Dear readers: I'm so sorry for not updating in two months! My previous laptop died and along with it went some very important notes, as well as the beginning skeleton of this chapter. But everything is back to normal now. You can expect an update in the usual timeframe.
I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for the lovely reviews you've been leaving! They keep me going above all else. (I'll stop talking to you all in what looks like Parseltongue, now.)
Enjoy your read!
73 – Dumbledore's Warning
"Take a seat, Jonathan."
Harry hesitated, saying nothing about the room around him, nor how nostalgic it made him feel. It was as if time had shifted backwards too many years, momentarily erasing the uneasiness he felt about his current life. His eyes wandered over the whole of Dumbledore's office, stopping every few seconds to take in a familiar detail. He took the seat Dumbledore indicated. It made him feel like a child again – especially as Dumbledore gave him that same piercing stare he had always used in his years at Hogwarts.
Harry was distracted by the strange ornaments with spinning stars and fading puffs of smoke that twirled on spindle-legged tables, and the silver surfaces of some of them that glimmering gold and red in the early morning sun. The same old books lined the circular walls of this room, while the untouched portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses of the school watched this meeting curiously – if they weren't already feigning sleep, snoring a little too loudly.
Most surprisingly of all, Fawkes stood perched on his stand behind Dumbledore, as healthy and strong as he had always been. He watched Harry with interest, but with no signs of recognition. He, in fact, seemed a little on edge. Dumbledore smiled when he saw Harry's attention transfixed to his magnificent bird.
"This is Fawkes," he said calmly, "a Phoenix I've had the pleasure of attaining after a great number years spent separated from him. It was a most unexpected gift, given to me as a sort of congratulations from Gellert Grindelwald upon hearing I had become headmaster."
Harry's eyes snapped back to Dumbledore's.
"I accepted only after concluding that Fawkes would indeed have a finer home here, at Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained, amused by Harry's stark confusion. "It was, perhaps, a joke on Gellert's part, yet I do not see it as negative. If I may be so bold, I believe Gellert always knew Fawkes rather liked me better."
Harry said nothing, allowing his eyes to wander back to Fawkes as he wondered why Dumbledore was opening up to him like this. Although Dumbledore was amused, he didn't smile as kindly as he used to towards Harry. Ignoring the low emotion that caught him as a result of this, Harry spoke.
"He's a beautiful bird..."
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "But I'm rather inclined to believe you did not come here to discuss phoenixes and the distant past."
The irony of this claim distracted Harry for a moment. Dumbledore straightened up in his seat, pressing the tips of his fingers together as he prepared to speak.
"Which brings me to my first question," he said in a businesslike tone. "Why are you here today? Much news about you has been circling England these past few weeks, Jonathan. Have you come here, perhaps, for redemption?"
"Redemption?" Harry repeated. "What do y-"
He stopped as horror flooded him. He had forgotten that Dumbledore might know about his most recent murder... He had spent so much time around horribly twisted people and events in the streets of London lately, he had forgotten why he had ended up there at all. He had forgotten how watchful Dumbledore was of the recent news, even if not a single witch or wizard beyond the Knights should know who had murdered Brian Prewett...
"It is so far unclear to me what affiliation you have with the Prewett family," Dumbledore carried on casually, "but it was immediately clear to me, upon reading the report, that you had at least some involvement in Mr Prewett's murder – and perhaps in the attempted murder of his youngest daughter too."
"You don't have any evidence," Harry stated. "You can't know -"
Dumbledore smiled once more. "I am not in search of evidence, Jonathan. I know I could not prove you guilty of that crime, even if I wanted to."
"You – you don't want to?"
"No," he said simply.
"Well, then, why do you care?" Harry asked. "Why bring it up, why pay attention?"
"Jonathan, I wish only to be real with you. I am aware that you have committed darker crimes than I first assumed. I quite simply believe it is important for you to understand my views."
"If you want me to serve time in Azkaban for that -"
"No," Dumbledore said again, remaining calm all the time. "I understand it is important for you to stay watchful of Tom, Jonathan. I understand this can't have been your first murder, considering your initial calmness upon entering my office, but I believe in your innocence."
Harry didn't know whether to believe this. He watched Dumbledore wordlessly, trying to get his thoughts straight. "Why do you believe I'm innocent? If you think I killed him..."
"I understand that Tom's influence can become too much for you to take," Dumbledore explained. "He has always had a way with convincing others to do as he likes."
"Yeah," Harry said slowly, "that's sort of why I'm here..."
Dumbledore waited patiently for him to speak.
"I'm here to talk about my – my spy," Harry began lamely. "The only other Death Eater who doesn't worship the Dark Arts..."
"I thought you believed it safer to keep his identity hidden for the time being?"
"I did, but – well, something changed. I've begun to realise that he's in a lot more danger than I first thought. He needs protection, he needs to be kept safe."
"From Tom?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," Harry said, before thinking it through. "Well – yes, but not just Tom. I need him kept safe from me..."
Dumbledore's bushy grey eyebrows closed their distance slightly in confusion, making Harry feel uncomfortable for the first time.
"I need you to help, because if I get lost, if I can't find myself again, I won't be able to protect him. He won't be safe if I somehow stop caring..."
"And is that a likely possibility?"
In truth, Harry was unsure. He shook his head. "I can't know what'll happen. I'd rather not take any chances..."
"Who is it that you're protecting? I assume you can't keep the identity of your spy a secret if you need my help."
"It's Nott," Harry told him. "Christopher Nott."
"Ah..."
"I don't want him to get hurt," Harry explained once more. "If you get to know him better again, he can have your protection, which by this point seems a lot more worthy than mine. That way, no matter what I do he'll have a chance. No matter what happens to me, he won't have to suffer..."
"I didn't realise anyone but Tom could expect such dedication from you, Jonathan."
Harry almost glowered, pained by Dumbledore's scepticism. "Please," he said, "just protect him..."
For the first time, Dumbledore's calm, unmoved expression faltered. It was as if he had seen something new in Harry's eyes, something he never expected to witness. He stared for a stunned moment, thinking things over again with a look of wonder.
"Very well," he said eventually. "I shall watch over Christopher."
Nodding once, Harry looked away, saying nothing.
"I hope only that you will not take this as a reason for falling too deeply into the Dark Arts for Tom," Dumbledore added, his eyebrows furrowed delicately. "For your own sake, it is not a wise choice. I trust you understand what you're getting yourself into, but you would do well to practice caution always and know where your limits stand."
"Of course, sir..."
"As for the fate of Christopher Nott, I assume the extent of his safety depends entirely on his choices and actions."
"He doesn't want to be a part of the Death Eaters," Harry explained shortly. "I don't think he was ever really meant to be one."
Dumbledore inclined his head in understanding. "Then it should be easy to protect him. I expect to meet with him some time over the next few weeks to begin discussing this with the both of you. Until then, I trust you have somewhere else to be right now."
Harry understood this was his cue to leave. He stood up. "Thank you, professor..."
With that, Harry was free to leave. He did so without looking back, nor saying another word. In a pensive state, he thought about what might happen over the course of the next few years, thinking privately that he would be unable to follow any of Dumbledore's advice.
– X –
As planned, Harry arranged for Nott and Dumbledore to meet up a few weeks later, but feeling as if the meeting might be stressful, Harry had decided not to visit Hogwarts again so soon. Nott told him all about the discussion he had had with Dumbledore, explaining that they had spoken only gently about the subject of preparing for Tom's rise to power. They had discussed how best to keep secrecy amongst themselves, Nott said, and by the time Harry had heard every detail of it, he felt as if it was on the minds of all of them to begin forming a rival group in the future – even if no real plans could be made so soon.
Throughout the discussion, not much had been said about Nott's protection, apparently. Harry knew Nott must be curious about why he was meeting Dumbledore at all, but he hoped Nott might forget his suspicions soon. His protection rested in connecting with Dumbledore and staying alert, not in knowing that Harry might get carried away with the Dark Arts and explain everything to Tom. The less Nott knew about Harry's instability, the easier it would be for now.
How Dumbledore knew that Harry wanted to keep his instability a secret from Nott, Harry had no idea. It made him wonder if Dumbledore, too, didn't want Nott to panic. The two of them were most likely going to have to continue getting carried away with the Dark Arts so Tom and the others wouldn't suspect their treachery; it would be too risky if Nott became panicked about Harry risking his sanity in the process of this. Nott was better off mildly resenting the Dark Arts in peace, not knowing of its risks. Harry's only hope was that he wouldn't be too watchful, and wouldn't try to stop him falling too close to Tom. It wasn't worth the risk...
More pressing worries bothered Harry as he rested on his empty bed in London, twirling the Ring within his hand. As a gift, to remember him in his absence, Tom had given Harry this Horcrux, never knowing what the shining Resurrection Stone might do to him. With some reluctance, Harry thought about his lost friends. He was astonished to reflect that he held a passageway to them within his fingertips. He had the option, as well as the time, to bring anyone back from the dead tonight... but he decided against it with very little hesitation. He just wanted to spend time thinking about Death. He could remember his lost friends clearly while he watched the Stone shine in the dim firelight, twirling, twirling...
He wondered dully if Nott was as close a friend to him as his lost friends had been. It was hard for him to assess, considering the time that had passed. He could certainly tell Nott who he was now a lot more honestly than he could tell his lost friends, if he ever chose to. But he couldn't tell Nott who he had been... Harry felt as if he was split into two very different people. There was no one on this earth that could know all of his secrets, because he had changed so vastly. He wondered, often, if this was the result of having a shred of Tom's soul within him.
