to tamp down a flicker of disgust as he watched the Dark Lord touch Harry in such perverse, oily affection.

"The other members of the inner circle have gone to make ready the remainder of our plans," the Dark Lord explained as he caressed Harry's pale cheek.

Severus dared not ask what plans, so he was relieved when the Dark Lord began to explain.

"I have you to thank for finally being able to solve this mystery, Severus," Voldemort praised. Severus held his breath and waited for the man to continue. "You will recall our conversation, where we discussed whether it was possible to love and hate at the same time?"

Severus knew he meant the time he had held him under the Cruciatus Curse for the better part of two hours. Severus thought about it blandly while carefully Occluding.

"I do, my Lord," Severus admitted aloud. "I recall you made some example of me that day, though I was dismayed to have displeased you so."

"You did not displease me precisely, Severus," Voldemort explained as though nearly killing Snape had been of slight consequence. "I was testing young Harry's feelings for you. I became curious after he rescued that ridiculous young Malfoy. Potter seems to have the ability to feel something akin to love for those he hates," he explained while stroking the boy's face again with the back of his hand. "He seemed to feel both love and hate for you as well, Severus, as I made him view our experiment."

Severus made a doubtful disgusted sound in his throat. He had done the same the day Voldemort had tortured him those long hours while trying to possess Potter and gauge the boy's reaction to it. Voldemort cut off his current denial with a curt gesture.

"It was something very like love, Severus," Voldemort clarified impatiently. "As I said, I have no experience of such things."

Severus had heard this often when his master would rage against Dumbledore and his belief in the power of the emotion. The Dark Lord would proclaim his pride in having no experience of love, or the experience being so remote he couldn't remember it. He claimed love to be the purview of the weak. However, the man reveled in every form of lust known to wizardkind. Severus thought about the way his hedonistic lord worked his way through new apprentices, most of them little more than children. He satiated himself with not only torturing them, but having his way with their young bodies in general, determined to possess them mind, body, and soul. The bulk of Draco's initiation had been during summer before Severus even knew he had been marked. He loathed contemplating what the blond boy had endured. With the ones Voldemort found attractive, things usually started out very much the way he was now fawning over Harry and quickly moved on to more serious sport. Severus tried not to shudder as he watched the man run his wraith-like fingers through the young man's raven hair yet again. He didn't think he could stand by and watch that happen to this boy no matter what Albus said. Prophecy be damned.

"Some time ago, I discovered a spell, dear Severus," the Dark Lord confided sounding a bit excited. An excited Voldemort was never a good thing.

"Did you, my lord?" he asked, attempting to sound intrigued as he wrestled himself away from his dark thoughts.

"I did," Voldemort hissed gleefully. "The first step is to tether ones magic to a wizard who is pure of heart like our precious Harry here," he began, sounding like a demonically surreal caricature of Albus Dumbledore when he spoke of the boy. "It must be accomplished within twenty four hours of the wizard or witch's coming of age. Then, a bit more difficult I admit, they must be convinced to join wands with the person they are tethered to and cast a killing curse upon someone they feel love for," the Dark Lord paused for a moment and smiled predatorily. "If such a wizard commits such an act at the time of their age of independence, they forfeit all their magic, both current and potential. It becomes the possession of the wizard or witch they are tethered to."

"That is wonderful, my lord," Severus enthused, thinking it was anything but. However, it definitely fit with Albus' assessment of the type of thing that might happen. "Who might you tempt young Potter to kill?" Severus was sure he would regret asking.

"I will start with his family, Severus," Voldemort explained logically.

"His family, my lord?" Severus asked dumbly.

"Of course, dear Severus, the others are retrieving the Muggles from the boy's home now. It was you who convinced me it was the best place to start. At first I thought such a thing was impossible, but your counsel has convinced me otherwise."

"Then I am pleased, my lord," Severus said doubtfully, wondering how in Merlin's realm he had managed that.

"Do you not recall?" Voldemort reminded. "After you punished Lucius with your delightful knout hex we later had a discussion.I wished to understand why he would be more upset by an image of his incompetent son being chastised than undergoing such treatment himself. I have seen in Lucius' mind that he hexes the boy with great regularity. You shared your belief that it was possible to love someone and still do them great harm."

"Ah," was all Severus managed, feeling a bit ill.

"That is why Lucius is so eager to accept chastisement in the boy's stead," Voldemort explained knowingly. "It is also partially why I wished his little bastard here as well. I wished to test my theory about the killing curse first. I am certain Lucius would have readily complied."

Severus shuddered, then immediately averted his gaze. The man was barking. Luckily the Dark Lord misinterpreted his expression.

"Do not be ashamed to have failed me, Severus. You did well to bring, Potter, and not risk loosing him to capture that worthless fool." Voldemort praised.

Severus was relieved he didn't need to come up with a response as it was interrupted by Voldemort's next request.

"Perhaps we should wake our young guest?"

888

The first thing Harry noticed when awoke was that they were no longer at the edge of the Forest but in some sort of stone chamber. Lucius Malfoy didn't seem to be around, but Snape was and he stood above him wearing an unreadable expression. Harry was trying to decide what to say or ask the man when he sensed something that felt like a giant spider making its way through his hair. He swatted and shook it off with a start. Harry scooted to the side as the thing dropped from his head, only to realize that it wasn't a spider, but a bony skeletal hand. He had to look up to discover who the hand belonged to.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed stridently. He scrambled off the stone step he had been sitting on and struggled to a standing position. "Voldemort?" The boy said shrilly. "I've got Voldemort playing in my sodding hair?" Harry questioned, looking at Snape wildly and pulling at his hair as though there was still something disgusting crawling in it.

"Now, Severuss," Voldemort was saying. "No one may use magic on the boy as any spell cast on him I will feel as well," he counseled. "You may use any other means, so long as you do not damage him permanently or prematurely. By all means see to it our young guest, remembers his place," Voldemort instructed.

"His place, my lord?" Severus dared ask for clarification.

"Why, yes, Severus. At the moment, his place is sitting beside me," Voldemort hissed silkily. "He is no doubt unaware of what an honor it is. Do your best to explain it to him."

Harry stared at Snape, his breathing becoming labored as he waited to see how the man might respond. He didn't know what they were playing at, or how much of the last few months was an elaborate hoax. Was that even possible? Was the Angelth even real? Harry wanted to rip it open immediately and find out. He tried to calm down and fiercely Occluded. He controlled his emotions and waited for the Potions Master to make a move. When no response was forthcoming, Harry grew agitated again. Losing his perspective on coherent thought, he launched himself at Snape in a ball of fury. He was intent on tackling the bigger man to the ground. The cuff across his face caught him off guard but didn't deter him. It was a particularly smarting one as Snape's cuffs went and it knocked him off balance. Harry scrambled to his knees and this time prepared to launch at the man's legs. A strong bony knee bludgeoned the boy in the chest, and cleanly knocked the wind out of him. He had to roll onto all fours to try and recover his breath. This had the unfortunate effect of leaving his backside vulnerable. When Snape landed his boot there Harry yelped, and immediately sat down upon the step in an attempt to protect his hindquarters. It took Harry a moment to realize he was sitting back where he started and he glared at Snape balefully.

"The Dark Lord wishes you to remain there," he told the boy simply. "He considers it a great honor."

"Does he?" Harry asked nastily. "Is that why you brought me here then?" Harry questioned impertinently. In actuality, it was a real question. He was hoping for an answer, a reaction, a hint, something… anything that would explain that Snape wouldn't really betray him and that Harry was being ludicrous even thinking such a thing.

