A/N: This chapter is mostly a huge flash forward. Sorry.

Evan was at Malfoy Manor when he felt the burn. It woke him from his sleep, and as he slowly blinked his eyes open, he saw that Lucius was already robed and slipping his mask into place.

"Did I wake you?" The blond asked, a flash of concern dancing over his eyes just before they were covered along with the rest of his face.

"No, I felt it too," Evan answered, barely concealing his delight. His mark had been dormant since before his death.

"Do you still have the proper attire?" Lucius asked, tucking his hair into his hood with practiced care.

"Of course!" Evan sneered, retrieving his wand from under the pillow, "Accio robes," he said aloud as if to taunt Lucius with the fact that he was summoning them rather than conjuring them.

His robes were kept beautifully, probably the originals that he'd had tailored prior to the first war. Lucius merely rolled his eyes.

"Not all of us can still fit into the same clothes we were wearing seventh year, Evan." He reminded, looking pointedly at his lover's chin, which was still completely bare of any facial hair due to the immortality of his nineteen year old body.

Evan didn't respond, and Lucius stared openly at him as he dressed with exquisite care.

"You don't seem to be in such a hurry," he snarled, "Perhaps you're not feeling the same excruciating burn that I am!"

"Oh, I'm savoring it!" Evan assured, bringing his forearm to his lips and kissing the violently thrashing snake softly with true affection. "Also, it's Harry calling, not the Dark Lord." He remarked sadly, "I'm hoping that maybe if we hold off long enough our Lord will-"

Evan was cut off as the Mark began to sear and throb painfully, biting so harshly into the skin that Lucius had started screaming and dropped to the floor.

The brunet laughed joyously, and reached down to the man, grabbing firmly onto his hand and effortlessly apparating them both to where the Mark was pulling from. They soared through the sky in a magnificent black smoke, landing eloquently on their knees in front of Harry, who was seated at the head of an enormous table. His eyes were open and hard, completely unconcerned with the ten to fifteen other death eaters who had their wands trained on him, eager to avenge their fallen Lord.

If anything, Harry seemed to be somewhat pleased by their fury.

"Be seated," The boy ordered, and Evan nearly roared with laughter, held back by his years of etiquette training and nothing else. Oh, how he wished that even one of the death eaters threatening Harry weren't wearing their masks. He just knew that their facial expressions were priceless. That the Savior would dare command The Dark Lord's most loyal was a concept that delighted Rosier to no end.

Just to increase the tension a little bit more, he pulled out a chair to Harry's right side, and sat. All heads turned to face him now, and he heard a snarling voice – Theodore Nott's – sneering out to the others. "There are traitors among us!" His head swiveled around for a moment, "Our Lord's inner circle at all times consists of seven favored. Here there are nine masked, while only five of our Lord's circle even survived the final battle! Honestly boy if you thought to deceive us by infiltrating our ranks with your Order you might have considered that we can count!"

Harry ignored Nott's words momentarily, his face completely unfazed by them. Instead he turned to the masked figures that Evan knew to be Lucius and Narcissa.

"Will not even you sit when you're told?"

Wordlessly Lucius sat down next to Evan, and Narcissa beside her husband. This earned a horrified gasp from the death eater that was closest to Harry.

"There is a bit of a numerology issue at hand, at least in Voldemort's opinion," Harry allowed with a sigh, "Which is why Vincent and Gregory are being demoted. I can't say it's a great loss, even if they're twice as intelligent as their children."

Hollers of outrage swarmed the room, but Harry didn't silence them, letting them shout for as long as they would have it. He wasn't an entirely patient person, but Evan knew that truly winning over their loyalty was one thing – while doing it in a way that Harry could maintain in years to come was another. Harry himself was not cruel. He took no pleasure in torture or the pain of others, and did not enjoy feeling as if he was scary or intimidating. Thus, if he wished to control these people for a long amount of time, he would have to establish that control in a way that didn't waver with his own weaknesses. Evan was eager to see how he did it.