They were very similar in a lot of ways, Harry thought, except in their views of love. Tom loved only one person; he didn't know the extent of love Harry had felt since finding Hogwarts. He didn't know what it was to love somebody like a sibling even when he didn't have bothers or sisters. He didn't know what it was like to have guardians as good as parents, or friends as close as anyone. He didn't know what it was like to lose all of that, to be left equally as alone with memories of love...
Harry feared death alongside Tom, but this wasn't because he thought of death as a weakness. He was merely avoiding his past. He was scared even to hold the Resurrection Stone, because he knew the lost part of him would suffer a tremendous amount of anguish if he saw his lost friends. If they knew what he had become, if they saw him now... it would bring back too many memories and too much pain, for Harry. Realising it was painful to think about this, Harry removed the Stone from view, staring at the blank ceiling instead.
Dumbledore had made a deal to stop Harry if he fell too far into the Dark Arts, but even if he killed Harry, it wouldn't be over... He didn't know about Harry's Horcruxes. He wouldn't know that if Harry was killed at his hand, he could rise from the dead again as powerful as ever. Harry had thought many times about telling Dumbledore or Nott about his Horcruxes, but he had so far failed to do so. He wanted to tell them, because he felt as if it was wrong not to, but if he did, it would not only risk Tom's life, but it would mean Harry had to admit a secret he was willing to keep forever...
Harry also wasn't sure how well Nott or Dumbledore would take the news that he had committed the most inhumane, immoral action known to the Dark Arts on himself. He was genuinely fearful about it, because if they decided to hunt down his Horcruxes, he could eventually be mortal – meaning he'd be forced back to his lost friends... But was that worth the risk, knowing the alternative was he might end up as a Dark Lord as evil and powerful as Voldemort himself? This risk was almost as horrifying. It was an impossible decision to make...
Knowing that he was torturing himself too much over this, Harry decided to get up. He spent about five minutes wandering his apartment, unable to rest, before he decided he had to go out. He knew where he must go; to see Tom. Once he was there, he would be forced to forget about his troubles no matter what was going on.
When he arrived at Tom's house, he found that a meeting was being held amongst a few chosen Knights. Rosier, Lestrange, Gonson, Weiß, Nott, Black, Dorn, and Rowle were sitting at a long table amongst a few others. Noticing that the Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen, Harry understood this had to be a very important meeting.
"What news have we of Mulciber's situation?" Tom asked calmly. He sat at the head of the table, eyeing his Knights with a look of dignified satisfaction.
"We're trying all we can at the Ministry, my Lord," Lestrange informed him dully, "but there is only so much we can do to keep the Dementors from traumatizing him. We don't have much influence on how Azkaban controls its prisoners."
Harry took a seat besides Gonson, understanding what this meeting was about. Tom wanted to keep Mulciber away from too much contact with Dementors, lest he should feel remorse for the many men and women he had killed over the last few years.
"If we vish to keep zuh Dementors away from our Knights in Azkaban, my Lord," Adelmar Dorn's voice called from the end of the table, "vould it not be an obvious solution to get von of our Knights employed in Azkaban? To vork from zuh inside?"
"That would be impossible; very few wizards are employed to work within Azkaban. Except, of course, to bring visitors."
Dorn seemed surprised. He frowned to himself, murmuring, "If it vas Nurmengard Prison, zhere vould not be a problem like zhis to face... Ve could influence zuh guards easily."
Uninterested in this comment, Tom carried on. "It appears as if the Ministry is no use to us."
"How else will we resolve this issue, my Lord?" Black asked.
Tom thought it over carefully for a moment, his lips slightly pursed.
"It is my belief," he said quietly, "that as more of our Knights become imprisoned for their inadequacy, we will be at risk of losing many to remorse or the Dementor's Kiss... If we cannot have any influence on the Dementor's choices through the Ministry, we must think of a better, more accurate plan. We must, more specifically, reason with the Dementors without the Ministry's help."
Rowle chuckled at the far end the the table. It was only upon seeing the other Knights face him with blank expressions that he realised this wasn't a joke. Mumbling a few words of apology under Tom's gaze, the Knights ignored him one by one to save him the embarrassment.
"What do you have planned, my Lord?" asked Nott, who looked weary from the amount of work he had been forced into.
"We must reach the Dementors ourselves," Tom answered, "independently from the Ministry. The simplest way to do this will be to send a Knight of ours into Azkaban, posing as a visitor. When in the presence of the Dementors, the said Knight will have to make an offer no Dementor could refuse – an offer no Ministry would be willing to make: innocent minds to feed on, alongside our protection..."
The Knights looked impressed. They cast each other a few surprised glances before their questions began.
"How are we to organize an offer like this, my Lord?" Gonson asked. "How will we keep the Dementors interested?"
"Assuming the Dementors have stayed true to their promise, we shall set up a safe place for them to wander off to whenever they feel in need for purer minds to torment. Compared to what they can find in Azkaban, the Dementors won't be able to resist any person – Muggle or Wizard – that we might offer to them."
"How will we do all of this without the Ministry knowing?" Lestrange inquired.
"That's simple," Black interrupted, "We'll protect the Dementors in the usual way, by securing their hideout with magic, employing a few Death Eaters to work as guards on occasion."
"Precisely," Tom agreed. "We will find new enemies to sent to the said location as bait, changing them often. In a few mere years, we will have more power over the Dementors than the Ministry ever could..."
The Knights were clearly enthusiastic about the idea. They began murmuring to each other about the situation, assessing the possibility of this working out.
"Now," Tom began swiftly, suppressing a smile, "before we begin writing plans for this, I feel it prudent to bring to your attention another issue concerning Magical Creatures that we might soon put to good use. The Giants wait restlessly for our return in Albania... I see no advantage in keeping them waiting any longer."
"Do you desire for them to be moved, my Lord?" Black asked.
"Evidently, yes."
"But even if they are under our control already," Lestrange interrupted, "getting Giants that far across Europe won't be an easy task. They move both too slowly and too loudly to go unnoticed."
"I have a plan that will sort out this problem nicely," Tom assured him. "With patience, you will succeed in following it. It will take much magic and time, but the reward will be far greater than the efforts you waste..."
They began discussing plans immediately. A few Knights swiftly suggested bringing the Giants overseas or attempting to Apparate with them, but no boat would be strong enough to carry a clan of Giants and no Ministry would be foolish enough to miss it if a create so big Apparated such a long distance with a wizard. The only solution, Tom said, was to walk the Giants.
Tom had planned pathways across rural parts of various countries, knowing it was the smartest idea. It would take several weeks, but with enough magic to repel Muggles and Wizards, to silence the Giant's footsteps, and to go across boarders without being stopped, it could be done. Tom wanted all of this to happen mainly because he didn't want any Ministry to find his Giants before he could move them. They would be brought to a secret location in southern England, before being brought up to the Dragons in Scotland to roam in a bigger stretch of land in a year or two.
Harry was mildly impressed by all of these plans, but he wasn't particularly interested in it. It was nothing but a good distraction for him during the course of this evening. When Tom suggested to him quietly later on that they should take a trip to Albania in three months to set these plans in motion, Harry was surprised. He saw no reason to object, but he felt that watching over the Giants again might be a dull occupation.
To his surprise, he was mistaken. Even the Death Eaters, who normally complained about any task they were forced into, had decided to start this long and tedious trip in good spirits. Harry understood that this was because they knew what havoc the Giants would cause in England one day. They were eager to see how powerful and obeying the Giants were so they could estimate how much damage they could do against a Ministry.
They began walking across Albania with the Giants a day after arriving in the country. Two or three Death Eaters at a time had been employed to work as guards in shifts over the last few years, so the wizards they found waiting in Albania seemed relieved that their month-long shift was over. They returned to their normal lives England and Germany while Harry, Tom, and ten of their followers prepared to move the Giants.
It became apparent to Harry on the third evening of moving that Tom had unsaid motives for being here. There was no real reason for the both of them to stay amongst the Death Eaters, after all – they didn't accompany them as they walked the Giants onwards, they merely spent their days waiting at the next stop for everyone to arrive. What Tom was waiting for, Harry realised, was a disaster to strike. When the Death Eaters arrived to their camp on the third day, holding two hostages, it became clear that that disaster was planned.
"We got ambushed!" Dolohov told Tom loudly the moment everyone arrived. "Turns out some of our protective spells weren't strong enough to keep these wizards away, my Lord. They attached us as soon as they saw what we were doing!"
"How long ago?" Tom asked calmly, eyeing the two men who were bound together by magical ropes.
"'Bout five minutes ago, my Lord," Avery said. "There must have been around fifteen of 'em at least, before most of them fled. We caught these two and another one of 'em was killed by our Giants."
"How peculiar," Tom said, but Harry sensed a note of humour in his tone. "They must have found you just as your protection was wearing off, on you arrived at this stop..."
"Do you reckon they've been waiting for us, my Lord?" Avery asked him.
"No, that would make very little sense. Almost nobody knows of the operation we're currently carrying out..."
Despite these serious claims, there was a look of calm amusement in Tom's eyes.
"No, I believe there is merely a group of Wizards nearby who heard, saw, or detected your presence. After a short interrogation with our two guests, I believe we'll now everything."
Avery grinned boyishly. "And who'll have the honour of getting this information, m'Lord?"
Tom smiled cruelly at the two wizards before him, who glared and spat insults no Death Eater could understand. "I will," he said softly. "Lest you should waste time..."
Harry decided he didn't want to watch Tom torture these two men for no reason, so he moved to a different part of the camp they had set up – to the main dining room, which was empty. In the ten minutes that passed, Harry thought about the look of amusement and lack of surprise Tom had shown. By the time Tom returned, Harry had worked out why he had these strange reactions.
