Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Beta'd by Irihi Safaia

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Friend or Foe

Chapter 17: Internal Conflicts

"The Aurors have arrived, master."

Voldemort ignored the nervous voice of Wormtail as he gazed at the ruin that had once been a lively village. Everything was running smoothly according to his plan. The Aurors had just arrived to find nothing but hundreds of muggle corpses together with a Dark Mark hanging over the village, just as he had wanted. All of his Death Eaters should have disapparated by now; and those who were foolish enough to ignore his command and remain in the village deserved nothing but punishment, be it by the Ministry or Voldemort himself.

"Master, we should-"

Voldemort turned his gaze sharply towards Wormtail, who wisely closed his mouth. Yes, they should leave now, before the Aurors arrived. Though Voldemort had no doubt the Aurors were no match for him, now was not the time to confront them directly. Yet-

A part of him urged him forward, into the village. The urge had been growing stronger ever since a surge of alarm and panic had assaulted him from Potter's side of the mental link a few minutes ago. The emotions had died down as quickly as they had come, until nothing was left but emptiness.

And that had alarmed the Dark Lord more than he would like to acknowledge.

Potter was still alive, he knew, he was merely unconscious. But it also meant that it was only a matter of time before the boy was captured.

And that was what Potter deserved for his own foolishness, wasn't it? Besides, the old fool's force would be crushed once they saw the Dark Mark on the boy's arm. That would surely give him a huge advantage over the war. There was no reason for him to do anything to save the boy from his fate, none at all.

"Wormtail, take Nagini and disapparate."

Wormtail looked relieve at the command. "Y-Yes, master."

And for once, almost against his will, Voldemort chose to disregard his rational reasoning. He waited until Wormtail had disapparated, before striding into the village.

It was not difficult to track Potter's location. After Potter had contacted him mentally several months ago, the boy had never really closed the link. He had put up a loose barrier to prevent Voldemort from invading his mind, yet he had left the link open enough for Voldemort to find out his location.

It was not as easy as Voldemort would have wanted though, not when even he himself didn't know why he was doing this. He felt the anger burn in him again as he continued to walk along the deserted street.

Why was he saving Potter? Letting the boy live when he could have easily killed him was one thing, but actively trying to rescue him?

No, he had every reason to just let Potter be captured, yet he found that he kept walking forwards.

That was absurd.

Yet it felt so right.

He clenched his fists at the conflicting feelings. Why? Why did it matter if anything would happen to the boy?

'You fear for them more than yourself? Such a fear is your weakness.'

He remembered himself saying those words to Arthur Weasley merely a week ago. If anything, this had just further confirmed his belief. He hated feeling so unsure. And he hated being vulnerable more than anything. He was, and always would be, the one who was in control. Control over the situation, over his followers and his enemies. He knew exactly what to expect and how to counter whatever was thrown towards him.

He hated not being the one in control. And only one person had ever made him feel that way. Not Dumbledore, but a mere boy. The only one- both now... and then.

And wasn't that another reason why he should just let Potter die? Yet he still had not stopped, going against every sense of himself to save the boy, when it was the boy's own stupidity that had landed him into this situation.

'You wouldn't need to be saved in the first place if it wasn't for me,' a young voice from distant memories echoed in his mind.

His own voice.

No. That was not him. He had left behind that name and everything that was tied to it a long time ago.

And if that was no longer him, then why did he care?

He was saved from going down that dangerous trend of thoughts when he caught sight of a moving figure some distance before him. He narrowed his eyes. A surviving muggle? Something caught Voldemort's attention. In one hand of that muggle was a white mask, the mask of a Death Eater. The man was muttering under his breath, leaning over something on the ground… Potter.

Voldemort felt a sudden wave of fury rushing over him. He took a few steps forwards, pulling out his wand in a swift motion. The muggle looked up as he neared. He turned around and took in a sharp breath at the sight of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed. "Avada Kedavra," he spoke the curse in a dangerous cold voice. A familiar surge of power flowed through him as a jet of green light hit the man in chest. The muggle was dead before he hit the ground.