What did shut them up, did it quickly. It was the arrival of an eleventh life form, specifically, a snake. One that they were all quite familiar with. She slithered across the table, and approached Harry, flicking her tongue out at the air directly in front of his nose. He spoke softly to her, and she moved forward, winding her body protectively around him and unhinging her jaw, hissing threateningly at the death eaters who still bore their wands.

With no further hesitation, they all sat. While it was somewhat common knowledge that Potter was a parseltongue, Nagini would not be so easily swayed by something as simple as a human who could speak with her.

When she finished with her hissing she snapped her mouth shut and laid her head down on top of Harry's shoulder, peering daringly at them all.

The boy smiled at them. "No need to look so frightened, I assure you. She is only playing at killing you for now, I wouldn't take her threats seriously just yet."

"Explain yourself, boy! We haven't got all day!" The malicious voice of Vincent Crabbe boomed.

"You have if I say you do!" Harry bit back in a voice entirely not his own, his eyes flashing red and a great swell of powerful magic filling the room suddenly. Evan gripped on to Lucius' thigh in an attempt not to let on that he had any opinion of what had just occurred.

Harry's eyes faded quickly back to their usual green, though the magic did not as easily dissipate.

"My apologies," Harry whispered, clearing his throat. "I would say that I had lost control over my temper," He snickered softly, "But that would be not quite the truth. You see – I have no temper. Nor do I have any control to be lost." He commented, illusively.

Evan rolled his eyes under his mask.

"Now, since Theodore has so quaintly mentioned that you have the ability to count, I will see just how skilled your perceptions are. After all, you are able to recognize one another despite the masks are you not?" Harry asked, rhetorically, "So I would expect you to be able to tell me who the extra people are that have so kindly graced us with their presence."

Evan said nothing, though he knew exactly who each of them was. Instead, he watched as another of his companions stood.

"Gregory?" Harry asked, smiling encouragingly, "Go on, then."

The man looked around, and took off his own mask – revealing his harsh face.

"Well, that'd be Crabbe just there, wouldn't it?" He asked, pointing at a sturdily built man sitting across from him. "And I'd reckon that's Malfoy," He said, pointing to Evan, "Since he reeks of the bloke's perfume." Narcissa tensed up two seats down and Harry looked down trying to hide a smirk.

"I don't wear perfume, Goyle." Lucius said wryly. The burly man looked in his direction with great confusion, realizing that he was wrong about which of his companions was the Malfoy patriarch.

Evan suppressed yet another laugh. In truth, Goyle wasn't entirely crazy. He had washed his hair with Luc's shampoo the night before.

"Would someone else like to try?" Harry asked, his face recomposed. Nott stood up, and removed his own mask, eyes scanning over everyone in turn.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy," He pointed to each person in turn, then screwed up his eyes slightly, looking at two figures sitting beside each other. "The Lestrange brothers," He said, squinting his eyes, "Can't tell which is which but I'd put my money on that one being Rab if I had to," He said, pointing confidently to Rodolphus. Harry showed no sign that Nott was wrong, though Evan knew that he knew.

"Two women." Theodore continued, "Narcissa," He identified correctly, "And…" He trailed off, looking at the person seated directly across from Evan, who was now grinning widely beneath his mask. "But that's impossible… You died! We all saw it! You-"

"I think that's enough of that," Harry said calmly, "Today we are joined by Bellatrix Lestrange and Evan Rosier. Any questions regarding how it is that they aren't dead can be addressed to them in private during your free time." He looked at them with a firm expression, daring them to question him.

Evan still had no idea how it was that Harry was pulling off commanding the Death Eaters even when not even a full three weeks ago he'd openly 'defeated' the Dark Lord, but perhaps it was better to just leave it unquestioned.

"I was hoping," The Savior said, "That you would be willing to accompany me to a certain graveyard one more time." He looked towards Evan with true concern on his face, "I'm sure my blood won't work now that my mind's all sorted."