"You knew about these wizards before, didn't you?"
Tom paused at the entrance of the tent, surprised. Amusement found him moments after. "Perhaps..."
Harry shook his head, smiling. "Is this a test you've made to train the Death Eaters, or are you just bored?"
"Both," Tom answered calmly, smiling back, "and more. I haven't invented these enemies for mere enjoyment – they do exist – I merely believe it will be rewarding if our Death Eaters became enemies with them... Six months ago, Gawain Avery was stationed here in Albania when he heard news of a rival Dark Arts group shifting a large amount of treasure from a recent heist in Egypt."
"So, you want to steal the treasure from them?"
"Yes."
"We won't get away with that, Tom."
"Why ever not?"
"You can't just chase after someone else's treasure and expect no one to ask questions. Even the Death Eaters would be suspicious."
"Yet our rival group have attacked the Death Eaters, have they not?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed reluctantly, suppressing a smirk, "but only because you provoked them by setting up this camp so close to them."
"Which the Death Eaters failed to notice," Tom remarked slyly. "They, unlike the Knights, have slower wit and are more eager to react with violence..."
Harry had to admit to himself that this was a pretty smart plan. He had no argument against Tom, what was more. Smiling in lighthearted defeat, he said, "So, when should we attack the new group?"
"As soon as possible," Tom said. "We wouldn't want to risk that they move the tr-"
A Death Eater entered the tent, interrupting Tom's words.
"My Lord, there's been another attack!" Dolohov shouted. "Right outside our camp – some of our guards have been dragged off."
"Truly?" Tom asked, feigning surprise. "Who would have thought they could find us... There must be a location nearby with a good number of them sharing tales of our arrival here. We must go there at once and get our Death Eaters back."
"I'll go tell the others!"
With that, Dolohov zoomed out of the tent, shouting to all the near Death Eaters about the news.
As his voice faded away, Tom turned back to Harry.
"This is ridiculous," Harry said.
"Why?" Tom asked joyfully.
Harry stood up, preparing himself. "It's too easy to manipulate the Death Eaters and it isn't fair to steal everything from another group like this."
"We shan't kill them, if that's what bothers you. I merely understand that a group as small and organised as our current rivals is undeserving of so much gold and treasure... They won't know what to do with it."
"Well, they'll know not to give it up without a fight."
Tom gave a hum of laughter as Harry approached him.
"Just don't kill them," Harry asked of him. "They aren't worth a trail of blood that will lead to our hands, it's better just to scare them and let other groups know how strong we are."
"Won't you join us?" Tom asked quietly.
Harry thought it over for a second. "I suppose I could."
"Brilliant," Tom said, his hand reaching for the entrance of the tent. "We'll begin organising an attack at once..."
An hour later, Harry, Tom, and several of the Knights headed out start a raid on their rival group, who were stationed in a cave overlooking their camp. Tom sent a few of the Knights in first to begin flooding the place out, leaving others outside to attack anyone who attempted to flee. By the time Harry and Tom entered the cave, the Death Eaters had knocked out and tied up all of the foreign wizards. What they were left with was three large trunks of treasure, locked and secured, and no one able to stop them from taking it.
Knowing they'd leave this place by morning, Tom ordered his Knights to put their enemies under a sleeping spell that would last at least twelve hours. For good measure, he implanted a fake memory in one of the wizards' mind, confusing him about the name, actions, and intentions of them coming here tonight, and he put a second wizard under the Imperius Curse, ordering him to run away from this camp so the others would believe he had stolen the treasure. By tomorrow evening, nobody here would remember what had happened, but each and every one of them would be keen to search for a traitor amongst their group.
The Death Eaters didn't seem particularly bothered by the large amount of treasure Tom had evidently uncovered. They only seemed to care about the pride and satisfaction of seeking revenge on their enemies – it apparently lead them to understand that the riches they found here would fund Tom's various groups, ending up in their pockets whenever they did important work for him. Back at the camp, Tom set up a celebration for the Death Eaters, rewarding them for their ability to follow his orders. He then returned to his own tent, followed shortly by Harry.
"They weren't very well prepared for an attack," Harry observed, pulling up a chair to watch Tom unlock the three chests. "It makes me think, maybe they didn't have all that much treasure to defend."
"Three heavy cases like these cannot be completely worthless," Tom reasoned.
"Then why wouldn't they find better people to defend it?"
"The answer to that is simple: they had no other wizards to employ. They were amateur thieves who stuck gold too early, leading them prideful and foolish. They could not foresee that dark consequences follow fortune if it is not guarded by caution..."
There was a loud 'click' from the largest trunk. It popped open softly. Tom gave Harry a gleeful look, but didn't examine their haul yet.
"These wizards knew as little about general defence and Locking Charms as they did discreetness," he said. "Their lack of security comes not from an a lack of care, but from an excess of foolishness – if I had not taken this treasure from them, another group would have caught word of their wealth, doing exactly as we have done tonight. I trust you will see this as a good reason for enjoying the wealth we have gained."
Tom clearly didn't want to give back whatever they had found tonight. In defeat, to stop him worrying too much, Harry nodded once, as if to say 'go on'.
Without hesitation, Tom pushed the trunk's lid fully open. A sea of gold met their eyes, causing them to pause in wonder. Strange magical artifacts had been packed into the wooden case, secured amongst thick coins of gold and silver. The treasure was emitting large quantities of magic that neither Harry nor Tom failed to sense. Before examining the first trunk too closely, Tom broke into the other two, seeing treasures of equal magnificence.
There were silver daggers, swords, bows and large, shining rubies, diadems, necklaces, and even magic staffs – the trunks were a lot bigger inside than they were on the outside. The only item that caught Harry's attention, however, was a mask. It was a smooth, pale gold with soft etchings carved all along its surface. It glowed with a strange, powerful aura that Harry couldn't ignore. He reached out a hand to take it.
Tom hadn't noticed his fascination. He carried on summoning treasure for the depths of the first trunk, evaluating the worth of the loot as a whole. Harry pressed his fingertips to the face of the mask, wondering what magic it could harvest. He tested the limits of the radiating power by moving his hand across the mask's surface, trying to distinguish the exact source of its evident enchantments. He came to no quick conclusion, but the item fascinated him nonetheless. Forgetting all logic and caution, be brought it to his face.
It felt no different to him when he wore it – it didn't even look, to him, as if this item was partially limiting his vision. He was about to take it off, to put it away, when Tom looked up at him.
There was a paused moment, one Harry found humour in. Tom, apparently, didn't feel the same – before Harry knew what was happening, Tom stood up, withdrawing his wand. He seemed close to throwing a cure in fright, but Harry took the mask off from his face, backing up.
"What are you doing?" he asked Tom, alarmed.
Tom blinked many times, as if he couldn't understand what he was seeing. He lowered his wand.
"Harry..."
"You forgot I was here?" Harry asked in disbelief.
Tom shook his head very slightly, looking down at the mask. "Why did you wear that?"
"How didn't you know it was me?"
"You know these items could be dangerous," Tom said shortly, annoyed. "It's foolish to test them out before we can know what they do."
"I know that. I just..."
Harry didn't know what to say. He looked down at the mask, which he still felt drawn to.
"This is a powerful item," he murmured. "I was curious..."
Tom was watching him with an odd expression. He seemed both annoyed and calculating at once. "You should know to resist alluring magic like this."
"I know. But nothing happened, did it?"
Tom said nothing. He walked forwards, putting his wand away. Once close to Harry, he reached out a hand to take the mask from his grip, watching him blankly.
"This is indeed a power piece of magic," he said.
"What did it do to you?" Harry asked.
Tom shook his head, saying, "Nothing damaging. I believe a strong enchantment has been placed upon this mask to conceal the wearer's identity with confusion... A trait like this would be useful against enemies, but would make one's own allies turn against them in uncertainty and puzzlement. It must be designed to strike fear in others, so they will act on their natural instincts against it..."
"So, everyone will attack me if I wear this?"
"If that is their instinct, yes. But if a person's instinct is to run away, cower, plead for mercy, freeze in fear, or reason with you, it will be those instincts that you must deal with. In most cases, it will give you an advantage."
"That's brilliant," Harry said, staring down at the mask again. "It must do more, too..."
His fascination distracted him for a time. He was tempted to take the mask from Tom's hands again, but he resisted. When he looked up, be saw that Tom was watching him closely.
"What is it?"
His expression was serious as a result of his deep thoughts. "You like this item, do you not?"
"I – I suppose so, yeah."
Nodding once, Tom looked down at the item again. He seemed relaxed now. "Perhaps we could put it to good use? Perhaps soon..."
Harry understood where this was going. This might, he realised, be why Tom had brought him here at all. "As a Horcrux?"
"Yes."
Harry thought it over. He knew he was already broken, with two Horcruxes... It didn't take long for him to come to the assumption that a third Horcrux would make no difference. He looked up at Tom, appreciating the look of hope he showed. Smiling, he said, "It might not be a bad idea..."
His words enthralled Tom in seconds. He watched a smile break across his face, before he kissed Harry passionately. He held him closely, saying softly that they could create the Horcrux as soon as they got back to England, if he wanted to. Harry agreed to it. He wanted to please Tom, to impress him with a desire to stay immortal. They returned to England a week later, a few hundred thousand Galleons richer, with plans to make a Horcrux of the Mask.
Tom offered for them to create the Horcrux at his house, but Harry refused immediately, knowing it would curse that place forevermore. They travelled, instead, to the Cave. Harry knew that if this place was haunted by Dark Magic, it would only keep more enemies away if they dared to try and find it. Tom agreed with the idea, knowing too that it was a safe place for them. Harry was only marginally unnerved by the smooth, dark body of water that held a sea of preserved dead bodies that would soon be Inferi. He knew the dead were harmless. He trusted Tom would protect him.