Voldemort eyed the dead muggle coldly. The man deserved a much more painful death. He would have enjoyed hearing the man scream, but the sound would have alerted the Aurors of Potter's location.

He walked forward until he was standing right above Potter. A foreign emotion stirred in him as he took in Potter's poor state.

'It would do you no good to be so close to me.'

Voldemort pushed away the memory that no longer belonged to him and started examining Potter. A quick glance at the handgun resting next to the dead muggle told him what had caused Potter's most serious injury. It was too close to Potter's heart for Voldemort's liking.

He analyzed his situation swiftly. There was an anti-apparition ward around the village, put up by the Aurors in an attempt to trap his Death Eaters. The Aurors were closing in, there was only one way to get both him and Potter out of this place without any confrontation…

Voldemort gritted his teeth. The thought of going to that old man's place with Potter was the last thing he wanted to do. But Potter needed medication urgently and, as much as he refused to acknowledge it, Voldemort did not want the boy to die.

He grabbed the familiar portkey from his pocket, then, ignoring the disgust and protest from the back of his mind, bent down and held Potter's broken form in his arms. His eyes glazed for an instant as the familiarity of the situation registered.

Realizing where his thoughts lingered, Voldemort tightened his grip on the stone in anger and no little frustration. But any other confusing thoughts were cast away quickly when he felt what could only be Potter's blood flowing through his hands down to the ground.

"Vado," he whispered, carrying Potter away from the living hell that he had created.

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From the shadow of a near alley, a masked figure watched the scene unfold with shock and curiosity. The pair of dark eyes widened slightly when the Dark Lord held the injured Death Eater in his arms, before leaving with a portkey.

He had been surprised to see the Dark Lord striding into the village and had wondered if the Dark Lord had his own agenda that he had not shared with the Death Eaters. What he found was… interesting. Was the injured Death Eater the reason why the Dark Lord had come into the village? It seemed ridiculous; it was an understatement that the Dark Lord did not tolerant incompetence lightly. But the fact was that the Dark Lord had saved that Death Eater, the one he had yet to discover the identity of.

Noting this piece of new information, Severus Snape turned and disappeared down the dark alley, his robe billowing behind him.

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Percy looked up sharply as he heard the distinct sound of someone arriving by portkey. Even though he could not see who it was from the bedroom, he knew it could only be Harry. He stood up. The boy owed him an explanation, and that explanation had better be convincing enough… somehow, Percy doubted it.

Flamel, who had been staying beside him, went to the bedroom door and gestured Percy to follow him. The old alchemist opened the door, then stopped short.

"Merlin…" he muttered.

Percy edged closer to the doorway, trying to see whatever had caused Flamel's reaction, but Flamel turned and placed his hand on Percy's shoulder to stop him.

Flamel looked at him in his eyes and said urgently, "Stay here, Percy, and don't come out under any circumstances. I promise I will explain everything to you later. Just stay here, no matter what you see and hear. Can you do that?"

Percy frowned. Flamel's tone told him something was very wrong. He started to protest, but Flamel had already gone out of the room without waiting for an answer.

Not wanting to be left in the dark anymore than he already was, Percy pushed open the door slightly and peered through it. What he saw made him freeze and he had to use all his self-control not to gasp out loud.

Standing in the middle of the living room was what could only be You-Know-Who. His appearance sent a chill down Percy's spine. He caught his breath when he saw who he was carrying in his arms.

Percy could not see Harry properly from behind the door, but Harry seemed to be seriously injured. Percy shivered as he saw the blood flowing from where the Dark Lord was holding Harry.

Voldemort placed Harry on the nearby couch, then stepped back wordlessly to let Flamel examine the boy. The old alchemist seemed to be more worried for Harry than the fact that the Dark Lord himself had just entered his house.

As confused as he was at the moment, Percy knew Harry's state could not be good. He continued to stare, dumbfounded. His mind couldn't even begin to think of how… wrong the scene before him was. He didn't know what think, nor did he know what to make of the absurdity of what he was witnessing.

"What happened?" Flamel demanded, turning from Harry to the Dark Lord, not at all caring who he was snapping to.