Lucius removed his mask aristocratically, "Surely not," He said in a completely righteous tone. Evan wanted to laugh. Lucius was using his fancy pureblood voice in a room full of their childhood friends. What a waste.

Harry nodded, "Well I've still got that vile of Dumbledore's. But I'm not sure that stealing it from his office really counts as 'forcibly taken' you know?"

Evan nodded, "There are other ways if it is needed. Who has he chosen for the servant?" He asked excitedly. He hoped it was him. It wouldn't even make sense for it to be anyone else – he was the absolute most loyal person in the room; and probably the only one up-to-date with the current events of the Dark Lord's rule.

Harry looked at him coldly in that way that he only did when he was truly angered, "I will, of course." He said in a stiff tone, his green eyes shining brightly as if threatening to jump out and kill him with just their color.

Lucius was shaking with silent laughter beside him, and Evan himself was confused. "The Dark Lord chose you?" He asked in disbelief, ignoring the murmuring of the others in the room.

"No, I chose myself." Harry announced, his gaze hardening further, "You are not his most faithful, Evan – I am."

Evan flicked his wand aggressively at the others in the room, so that only he and Harry could hear each other, not wanting to damage the child's reputation but unwilling to be silent. "Being the Dark Lord's personal whore doesn't mean you're his favorite, Harry – I've been both of those things, I'd know."

"I'm neither of those things," Harry said, his hand stroking in a practiced rhythm against the wood table-top. "And I don't like your implication that I'd like to be either, Rosier." He hissed out angrily.

"You think I don't know what you and that horcrux did, Harry? Letting a restless horny soul shard milk its seed into your brain doesn't make you Voldemort's right hand man!"

"You would dare speak his name!" Harry shouted, standing up, his chair falling behind him, "If he was here he would kill you for that! What makes you think you're so fucking entitled? Just because you're the only Death Eater he's ever bedded doesn't mean the whole damn organization is suddenly revolving around your sex life in the glory days!"

Evan smirked, "Jealous?"

Harry fumed silently, and Evan watched with fascination as the boy's eyes darkened, turning a deep burgundy around the edges as if about to turn red – but not quite going all the way. He wondered what that meant, smiling curiously as he examined Harry's confusing stare.

"After all, Potter," Evan mused, "You've never even had the real thing. No matter what relationship you've deluded yourself into thinking you have with Tom," He hissed out the man's name as if it put a bad taste in his mouth, "The horcrux in your head isn't the Dark Lord."

Harry's eyes reddened even farther and he squeezed his hand tightly, his arms trembling. Slowly he put his head in his hands, and when his gaze met Evan's again, Rosier was looking only at green.

The other Death Eaters were looking at them with fright, although they couldn't hear the conversation. With a flick of his fingers Harry removed all of the privacy wards, another casual movement of his wrist and Evan was forced harshly away from the table, his seat now facing the corner like a punished child. He threw his head back laughing, only finding more amusement when he realized that Harry had sealed his throat so it made no sound.

"Now, as I was saying-"

Evan was shaken awake by a terrified Harry, and for a moment he had to do a double take, hardly recognizing the boy in front of him after feeling like he'd just spoken to an older version of him.

"Evan please, you've gotta come help me!" Harry pleaded, his eyes wide and crazed. "There's a monster in here – upstairs. Evan it's so hungry" Harry whimpered, burying his head in the Death Eater's chest and sobbing.

Harry had climbed the steps, Evan knew. He hadn't gone up there for the sake of the boy's privacy, but he was admittedly a bit curious as to what there was to find up there. He highly doubted that there was a monster in Harry's head that was truly unrecognizable.

"Hungry?" He asked, "Is that all?"

"Cold and lonely and sad too," Harry added, muffled by the elder man's shirt.

Evan nodded, slowly. Clearly, the upstairs portion of this house is where Harry kept his bad memories. After all, he was used to the upstairs being forbidden to him. It was the Dursley's property and he wasn't to go up there – it was no wonder his mind would work the same way.

