Severus scowled at the gathered crowd that had crammed themselves around the table in Grimmauld Place's basement. He had no lost love for most of the Death Eaters at this point, but he hardly found any of the those in the Order to be any more palatable. Arthur was a pushover, Molly was a harridan, Alastor was incapable of getting past Severus's previous loyalties, Shacklebolt was too serious, Nymphadora was both too clumsy and too inexperienced, and the less said about Black and the werewolf, the better.

The only person who wasn't entirely unpleasant to speak with was Fletcher, and that was only if Severus cast bubblehead and air freshening charms to protect himself from the man's pungent odour. Fletcher was at least cynical enough that Severus didn't want to curse him for naïvete every time he spoke, which he could not say for the other Order members. As things stood, Molly refused to allow her twins to join the Order, despite the fact that they were both of legal age and, much as it pained him to admit it, competent. They were terrible at applying themselves academically, and they resembled the Marauders far too much for his taste, but he couldn't deny the brilliance that went into every prank and invention that they made. He probably would have appreciated their skill more if he wasn't one of their preferred targets.

"You're quite certain of this, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked. "There was nothing at all? Could the traces have been removed?"

"There's no way to remove the traces that thoroughly in this timeframe. I'm telling you that, wherever it was that Potter witnessed Voldemort's resurrection, it was not in Little Hangleton. There were no traces of ritual magic, or any magic, being performed there at any point recently. The same is true of that one cemetery in London."

"The only ritual I could find matching the one that Potter says he witnessed specifically calls for the bone of the parent." Severus added. "It would have to be freshly removed from the grave to maintain the highest level of magical potency, but I wouldn't put it past her to try and edit the ritual in some other way. She would no doubt find using the bone of her muggle father to be distasteful, and she never cared much for her mother, either. I can easily see her taking measures to use some other form of material, perhaps from a more distant relative. We'd have to ask Potter for greater details about what he witnessed."

"It's for the best that he stays with his family for the time being. We can ask him for further details when it becomes necessary to retrieve him." Dumbledore insisted. "Even if Voldemort was being truthful when she told Harry that she no longer had any desire to kill him, I doubt that she has no place for him in her plans. The longer we can keep him definitively out of her reach, the better."

"That poor boy…" Molly began, at which point Severus retreated back to his thoughts.

He took a long sip of his coffee, trying to let the bitter flavours consume him enough to distract him from Molly's current rant. It was more successful than he had expected, but less effective than he would have liked. Such was the story of his life.

"Well, I believe that covers our plans for the next few weeks." Dumbledore said once Molly's wails had been quelled. "We'll continue to keep watch over Harry while he's staying at his home away from Hogwarts, and we'll begin monitoring the Department of Mysteries for any suspicious activity."

Oh, please, as if the Department of Mysteries ever had any activity in it that wasn't suspicious.

"In the meantime, Remus and Rubeus will be acting as envoys to the Werewolves and Giants. I doubt we will be able to convince them to join our cause, but if we can at least prevent them from allying with Voldemort, then we could count that as a victory. Now then, does anyone else have anything that needs to be brought up?"

While they might be able to convince the giants not to join with Voldemort, any attempt to keep the werewolves from joining with her was a wasted effort. He didn't know why Dumbledore was even bothering.

"Actually, I have something to report." Nymphadora said hesitantly. "It's… yesterday, when I was watching Harry, I popped back to my apartment for a second to grab a drink. Before I could even get inside, I was hit with some sort of disorientation charm and apparated away. I don't know how long it took me to recover, but in that time, I was completely disarmed. My wands and backup wands had all been taken and I found myself face to face with Voldemort."

The room erupted into chaos at that admission. Severus was a bit shocked at first, but that lessened as he had a moment to think it over. Voldemort was very intent on recruitment, particularly those whom she thought would support her actual agenda, not her public agenda. For all her faults, Nymphadora was skilled, talented, smart, and had exactly the sort of background that Voldemort was likely to find desirable.

That was how she had recruited him, after all. He would never call Voldemort predictable, but this was the one thing she had done with a fair degree of consistency.

"No, she didn't do anything to me!" Tonks insisted to a concerned Molly Weasley. "She just… talked to me for a bit. She was bloody terrifying, too. I'd heard stories about her teleportation skill, but it was unnerving to see it in action."

Ah, yes, Voldemort did love her 'Blinking' ability. It was her favourite tactic for scaring the new recruits.

"She just talked?" Dumbledore said skeptically, giving Tonks an inquisitive stare. "Are you sure there was no other ulterior motive behind her approaching you? Could she have been attempting to track you back to Harry's house, or perhaps leave some sort of tracking charm on you?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "I apparated five times in a row to random locations before I returned to the auror office, then took the floo to my parents house, then apparated back to my post. I know how to take proper security precautions. Isn't that right, Mad-eye?"

While Moody grunted gruffly, Dumbledore gave Severus a glance, causing him to inwardly sigh. He was obviously worried that Tonks was affected by some sort of mind magic, and wanted him to check for signs. It was a reasonable assumption, but Severus really was getting tired of doing this sort of dirty work, no matter which side of the war he was on.

Severus caught a glance at her eyes, and quickly formed a legilimency connection. He ran a few cursory scans through the outer layers of her mind before things got weird. The entire structure shifted and rearranged itself to keep him out, the metaphysical space distorting in impossible ways as mindscapes weren't supposed to be able to.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!? Get the fuck out of my head, Snape!"