"Well done, Severus," Voldemort was saying in clear enjoyment, "But do mind his face. It is very pleasant to look at." He caressed Harry's cheek where the back of Snape's hand had left a bit of soreness in its wake.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Harry spat, coming to his feet again and moving away from the two wizards. He scrubbed the sleeve of his sweat shirt against his cheek where Voldemort had touched him. All the while he was glaring daggers at Snape.

"Careful, Harry," Voldemort warned as though truly worried for the boy's safety. "You are obviously no match for him physically. And as for magically, Severus do you have the lad's wand?"

"I do, my lord," the man acknowledged removing it from the inside of his robes.

"Please return it to him," Voldemort ordered.

Snape hesitated only for the barest of moments before complying, and he tossed the wand to Harry.

"Now, Harry, you are no doubt angry with dear Severus. Perhaps you would enjoy cursing him?"

Harry looked at his wand and then from Snape to Voldemort. This had to be some kind of trick. Voldemort's words were somehow familiar too, but Harry couldn't put his wand on why. He had a headache from his tight hold he was maintaining on his Occlumency shields and was still a bit fuzzy from whatever spell Snape had hit him with before bringing him here. Why in hell would Snape bring me to Voldemort now? Harry wondered angrily. Why create such a convoluted lie, when he could have just brought me straight away, instead of going to Ireland? Harry was furious at the older wizard, but he was also confused and hurt. As angry as he was at Snape, the thought of raising his wand against the man made him feel a bit sick to the stomach and more than slightly afraid. The fear was hard to pinpoint. He couldn't suppress the feeling that it was wrong somehow, to raise his wand against Snape. Although that made no bloody sense at all, Snape had clearly betrayed him. It was hard to concentrate through his headache and desperate attempt to Occlude his thoughts.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort chided silkily. "You haven't seen your dear old Potions Master since the night Dumbledore was killed, surely this opportunity is too good to pass up."

Harry's mind began to move faster, as he continued to stare down at his wand and put an even tighter grip on his Occlumency shields. He felt around for the Occlumency link, like a tongue poking at an empty hole where a tooth used to be. Yep, still gone, he thought. And yet Voldemort was under the impression he had not seen Snape since the Headmaster's death. That meant the past few months couldn't have been an elaborate hoax, which meant the Angelth was probably real, which meant… Harry wasn't sure what the bloody hell it meant.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort offered in a seductive whisper. "Perhaps you feel like saying something Unforgivable. Severus tells me you did on the night our dear old Dumbledore met his end?"

Harry remembered that well. On the night the Headmaster died he had tried to cast a Cruciatus Curse on Snape. But Snape hadn't cursed him back. Instead he leveled a stern rebuke, before Harry could get the words out properly.

"No Unforgivable curses, Potter!" he had ordered stridently.

It had been an odd reaction given the circumstances. The man had just cast an Avada Kedavra, and he was chastising Harry for attempting a Cruciatus, like there'd be hell to pay if he ever caught him at it again.

In the here and now, Harry continued the examination of his wand, but his skin colored when he thought about the tongue lashing he had received from Snape earlier for pretending he was going to use the curse on Ron. Was that a ruse? Harry wondered. Didn't seem like one. It seemed like he wanted to take my ruddy head off. But then he brought me here, Harry frowned down at his wand. He briefly speculated that perhaps he was still unconscious and the whole thing was some sort of an illusion spell meant to teach him a lesson for joking around with the curse. Harry had never heard of such a spell, but it was possible he supposed.

"He has learned to master himself rather well, Severus," Voldemort opined irritably, his voice finally losing the saccharine tone and taking on a bit of menace. "I would think these mentions of Dumbledore would send him into fits of wand waving, but I am not picking up any distress. Did you hear word of who has been training him or whether he has learned any other surprising magic? For he certainly has learned to Occlude," he admitted nastily.

Well that's something, Harry thought and wondered why Voldemort did not try to push into his mind more violently. Then it struck him that he might be apprehensive as Harry had come out on top that time when he rescued Draco.

"Were you able to learn anything at all about his training?" Voldemort asked again?"

"I was not, my lord," Snape reported.

Harry noted the lie. He raised his wand and gained eye contact with Snape. The Potions Master stared back impassively. If only I could get some response, Harry thought. He's playing at something. Am I supposed to play along? He wondered. If so, he won't be very pleased with me if I tip our hand. Maybe he wasn't expecting Lucius to be there that early and… where the bloody hell is Lucius anyway? Harry wondered suddenly

"Where's your girlfriend, Lucy?" Harry asked with deliberate insolence.

The raised eye brow spoke volumes. Finally, a reaction, Harry thought and took a bit of comfort at its familiarity. Too bad it doesn't tell me much other that he'd put his boot to my arse again if Tommy- the- amazing-snake-boy would let him. Harry considered making additional comments inquiring if their date had ended badly, but thought better of it. Perhaps Snape didn't need Voldy's permission after all, and that wasn't the kind of response Harry was searching for at any rate.

"Lumos," he whispered giving his wand a wave. And Merlin, was that a mistake.

Harry felt something like a tiny sharp chain tighten around his neck. It began to cut off his air and dig into his skin.

"Finite Incantatum," Voldemort murmured while waving his wand. "Ah, splendid," Voldemort let out a delighted hiss. "You have discovered what will happen if you attempt to use magic on your own." A smile lit the snake-like visage. "It will be much more satisfying if we cast a spell together. Come Harry," he beckoned the boy forth. "Join your wand with mine. It need not be anything complex to start. Your little Lumos will do nicely," he hissed seductively.

Harry stared at the man incredulously. He stayed where he was and rubbed the circulation back into his neck.

"No?" Voldemort asked. "Ah well, perhaps later," he suggested as the chamber was suddenly filled with the sound of wizards Apparating."Delightful," Voldemort opined to Harry. "Your guests have arrived."

For a terrible moment he thought his friends had been captured as well. Then to his greater shock, the remaining nine Azkaban escapees plus Pettigrew and that bitch Bellatrix, appeared with horror-stricken Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley. All the Death Eaters, save Snape, dropped smartly to their knees. Lestrange, Avery, Macnair, Nott, and Jugson to the right of Voldemort's throne, Pettigrew, Rookwood, Crabbe, Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Goyle to the left. Malfoy was still conspicuously absent. Harry wondered vaguely if Snape had done something to the blond wizard.

The Dursley's watched the proceedings with terrified confusion, until Vernon's expression switched from horror to fury upon spotting Harry.

"What the bloody hell is this about, boy?" he spat and advanced on the young man.

Harry chided himself for taking an instinctive step back, but Voldemort was having a grand time.

"He reminds me a bit of your father Severus," he hissed delightedly. "Are all Muggles so frightening?" he quipped.

The assembled Death Eaters were amused at Voldy's wit. Rookwood chuckled without opening his mouth. His shoulders shook and he was trying to suppress great sniffing noises, as if unsure if laughter was allowed at this juncture. Conversely Bullstrode leaned to the side and punched Parkinson in the arm as he guffawed, and Bella cackled nastily like a parody of the foul witch she was.

"Who's this ruddy freak?" Vernon wanted to know as he pointed a fat finger at Voldemort. "Gods boy, do some of you lot look like that? How dare you have these freaks bring us here!" he bellowed at Harry, his face turning purple. "Send us back at once!"

Harry disliked his relatives, but the fact that Vernon's stupidity was probably going to get them all killed faster scared the hell out of him.