Although Harry prepared himself the best he could for the torturous event he was about to undergo, he still dreaded making this Horcrux. He tried to take strength in knowing there were no longer any risks for him, but he felt as if this was poor compensation for the pain he'd feel upon releasing and splitting his soul. He voiced his thoughts on the matter with Tom. Even with reassurances that they would cherish this day forevermore, Harry could do nothing but close his eyes gently, pushing his own dread away.
Tom guided him through the preparations, bringing forth the Mask and conjuring a temporary bed on which Harry could rest. As he began the enchantments they needed, reminding Harry of the steps they had been through too many times before, Harry experienced the same sensation of dread he had faced before. When the final enchantment was put into action and Harry's soul was released from his body to split, the same terrorizing, unendurable pain found Harry again. The state of dark, surreal disembodiment seemed to last for hours.
When he returned to body, he was able, now, to register the pain he felt. His body was a prison, in which all the pain he'd ever known seem to haunt and attack him all at once. It hours before he could even register and remember that Tom stood by his side. It took more hours still until he could see the dark walls of the cave, or feel Tom's soft touch on his shoulder. Everything went as it had before and Harry faced as much pain as he feared he might, but he didn't expect it when a hallucination appeared in before him once again.
As he lay on the low, thin bed Tom had made, accepting the pain of his Horcrux with progressively more determination, he caught a vision of Tom. Except, it wasn't the real Tom he knew and loved. It was a strange, ghostly figure gliding towards him as if in a dream. The figure's head tilted to the side as a smile crossed his face. His mouth moved to speak in a hiss, but Harry never caught the words he said.
The ghost moved to stand above Harry. He reached out a hand to touch his face, never moving his eyes away. His cold hand moved down Harry's burning skin, until his fingertips pressed against his chest, where his heart resided. As Harry looked up into the face of the ghostly Tom, he was shocked when his heart turned freezing cold. He gasped, looking down, and saw Tom's hand had fallen through his chest.
He was on the verge of panicking, before the ghostly Tom's other hand reached his chest, sinking inward. He moved onto the bed to sit above Harry, kissing him once before falling fully into him. It was the shard of Tom's soul returning to him, he realised. For hours after this, Harry ran a fever. The real Tom stood by his side, never asking about the hallucination he had surely watched him face.
By the time Harry was fully healed, be began to notice the affects of his third Horcrux. He returned to Tom's house for a few days and by the end of the next week, he found himself joining into the various projects Tom had planned for his followers. He carried on his job of giving orders to the Death Eaters, and for the first time in memory, he felt as if it was easy to accept. He began helping Tom more often with important plans concerning the Knights, believing wholly that he had finally gotten over his fear of the Dark Arts.
As months passed, Tom had not only the Giants under his control, but a few Dementors in Azkaban too. The Giants were staying in a sanctuary in the south of England and they would remain there until Tom decided it was wise to move them up to Scotland to stay near the Dragons. He had bought a lot of land with the wealth he was slowly gaining. He was focusing a lot of attention on the Magical Creatures that would be of great use to him in the future, including the Werewolves he hired, the Inferi he would soon enchant, and the various beasts he trained in secret.
The Ministry had no idea of the power he was gaining. Tom was taking control of dangerous beasts and was making deals with beings who had been enemies of the Ministry for a very long time. Even Vampires had heard of Tom's fame amongst the group of Werewolves he owned, and although they wanted no affiliation with the Wolves themselves, a large, powerful clan of confident Vampires couldn't resist making a deal with Tom too. They wanted to hunt Tom's enemies to find fresh blood. In exchange for their loyalty and power, they were rewarded his protection.
Beyond affiliation with beasts, beings, and the living dead (be them Werewolves, Hags, Vampires, or others), Tom was quietly changing the views of witches and wizards all across Britain. Few people beyond those dedicated to the Dark Arts truly knew who Voldemort was and fewer still knew of the power he possessed, but as the Death Eaters began to gain respect in the streets of wizarding London, witches and wizards were becoming more aware of the anti-Muggle views Voldemort was spreading. What was more, they weren't entirely opposed to it.
A lot of wizards hated Muggles already, and many more had reserved views about them. Being forced into hiding centuries ago made witches and wizards resent the Muggles in many ways and although most people rejected the idea of killing Muggles off, many found themselves supporting Tom's views without realising the significance of what they were agreeing to. The Daily Prophet was beginning to report as many attacks on Muggles as there were in Grindelwal's time, but in Tom's slow rise to power, there was very little the Ministry could do. Many witches and wizards now felt it was justified.
As Tom continued to plan attacks against those who opposed him, he began manipulating the situation in subtle ways to keep Blood-Traitors, Squibs, and Muggles at a disadvantage. Harry knew that he did this for many reasons: firstly, to amuse the Death Eaters, secondly, to encourage them to attack as vigorously as ever, and thirdly, to mask the cruel intentions of their attacks. As long as Tom found a way to make his enemies look bad – possessing Squibs to attack wizards, framing various Muggle-lovers for horrid, inhumane crimes – he could manipulate the wizarding world into hating his enemies once more.
When two years passed and crime continued to rise across Britain, fearful witches and wizards began complaining forcefully that the current Minister for Magic was insufficient. Thwarted in his attempt to overcome peoples' fear, the Minister was forced to resign and retire, swiftly being replaced. The irony of this decision was that Tom had wanted a new wizard to take over the Ministry. He wanted a fresh body to occupy the place of Minister for Magic so he would have a fresh mind to study and understand...
In a hidden headquarters to the north of England, studying the new Minister is what Tom spent the majority of his time doing. He would normally be at home, working on various studies that caught his curiosity, but this particular fascination wasn't something he could think about on his own. He needed as much information on the Minister as he could gain – and this was possible solely through talking in depth with his most trusted, intelligent Knights.
He had set up a secret location, the Nundu Hideout, for his chosen Knights to gather in when he summoned them. No Death Eater knew of the meetings Tom was having with these Knights; the Nundu Hideout was a location separate from the four other headquarters Tom had created for his Death Eaters: the Acromantula, Basilisk, Chimaera, and Dementor Hideouts. He no longer allowed any of his followers visit his home – in order to preserve secrecy, he had created these headquarters all across Britain. In spite of his attempt at security, however, even the dullest Death Eaters began to realise the significance of his caution.
Tom was plotting against the Ministry. More specifically, he was finding ways to take further power over the Ministry and the wizarding world in general. His plans were becoming progressively more dangerous and illegal, thus he began to obsess over his own protection. More than ever, he distanced himself from his followers, talking to them only through other Knights or not at all. His research began to focus less on interesting magic and more on ways to change the course of history. He was preparing for the next greatest war.
In the dark, secluded Nundu Hideout, Harry sat at a long table with Rosier, Black, Lestrange, Nott, Dorn, Rowle, and Tom. These seven wizards were here to discuss Nobby Leach, the new Minister for Magic. He had been elected solely in the interest of fighting against crime in England, but every wizard present tonight understood that he would fail to succeed. He wasn't prepared for the power Tom had, the plans he had worked on for years, and the persistence Tom would have to start attacking him personally.
"What is the use in planning all of this, my Lord?" Lestrange asked bravely one evening, his drawling voice breaking the silence as Tom processed the latest information on Nobby Leach. "If we are to plot against the Minister, what good will it do, beyond alarm Britain's witches and wizards? Surely nothing will change once they replace Nobby Leach? Surely, after we kill him –"
"Kill him?" Tom repeated softly. "I have never voiced this as my final desire for Leach."
Lestrange did not carry on talking. He was bewildered by this claim.
"If this isn't our aim," Rosier began cautiously, "then... what is, my Lord?"
He seemed to regret asking as soon as Tom's red eyes fell upon him. If he had forgotten that the answer to this question was confidential, he remembered it now. He bowed his head, looking away as he paled.
"Forgive me, my Lord... I merely found it curious."
"Curiosity is not a trait I encourage my Knights to act upon in relation to my work," Tom said softly. "Surely you have not forgotten this?"
"No, my Lord. Of course not, I just assumed -"
"Do not assume," Tom interrupted in little over a hiss. "You are here to pass on information to me. Nothing else is required of you."
Under Tom's burning glare, Rosier became progressively more uncomfortable. He didn't dare look at Tom now. In a strained voice, he said, "Of course, my Lord..."
Although Tom was clearly irritated by Rosier's intrusiveness, Harry could sense he wasn't particularly bothered by what the Knights before him had assumed. He watched his followers in annoyance, but when his eyes met Harry's for a moment, Harry thought he caught amusement, again, in Tom's eyes. Was he amused by the power he had over his Knights?
"It would be useless to kill Minister," Harry said, fearing nothing from voicing his thoughts. "I thought this was obvious to all of us. We wouldn't be here, gaining all this information on Leach, if we wanted him dead – we'd just kill him. All of us are capable of that, by this point."
Tom inclined his head once, still pretending to be irritated at the Knights' idiocy.
"I do not plan to rid England of its Minister," he said softly, his dark eyes downcast to a newspaper clipping before him, "I want only to weaken Nobby Leach completely, leaving him frail and dismayed. Only then can our Knights walk this land as freely as Kings..."
Nobody said a word against this. The five Knights and Harry seemed to simultaneously look at the scrap of newspaper Tom examined: it showed a photograph of the Minister, roughly cut out of a copy of the Daily Prophet, stuck to the table by a knife. Standing in the moving photograph was Nobby Leach with his wife, teenaged daughter, and older son. The picture and article were from the day he fully became Minister – this was visible from the large smiles and proud, affectionate glances cast amongst the small family...
