Sorry this one took so long to get up. It was sitting half finished on my computer for over a week, but here it is.

I have also started another collection of short stories of Godric and Salazar, "The Drinking Chronicles." Please read and review it. You'll laugh, I promise.

Truth Hurts

The next night everyone sat down to dinner in their usual fashion. Gryffindors came first for the most part, ready as ever for a meal. Ron stepped through the door of the Great Hall and paused. He looked curiously at the backs of his freckled hands, and then flipped them over to stare at the palms. Harry nudged him into moving on with a meaningful look on his face. "Nothing will happen until dinner starts." He whispered to his best friend. Ron squinted at Harry then shrugged and sat down in his usual place.

Hermione leaned across the table as the pair sat down. "What was all that about?" Both boys looked at her blankly. "The 'Nothing will happen until dinner starts.'"

Harry made a note to watch Hermione's seemingly supersonic hearing. "Ron and I are playing a little prank, nothing big."

Hermione leaned forward a little more. "What kind of prank?" While Ron stared blissfully down the front of her blouse Harry whispered into her ear. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and started to giggle. It was uncontrollable, several people turned their way. Hermione waved her hand at them, "I'm sorry, it's just," she broke into another laughing fit. "Ron, Ron! Stop looking down my shirt!" The group of boys nearest the trio laughed at that, and one winked at Ron, who was currently fighting his hair for attention.

"That was a good cover." Harry commented to the still giggling girl. He turned to his plate a bit miffed that there still was no food.

"I wasn't covering; I can't do that." Hermione bit her lip. "I'm not terribly observant today either. I had just noticed why Ron neglected to join us in conversation." Ron blushed again at her words.

Harry smiled and gazed over the room. Ah, now everyone looks to be present. Shortly... Inside his head Harry gave way to the childish need to rub his hands together and cackle. Dinner appeared on the table without further ado. Harry started to eat. "Oh my God!" He heard from across the room. "Anna your purple!" "And you're yellow!" Anna shouted back. Everyone in the hall was buzzing about the now very colorful population of Hogwarts. Harry grinned and looked up at a light, powder blue Hermione and a bright red Ron. "So, what color am I?"

"Black and glittery silver." Ron answered puzzled.

"It's standard for what I am," Harry answered the unasked question Ron gazed blankly at Harry for a moment. "Tell you later." With that Harry went back to people watching. He noticed that orange was concentrated at the Slytherin table. No surprise there; orange was the color he had assigned to those who had taken the Dark Mark. A few at the Ravenclaw table and surprisingly an orange face or two in the Hufflepuff crowd Harry turned to the teachers table and busted out laughing. His friends frowned at his behavior. All Harry could do was point at Snape.

It was by far the most colorful he had ever seen the morose potions master. Snape sat, back strait, positively livid. The look on his face could have killed a basilisk. His still black hair fell in greasy clots around an orange face that rose out of his usual black robes. In short Pro. Snape was fit to stand as a Halloween decoration. After a startled moment Ron and Hermione began to laugh with him.

Dumbledore rose and the noise vanished. Harry privately thought that that was the most amazing magic he had ever seen. Wonder if I can learn that. The headmaster stood proud and sea foam green before his students. "First of all I would like to commend whoever took the liberty of decorating for this unplanned but festive dinner. Secondly, I am sure that the spell will wear off in a few hours, and finally, let's eat." He sat down.

"Well, that was vaguely disappointing." Hermione stabbed a beef patty onto her plate. "Or just vague." She shrugged and began to eat. "So, Harry," she asked a bit tentatively, "What do the colors mean?"

Harry ran his tongue over his teeth. "I don't think we should talk about this here." The Slytherin side of him kept blathering about all the people that could over here the conversation, and why in the hell he was having it here? "All I'm going to tell you now is to take special note of the orange ones."

His friends looked at him. "Okay," Hermione sighed. This was immensely interesting. She quietly took out a note book and began jotting down names and colors so she wouldn't forget any.