"Shut up, Uncle Vernon," Harry suggested in an undertone.

"Shut up?" Vernon raged, coloring even more. "Shut up is it? Petunia, do you hear the way the boy speaks to me now? Can you believe he told them to bring us here?"

Petunia had the good sense to cower as she stared at the Death Eaters, Harry noted. She shielded Dudley as best she could, considering he was three times her size.

"Of course he hasn't brought us here, Vernon," Petunia disagreed, to Harry's great shock.

"He did so," Vernon said, sounding a bit like Dudley when he blamed Harry for something ridiculous. "He had the neighbor across the street trick us out of the house so this lot could grab us."

"These are the bad freaks, Vernon," she explained in a terrified voice. "They're not like Harry. They have obviously brought him here too. Can't you see how frightened he is?" she said in a concerned voice.

Harry didn't know whether to be more shocked that she had developed some sort of predetermined distinction between good and bad freaks, or that she actually noticed and was concerned that he was frightened.

Dudley shocked him next.

"She's right, Dad," he offered in a quavering voice. "H-harry wouldn't bring us here. Would you, Harry? Those Dementy thingys aren't going to come are they?" he asked, looking around fearfully.

Vernon suddenly picked up on their fear or good sense or both, and he moved to shield them with his body. He managed it better with his huge frame than Petunia had with hers.

"You're that Lord Voldymert then, are you?" he asked in coarse whisper.

Voldemort's gaze became intense and he seemed not to be so much listening to Vernon as looking inside him.

"Oh but you didn't tell me how deliciously cruel this Muggle was, Severus," he turned to the Potions Master. "Did you truly never see it in Harry's mind when the old fool tried to make you teach him to Occlude?" He asked Snape.

At Snape's confused expression, Voldemort continued.

"They kept him in a cupboard," he explained gleefully. "He was beaten with regularity," he continued. "Merlin's tits and arse, your childhoods were so similar you could be twins. Did you truly not know, Severus?"

"I did not, my Lord," Snape lied to his Master, again, Harry noted. Did he know Voldemort was going to bring my relatives? Harry wondered angrily.

"Oh but this is better than I could hope for," Voldermort enthused. "You were positively brutal," he addressed himself to a befuddled Vernon. "Shame on you, Muggle," Voldemort admonished brandishing his wand. "Cruc-," the evil wizard began.

"No!" Harry protested shrilly. Vernon stepped back onto Petunia's foot. Though he certainly had no idea of the pain that was headed his way, only that someone had a wand aimed at him.

"I jest, Harry," Voldemort let out a nasty laugh. "I'll not curse this Muggle. Not yet."

Harry had braced for the curse in sick fear.

"But in spite of everything I see in this Muggle's mind," Voldemort was saying, "you do care. Fascinating. I shall remind you of his cruelty you'll surely join me in cursing him before long. And your dear aunt is right; you do seem a bit frightened. Pensievo," he said, aiming his wand at the stone wall.

The surface suddenly went concave and a slight ridging appeared at the edges. It was as though the entire wall behind his throne had been turned into a huge stone basin and placed on his side. Maintaining eye contact with Vernon for a moment, Voldemort put his wand to his own temple and withdrew a dozen so strands of memory and cast them lazily at the wall. Suddenly Harry and the others present were staring at a huge stone telly, in which Vernon Dursley and Harry Potter were the featured stars.

The image on the wall showed a marginally younger, and perhaps slightly less rotund, Vernon Dursley stalking towards a tiny white door that sat at the side of a staircase.

"There you see," Voldemort narrated for no one in particular. "It's the boot cupboard there."

Memory Vernon ripped the small door open and reached inside to pull out a tiny, wriggling, messy haired child with frightened green eyes. The child grabbed for the cupboard door. It was a futile effort to escape as the four year old was only slightly taller than the door, but he clung to it for dear life.

Harry in the chamber turned away from the wall pensieve and closed his eyes. But it was harder to block out the sound of his childish cries of, I'll be good! Please! I'll be good!

Harry remembered well at that age it had been his standard promise. Though he seldom knew what he had done to be bad.

Voldemort showed one image after another of Harry being berated, manhandled and generally mistreated at the hands of Vernon Dursley. He seemed to enjoy each one more than the next. Harry silently raged at what a twisted bastard Voldemort was as he tried to drown out the sound of little memory-Harry's pitiful sobbing. As he aged in the memories, and sounded more like his current self, the scenes became even more humiliating to endure. He began to feel a sort of oily sweat, as a silky oppressive darkness seeped into the recesses of his body. It felt familiar this time. It was the same darkness that threatened to overtake him the night he Obliviated Filch. It had gained an even deeper hold on him the night he delighted in Draco's punishment of Kreacher. Harry could recall himself drinking in the groundskeeper's fear and the sound of the little elves whimpers. As the darkness wrapped its long elegant arms around him now, he found himself thirsting for the taste of it again. Each time he gave in to the darkness its grasp seemed more seductively menacing. It was like a powerful magical entity, a live thing tantalizing and tempting in its silky authority, insisting that Harry do its bidding. Someone should really pay for how hurt and humiliated I feel right now, Harry reasoned. As the darkness took him Harry realized he still had his wand and practically burned with a desire to use it.

It was bad enough that Vernon had treated him so badly, but one hundred times worse to have it displayed for the amusement of this crowd. Harry cast a furious look at the Death Eaters. Avery, McNair, and Nott wore vaguely lusty expressions and seemed to be enjoying themselves as much a Voldemort. Harry jerked his head away, and his green eyes continued to scan the room, as the darkness persistently built within him. He made the mistake of catching Bella's eye and she winked and blew him a kiss.

"Poor baby Potter," she simpered for all to hear. "He looks like he's going to cry."

When Harry responded, it was as if the darkness spoke through him, and he found himself both pleased and appalled by what the darkness chose to say. It was as stylishly vile and profane as anything he had ever wished he'd said to Bella.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, you fetid bitch," Harry called boldly across the chamber. "I'm surprised you and Tom here never married," he quipped nastily while jerking his head toward Voldemort. "You're like two sodding peas in a pod, you are. But then, why buy the goat I reckon, when you can shag her up the arse for free," the young man surmised nastily.

In the distance a woman gasped, and Harry determined blandly it was his Aunt Petunia. All eyes were suddenly on him and Bella rather than the wall pensieve, and the furious woman's face colored several blotchy, uneven shades of red as she drew her wand.

"Crucio," she yelled stridently.

It was just as well she threw the curse. If she hadn't, Harry would have, the backlash of his connection to Voldemort and Snape's admonishments be damned. The young man could fairly taste the curse forming on his tongue. He had intended to mean it this time. Before Harry had an opportunity to react however, Snape was in front of him. He cast something wandless, non verbal, and with hardly any hand movement. And he did so with seemingly practiced ease. It had the effect of making the curse rebound back on Bella. She fell to the ground like a sack of over- ripe fruit, writhing and bouncing upon the stone floor with a dull squishing sound. Without sparing Harry a glance, Snape spun toward Voldemort and dropped to his knees.

"Are you injured, my master?" Snape inquired frantically.

"I am unharmed, Severus," he responded dully. "However, how is it you know a counter that rebounds the Cruciatus Curse?" He questioned with more than a hint of menace. The Death Eaters who had previously been staring amusedly at Bella's twitching form, looked at Snape as though he had suddenly sprouted griffin wings.

"I confess I am uncertain how I did it, Master," Severus confessed in a rush. "I had only seen the spell once in a book."