– X –
Despite the Ministry's claims that they would fight harder against the growing level of crime committed throughout wizarding Britain, they were making very little progress. Many witches and wizards were being captured by the Ministry for illegal acts, but Tom continuously found ways to protect the Knights and Death Eaters he valued. He punished those who displeased him by allowing Aurors to capture them, sending them to Azkaban for a few short months or years.
In his experiments with magical beasts, Tom was making tremendous progress. He allowed his Death Eaters to carry on with Dragon training, focusing his attention more on trading beasts illegally through breeding and selling them off – an act that had become so popular amongst witches and wizards that the Ministry of Magic issued a Ban of Magical Breeding. This ban prevented the Death Eaters from getting hold of a Nundu, much to their dismay.
Tom was not aggravated by the Ministry's decision to put a ban on Magical Breeding, however. In contrast, he was quite pleased with it – it placed the value of experimental beasts at a much higher price. Since he had the power to trade with larger traffickers through the Death Eaters, there was less risk of his followers being caught and sent to Azkaban. Unsure witches and wizards would sell their strange, experimental creatures to him at lower prices, too, knowing it was safe for them to do.
It was a successful year after the Ban on Magical Breeding when another extraordinary change happened in the wizarding world, shaking the Ministry of Magic in a way no one had foreseen. As a result of the false accusations and savage attacks against Squibs occurring over the last five years alone, Squib Rights marches had been organised in the summer to protest against the Ministry's reluctance to protect them. As the first march began, it became apparent that a large percentage of the population disagreed with this demonstration. Angry witches and wizards were refusing to tolerate the Ministry listening to Squibs' voices.
Pure-blood Riots had broken out all across England. What was most awe-inspiring and terrifying about this was that Tom had nothing to do with it. Many of the Death Eaters, being pure-blooded, had joined into the chaos gleefully, but none of them were acting under the orders of their Lord. In Harry's opinion, this was the point at which Tom's power became truly apparent. Common witches and wizard, unhappy with the Ministry's gentle attitude towards Muggles, Muggle-Borns, Blood-Traitors, and Squibs, were fighting for Voldemort's views with joyous determination.
Never before had Harry seen witches and wizards take to the streets to protest vigorously against the Ministry. Despite working alongside Tom and joining into the Dark Arts with him, Harry was alarmed by the change happening around him. The riots persisted even as Squibs were terrorized – it was only when three Muggles were murdered in celebration that the uproar stopped. At the sight of the Dark Mark looming high above the scene, Pure-bloods had fled in fear of being blamed.
"It's all so idiotic," Nott commented to Harry a week after the riots ended. "Most people didn't seem to know what they were doing there, they just joined in once they saw others fighting."
Harry wasn't surprised to hear this. He sat in his usual seat in Nott's front room, warming up by the blazing fire. Harry thought that Nott seemed especially tired today, but he wasn't yet sure why. He hadn't been able to see him in weeks.
"A few families close to mine encouraged it, and even joined in," Nott carried on, "but it's a mere amusement for them all. They didn't know what they were talking about. They had no understanding of what really went on, they just wanted to celebrate their blood purity..."
"Were you there?" Harry asked.
"No, I was working in the Ministry. It was lucky, I suppose. It would have caused problems if I suddenly started fighting against my own colleagues, so I had to stay where I was."
Harry nodded once, knowing Nott's 'luck' had more to do with giving the Death Eaters the perfect excuse than anything else.
"It still surprises me that my Lord was not behind all of this," Nott commented. "It seems like something he would do: use blood rivalry as a tool to start riots, shaking the whole of England."
Harry thought this over for a second, not knowing what the right response might be. "Whether or not he started the Pure-blood Riots, he's still causing the changes we're seeing in England," he said.
"Which is what makes it so terrifying, I suppose," Nott mused. "He has gained so much power and influence over so many people, he barely needs to tell others what to do."
Harry stared down at the fireplace. He wished this wasn't true.
"This is only the beginning, as well," he said. "Tom will continue to change England..."
"As will you," Nott commented quietly. "As will all of us."
Harry watched him in the dim firelight, reflecting on the lack of hope in his tone. If Nott's family were even a part of this, supporting this, it seemed as if there was no hope in stopping Tom's rise to power. Harry tried to find a scrap of hope. Eventually, he said: "Until we don't."
Nott said nothing. His tired eyes locked with Harry's and seemed to be searching for something within them. Harry wondered how many more times he would be able to come here without Tom finding out. If Tom caught a flash into Harry's mind again, if he saw this house or Nott or anything important... Harry didn't know what he'd do. All he knew was that the risk felt worth taking.
In an attempt to stop the sorrow and perturbation within Nott's eyes, Harry decided to carry on talking.
"Tom has a brilliant mind," he said, "but it isn't always used for the right reasons. He's done some brilliant work, he's made discoveries that won't stop helping the wizarding world for decades, but what he's doing now, what he's standing for, just isn't right..."
"I wish more of us realised that," Nott agreed gently. "It happens to the best of people. Power becomes too important as soon as they realise their own brilliance."
"I'm not sure it'll ever change, either. Tom is too attached to all of this."
Nott said nothing. He was thinking deeply, looking away. Harry wondered if he was thinking over how he had murdered Emeric, Ransom, and Brian Prewett. It made him feel oddly forlorn. He took comfort in reflecting that Nott didn't know about the man he had murdered in Italy, at least.
"I wasn't meant for this..."
Nott met his gaze again at these words. "I know," he said softly.
Harry wasn't very convinced. Despite Nott's evident calmness he feared his judgement.
"I wish I hadn't made some of the choices I did," he said. "I could have done a lot better. I could have been something important..."
"Like what?"
"Anything. Even working at the Ministry would be better than doing nothing to help. I could have been a teacher at Hogwarts, or an Auror, or –"
"An Auror?" Nott repeated. "Tom never would have allowed it."
"If I spied for him, he would have allowed it. Just to do something good, to hunt down other criminals... You remember how I used to work for the Daily Prophet?"
"Yes?"
"I was offered a job as an Auror there..."
As Harry said it, memories came flooding back to him about Moody's persistence.
"One of the other workers, Moody, was an ex-Auror and he saw something in me. I should have taken the offer. Things would have been different. Better, even..."
Harry could surely have become a convincing Auror, to help both sides of this war grow stronger. It filled him with regret – an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time.
"But you wouldn't have been with our Lord," Nott observed. "Even if you couldn't stay to help the Ministry, you were able to bond with him in the years you spend away in Albania together. I know the two of you got closer in that time; you stuck with him to enjoy the love you felt for each other. That isn't a crime."
"But I wasn't meant for this," Harry told him quietly. "I was made for greater things. I should have made a different, I – I was the Chosen One..."
Harry was so distracted by this, he didn't care Nott that had heard his old title. He knew he had failed the entire wizarding world by his cowardice. He didn't know how he could change that now.
"Chosen for what?" Nott asked.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but something held him back.
"I... I don't know," he said.
Whether this was the truth or not, he wasn't sure. He was chosen for death, perhaps – or at least in Dumbledore's eyes. Or chosen as a distraction, as a hope for the wizarding world to cling to, despite the mass amount of power Voldemort held long before the Battle of Hogwarts. All he knew was that if he was the Chosen One, he had failed his only duty.
"I want to fix all of the damage I've done," Harry said. "The only thing I fear is changing in the process of fighting this. I don't want to lose myself, but I think I might be halfway there..."
To his surprise, Nott showed no signs of sorrow or fear. He watched Harry in the low light of the evening, a smile on his face and kindness etched into his tired eyes.
"You'll find your way back," he said. "You always do."
– X –
Harry sat alone in the Basilisk Hideout, haunted by the things Nott had said. He was waiting here solely to gather news about an enemy of Tom's, who had threatened to rat out a few of their associates to the Ministry. The Death Eaters would arrive at this headquarters to inform Harry about the success of their attack; they had likely killed the rat. Harry didn't bother to think about it too much. His mind was wandering to other thoughts as his unfocused eyes ignored the dreary, shadowy cave around him.
Lately, Harry found himself thinking about the choices he had made. He wasn't proud of the crimes he involved himself in and the more time that passed, the more he feared and resented the changes happening around him, whether or not they were a direct result of his actions. Occasionally, he noticed the changes happening within himself. Less occasionally, but still quite often, he was forced to think about it for hours.
When the three Death Eaters arrived in this depressing cave, a new depth to his own changes became apparent to Harry. The Death Eaters appeared joyous upon their arrival, but as they advanced towards the table Harry sat at, their smiles slowly slipped away.
"How did it go?" Harry asked.
Breaking out of a moment of deep thought, Gibbon looked up. "It didn't go so badly."
"Was he killed?"
Harry didn't even need to know the rat's name to ask this.
"Yeah," Dolohov told him with a yellow-toothed smirk. "Fell right down to his knees, pleading for mercy. We saw no point in keepin' him breathing."
He laughed at his own words, but it was halfheartedly. This caught Harry's attention. Dolohov was normally endlessly chuffed about his kills.
"What did he say?" Harry asked.
"Not much," Gonson told him distractedly. "Just the usual..."
Harry was silent for a moment. They weren't being very informative. He was about to ask them what had gone wrong, who had been hurt, before he saw Dolohov shiver.
"You're cold?"
Looking up, Dolohov's eyebrow raised in disbelief. "You're not? It's freezin' in 'ere..."
Rowle and Gibbon were shivering too. Harry watched them curiously, about to shake his head in a wordless gesture of 'no' for Dolohov, but a sound interrupted his thoughts. It was a harsh, muffled thumping sound coming from somewhere behind Harry.