Ron and Harry glanced at each other. "I think she's found an academic interest in our prank," Harry commented.

"If you say so," Ron went back to eating, still looking around with interest. "Hey, Collin is fuchsia."

Harry turned to look at the camera wielding boy. Collin was happily clicking away. "Funny, I don't remember using that color," he muttered. He went back to studying the Slytherin table. When he spotted Draco he had to smile. The blond boy was a bright green, almost like my pet basilisk... crap; Harry put his face in his hands. I have got to take better care of my pets.

Nix wasn't the first basilisk that had gotten out of hand, but she was his favorite. The fact that Voldemort had used his baby pissed him off all the more. He saw red, wait, no that's Ron. Damn I want to kill that bastard.

Harry just stopped thinking. It was too painful. He finished his dinner, enjoying the colorful surroundings. Harry giggled. Some things were always funny, no matter how many times you pulled the joke.

Later that night Harry sat, once again, across from Hermione and Ron. The only difference was that the two sat closer together than they had the last time and they were different colors. Harry thought of how he was going to word what he wanted to say. His plan was risky to say the least, and both Ron and Hermione would be dead set against it if he didn't say this right. "Okay," He began, "You both know that I had an ulterior motive to that little prank, which has nothing to do with the fact that I'll be laughing about this for weeks."

Ron nodded his head. "I'm going to write to Fred and George and tell them; they'll be so jealous."

Harry shook his head. He bent to retrieve a folded sheet of paper from his bag. "Here, Hermione, this is a list of all the colors and what they mean. Ron already knows most of them except..."

"For orange and fuchsia and your color," Ron finished.

Harry scratched his head. "I don't know about fuchsia either that's just weird." His voice turned serious. "But the orange ones are Deatheaters."

His friends stared. "That many, or do you mean possible Deatheaters?" Hermione scanned her own list of observations. "Harry, there's fifteen names in orange."

"Counting Pro. Snape. I'm going to give a list of names to Dumbledore tonight. If Snape hasn't told him I will and if he already knows..."

"Why wouldn't Snape tell him?" Ron scratched his head.

Harry shrugged, "To protect someone."

"What do you plan to do with this information?" Hermione chewed her bottom lip.

"I plan to change their minds." Harry's friends looked skeptical at that.

"How do you plan that?" Ron asked.

"Charm." Now his friends were staring at him like he was crazy.

Hermione heaved a huge sigh. "There is no helping you."

"I know," Harry answered cheekily.

There was a short silence before Ron, bighting his lip burst out, "What about your color. I don't know what that one means either."

Harry sighed, he had known this was coming. He ran his fingers through his messy hair. "Well... um, you remember when Hermione and I had our little argument?" Hermione bowed her head, and mumbled and apology that Harry chose to ignore. "Well, I'm not just a dark wizard; I am The Dark Lord."

"Harry, Voldemort is The Dark Lord." Hermione pointed out with a frown on her face.

"Yes, he is, and that is why I must kill him." Harry continued despite their shocked looks. "There can only be one Dark Lord at a time. It is tradition is that the Dark Lord's heir must kill the Dark Lord to take his place."

"But Harry there has been hundreds of dark lords over the centuries. Sometimes more than one alive in any given decade." Hermione pointed out.

"The term Dark Lord has come to mean, a man that has aspirations to take over the world, but in ancient times The Dark Lord was the High Priest of an old religion that revolved around dark magic." Harry gazed steadily at his friends. Ron looked confused, and Hermione fascinated if skeptical.

"How is the Dark Lord chosen?" The girl asked.

"There is a scroll with the Creed of the Dark Lord on it. All you have to do is read it."

Hermione frowned. "When did you read it?"

"About a thousand years ago." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't be telling you this; I'm such an idiot."

"You're not and idiot Harry."

"Thanks."