"In a book, Severuss?" Voldemort hissed incredulously.

"Yes, my master. When the old fool finally gave me the Defense position he made me a gift of several Light magic tomes."

"Light magic?" Voldemort asked distastefully.

"I thought them worthless, Master," Severus explained contritely. "However, in my panic for your well-being should Bella's curse affect you through your connection with Potter, I instinctively stepped in front of the boy to attempt it. If nothing else I thought to absorb the curse upon myself."

"The spell is obviously not worthless," he observed, his tone still extremely dangerous.

"I would be pleased to attempt show it the others if you wish, my lord," Severus offered in seeming innocence.

"A Light magic spell for my followers? How dare you suggest such a thing Severus?" Voldemort hissed in severely chastising tone.

"I won't use it again, Master," he said sounding a bit like a third year caught after curfew in the wrong part of the castle. "I doubt it would work if I did do, my lord."

"We may have to test that theory ere long, Severus," Voldemort threatened in strong rebuke.

"Your servant, my lord," Snape responded meekly.

"However, I shan't forget your loyalty, my Severus," Voldemort intoned his voice losing much of its shocked sternness as he motioned for Snape to rise.

Harry stared at Snape, not sure if it was the best or worst performance he had ever seen. It seemed to him like the most impressive bit of arse kissing he'd seen in quite some time. It reminded him for all the world of he and Ron when they were convincing Trelawney that of course they hadn't just made up their Divination homework.

"Can you cancel the spell on Bella?" Voldemort asked, and all eyes turned back to the woman who was still writhing on the floor and had begun to scream.

"I'm afraid not, my lord," Severus explained. "From what I recall from my brief reading of the spell, it works on intention. It will last for the duration and with the severity Bella would have wished to curse Potter."

Voldemort looked again at Bella, whose screams were growing louder.

"Surely one of you would have stopped her when you saw the effect the curse was having on me?" he asked the room at large.

"Indeed, my lord," Severus concurred. "This is simply how severely she would have desired to curse him had no one intervened."

Voldemort shook his head as Bella continued to bounce against the stone flooring and beg no one in particular to make it stop.

"No one is to use magic against the boy," Voldemort commanded loudly to be heard above the din. "His magical core is now tethered to mine. And any magic against him will affect me as well."

A chorus of shocked yes my lords could be heard throughout the chamber.

"Not that Bella had any business cursing someone without my permission at any rate," Voldemort said in a quieter voice that sounded a bit irritated.

Severus nodded his head in staunch agreement.

"Just as you had no permission to cast your spell, Severus," he snapped crossly.

"I do apologize, my lord," Severus intoned.

"It's no matter I suppose," Voldemort sighed while casting a casual Silencio in Bella's direction.

"Well, Severus, what shall we do with our young guest?" he questioned indicating Harry with a nod. "Being rude to my followers and causing all manner of noise and mischief?"

"Perhaps we should wash his mouth out with soap, my lord," Severus suggested. "His language is that coarse."

"Indeed, Severus. Indeed," the Dark Lord agreed with amusement. "Perhaps for the time being a continuation of the entertainment is punishment enough," he said indicating the Dursley's who huddled together in a shocked, frightened clump near the wall pensieve. "But perhaps I shall allow you that pleasure later on."

"I look forward to it, my lord," Snape agreed and for an instant he fixed Harry with a severely chastising look.

The look was replaced by his neutral mask quickly, but it had the effect of straightening the boy's spine and of loosening the grip of his dark possessor. Harry felt a wave disappointment wash over him as well. Instead of pushing it away, which had been his first instinct; he pulled Snape's disappointment closer and wrapped it tightly around him. As he did earlier with Kreacher, Harry used the more ordinary darkness to push the greater darkness away. With great effort, he wrenched himself free of the dangerous dark grasp, and was left feeling as though he had been dosed with several cauldrons of cold clean water.

"Now where were we?" Voldemort questioned as the audience turned back to the pensieve to a scene Harry soon recognized as the aftermath of Dudley's 13th birthday.

"But, Vernon you can't take it back," Memory Petunia was saying to Memory Vernon as he lugged a huge box from Dudley's bedroom. "Duddy loves that computer, and he's only had a few days to play on it."

"I'm sorry, Pet," Vernon explained sadly. "But we can't really afford it just now. I promise to make it up to Dudders, just as soon as business picks up,"

"But this year he only got the one gift, Vernon, we told him it was because it was a nice expensive one. What should we do?" Petunia asked as she followed Vernon's lumbering form down the stairs as he struggled with the computer box.

"We'll do what we've always done since Dudders was little and half his gifts disappeared when we had to return them, we'll tell him the boy did it with his freakishness."

"Oh, Vernon," Petunia sighed in an exasperated tone.

For a moment Harry was angry at this unexpected revelation. But when he looked at his cousin's face the bigger boy looked like he had just discovered there was no Santa, Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny all in the same day. He made eye contact with Harry, and a look of understanding passed between the two. Then as though someone flipped a switch inside him the forlorn expression was replaced by a harder, angrier look. However, he seemed to sense that now was neither the time nor place for one of his famous Dursley tantrums and the boy turned his head and stared at the wall pensieve as though it was the most engaging thing he had ever seen.

Harry remembered that day well. Dudley and his friends had cornered him at the park and it seemed they were intent on murdering him before he finally got away. All the while Dudley was ranting about Harry making his computer disappear. Dudley had accused him of such things all his life and while Harry had done plenty of accidental magic, he'd not managed it near so many times as he was accused of it. When Harry was younger he thought Dudley was just lying to get him in trouble. In recent years when his cousin attacked him with such sincerity, he began to seriously believe the other boy was barking. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought his relatives were returning Dudley's gifts because they couldn't afford them. Why bloody buy them in the first place? Harry thought angrily. He remembered he'd always get punished around Dudley's birthday and Christmas after things disappeared or mysteriously broke and were thrown out, before they got home. It was usually used as an excuse as to why Harry never got any gifts himself. The young man's wand hand began to itch again painfully and he felt the darkness prickling again at the edge of his consciousness as he cast his gaze upon his aunt and uncle with loathing. Yet what he saw there made his breath catch and held the darkness at bay. They looked pathetic, and ashamed. Especially his uncle Vernon; he stared down at floor, as though urging the hard unforgiving stones to open up and swallow him whole.

"Duddy will be crushed," Pensieve Petunia sighed as she watched Vernon load the computer into the car.

"I really am sorry, Dear," Vernon admitted sounding more than a bit humiliated. "I'll borrow a bit more from my sister when she visits tonight. Don't forget the boy needs to move back to his cupboard, so Dudley can bunk in his old bedroom, while Marge sleeps in his."

"Dudley hates staying in that tiny room ever since we moved him into the old guestroom. And Harry has grown too big for that cupboard."

"It can't really be helped, Petunia. We haven't got a guest room since we moved the boy upstairs, and Marge has to stay somewhere. Maybe we can put the boy in the garden shed while she visits if that works better. Be sure to have Dudders wear the jumper she sent him, and give the boy his old one."

"Dudley's clothes are hanging larger and larger on the boy all the time. I'll certainly be glad when Duddykins looses a bit of that puppy fat."

"Now, Petunia, many children grow up wearing hand me downs. I wore my brother Nigel's till I was eighteen and on my own. I didn't ask to have a second child thrust upon me. Has the boy been complaining to you?" Pensieve Vernon asked crossly as he squeezed behind the steering column.