"Did you hear that?" Gibbon asked with wide eyes.
The four of them sat very still. The sound had ceased along with their voices, until it started up again in cruel hope.
Thump, thump, thump...
Harry stood up. The three Death Eaters quickly followed him, as if they had suddenly dropped all bravery. Harry looked at them, bemused, until the sound distracted him once more. Thump, thump... Harry took out his wand.
He advanced towards a wardrobe, which seemed to be where the noise was coming from.
"Don't!" Dolohov suddenly said.
Harry looked back at him, annoyed, suddenly, at his fear. "What's gotten into you?"
"I just don't like it!" he said. "There's something bad in there. Something... negative. I -"
"What's that?" Gibbon cut across him sharply, pointing to the bottom of the wardrobe.
There was the hem of a cloak, ripped and tattered, sticking out of the door. The Death Eaters were comically horrified, as if they had reverted back to children. Harry took slow steps towards the wardrobe, wondering if another Death Eater could be hiding in there. He reached out a hand, twisting the doorknob and pulling it forwards, until -
He saw not a wizard, but a cowering, rasping creature. He stared, alarmed, and saw its lungs draw in a deep breath, its grey, scabbed skin stretched tightly over its skeleton, which was shielded almost wholly by a flowing black cloak. A hood was drawn right over the Dementor's face, showing nothing but the rasping, gasping mouth. Its breath rattled on and on, sucking in endless air and endless hope, as if its scabbed lungs had holes punctured through them. Before Harry could do more than back away, the Dementor rose.
To his surprise, the Dementor did not pay him the least bit of attention. It was halfway across the room before anyone could stop it. Harry saw Rowle withdraw his wand, stammering, "E-Expecto Patronum!", but not a single thing happened. The Dementor was already on Dolohov, clutching at his flesh, grasping his arms, pulling in closer -
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Nothing changed at Harry's spell. He tried to think of a happy memory, knowing he was the only wizard here unaffected by the Dementor's powers, but he couldn't do it. The Dementor's mouth was attaching itself to Dolohov's, its breath growing eager.
"EXPLUSO!"
In Harry's fear, the spell became stronger, but there was nothing he could do to banish the Dementor completely. It was blasted away from Dolohov, who gasped at the fresh air and fell to the ground. It advanced towards Dolohov again seconds after smashing into a stone wall, but Harry used the same spell, forcing the Dementor far down the entrance of the cave. Encouraged by Harry's persistence and the Dementor's distance, Gibbon threw a spell at the creature too, shortly joined by Rowle.
Perhaps feeling defeated, or knowing this wasn't a part of the deal it had made with Tom, the Dementor did not return. Harry turned towards Dolohov, who stared with large, unseeing eyes as he gasped for breath on the ground. Harry dropped down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to make him look up.
"Are you alright?"
Dolohov was still unable to speak. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Dolohov had killed the rat tonight and the Dementor had sensed his weakness, bringing forth remorse.
Harry shook his shoulder, forcing him to say something. "Look at me!"
His eyes were frightened when they met Harry's, but they weren't deadened. His soul hadn't been removed.
"He's fine," Harry murmured, watching the Death Eater closely. "He's still here..."
"Thank Salazar..."
Harry stood up, caught up in thought. The Dementor hadn't had any affect on him... Was this a result of his soul being shattered and separated? Or was it because he felt as if he was under a Dementor attack often? He was haunted by so many thoughts... He decided not to think about it too much. He told the Death Eaters they should go before something worse happened. He needed to get back to Tom...
The house was gloriously empty when Harry arrived at it. It was one of the only things he liked about the changes Tom had made lately – there was no risk of Death Eaters or Knights showing up at unexpected times here. Even Tweaky respected Harry's rush to go see Tom; he bowed deeply and returned to the kitchen without saying more than "Welcome home, Master...". Upstairs, Tom was in the library. He looked up when Harry arrived, smiling softly.
"Do tell me the news... Is River dead?"
Harry assumed this was the rat the three Death Eaters had been sent to kill. "Yeah, I – I think they just murdered him for good measure."
"How?" Tom asked casually.
"They didn't actually say," Harry admitted. "We, er, were interrupted."
He made his way around the couch to sit next to Tom. When his arm found its way around Harry's waist and when he smiled gently, Harry felt as if it had been a while since they were so close. They had done so much work lately, it exhausted both of them completely. Appreciating the comfort of Tom's touch, Harry began to explain the Dementor attack.
To his surprise, Tom was more interested in this attack than he was in the murder Rowle, Gibbon, and Dolohov had committed. He was mildly angry at the Dementors for disobeying him and he was determined to find out which creature they had seen tonight, to punish it for almost rendering a Death Eater useless. On top of this, however, he was impressed by Harry's story. His determination to fight pleased Tom, but his ability to stay unaffected by the Dementor pleased him further.
"This is brilliant," he said in a hushed voice.
"How?" Harry asked, personally thinking that it was a mediocre fight.
"The timing is curious, for I have been wondering all night who I will choose for my latest mission..."
Harry didn't like the sound of this. "You have tens of Death Eaters you can use. Why would I be any help?"
"You know a change has happened," Tom said softly, "the whole wizardng world is changing... It has lead me to believe that now is the time to put our greatest plans into motion."
"You mean, to take down the Minister?" Harry asked quietly.
"Yes..."
Tom was playing with a strand of Harry's hair, watching him fondly.
"You have more than satisfactorily displayed your ability to stay level-headed in battle over the years," Tom told him. "It this this quality, as well as your strength, that I need most of all in delicate operations..."
"How can I help?"
"I must tell you of my plan first," Tom said, smiling. "It begins with murder..."
"The murder of Nobby Leach? You said it'd be no use if he was killed. He'll be replaced."
"That's why we shan't kill him, but another important person... Specifically, his son."
Harry was astonished. "Why him?"
"Can you not see what it will do?" Tom asked in a gleeful hiss. "The Pureblood Riots have only just ended, much to the relief of Nobby Leach and his family. His son is an avid supporter of Squibs, Mubloods, Blood-Traitors, and Muggles – if we were to kill him now, the whole world would never cease to remember why."
"Won't it be too much?" Harry asked. "Won't Leach step down from his post as Minister if we do this now?"
"No," Tom assured him, shaking his head with a grin, "he's a Muggle-lover like none I have ever known. If his son dies in the pursuit of advocating equality amongst Muggles and wizards, Leach will hold Purebloods responsible for his son's death. He will use this as fuel to fight against us more determinedly – only, many will mistake his mourning as strength. Many will fail to understand that in his anger, he will be weak..."
Tom's wide eyes showed the mad, feverish happiness Harry had grown to love. He grinned widely at the genius of his own plan. He seemed enthralled that Harry showed such strength; it captivated Harry wholly, drawing him closer to Tom in this dark, quiet room.
"What do you need me to do?"
Tom grinned more deeply still, stroking the side of Harry's face lovingly.
"The Pureblood Riots were a mere three weeks ago; it is my belief that we must not only take advantage of this situation, but worsen it for even greater affects... Bobby Leach, the son of the Minister, is holding a public speech in dedication to the Muggles who died at our Death Eaters' hands... I want you to be at his assassination."
"Who have you have kill him?" Harry asked.
"Lestrange," Tom told him calmly. "He is our best assassin... I will employ Avery, too, to be there. He will be able to fight the Aurors if they cause a scene, but otherwise I do not want Death Eater involvement. I do not want to risk lives..."
"So, my job is to get Lestrange out of there?"
"Yes," Tom said gently. "Guide them both. Do not give the Minister the satisfaction of knowing who murdered his son. I want to be blamed wholly for this crime..."
Harry thought it over quickly. It wouldn't involve him killing anyone, but it would give him a huge amount of credit amongst the Knights. It would please Tom greatly...
"When is Bobby Leach's speech?" he asked.
Tom gave a low hum of laughter, knowing this was his acceptance. He leant in to kiss Harry joyously.
"Friday," he hissed. "We'll plan everything with our chosen Knights..."
– X –
The day of the assassination dawned hot and blindingly bright. Mid-summer appeared prideful of its power, leaving all the citizens of London lethargic, irritated, and boiling. In a sheltered, cold cave not far from London, Harry was standing with the five chosen Knights, Avery, and Tom. Their plans had been organised fully, sticking almost entirely to what Tom had described to Harry a few nights ago.
Harry found himself oddly calm about the task ahead of him. As the sun began to lower in the sky, saving them from the heat and light of day, it became more and more obvious that not all of the Knights felt the same way.
"This could ruin my whole reputation," Lestrange said shakily, fastening the high collar of his black, closely-fitted outfit. This was the first time perhaps ever that Harry heard him sound anything but bored. "My children would never forgive me – their friends at Hogwarts will know them only as the sons of an assassin..."
"Well, that's certainly a way to gain respect," Avery commented lazily. He wasn't bothered by a thing going on. He seemed rather envious, if anything, that Lestrange was doing the actual killing. "I'll take the job from you, if you care so much. I'd be proud to give my son that title."
"You have no experience with assassinations," Lestrange reminded him coldly. "This isn't like your petty, brutal murders. What's more, you've never had to murder a respected man with a crowd of witnesses."
"Wanna bet on that?"
"You've done nothing like this!"
Avery laughed at Lestrange's irritation, fixing his own gloves idly. He was posing as a casual wizard eager to hear Bobby Leach's speech. In Harry's opinion, he still stood out as a criminal.
"Good old Knob," Avery commented will full humour, as if in defeat, "it seems such a shame to kill off his only son like this."