"He was shot, by a muggle handgun," said Voldemort in a snake-like voice after a moment of silence, stressing the word 'muggle' in obvious distaste.

Percy did not know what a handgun was, but Flamel obviously did. The alchemist paled visibly and quickly bent down over Harry. He pulled out his wand and pointed it over Harry's chest, muttering some kind of spell.

Voldemort looked on for a moment before turning away. He was reaching into his robe pocket when Flamel stopped him.

"I need some help, Tom," he called out, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the Dark Lord, before focusing back at Harry.

Tom. Flamel had mentioned that name before. It was hard to imagine that Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, actually had a birth name. And such a… normal one at that.

The Dark Lord turned back slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"The bullet has ripped through his lung, I can't heal him myself," continued Flamel urgently.

Voldemort paused for a while, and then replied coldly, "Then that is your problem."

Flamel gritted his teeth and turned back, facing the Dark Lord fully. "You care for him enough to bring him here. Are you going to just let him die like this now? Please, Tom, I am not as good a healer as you are."

Percy blinked. Voldemort? Healer?

Voldemort's crimson eyes flashed. "I do not care what happens to him, old man," he hissed. He stopped his gaze at Harry. It was some time before he spoke again, "But he will be more useful to me alive than dead. I am not going to let him die, not yet."

With that said, the dark lord took a step forward and placed his palm on Harry's chest. Slowly, he closed his eyes and started muttering under his breath. The power radiated from the Dark Lord was so strong that Percy could feel it from a distance. He took in a sharp breath; he had never felt such a strong magical power before.

Flamel's eyes were twinkling much like Dumbledore's. "Whatever you say," he said lightly, not bothering to hide the smile on his face now that the Dark Lord was not looking his way. "I will go and get some potions."

Flamel left at Voldemort's faint nod, leaving Harry in the Dark Lord's hands.

Percy stared at the Dark Lord as he continued to heal Harry. This was the monster that had captured his father. Voldemort was alone, without any Death Eaters nearby and was currently focusing on Harry. This was as good an opportunity as anyone would get, but Percy remained where he was. If it were his other siblings, they probably would have rushed head on towards the Dark Lord, but Percy knew a lost battle when he saw one. He could sense the Dark Lord's power and he knew no one, save maybe Dumbledore, could have any hope of defeating him. Despite having been a Gryffindor, he wasn't about to head foolishly to his death.

Another reason that held him back was the fact that he could not make any sense of anything that he had just witnessed so far this night. Voldemort had apparently just saved Harry Potter's life and was currently healing him. Of course, if Harry had been working for Voldemort, he supposed it made sense. Hadn't Voldemort said Harry would be more useful to him alive than dead? But why did Percy have a feeling that there was more to it? And why was Nicolas Flamel involved? Why did he act as if he was… familiar with Voldemort? And most importantly, why did Harry Potter join the Dark Lord and betray them all?

Meanwhile Flamel had got back, carrying several vials with him. He poured the potions into Harry's mouth, careful not to interrupt the still working Dark Lord. Percy noticed that Harry had finally gained back some colour and his wounds had stopped bleeding.

Voldemort reopened his eyes after a few minutes and the power swelling in the room subsided.

"Good job, Tom, as always," Flamel commented quietly.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Don't push it, Flamel," he said. "I would have killed him myself if he had shown any disloyalty."

Disloyalty. Percy felt a lump in his throat at that. So Harry had indeed become Voldemort's loyal servant?

"How could you say that?" Flamel replied quietly. "Harry did all this for you, Tom, and you knew it."

Voldemort turned his full attention to the alchemist. "Then he should suffer for his own foolishness."

"Foolishness?" Flamel echoed. He took a step closer to Voldemort, anger was clear in his voice. "You call his faith in you foolishness?"

Flamel's words seemed to have stunned the Dark Lord. "Faith," he said after a moment's silent, spitting the word in contempt. "It is just a childish dream. This blind faith clouded his judgment and played him straight into my hand. How could this not be foolishness?"