"No, Vernon, of course not. The boy's birthday is coming up as well and he always gets Duddy's old clothing around this time of year when your sister sends Dudders new things. Though we never make a fuss of it, I'm sure he appreciates getting new things in his own way. I'll hunt around for a few pair of trousers as well."

"Good idea, Pet," Vernon said as he started the engine. "And..." Vernon paused. "I am going to have to give him a good thrashing when Dudley finds his computer has gone missing. Perhaps throw in a few of Dudley's smaller T-shirts as well to make up for it. Ones with logos on them," he added. "Lads wear those a bit oversized don't they?"

Harry looked at his aunt and uncle. Their thinking was so bloody warped and, yet Harry was amazed by how much of his relationship with them had been built upon misunderstanding. He wanted to say something to them, but then a new memory began to show.

Memory Vernon and Petunia were neatening the sitting room. They were fussing with a plate of chocolate biscuits and fretting over the position of the tea pot as though preparing for an important guest.

"Are you certain he likes that kind, Pet?" Vernon asked repositioning the tray of biscuits again.

"Well not these precisely," she admitted. "I bought a more expensive chocolate kind. But I know he loves chocolate because they are the only kind he risks stealing from the pantry. They disappear twice as fast as when it's just you and Duddy at home nicking them," she explained.

Vernon looked as though he might want protest, but then thought better of it.

"Are you sure it's all right to ask him, Pet?" Vernon asked nervously.

"It can't hurt to ask, Vernon," she assured him. "He's got money now and we could use a bit. It's not as though your sister hasn't helped us make ends meet all these years. It's time my side of the family picked up its end a bit."

Vernon frowned seeming a bit embarrassed.

"It will be fine, Vernon. Harry's not a bad boy really. If it weren't for his freakiness…"

"I thought if I could only make him stop it…" Vernon intoned regretfully. "I was trying to keep us all safe from it, Pet," his voice became adamant. "I tried to ignore that that first letter, didn't I? Ruddy owls," he grumbled. "I put us all in danger at that bleeding stormy seaside hut to keep them from dragging the boy away that first time."

"I know, Vernon," Petunia soothed, patting his huge arm. "You tried his second year as well."

"Flying car," Vernon remembered in seeming anger. "Ah well, none of it can be helped now," Vernon sighed.

When Vernon turned to the stairs and called, Boy, Harry knew exactly what day he was viewing. It was his first day home at the beginning of summer. Seeing his relatives' unfiltered perspective of things was bizarre and made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. Harry closed his eyes again as soon as Memory Harry made an appearance. However, as with earlier he could not drown out the sound, though he tried very hard. He cringed through, Vernon's clumsy inquires about his godfather's estate and awkward attempts to get Harry to eat a few biscuits. His face colored with shame when he heard himself suggest, in a positively surly tone, that Vernon should shove the biscuits up his fat arse. Merlin, did I really say that? Harry thought. He sounded the absolute epitome of an impertinent spoiled brat, ten times worse than anything Snape had ever accused him of being. The Death Eaters and Voldemort laughed heartily, all save Snape who wore the same unreadable expression he had favored all day. Those assembled laughed more heartily still as Vernon gave Harry one of the more sound cuffings about the face and head that he had received in a while and towed him upstairs to be locked in his room.

"Well, our young hero finally stood up to the big bad Muggle only to be thwarted again. What do you think, Severus?" Voldemort addressed himself cheerfully to Snape.

"I am still in favor of the soap, my lord," Severus deadpanned to the great amusement of those gathered.

Snape repeated this opinion with such grimness, that Harry's face colored as though it were an actual rebuke. He found himself wanting to explain to the man that his words had been taken out of context.

But then they were watching memories of a purple faced Vernon pacing back and forth, enraged.

"Shove them up my…" he grumbled. "Did you hear how he spoke to me, Petunia?" he asked incredulously. "Did you hear it? How dare he?" Vernon seethed.

Vernon in the pensieve stalked around the sitting room and railed. Every once in a while he would prepare to the mount the stairs, think better of it, and continue his circuit around the room. All the while he mumbled to himself about miserable, ungrateful, little brats.

"Is this because he comes of age at the end of summer like that old freak said?" Vernon asked Petunia during one of his turns around the room. "Is that why he feels like he can speak to me that way?"

As Harry watched the scene in the pensieve he thought Vernon reminded him of a caged animal and seemed rather impotent in his rage. He kept muttering that he should be able to do something.

"If this had been a few years ago I would give him a bloody good hiding," Vernon proclaimed one of the times he stopped at the stairs. "I don't care about that freaky spell he does. I should do something. He shouldn't just get away with insulting me like that."

Harry had felt at the time that his uncle and aunt had done plenty. The boy's ears had rung for hours after having them so severely slapped back. And no meals were always hard to endure after a school year of eating well at Hogwarts. But now looking at Vernon in the memory, it was obvious the man felt he had no real recourse. He was humiliated to be spoken to so, and felt helpless to do anything real about it. In spite of how his uncle had always treated him Harry found he felt ashamed to be the cause of such humiliation. Again he felt like he would like to say something, but the Harry in the pensieve did it for him. It was the morning after his dark dream and his conversation with Dumbledore via the Angelth. The Headmaster had instructed him to apologize to his uncle, and Harry had obeyed though he was loath to do so.

"Morning, Uncle Vernon," Pensieve Harry greeted and approached the breakfast table with confident sincerity that was mostly an act. He had been shrouding himself in Dumbledore as he recalled. "I'd like to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. It's no excuse really, but I let myself get upset too fast, when I should have just told you I didn't want to talk about my godfather. Anyway," Harry in the pensieve paused. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way, and I'm sorry."

Harry remembered that the apology hadn't hurt at all as he thought it might. Knowing what he knew in the here and now he found himself pleased to have made it.

Vernon in the memory, gave a gruff nod of acknowledgement, and Harry remembered thinking he looked a bit smug as he glanced at Petunia. Now Harry realized it was relief at getting a bit of his dignity back.

"And once again," Voldemort offered dramatically. "The hero of the wizarding world is humbled by this fearsome Muggle. Come now, Harry," he addressed the boy winningly. "Starved? Beaten? Despite the fact that they are your family and you feel some love for them, there must be some part of you that wants to seek revenge."

So that's the game, or part of it, Harry thought. He wants to entice me to revenge. Finally, he recognized the situation was near identical to the nightmare where Voldemort wanted Harry to join him in cursing Snape. Took you long enough, Potter, Harry berated himself. He wasn't sure what Voldemort would gain from such an action, but Harry was abruptly certain he would be damaged by such a course irreparably. With that thought in mind it was easy enough to refuse, but he knew if he didn't curse his relatives, Voldemort eventually would and odds were none of them would leave there alive. A tenuous plan began taking shape in his head and as usual he spoke up before it was fully formed.

"I'll not harm my family," Harry explained adamantly as he looked into Voldemort's red eyes.

"I have an idea, Master," Wormtail piped up enthusiastically. Voldemort looked at him sharply. Beyond a few chuckles, thus far the only ones to speak save Voldemort and Harry were Snape and Bella. The rat brazened on, perhaps convinced his idea had merit. "What if you allow us to take turns cursing those two," he indicated Petunia and Dudley, "until Potter agrees to curse the fat Muggle?" he suggested proudly.