Just don't go take over the world. If you do Hermione and I will be very disappointed in you." Ron grinned.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ron, I've spent the last two life times trying to get the world to leave me alone. I'm not going to stop now."

0000000

Early the next day Harry was standing outside the headmaster's office having a very interesting conversation with himself as a third year Ravenclaw would later attest. She had hid around the corner and witnessed the whole episode.

"I really shouldn't be telling him about this," Harry argued with himself. "Dumbledore probably already knows about the Deatheaters. Besides it's not like he's going to help me." He frowned and countered his own estimate of the situation. "But what if he doesn't know? It is the right thing to do anyway you look at it. Rowan did say I need to learn to trust again." He stopped again. "Trust is not something you hand out like candy. It has to be earned. What has the old coot done to earn my trust?" And on the other hand. "Many things, in his own way. He only wants to protect me." Harry's voice turned harsh. "Bloody good job he's done of it too."

In the end Harry squelched the part of him that was Salazar, but he did agree that this was the Headmaster's last chance. If he wouldn't work with Harry he was against Harry. The boy gave the password and rode the revolving stair up to the Headmaster's office.

Inside he found Dumbledore sitting in a plush chair across from Pro. Snape. The potions master looked annoyed at being interrupted. He set his tea cup down hard enough to slosh a good portion of tea onto the saucer. "Have you not learned how to knock, Potter?" He spat.

Harry gritted his teeth and reminded himself of Snape's good points: his work for the order and trying to keep Slyterin House from falling apart. "Well, Potter, can you also not speak."

Hang it all, Harry thought. "Sir," he started in a glacial voice that dropped five degrees with every word. "I appreciate your honest if misguided opinion of me, but rubbing it in every time we meet is getting old. I would prefer it if we both agree that your opinion is well known and doesn't need to be stated every other hour." By the time Harry finished speaking his lips had turned blue with cold and the room had taken on a distinct chill. Cursing, he quickly dispelled the Void Magic that he had accidentally called and the room began to warm up again. Harry knew from Salazar's experience that it would be several hours before he could be considered a warm blooded mammal again.

Snape stared at Harry in astonishment. Instead of answering he reached out and flipped over his tea cup. Then he tapped the bottom of it with is wand. When the cup was lifted a frozen clump of tea was left on the saucer. "Interesting display Potter, I didn't know that you knew Dark Magic."

Harry's eyes widened. Could it be possible that Snape knew Void Magic, not many did. He turned to Dumbledore, who had a frown on his wrinkled face. "I will leave you to your meeting." Harry turned to go.

"Hold on Harry," Dumbledore's voice stopped the boy in his tracks. "I think you should explain to me what you just did."

Harry cursed again. He bit his lip. "I didn't know I was doing it," He hedged wishing more than anything that he could lie. "What was that?" He wondered if either of the two men actually knew.

Dumbledore frowned again. "I don't know." He looked worried. "I want you to tell me if this happens again, Harry."

"Understood, Sir." This was bad. Dumbledore was suspicious. "But the reason I came here, Sir was to give you this." Harry pulled a folded piece of parchment from his robes with the names of the fourteen Deatheaters on it. "I don't know if you already have this information, but I promised Hermione I would give this to you." Dumbledore read the parchment surprise evident on his face. "Excuse me, Headmaster, Pro. Snape." With that Harry fled.

In the corridor Harry stopped to lean against the wall. That was close. Anymore of that and Dumbledore will know all about me. Harry closed his eyes. He opened them again when he heard someone stop in front of him. It was Pro. Snape. Fuck, Harry thought.

"Mr. Potter come with me." The potions master turned and headed down to the dungeons. Harry stalled for a moment wondering what kind of trouble he was in now. He sighed and followed at least three paces behind Snape, just in case he had to brake and run, all the way to the man's office.

Snape shut the door behind them and placed an advanced locking charm on it. "So, Potter," he began. "Dumbledore may believe in your ignorance of Dark Magic, but I know that that type of magic can't be called by 'accident,' as you put it."