Dorn was bemused. "Is zhis real sentiment? Do not tell me you are a Muggle-lover too, zhat would be quite drastic in this situation."
"I'm just getting in character," Avery laughed. "It's what them Mudbloods say, ain't it? Good old Knobby..."
"It's what everyone will be saying, if this all goes wrong," Lestrange commented through gritted teeth. "They'll talk of how brilliant Nobby Leach's son was, how I killed him..."
"You should be honoured," Rosier commented from the back of the room, watching the conversation with interest. "If I didn't have an even greater reputation than you –"
Lestrange glared at him coldly.
"– I would happily take on this assignment. This could change the course of history, after all."
Lestrange fumed quietly and said nothing, overwhelmed by stress.
"You'll have Jonathan to protect you, anyway," Black commented, as if this settled the matter. "With his protection, along with our Lord's, you won't get caught."
As if given permission, Nott looked at Harry wordlessly. There was a kind, reassuring look in his eyes that wouldn't have been obvious to many. It captivated Harry for a moment, making him pause. He wished he could talk to Nott about this – he wanted to know how he felt about Lestrange being in danger, or the fact that Harry would be protecting him – but there was no time.
If Harry had believed this look was private, he was mistaken. He felt other eyes on him and when he finally drew his attention away from Nott, he saw Lestrange glowering at him. It surprised Harry deeply. So much so, in fact, that this seemed to convey itself; Lestrange looked away hastily, as annoyed as ever.
"It should be about time now," Avery was saying. He sounded almost nervous now. "We should probably get going."
Harry turned to Lestrange, holding back his reluctance. "Are you ready?"
He nodded stiffly, barely looking up. He drew his hood up until it covered his face, a silver mask in one hand, wand in the other. Harry withdrew his Invisibility Cloak, but didn't put it on yet. They turned towards the door.
"Good luck," a few Knights said.
Tom, Harry knew, was waiting in the other room. He didn't want to see his three chosen followers until they were finished with this mission. Harry had said goodbye privately to him earlier; he felt there was nothing left to do when he existed the headquarters with Avery and Lestrange.
Avery parted from the two of them shortly after they arrived in London. Harry and Lestrange didn't speak much when they were alone, but thankfully they weren't alone for long. They headed straight for Diagon Alley through a deserted pathway. They were seen by no one.
"You know what to do," Harry said. "I'll watch out for you the whole time."
Lestrange didn't say anything to him. Harry wondered if this might be because he felt ill, but he couldn't tell – Lestrange was wearing the silver mask. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, making him wholly invisible. Harry turned away, towards the main street of Diagon Alley. He heard Lestrange's footsteps fading in the opposite direction.
When Harry reached the street, he found it full of quiet, respectful witches and wizards, who he supposed must be in mourning. Over a river of pointed hats in shades of black, purple, dark green, and navy, Harry could see yellow sunlight hitting the upper floors of the shops around them. Breaks in the large street where westward lanes cut into it shed more light across the scene. One of these sections of sunlight was hitting a small podium, where Bobby Leach was due to stand.
Making his way along the back of the crowd, Harry could just about make out Avery's head near the very front of the podium. He was standing near a few Aurors, perhaps taking enjoyment in his recklessness. Especially, Harry knew, because he had murdered the Muggles everyone was here in dedication to. Harry could picture the boyish grin that must be breaking across Avery's face every few minutes for seconds at a time, catching the curiosity of Ministry Officials and Aurors. Harry hoped he wouldn't get caught, ruining this entire operation...
A few moments later, Harry found the perfect place to stand. He was on the far edge of the crowd, on the steps of a closed shop. The Minister was nowhere in sight, to Harry's relief. There were only a few writers for the Daily Prophet on seats near Bobby Leach's podium, as well as rich sorcerers making a good name for themselves, Ministry Workers trying to look official, real Squibs taking pride in their invitation, and a young woman waiting nervously, who Harry thought might be Bobby's sister.
He felt ill upon seeing the last seated guest. It might be just a girlfriend, he told himself, or a work colleague... What was important now was she wasn't the one who had to die. Harry wished Avery wouldn't stand so jarringly close to the Aurors. Harry thought he could see Bobby Leach behind the stage, talking solemnly to other wizards, dressed in black, shaking hands... As this figure began to approach the stage, Harry became more sure it was him. Nerves were catching him, distracting him. He had no idea what Lestrange must feel like...
The young wizard stood proudly on the podium, looking out at the witches and wizards before him. He took a deep breath, before speaking.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I must thank you for gathering here on this tragic day to pay your respects to those we have lost in the recent, monstrous events that have struck our world with terror..."
Avery was shifting where he stood. Was he bored? Or perhaps guilty? Any moment now, both of those reactions would change. Harry wished he could see Lestrange, who was surely standing close to Bobby Leach.
"...has struck fear and horror in the pure hearts of our children, our loved ones, and ourselves..."
The security in this gathering was so poor, it would surprise Harry if these Aurors could use magic at all. Their protection over Leach depended entirely on their eyes, which Lestrange had effortlessly surpassed.
"...stop those who wrongly believe that, in these dire times, prejudice and discrimination is the answer. I ask all of you here today to question if..."
Avery was moving. Harry wasn't paying any attention at all to the speech Leach was giving; his eyes fixed on the Death Eater, who appeared to be moving back. Perhaps he had begun to realise that standing in front of the Aurors was a bad idea.
"...will remind each and every one of us that our world can only gain more from loving our fellow Muggles. United, we stand powerful and true. Separated, we are only weakening ourselves..."
When Avery was still once more, Harry turned back to Leach. He didn't know why Lestrange was hesitating. Had be become too scared? If only Harry could see him. He didn't want to have to take over and murder Leach himself...
"...suffer along with our Muggle companions, to turn a new page in the blood-stained history book of our kind. With our trust and dedication, no witch or wizard, Squib or Muggle, Muggle-born, Half-Blood, or Pure-blood has to suffer at the hands of this injustice. Through love and compassion, we can find it within ourselves to mend the wounds of this treacherous war, turning back to..."
Taking Lestrange's lead, Harry withdrew his Invisibility Cloak, quietly draping it over his shoulders and drawing up the hood.
"...here to tell you what great things can come with the union of Muggles and Wizards..."
There was enough room for Harry to slip by the other witches and wizards along the street without causing a disturbance. He edged closer to the podium, thinking he might be able to detect Lestrange, at the very least.
"...if we only open up our hearts to those who have so willingly, so selflessly cared for us, we can find great things in their companionship. We can find pride in the purity of blood no matter what–"
His words were cut short. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he stopped, awe-struck at the timing.
It appeared, at first, that Bobby Leach had forgotten his lines and had paused in nerves; his eyes widened horrifically and he made faint, gruesome choking sounds. It confused all who watched him. When blood began to seep from his neck, it became apparent what was happening: Lestrange appeared, knife in hand, clutching Bobby's body.
Somebody screamed in horror. Harry ran. The Aurors hadn't moved; they didn't know who had screamed or why, even as terror echoed through the street, ripping at the minds of every witch and wizard here.
Bobby stared out at the crowd with glazed eyes, his lips mouthing soundless words nobody could hear. There would be no saving him now – the Knife's enchantments had then effect and Bobby's head dropped to his shoulders. Lestrange let him drop further, indifferent to this savage crime.
Thud!
Crimson blood began to leak onto the stage. Lestrange, his face unreadable behind his silver mask, pointed his wand to the sky.
"MORSMORDRE!"
The heavens erupted into a shower of green sparks. Even in the light of the setting sun, the emerald stars reflected in every street window and in the terrified eyes of the witches and wizards below, who began Disapparating so fast, it sounded like several fireworks were going off in celebration. Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over Lestrange, urging him away from the podium and from Bobby Leach's blood-soaked corpse. The Dark Mark reflected in his eyes too.
"Stupefy!" several voices shouted in wrath.
"Impedimenta!" cried others.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Incarcerous!"
"Protego!" Harry shouted. The shield was struck by spell after spell, despite Harry and Lestrange's invisibility. Harry backed away from the shield furiously, pulling Lestrange along.
"IMPERIO!" Lestrange shouted back with glee.
His spell hit one of the Aurors who stood to the side of the shield. Seconds later, the targeted wizard was attacking his workmates, confusing some of them and angering more.
The street was clearing of its witches and wizards quickly – even Avery, who had taken on four Aurors, had fled from the scene. Neglected hats, turned over chairs, pieces of indiscriminate rubbish and cowering, wounded civilians were all that remained.
"Expulso!" Lestrange shouted beneath the Cloak. "Secareileum! Cru-"
"Don't!" Harry hissed warningly. "Let's just get out of here!"
"They're so easy to target!" Lestrange exclaimed. "Just-"
Harry grabbed his right wrist, forcing him to stop. "Listen to me!"
Something in his voice seemed to convince Lestrange to stop. Harry pulled his arm, forcing him to run, diagonally, to an alleyway. Down the narrow street, they passed closed shops, knocking over old cauldrons, cartons, and broomsticks. Someone seemed to have spotted them; bricks above their heads shattered at the strength of spells.
"Impedimenta!" Harry shouted, hitting the wizard tailing them.
Harry pulled Lestrange around a corner, hoping to find no one there, but he was mistaken. Fleeing witches and wizards run along before them, ushering children forwards, appearing horror-struck and panicked. Aurors were sweeping through the street, trying everything they could to find Lestrange.
"We need to get Avery," Harry said in a hushed voice.
"He headed for Knockturn Alley," Lestrange told him. "We'll get found by Aurors before we make it there!"
Harry didn't want to leave him behind. He was sure Avery would get caught if he didn't help...
"They'll place an Anti-Apparition Charm in moments," Lestrange reasoned. "They'll -"
"Stupefy!"