"Please do not speak out of turn again," Voldemort instructed after he cast several lashes of a flogging hex in Wormtail's direction and the man whimpered regretfully. "Your time alone here without the senior members of the inner circle has obviously left you addled, little rat. Make yourself useful and take Bella away. Her infernal convulsions have grown rather annoying," he indicated the woman still spasming helplessly against the ground. "If the curse ever ends, give her Cruciataserum." he ordered, sounding like he was getting more frustrated by the moment. "I'm not done with you yet, Bella," he warned as Wormtail moved to remove the woman. "I want you healthy enough to accept chastisement from me, if you live." Harry did not fail to notice that Voldemort could use his magic independently despite their connection.

"Wormtail's idea is not without merit as a last resort," Voldemort threatened as he turned back to Harry.

"I've got a better one, Tom," Harry explained matching the other man's tone as best he could with a confidence he did not feel. "Send my aunt and cousin away to safety, and then I'll deal with this Muggle."

"You will join me in punishing the Muggle?" Voldemort queried as though surprised to have won so easily.

"Is that a trick question?" Harry asked angrily. "You saw the memories."

"Splendid," Voldemort said shrewdly "Jugson, Crabbe, Goyle," he commanded and motioned for the men to rise.

"Three is a bit of an overkill I think," Harry intoned pointedly. "In fact I believe I would prefer it if just Goyle was assigned the task," Harry suggested before the men could rise.

"Goyle…? Voldemort asked in confusion.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "Gregory Goyle.

"Gregory?" Voldemort questioned. "Ah, yes. You of course mean Severus?"

"Yeah, him," Harry answered rudely. "He's your regular sodding lackey isn't he?" He was treated to another angrily raised eyebrow from Snape.

The rudeness was for show, Harry hoped the man knew. In truth, Snape was the only person he trusted not to harm his family.

"Yeah, I know," he replied cheekily. "Soap."

Harry hoped Snape recognized the tone for the friendly cheekiness he used with him all the time now. The Potions Master had actually seemed to enjoy it a bit. However, Harry had a strong suspicion those days of casual banter were over and the prophecy would end today. Either must die at the hands of the other, for neither shall live if the other survives.

"Severus," Voldemort commanded. "Take these Muggles to…"

"Hogwarts," Harry interrupted.

"I'm afraid, Severus' weekend pass at Hogwarts was revoked," Voldemort explained.

"He's a clever fellow; he'll figure it out," Harry opined confidently. "And I'll not make a move till he comes back and reports they are safe," Harry promised and sat casually upon the step where Voldemort had wanted him earlier. "Just tell McGonagall that Tom here is going to kill me if you don't return within the hour," Harry instructed cockily.

His master nodded to Snape, and it took the man two Apparition trips and twenty minutes to come back and report his cousin and aunt safe.

Petunia had been Apparated away screaming, and Vernon told Dudley to take care of his mum before the heavyset boy disappeared. The boy's earlier anger was again replaced by fear and he promised his father solemnly that he would, before vanishing along side Snape with a loud pop.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry intoned sincerely when Snape returned.

"I guess it's you and me now, Uncle Vernon," Harry told the man as he rose to his feet in a tone that was both resigned and determined.

"Now for the main event," Voldemort enthused, while beckoning the young man forth. "Please join me, Harry," he commanded silkily, a radiant look of triumph upon his face.

"No can do, Tom," Harry replied after a pause. "I'm terribly sorry about that."

"What…" Voldemort sputtered, taking a step toward the boy.

"I said I wouldn't harm my family, Tom. Surely you heard me." Anxiety was making him cocky and reckless, but he had come too far to turn back now.

"This Muggle is not your blood," Voldemort argued stridently.

"He's my uncle, Tom," Harry explained as though Voldemort were quite dim. "That's why I call him Uncle Vernon. You can't honestly expect me to curse my own uncle…"

"Severus?" Voldemort questioned in angry frustration. "What do you make of this?"

The Potions Master looked back helplessly.

"I am not certain, my lord, I…" the Cruciatus hit before he got the words out.

"It would be awful if he accidentally managed that reversal thing again," Harry opined before the curse had lasted ten seconds.

Voldemort canceled the spell abruptly and glared at Harry.

"I'm just saying," the young man explained in casual innocence.

"You'll not curse this Muggle?" Voldemort asked again in a strident tantrum-like tone.

"Sorry, Tom. I can't," Harry replied apologetically.

"Well, I certainly shall!" he cried brandishing his wand. "Crucio," he said nastily.

Before the curse landed Harry launched himself in front of Vernon. It had been his plan, but he really thought Voldy would blast out with an Avada Kedavra straight away. Then he'd be dead and Voldy would be dead and the prophecy would be put to rest. He had even begun to consider that perhaps that was why Snape had brought him in the first place. But instead Voldemort howled in pain as Harry gritted his teeth and buried his head in his Uncle's soft cushiony chest. It was very like an embrace and would have felt rather nice if it were not for the excruciating pain.

"Boy?" Vernon questioned anxiously.

Voldemort sunk to his knees as he was affected by the curse as well. Harry began to slip to the ground when the curse traveled to his legs making them buckle as Voldemort sunk lower.

"Boy are you…" Vernon began to ask while trying to catch Harry beneath the arms.

The only expression of concern Harry could ever remember hearing from his Uncle Vernon, was cut short as the Avada Kedavra struck the man's heart.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry questioned as the huge man's body struck the stone floor. "Uncle Vernon?" He said a bit more insistently as he crawled level with the man's head. "I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," Harry choked as his burning eyes stared into the man's too-still face.

The young man realized there was only one chance left. He rolled on his side and leveled his wand at Voldemort.

"Avada…" He began, only to hear Snape's shrill cry.

"No, Potter!" The Potions Master bellowed as he kicked the wand from his hand. Harry scrambled on all fours to retrieve it only to be hauled up by the scruff of the neck. Snape slammed him against the wall and glared at him sternly. Harry glared right back. Then, not wanting to waste such direct eye contact, he tried to force his way into the other man's mind. Harry pushed with all his magic and fervently wished for answers. Suddenly the Occlumency link was reestablished.

A surprised Severus looked around the pathway frantically as though fearful they might be seen. Before Harry could make any comment, he was hauling the young man down past the Band of Emotion, painfully and rapidly by the ear. When they arrived in what turned out to be Snape's dungeon. The man released his ear only to cuff him smartly on the back of the head. Harry rubbed the back of his head and then his ear. He pondered for a moment that you could feel pain in the link. He certainly hadn't known that before, nor had he known you could get smacked around. I guess it's sort of a mental slap, he thought ruefully, his hand going to his head again. Harry wondered why Snape had never done that before when Harry annoyed him in the link with all his chattering thoughts.

"I shall do so again if you do not stop that annoying chatter at once," Snape warned and Harry clamped down on his thoughts.

"Right," Harry responded in embarrassment, "But, what's going on, and why'd you bring me to Voldemort? And now I'm here why didn't you let me cast the killing curse? It would have ended that bastard once and for all."

"Not to mention it would have ended everything else as well. What the bloody hell does no Unforgivables mean to you, Potter?" Snape asked snidely.

"What's going on? Harry asked, "Why am I here?"

"You have a bad habit of snooping around my personal thoughts uninvited," Snape complained.

"Are you going to answer me?" Harry asked when the man failed to give more of a response.

"No, Potter," Snape answered sternly after what felt like a slight hesitation. "Do not attempt to establish this contact again.

And the link ended as abruptly as it began. Harry felt around for the connection only to realize it had been severed again and he struggled angrily against Snape's grip.

"Geroff!" Harry demanded as Snape held him painfully against the wall. How dare Snape mess about like this? He could have bloody told him something.

Snape hauled him by the arm and collected his wand on the way only to toss him in an unceremonious heap in front of Voldemort.