"Is this what you want, Tom?" said Flamel softly. "To push away everyone who cares for you; everyone who believe there's still something in you that's worth caring for?" He glanced at Harry briefly, then turned back to Voldemort, his voice was cold when he spoke again, "I am glad, Tom, even hopeful, about what you have done here tonight, but I can recognize the sign of a prolonged Cruciatus Curse when I see one. I have stayed out of my way in this war, but if I see you hurting him like this again, I swear I will do everything I can to stop you, even if it meant my death. Harry has suffered enough without you torturing him."

Voldemort returned Flamel's gaze coldly, before reaching into his robe and disappeared after a short incantation.

Percy let out a deep breath when he was certain that the Dark Lord had left. He pushed open the door and walked out cautiously. Flamel remained silent as he approached Harry. The alchemist seemed to still be in deep thought about what had just happened.

In any normal situation, Percy would have been amazed to see that someone would dare to threaten the Dark Lord, and actually walk away from it. But now, he supposed this was nothing compared to all that he had witnessed in the last few hours.

He stopped next to the couch and gazed down at Harry. He had known it was bad, but he still couldn't help letting out a small gasp when he finally saw closely what state Harry was in. The boy's robe was stained in blood. There was a tiny dark hole close to his heart and a clear red mark on his neck. Harry was trembling; it was as if he had lost control over the muscles of his body, the sign of Cruciatus Curse.

"He will be all right," said Flamel softly from beside him. "But I am afraid he will suffer some serious after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse for the next few days."

Percy turned towards the alchemist. He had so many questions in his mind and he wanted all of them to be answered at once. In the end, a simple question was all that he could muster.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" he asked weakly.

"All in good time, my child," said Flamel, giving him a small smile.

The alchemist looked very tired, but Percy was not about to leave without a proper explanation.

"Could you give me a hand in cleaning up Harry's wound, Percy? I will start explaining as we work," Flamel continued, starting to remove Harry's blood-soaked robe. "Tom has healed the most crucial injuries, but Harry's wounds still need bandaging and there are still some minor bruises on his back."

Eager to finally get some answers, Percy moved forward and took a close look at Harry's injuries. Indeed, Harry's wounds were all healed perfectly.

"Only an expert healer could heal a wound like this," Percy commented. He couldn't see how You-Know-Who, the darkest wizard in recent history, had such a skill.

Flamel sighed. "Let's just say Tom mastered it out of necessity."

Percy was trying to understand what Flamel meant when he saw something that turned his blood cold. Now that Harry's upper-body was exposed, Percy could see the Dark Mark burned in Harry's left arm clearly. The reality that Harry was now working for the enemy hit him again in full force, causing him to stop and take a few steps back.

"Why should I help him?" he said quietly. "The Death Eaters captured my father and he is one of them."

Nicolas looked up. "Child…"

"And how can I know I can trust you? You seem to know You-Know-Who quite well," Percy continued, the fact that he was accusing a world famous alchemist only registered in his mind after the words had left his mouth.

"Yes, I knew Tom rather well. But if I am working for him, I would not have talked to him that way, now would I?" said Flamel, raising his eyebrows slightly. "As for Harry," he went on, "it is a long story that, I'm afraid, started by my own hand. I can not ask anything of you, child, only that you give Harry the benefit of the doubt for the moment. I promise I will explain everything to you as best as I can."

Percy stared at Flamel, surprised at how sincere the alchemist sounded, even after he had rudely accused him of being a Death Eater.

"No…"

Percy turned back to Harry at the weak voice. Flamel immediately focused back on Harry. He reached out and placed the back of his hand against Harry's forehead.

Flamel frowned. "He has a fever."

Percy looked on as Harry continued to mutter in his sleep.

"Please, Dad, don't… I was only trying to… I'm sorry… "

Percy closed his eyes. He could easily guess what Harry was dreaming about. Slowly, he set back to work beside Flamel. He shook his head. And he had once said that his other siblings were too trusting.