An Auror had heard them. Harry ducked with Lestrange.
"Impedimenta!" the wizard cried. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"
Lestrange sent a jet of purple light his way, hitting the wizard squarely in the chest. He was blasted back to the brick wall behind him, falling to the ground.
"Let's go!" Harry shouted, tugging him along again.
They stood up fully, fleeing down the emptying street. They were on their way to Knockturn Alley, taking a shortcut few knew of, when they caught sight of the chaos going on down there. Avery, apparently, was being chased by every Auror, because they didn't know who else they could attack. There was a shower of multi-coloured sparks and the furious, maddened cries from various wizards. Avery passed right in front of Harry and Lestrange.
"Avery!" Harry hissed.
He paused for one second, looking around. When he saw no one, fear got the better of them. He slipped down another alley, laughing in hysteric nerves along the way. Harry was about to follow him, but the Aurors were too quick: they sped after Avery, blocking Harry's only chance to get to him safely.
Seeing several Aurors heading their way, Harry knew what he knew he must do.
With a deafening 'crack!' the were gone.
The horrible sensation of Apparition is all he could remember next. Their feet met new earth, miles from where they had been before. They were nearing the Dementor Hideout now.
When their heads stopped spinning from the journey here, Lestrange jerked his arm irritably from Harry's grasp, ducking out from under the Cloak. He was shaking badly with nerves. Harry soon followed him, folding the Cloak up in his hands.
"Why did it take you so long to kill him?" Harry asked, confused by the quietness and calmness of this new area.
"Couldn't you see? I was waiting for the right moment. I thought I'd make a real show of it..."
Nodding shortly, Harry let the subject drop. He thought about Avery, who he really should have brought here. The Aurors were surely scanning every street, looking for who had murdered Bobby Leach...
Lestrange was visibly annoyed again. Harry thought he might be dissatisfied with his murder, or Harry's escape, or even the fact that they had left Avery behind, but instead of talking about any of these things, he brought up an unexpected subject.
"It's a shame you couldn't bring dear Nott here," he panted, glaring. "I'm sure he would have made a cleaner escape..."
Harry said nothing. He had no idea what brought Lestrange to say this. After a moment of seeing his angry expressing and shaking limbs, he supposed that the rush killing and almost being killed, captured, or identified must be pushing Lestrange into this.
"Nott isn't an assassin," Harry reminded him. "Nor any kind of killer."
Lestrange scoffed. "That doesn't stop you caring about him..."
For a frightened moment, Harry thought Lestrange knew about the meetings he had arranged with Nott. He remembered that if Lestrange knew, however, Tom would know too, so it wasn't very plausible. No, Lestrange was doing this because he feared he was going to be judged. He was... jealous?
"He must be doing something to impress you," Lestrange carried on. "It's a miracle he stayed a Knight for so long, never mind a respected one... He doesn't kill wizards and there are smarter Knights than him, so why is he so cared for?"
Annoyance played at the edges of Harry's mind. "What does it matter to you?"
Scowling again, Lestrange tried to explain it. "I just can't fathom what he could be doing to please you and our – my – Lord."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"The Dark Lord is not easily impressed," Lestrange said. "He... Well, he..."
"You think you know him better than I do?" Harry asked incredulously. "He wouldn't tell you a thing about himself – and anyway, wasn't it his direct orders that you shouldn't make assumptions?"
Lestrange opened his mouth to retort, but he had nothing to say. Just as it seemed as if he might give up, they heard another 'crack!' from not far away. Avery had arrived.
"Thank Salazar!" Avery exclaimed upon seeing the both of them. "I had no idea where you two went!"
"I'm glad you made it out of that," said Harry honestly. "How did you escape?"
"I just ran down Knockturn Alley – as if they could make their way 'round there better than me!"
He grinned once more, thoroughly impressed with himself.
"We saw you there," Harry said, "but the Aurors were too quick."
"I know," Avery said casually, "but s'alright. That was one brutal murder – the timing was priceless!"
Lestrange showed no signs of caring. He sighed deeply.
"It'll give them Daily Prophet workers something to write about, eh?"
"I believe so," Lestrange agreed lazily, clearly distracted by other thoughts.
"I was starting to think his speech might have moved you, though," Avery joked. "Going on about them Mudbloods and blood-traitors – almost brought tears to my eyes. I've had a change of heart; forget all this pure-blood bollocks, I'm gunna go help Muggle children learn how to set up traps for my grandchildren!"
He laughed merrily at his own joke, until seriousness caught up with him.
"I'd be surprised if our Lord expected us to come out of that unscathed, though – seems like I was meant to be chased."
Harry couldn't argue with this, in all honesty. If Lestrange thought the same thing, he showed no sign of interest. He was pointedly ignoring Harry and this entire conversation.
"I guess he must have wanted me to get caught," Avery carried on.
"No," Harry said, "he just needed a distraction. We were always meant to help you. If he wanted you to get caught, he would have sent you out there alone."
Avery couldn't find anything to say to this, but for a moment he looked relieved to hear it.
"We should head back to the headquarters, anyway," Harry said, seeing the sky was almost completely black. "It's a bit of a walk from here..."
They began heading forwards wordlessly, exhausted from their work. After they started walking, they saw shooting stars erupt in the sky.
"Seems like the others heard the news," Avery said happily. "It'll be a great night to celebrate!"
Before Harry or Lestrange could say a thing to this, however, they spotted something in the distance. A figure was heading towards them, its silhouette illuminated against the sky every time a shooting star was seen. Harry and Lestrange's pace slowed. When Avery made his way to walk on blindly, Harry reached out a hand to grab his arm, stopping him.
"What?"
"Who's that?" asked Lestrange.
Harry had no answer. He thought he recognised the figure, but he didn't dare suppose it was possible. "We should get back to the headquarters..."
They could hear the distant cries and howls of Werewolves echoing over the foggy meadow. It was a full moon tonight. Lestrange turned and began walking away without a word.
"Ahwoooo..."
"I'm out of here," Avery mumbled, following Lestrange at a quick pace.
The figure in the distance seemed to slow, as if it was waiting for the other two to disappear around the nearby trees. Harry decided not to follow the Knights. If Dumbledore had found him, nothing could be gained from trying to run. There had to be a reason for this forced meeting; if Harry left now, Dumbledore would keep finding him until they could speak.
Had the news of Bobby Leach's death reached Hogwarts Castle already? Harry supposed that some of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses in Dumbledore's office could have informed him about Leach's death. Harry waited for the figure to approach, anxiety catching hold of him when he caught sight of Dumbledore's serious expression.
"Jonathan," he began tranquilly, "I'm afraid your actions have gone too far..."
"I didn't murder him," Harry told his old headmaster immediately. "I didn't do this!"
"I am well aware of that. Yet your contribution to this crime leaves me no choice but to contact you directly, in the fear that you won't otherwise listen..."
Dumbledore drew himself up to his fullest height as he slowed to a stop before Harry.
"Listen to what?"
"England grows more unstable with each passing day as a result of Tom's influence. I fear it will not be long until our world changes completely. I have come here tonight to ask you, quite simply, whether you have revoked your previous claim to take action against the Death Eaters. I am here to ask if you are brave enough, once and for all, to redeem the crimes you have committed, to join me in a fight against this terror."
Harry was overwhelmed by Dumbledore's abrupt appearance and his even more abrupt demands. He opened his mouth a few times to talk, but was unsure what to say. When he remembered the deaths of innocent people the Death Eaters had conducted lately and when he remembered Tom's lack of fear, empathy, and reason, he realised with a pang of sorrow and acceptance that he must give in.
There could only be one reason for Dumbledore being here tonight: his appearance signified the severity of the recent deterioration of the country. Dumbledore was fearful and intent upon Harry making up his mind.
"I haven't revoked my claim," Harry said honestly. "I'll redeem my crimes and I – I still want to join you..."
Dumbledore inclined his head in understanding. It appeared, for a moment, that he doubted Harry's claim. As if to reassure him, to secure him, he gave one last piece of advice.
"Any hardship can be overcome, Jonathan, if one only finds reason to fight it..."
Harry watched him, transfixed. Dumbledore was stepping back. He Disapparating with an echoing 'crack!', leaving a deathly silence behind. Harry was left alone with his thoughts, deaf to the distant sounds of crackling and booming, blind to the flashes of emerald stars that illuminated the forest and the countryside around him...
Although he was in no mood for celebration, he turned in the direction of the Dementor Hideout. He didn't want to stay here, bothered by his thoughts, and he knew Tom would start worrying if he stayed out for too long. When he arrived at the headquarters, entering a hidden passageway that lead deep into the ground, he could hear the merry voices of Knights and Death Eaters celebrating. Upon hearing the recent news, the Death Eaters seemed to know immediately who had caused Bobby Leach's death.
Lestrange was engrossed in conversation with the Knights while Avery drank merrily with the newest arrivals. Tom, to Harry's relief, appeared unconcerned and wholly satisfied with the night's events. He sat before his followers like their true Lord, knowing only too well how much power he would gain from this...
"I heard a wizard approached you upon your arrival here," Tom said softly. Harry took a seat next to him. The nearest Knights listened to their conversation idly. "I take it you met no trouble?"
"It was just a wanderer," Harry lied. "I took care of it."
Tom smiled softly, his attention lingering on Harry for a moment. As his followers continued to celebrate in their discussions about the Ministry, the Dark Arts, Britain, and their future plans, Tom joined in with their discussions tranquilly, assuring those closest to him that great things would come of their dedication. Harry remained quiet for most of the night, going unnoticed by the others as he wondered about the Order of the Phoenix...