"Mark my words, boy," the dark wizard hissed menacing, all hint of camaraderie gone. "You will join wands with me!"

Unfortunately for Wormtail he picked that moment to reenter the chamber.

"Bella stopped twitching and I tried to give her a bit of serum," he reported to Voldemort. "She isn't quite herself though, Master," the rat faltered as though afraid to be blamed. "I think she's… dead actually," the man explained apologetically.

"Yes, that would be very unlike herself," Voldemort agreed impatiently and beckoned the rat forth. "Wormtail, come here," Voldemort commanded, nearly irrational with anger as he snapped his thin fingers for Severus to give him Harry's wand.

When Wormtail approached Voldemort motioned him curtly to his knees, and roughly stuck his wand to the rat's temple to extract a bit of memory

"As I recall, Harry," Voldemort stated nastily. "You showed Wormtail mercy at one time. Isn't that right, Wormtail?" He addressed himself to the rat. "If it were not for young Harry here you would have never made your way clear to rescuing me?"

"True, my lord," the rat agreed nervously.

"It only proves you must feel something for him to show such mercy, eh Harry?" Voldemort surmised.

Harry tried to fathom what the man was driving at with the feel something bit but remained silent

"But, you must also have a good deal of hatred to know that it was this simpering coward who betrayed your parents."

Voldemort threw Wormtail's memory at the wall pensive with an angry flick of his wand. As the smoky memory flew through the air and struck the concave surface, an image Harry recognized as a nineteen or twenty year old Sirius Black appeared beside a boyishly chubby Peter Pettigrew.

"Of course I'll do it, Sirius," Pettigrew in the memory was saying sincerely. "I won't let you down. But are you sure it should be me?"

"It's for James, Lily, and the baby, Peter. Everyone expects me to be the Secret Keeper," Sirius explained, laying a brotherly hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "But they'd never guess we switched to you."

"Right," Pettigrew nodded with determination. "I still say I should do a bit of snooping to see what the evil bastard knows. No one would notice a rat," he argued.

"It's too risky, Peter, and I don't want you trying it, or I'll bloody kick your tail for you," Sirius warned.

"All right, Sirius. All right," Pettigrew agreed. "I just want to help. You know, do something important. The Headmaster never gives me anything important to do. Like this morning's Order meeting when he had you, James, Lily, and Remus stay in the room, but he asked me to step out. I think he thinks I'm stupid or something."

"Merlin's balls, Peter, he does not! Stop being such a whiny little twit. He asked Hagrid to step out too, along with Mundungus and a half a dozen others. I think he just doesn't want any one of us knowing too much, makes it less of a risk that way," Sirius explained.

"But why would he keep me out when you lot got to stay?" Peter asked sullenly.

"What do you care?" Sirius shot him a cheeky grin. "You stayed anyway didn't you?"

"What?" Peter asked his chubby cheeks coloring. "What are you talking about Sirius?"

"I saw you, little mouse," Sirius waggled a finger. "And this wasn't the first time either."

"I just like to know what's going on," Peter explained defensively.

"Well don't let the Headmaster catch you listening in where you shouldn't in your Animagus form, he might hex you or something."

"Sweet old Dumbledore?" Peter asked incredulously. "I know he's powerful and all, but I just can't picture him hexing anyone," Peter asserted.

"He did me and James that one time when we were still in school," Sirius reminded. "Just be careful is all I'm saying," he warned.

"Yeah, I'd forgotten about that," Peter shivered. "Boy, Dumbledore was mad! But that was different," the smaller man argued. "You and James had nearly gotten Remus to kill Snivilley."

"Remus barely grazed him, and the git wasn't anywhere near dead," Sirius argued. "The old man overreacted completely."

"It could have been worse," Peter surmised.

"I don't see how," Sirius opined ruefully.

"I dunno," Peter replied a smile curling the edge of his mouth. "Azkaban maybe?"

"Right," Sirius snorted. "Like any of us Gryffs will ever wind up there. No, seriously though, after the old man was through with us, James and I had to put cushioning charms on everything for a week."

Harry found himself shifting a shocked glance in Snape's direction wondering if this information was news to him. He caught the man in a rare surprised moment, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He closed it with a snap upon noticing the young man's gaze and firmly slid his neutral mask back in place.

"Yeah, I remember now," Peter was saying as he grinned trying to control his sudden laughter.

"It wasn't funny!" Sirius groused, socking the shorter man on the arm.

"It was a bit," Peter disagreed, "It didn't work at all on your brooms," he laughed harder as he stepped out of range.

"I'll get you, you rat!" Sirius growled as he caught the other man in a headlock.

"All right, Sirius," panted Peter breathless with giggles. "I give. Leggo. I give up!"

Sirius released him after knuckling his head, and Peter moved away a pace to catch his breath.

"Just be careful," Sirius warned turning grave again. "You're Secret Keeper. That's important. Don't go off risking yourself unnecessarily."

"But, Sirius," Peter argued. "If I can sneak around and listen in here without Dumbledore catching on, I should certainly be able to get close to old Voldemort. I got a tip about where his current hide-out is and…"

"No, Peter!" Sirius cut him off angrily. "You're not doing it and that's it!"

"All right, Sirius calm down," Peter told him. "It was just an idea really."

Sirius gave the man a hard look before speaking again.

"Good then," Sirius nodded grabbing his bag. "I've got to get going, all right?"

"Okay. Sure," Peter agreed. "I'll catch up to you later then."

The moment Sirius departed Pettigrew's face lit with an unsettlingly determined smile and he grabbed his own bag to go.

For the second time that night Harry felt the darkness begin to build at an alarming rate. How could this sincere looking little knob of a man have betrayed my parents? How could he have pretended to be so chummy with Sirius, only to go out and do what he did? Harry wondered angrily

The next memory seemed rather distorted until Harry realized he was seeing a rat's eye view. Peter was scampering quickly across a stone floor that looked very familiar to the one they were standing on now. He was making his way to a huge ugly throne that looked identical to the one Voldemort was perched against currently. Rat Peter was climbing back and forth under the legs and along the under side of the seat as though searching for a good place to conceal himself All of a sudden Peter let out a faint squeak and there was a wet crunching sound as Nagini sprung out of nowhere. They sped along faster than ever, Peter riding in the snake's mouth and as suddenly as she struck, they stopped moving.

"Ah, Nagini," a younger and less grotesque version of Voldemort greeted his pet. "I see you have found a lovely rat for a snack… What's that?" Voldemort questioned with sudden sharpness and then quickly leveled his wand.

Suddenly Peter's perspective changed again to that of a man and he cried out in excruciating pain.

"Legillimens," the Voldemort in the pensieve whispered silkily and began raping his way through Pettigrew's mind. All the while the round little man thrashed about and screamed.

"No, " Peter cried miserably, even as Voldemort healed him.

"Well," Voldemort inquired silkily. "What shall we do with you?"

"Kill me, please," Peter begged mournfully.

"I think not," Voldemort answered silkily. "You have rather fascinating memories. I believe I shall keep you as a pet. A bit of a playmate for my Nagini, and myself as well," he clarified, and then he leveled his wand again. "Imperio," he whispered and ordered Peter to extend his arm. "Peter Pettigrew," he commanded putting the tip of his wand to the young man's forearm. "You are now, and ever shall remain, my most loyal servant," he lifted his wand leaving a grotesque skull and snake tattoo in its wake.

Harry looked away from the wall pensieve and cast his gaze at a nervous looking Wormtail. The man before him was light years older than the eager, chubby boy in the memory.