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As he had anticipated, the Dark Lord was not at the meeting place yet. Severus strode towards the group of gathering Death Eaters, who were talking among themselves while waiting for the Dark Lord to return. No doubt most of them were expecting praise or rewards, seeing how successful the raid had been. Severus could already see the chaos this would cause when the news broke out tomorrow. And to think school would begin again tomorrow…

Yes, tomorrow was definitely going to be a great day, he thought sarcastically.

He approached Lucius, whose black hood had done little to hide his long blonde hair. Draco, who was standing beside his father as usual, looked up sharply when he neared. The boy seemed disappointed to see that it was him. And was that… worry that had flashed across Draco's grey eyes? Was the boy expecting someone else?

He listened in silence as Lucius started to talk about the raid. From the corner of his eyes he saw Draco tensed when Lucius described how the muggles screamed and pleaded before they died in obvious glee.

Severus was still having trouble accepting the fact that Draco had offered to spy for Albus. While he was glad that Draco had chosen not to follow his father's footstep, Severus had been alarmed to find that the boy had somehow chosen to follow his footstep instead.

No one but Severus and Albus knew about Draco's new position, since both of them could not be sure what to make of Draco's sudden change of heart and wanted to observe the boy for a while before introducing him to the Order. Apparently, someone had taught Draco how to guard his mind. It was also very possible that this was the same person who had convinced Draco to change sides and had told him that Severus was Dumbledore's spy. Severus had his own suspicion about the identity of this person, yet the question of why still remained. He glanced at his godson's stiff posture. Maybe it was time to push the boy for more answers.

All of a sudden, all whisperings ceased, indicating that the Dark Lord had finally arrived. The atmosphere in the graveyard was tense, it was clear to anyone that the Dark Lord was in a rage. Severus strengthened his mental shield, then went forward and kneeled before the Dark Lord. This was going to be a long night.

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Harry opened his eyes, blinking at the brightness of his surroundings.

"Harry?" a familiar voice asked.

"Nicolas?"

His vision began to clear and he could see Nicolas's concerned face staring down at him. He closed his eyes. The images of his parents' disappointed face still lingered and he was shivering all over. Forcing down the urge to throw up, he tried to sit up. Instantly pain shot through him and caused him to hiss in pain. What happened? Why did he feel he had been broken into pieces and put back together?

As if answering his questions, memories began to rush back. And that hurt almost as much as his injuries.

It was then Harry realized exactly how much he had trusted Tom; how much he had truly believed that Tom could be redeemed. That was why being reminded of how cruel Voldemort was had hurt so much. It made Harry doubt if this was really the right choice more than ever. Perhaps it was why he had dreamed of how disappointed his parents were of his actions. What if he had done nothing but further Voldemort's power? Ever since he had known of the raid, he couldn't help but have an inkling feeling that the Dark Lord would not have decided to make his first move so quickly had Harry not joined him. What if he was the cause of all the death that night?

"Easy, child…"

He vaguely heard Nicolas' voice, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Rage, fear, panic, and finally the longing of drifting back to the peaceful sea of unconsciousness.

With some effort, he focused back to the worried alchemist. "How… how did I get here?" he asked weakly.

Instead of answering, Nicolas brought a vial of potion up to Harry's mouth, lifting his head carefully and poured the cold liquid down his throat. The effect was immediate. Harry felt the pain fading away a little and his thoughts became clearer.

Nicolas helped him sit up. After getting a little more comfortable, but still terribly weak, Harry asked, "What happened? How did I get here?"

Nicolas pulled a chair closer and sat next to him. Looking at Harry in his eyes, he answered quietly, "Tom brought you here."

It took a while before what Nicolas had said registered in Harry's mind. "Tom... saved me?" he said numbly.

Nicolas nodded. "He brought you here and healed your most fatal wounds himself. He saved your life."

Why? Harry barely kept himself from asking out loud. Why had Tom saved him? Hadn't he shown Harry how he felt towards him with that Cruciatus Curse? Harry could still remember the pain of the curse clearly. The pain was beyond any pain that he could imagine, even greater than the time Voldemort had cast that on him after the Tournament, and Harry had thought he would surely die from it. He remembered pleading with Voldemort to stop, in hopes of ending all the pain. But the Dark Lord had merely looked on coldly, intensifying the power of the curse as he poured more of his hatred through his wand. Harry had felt clearly Voldemort's hatred towards him through the bond, and that somehow had made the pain even more unbearable.