"It can if you've had experience calling it." Harry muttered. He looked up at the potions master. "You know what I did."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You're not even going to try denying it?" He leaned on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. "For your information, yes, I have seen Void Magic being used before. I lived in a house where Dark Arts were common place. The question is how do you know it?"

Harry pursed his lips. "Would you believe that I have known it for over 120 years?"

The man snorted. "Not likely Potter. I am not a simpleton." Snape narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to get an answer from you, am I?"

"Not one you're going to believe."

"Don't get cheeky Potter."

"Sorry sir, I'm just used to arguing this way with G... I'll stop now." Harry looked at his hands considering his next words. "Professor, is there any chance that Malfoy does not want to join Voldemort?"

Snape started at the question. "Why would you want to know, Potter? Have you suddenly become friends with Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head and the professor relaxed. "I was just curious." Snape sat behind his desk and pulled a stack of papers toward him. Taking his queue Harry left.

000000

Draco Malfoy winced again as he landed face down on the mat. He was currently in the middle of his first "lesson." A lesson that, as far a he could see consisted of Potter beating the crap out of him. He lay on the blue mat for a moment contemplating blasting the other boy, but Potter had confiscated his wand when they had entered the room of requirement. Draco was beginning to think this whole thing was a bad idea.

"Aren't you going to get up?" Potter's voice grated on Draco's nerves.

"Aren't you going to teach me anything, or are you just playing with me?"

"A little of both. Come here; I'll show you how to hold your knife properly." Harry walked over to where Draco lying. Draco scrambled to his feet. Harry adjusted Draco's grip and stepped back. "Now come at me."

Draco looked at the brunette dubiously. Harry only nodded. Draco charged him. Harry dodged the knife and grabbed Draco's wrist. "What did you do that for?" The blond yelled.

"In knife fighting it is customary to grab your opponent's knife hand if you can't dodge it. Trying to catch the blade with your own blade is rather... stupid." Draco frowned at him. "Would you want to try to block someone with six inches of steel?" The blond shook his head.

Harry showed Draco the catch again. Then made him repeat it twenty times before he was satisfied.

"Try to attack me again this time block my knife with you're free hand." Draco did so. This time Harry tripped him.

Draco sat on the mat glaring up at Harry. "I thought Gryffindors were honorable fighters and all that."

"Knife fighting isn't an honorable form of battle; it is a survival technique." Harry levered Draco up. "I think we should quit for today it's almost curfew."

Draco nodded. He wouldn't admit it, but he was kind of enjoying his lesson. Except for one thing. "Damn it Potter, I'm all sweaty."

Harry shrugged, "Gives credibility to our story." Draco, who had started to leave, tripped over the edge of the mat. He landed on stone scraping his palms. "Same time tomorrow, and don't forget our little side meeting after potions. We do have to look like were in love." Harry grimaced. He wouldn't be caught dead with Draco, even if he was cute. "We will start off with a little duel next time to see how well you learned to day. Then I'll slow down to your level of learning."

Draco glared at that. "Are you saying I'm stupid Potter?"

Harry sighed. "I'm saying you're out of shape. Maybe we should start with weight training and running too. He looked thoughtful.

Draco, on the other hand looked horrified. "Aristocrats don't run or weight train, whatever that is?"

"You'll see tomorrow."

"The hell I will."

"You will or our deal is off."

"What are you getting out of this anyway? It will be some time before I can fill my part of the bargain." Draco crossed his arms.

Harry shrugged his shoulders trying to look nonchalant. "It has its perks." He broke out in a grin. "I'm having fun, so if you keep up your training I'll help you."

Draco snorted. "How is this going to help me again?"

"Confidence and the ability to protect yourself. It goes a long way."

Draco snorted. "Tomorrow then." With that he left.

Harry stood for a time gazing at the floor. "I am doing this to redeem my house. No matter how difficult you are Draco, you're going to help me."