"There. You see, don't you, Harry?" Voldemort in the here and now said triumphantly. "If it weren't for this weak fool, your parents would be alive."

Harry had known for some time of course what Pettigrew had done, but he had never known how Voldemort had come by the information.

"Surely you will join me in punishing him?" the evil man suggested seductively.

Harry felt a bit dizzy as the darkness that had threatened to overtake him at the outset of the memory was suddenly sucked from his body as if by a vacuum.

"No," he answered simply.

"No?" Voldemort questioned enraged.

"I'm sure you heard me, Tom," Harry answered boldly.

Voldemort was apparently fed up with Harry addressing him thus and reach out to grab the boy roughly by the hair.

"You will learn to obey me, Harry," Voldemort hissed breathily as he yanked Harry's head back to reveal his scar. "All those marked by me must do so. Since you yourself have been twice marked," he ran a scaly finger along the raised edge of the crimson lightening bolt, and then gently caressed the chain about his neck. "I shall have scant patience for such defiance."

As Harry struggled against the larger man, he dragged the boy closer. He clutched both wands and crushed Harry's smaller hand around them while he shouted.

"Avada Kedavra."

Harry finally wrenched himself and his wand free from the man's grip and was across the chamber, before Wormtail was halfway to the ground. The boy looked on helplessly as Peter Pettigrew joined his Uncle Vernon on the chamber floor. Voldemort breathed in deeply and then felt frantically felt around his body as though searching for his Galleon purse. Finally, he looked at Harry and Pettigrew in turn and shook his head in disgust. Voldemort walked over to the rodent and severed his silver hand with his wand and set the thing gingerly on the floor by his throne.

"I will have your magic boy!" he asserted angrily leveling his wand at Harry across the chamber. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets as though to hide them, and his left hand brushed against a small square box. He suddenly realized he was wearing the same trousers he had transfigured for Bill Weasley's funeral and silently thanked his Uncle Vernon for providing him with so few changes of clothing. An idea took shape, as Harry slid open the little box and worked one of the pellets free. After a pause Harry took several bold strides in Voldemort's direction. He stopped when he was directly in front of the man, Voldemort's wand grazing his chin lightly.

"I'll never join you, Tom." Harry promised him. "But my magic…" the young man smiled slyly. "It is stronger than you'll ever know. Boggart!" The boy said loudly while surreptitiously dropping the tiny pellet at the man's feet and taking a step back. "Let's see what you fear, Tom. You'll note this magic has no effect on my pretty necklace."

No one was more shocked than Harry when the Boggart turned into him. However, he stood back and reacted smugly as though he expected nothing less. Voldemort's followers watched as their Master tried to Riddikulus , Finite, Crucio, and finally Avada Kedavra the Harry Boggart away.

"You'll never defeat me, Tom," Boggart Harry told him as the clearly frightened wizard frantically waved his wand. It was when the Boggart turned towards Snape and transformed into Dumbledore that Harry decided to make his move. He transformed into an arachnid, as Snape whispered an Obsucuro, and the necklace about his throat spasmed slightly as it fell to the ground, Harry swung free of it, before it could tighten further, on a rapidly thrown web. He landed on the opposite wall and waited and listened to what might unfold.

Voldemort bellowed with rage at the abrupt loss of his magical connection to Harry and the apparent disappearance of the boy himself. He started cursing his followers as an expression of his disappointment and he ordered them to find the boy at once. Before any could leave the chamber, Harry thought to use the rock charm. He whizzed through the chamber pegging Death Eaters in the heads and shoulders only to land in the shadows across the room. Harry quickly launched assault after assault. It had the effect of the room being surrounded by rock throwers. Harry struck Voldemort several times. He avoided hitting Snape, though he passed dangerously close a time or two. Finally McNair realized it was a single stone, and Bullstrode suggested it must just be a Bludger charm Harry cast as a diversion to escape. Harry stopped when the Death Eaters thought to start casting pulverizing hexes and he barely avoided two near misses.

Back in spider form Harry listened while Voldy again ordered his followers to conduct a thorough search.

"Find the wretched boy and bring him back alive," Voldemort ordered.

Even with liberal use of the web, it took five long minutes before Harry found as spot to safely contact the Headmaster. If Snape couldn't tell him anything, certainly the Headmaster could, and the old man could help Harry decide what his next move should be. When Harry settled himself into a corner of a well lit, but secluded, little alcove, it was with stunned disbelief, that he opened the locket to find the tiny portrait had disappeared. The little case looked as empty as it had been the night Harry found it on the ground of the Astronomy Tower. Harry anxiously canceled the disillusionment charm on the thing and examined it frantically. It was as though the little portrait had never existed. Harry stared at the locket in horror, his heart beating wildly. It didn't ever exist, he suddenly realized. Somehow, some way, it had all been a lie! After hours of successfully holding it at bay, the darkness returned full force. A wave of rage rose up inside Harry and the darkness began to fill him. He felt its oiliness pulsing through his veins. It was like a live thing filling his head and limbs with a hungry blackness until he felt completed by it. Without consciously deciding to do so, he bounded back to the stone chamber at a heart stopping clip. The words, It was a lie, It was a lie, It was a filthy buggering lie, pounding out a rhythm with the sharp slapping of his feet. He met an unfortunate Rookwood and Parkinson on the way. They were hit with an impossibly tight chain binding hex and a wickedly stiff Petrificus Totalus consecutively.

When he arrived back in the main chamber it was empty save Voldemort and Snape. The Potions Master was now knelt before Voldemort, getting a good telling off apparently, with a liberal use of the evil wizard's wand. Harry felt a thrill of pleasure at the sight, and made no move to suppress it. He wished the man would whimper so he could revel in the sound, but the Potions Master remained stoic under Voldemort's wand. With an angry sweep of his hand, Harry gathered up Voldemort's necklace from where it had fallen when he transformed. He slipped it over his head as he approached Snape, and yanked the Angelth from his neck. He slammed the empty locket into the Potions Master's hand, and as the man felt its shape, he raised his head and squared his shoulders as though determined to meet his fate bravely. Voldemort breathed a sigh of surprise and relief, when Harry retethered his magic to his. The evil bastard looked more surprised still when Harry approached and held the red gaze. When Harry joined hands with Voldemort it felt almost as though he had been heading for this moment all his life. There have been two paths, Harry realized suddenly. And this has always been one of them. He looked at Snape and the man returned his gaze impassively. Years of hate mingled acidly with his recent burgeoning love and respect for this man, and Harry felt he might vomit with the poisonous bile of it. It was Harry who began the incantation and Voldemort was his follower though in the end these things mattered little.

Harry vaguely remembered Snape falling in a flash of ugly green with a gentle spray of remorse. He recalled his own fall some moments later as Voldemort pushed him aside like a thoroughly used toy and leveled his wand at his heart. He felt a burning as the chain around his neck dissolved and heard the faint echo of the man's laugh. Then Harry was falling, and falling, through magnificent light into impossible darkness, seven levels in all, and black as pitch. Before he touched down he felt himself bounce once as something tugged unyieldingly at his soul. Then he was being towed up and up through the darkness and up through several layers of light. He was pulled up somewhat roughly onto a dais of light by a tall, strong form whose long black hair only partially obscured his stern expression. When Harry gained his legs and gathered the courage to raise his eyes, he was met by the twin disapproving glares of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.

Ooh, evil cliffie, but not to worry, just read the next chapter.

But don't forget to review this one first.