Then why? Why had Tom saved him? What did that mean?

Just when Harry started to doubt his decision, Tom did something that… spackled his hope. True, he could easily think of several reasons for why Voldemort had saved him, but a part of him still wanted to believe that Tom's act had meant something, that it was a sign that Voldemort might still have a heart.

He was jerked out of his thought when someone put a hand on his shoulder. Nicolas looked at him with concern and understanding.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" he asked gently.

Harry shivered at the memories. He shook his head. "I'd rather not," he said.

Nicolas nodded, patting his shoulder lightly in comfort. "Just remember I will be here if you need any help."

Harry managed a smile despite his pain. "Thank you, Nicolas."

"Now, how are you feeling?" asked Nicolas.

"I'm fine… Just a little tired, that's all," he added at Nicolas' stare.

Nicolas raised his eyebrows, before turning serious again. "Harry… do you still want to go on?" he asked quietly.

Harry closed his eyes. Did he still want to go on? Or go back to being Dumbledore's weapon and fighting against Voldemort?

That was not even a choice.

He stared into Nicolas' eyes. "I can never fight him, you know that," he answered softly.

Harry could see conflict in Nicolas' eyes, as if he was struggling with himself. Finally Nicolas sighed. "In that case," he said slowly. "You need to head back to the headquarters now."

Harry paled. "What time is it?"

"Nearly five in the morning," a deep voice replied.

Harry jumped. He turned towards the voice and watched in shock as Percy Weasley approached him. He had completely forgotten about Percy.

Percy gave him a cold look, before looking away. "We have to go now," he said simply.

Harry stared questioningly at Percy.

It was Nicolas who answered. "I told Percy of your adventure this summer."

Harry blinked, then turned back to Percy slowly.

Percy clenched his fists, but otherwise remained unmoved. "Are you ready to go?" he repeated.

Harry nodded tightly. He only took his eyes from Percy when Nicolas handed him two vials of potions.

"The blue one will help you recover your strength, drink it for the next three nights. Your wounds are mostly healed, but it will take some time for you to recover." said the alchemist. "The yellow one is for the after-effect of Cruciatus Curse." He returned Harry's startled look pointedly. "Your muscles will be sore and slow to react for at least the next few days. Take it every night for the next week and rest as much as you can. Understand?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, sir."

Nicolas gave him an amused gaze, and then helped him to his feet.

Percy walked over and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder after some hesitation. He nodded curtly at Nicolas, then said to Harry, "You still have your portkey with you, don't you?"

Harry nodded. He thanked Nicolas again before activating the portkey and traveled back to the Order's headquarter with Percy.

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Harry felt the world spinning around him as he arrived in the drawing room. He struggled to stay on his feet and was surprised when Percy reached out to steady him.

Harry looked up at Percy, unsure of what to say. Percy's gaze was cold, but he still had not said a word about what had happened in this same room earlier that night.

"You better go back to your room now. Mum is going to wake up soon," said Percy.

Though Harry wanted to rest and forget everything that had happened that night more than anything, Percy's quietness unsettled him. Percy had every reason to question him, or even hex him.

"Percy…" he started.

Percy's eyes narrowed, staring straight at Harry. "I am not a Death Eater. I am not about to interrogate you when you can barely stand on your own," he said with a hint of impatience. "We will talk tomorrow before you leave."

He glanced at Harry's covered left arm for one last time, before turning around and leaving Harry alone in the room.

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A/N: I'm back! Thanks for all your support concerning both my exams and this story.

No matter what I did, this chapter still seems rather strange. But I've struggled with it long enough and I've promised to update in May, so I think I would just upload it anyway…

Originally I planned to cover more in this chapter, at least including Harry's first day back to Hogwarts. But the part of rescuing Harry turned out to be much longer than I expected, so I decided to give this an entire chapter and leave the Hogwarts part next time. (That's why the chapter finally does not end in a cliffhanger this time…)

Please Review!