"Come along, Harry," Evan looked up to see his Lord standing behind them. A slender pale hand rested lightly on the boy's shoulder, and the man's voice was softer than Evan had ever heard it himself. "I'll help you lock the door, just like my cupboard."

Harry nodded, sniffling, and turned towards the Dark Lord instead. "Tom?" He squeaked out, "I'm sorry, I know I must seem weak," Harry said quietly, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. "I'm stronger than this – truly I am."

Voldemort nodded, taking Harry's hand and guiding him out of the room and towards the stairs. "I know you are, Harry," He assured, staying close to the child's side as they climbed the steps. "I will not think less of you for this."

Harry looked down as they ascended the steps, shaking slightly. He tugged on Tom's crisp white sleeve, and pointed down. Tom looked, and bent over, lifting up the feathery substance on the ground. "Is this your hair?" He asked calmly, dropping it again. Harry nodded meekly.

Tom cocked his head listening to a harsh voice that seemed to be whipping through the air, louder with each step.

"Your uncle?"

Harry didn't respond. They made it to a door that was swung open, and Tom covered Harry's eyes with his hands, holding him tight against his chest, he leaned down, whispering.

"Hold out your hands," He said, "And close the door."

Harry tried to will the door closed, but he didn't think it was working. He could feel his chest tingling warmly, but he couldn't make the feeling reach his fingertips. "My magic's not strong enough in here," Harry said, "I need a wand."

"No wand can reach you here," Tom responded, "Magic is all you need. Would you like to try with mine?"

Harry nodded again, and this time the warmth began at his eyes, where Tom's hands were on him. It spread more quickly, making his body buzz with the feeling of it – it reminded him of how Evan had taught him to call Lucius.

"Are you sure you're not the Dark Lord, Tom?" Harry asked, and he heard Tom laughing behind him.

"Yes, Harry. Are you going to close this door with me?"

"Oh, right." Harry shoved his hands forward and heard the door shutting with a slam. He blinked his eyes opened and grinned, proud of his accomplishment. Tom pulled out a wand and placed several locks and bolts on the door, though not as many as the cupboard.

"I think that should be enough. Will you be looking into any other rooms up here or are you ready to go back down?"

Wordlessly, Harry tugged him down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom, Evan was brewing again. Harry sighed as he felt Tom disappearing.

"This explains why I can't even wandlessly close a door," He complained, "You're draining my core with your stupid potions again."

Evan shrugged, not truly apologizing. "I've been having these visions in my dreams lately," He explained. "Visions about your future – at least to the extent that it involves me." He commented, plopping something foul into a cauldron.

"So you're making dreamless sleep potion?" Harry asked, thinking he'd read about a potion with that name in one of the tomes Evan had forced him into looking over.

"No." Evan answered, stirring. Harry tried to ignore the stench that filled the air. "Originally I was making a potion to ensure that I had the dreams in the first place, which was a success – but now I'm trying to make them a bit less vivid."

He rubbed absentmindedly at his forearm.

Harry nodded, walking away from Evan and sitting at the couch so that he could see the television. He smiled at what he saw.

"My first letter," He said softly, and Evan looked up.

"That so? Who from?"

Harry laughed, "Hagrid," He responded.

"I didn't know he could write," Evan commented under his breath, and Harry ignored the sound of a small creature screeching before he heard a cleaver come down hard.

Harry didn't care. He didn't care if the 'other' Harry wasn't really him. He didn't care if Evan didn't like the Hogwarts Grounds Keeper. He was in a magical place with magical people, and he'd made his first real magical friends. In that exact moment, no better thing could have happened.

A/N: I kind of hate this chapter, and it seems like you guys weren't too fond of the last one. Sorry if you feel like this fic is getting worse and worse as it goes, but I really am trying my best.

Love y'all for reading.

-Beloved