Well, didn't this just figure. Occlumency was not a requirement for being an auror, but it was heavily encouraged, and of course, Moody would have made her go far beyond what was expected of her at a minimum. It really shouldn't have been surprising that she caught him so easily. What was surprising was the sheerly dynamic element to her defences. He couldn't trace connections through the memories like he would normally, as each memory's connections were constantly shifting. It was like trying to navigate an Escher drawing where everything was constantly changing into new impossible geometries with every passing second.

"How in the world are you doing this?" Severus was one of the best occlumens in the country, and he'd never seen anyone do anything remotely like this.

"I'm a metamorph — Shifting is in my nature. Now get OUT!"

With that, every single facet of her mind aligned, leaving Severus wondering just what the hell was going on here before he found himself forcibly and unilaterally removed from her mind, and her wand pointed at his face.

"What the fuck was that about, Snape?" She said with a scowl. "Didn't your mother teach you not to go traipsing about in other people's heads without their permission?"

"You were in the presence of the greatest practitioner of the mind arts that the world has seen in the past century. Checking to make sure that your mind is untampered with afterwards is a sensible precaution to take." He explained, trying not to let too much of his natural cynicism leak into his tone.

"And you couldn't have asked first? Not that I would have said yes, mind…"

"And risk alerting whatever effects she might have left behind to my inevitable incursion? I think not." He didn't know if Voldemort had actually done such things in the past, but he had no doubt she was capable of it. That said, if she truly was interested in recruiting Tonks, she would likely leave the young woman's mind as untouched as possible. Heavy mind arts were reserved for her opponents, not potential recruits or turncoats.

"Believe me, if Voldemort had left any lingering effects in my mind, I would know."

"Watch your attitude, lassie!" Moody shouted from the corner of the room he was watching from. "That sort of overconfidence is what gets people killed!"

Tonks immediately mellowed at Moody's chiding. "Yes, sir." She shot one last glare at Severus before apparating out of the room. From there, people began to gradually trickle out, as the meeting was clearly over. Severus waited until it was only him and Moody left. Moody was always the last to leave a room, as he hated the mere idea of having his back to people.

"Something you want to say, lad?" Moody asked as he leered at Severus.

"What in the world was going on in her head?" Severus asked flatly. "I have never seen a mindscape capable of that sort of dynamic reorientation before, and I've never seen any defences like that, either. And before you try and deny it, I know that you were the one who taught her, so don't bother."

"Use your head, potion boy. Animagi can use their ability to augment their defences, and werewolves have an implicit defence of sorts. Metamorphmagery is just another type of Shifting magic, so why couldn't she use it to augment her occlumency?"

That… did make a certain degree of sense. Shifting magic tended to have a very profound effect on the internal aspects of one's self and one's magic, all of which fell under occlumency in some form or another. On the other hand…

Well, she had set up her mind to be in a state of constant flux. There was no telling what some of mayhem that process would wreak on her ability to focus. It would explain why she could come across as spacey at times, and put her occasional bouts of clumsiness in a new light. She was nowhere near that clumsy in his classes, so it was obviously something she came about later.

Still… "I wasn't aware that was possible." He told Moody. And wasn't that true. Metamorphmagery's inherent fluidity should make it fundamentally opposed to the structural nature of occlumency, even if it was a form of Shifting magic.

Moody just shrugged. "I didn't know if it would work, really. Not that I bothered telling her that when I told her to do it. I just told her that she should use her metamorph abilities to modify her occlumency or I'd be doubling her required physical training."

Oh, it was the classic "I didn't know it wasn't impossible" scenario at work. Well, this confirmed his suspicions that Tonks was a prodigy, as prodigies were exceptionally prone to performing "impossible" feats because they didn't know such things were supposed to be impossible. He and Lily had each done it at least a few times, and Voldemort herself pushed the limits of "impossible" on an almost daily basis. To this day, no one had the slightest idea how her Blinking ability worked. The fact that Tonks was capable of similar feats certainly explained Voldemort's interest in recruiting her.

Voldemort's ability to sniff out magical prodigies was truly impressive, though. If not for the fact that she was bent on killing Potter, she'd probably consider him ripe for recruitment as well. She'd certainly been obsessed with recruiting his parents up until the very end.

Harry still felt… on edge from Voldemort's… visit the day before as he walked around the neighbourhood. It was unnerving just how easily she had found him, in spite of the supposed protections around the area. Granted, she had explained exactly she was able to circumvent them, but still….

The conversation hadn't been unpleasant, at least. It was still disconcerting just how nonchalant she was around him, but he felt more informed by the brief exchange he had with her yesterday gave him more information about what was going on with the brewing war than he had by every other exchange he'd had since Voldemort had been resurrected. That fact was the only thing that stayed his quill about mentioning her visit when he was writing to Ron, Hermione, and Sirius that evening.

He felt like he should feel guilty about not telling anyone that Voldemort "popped by", but… Well, he wouldn't even know where to begin. He didn't know if they'd believe him when he could still hardly believe it himself. He was really starting to doubt his own sanity at this point.

Harry was afraid to admit it, but he was starting to suspect that Voldemort was actually serious about not wanting to kill him. That did not mean he was in any rush to see her again, but he was at least starting to suspect that there was more truth to what she was telling him than he would have initially suspected

It still felt weird to admit that possibility, even if he was only doing so in his head. Even with all of the evidence that had been accumulating in favour of that conclusion, he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

He wasn't actually sure if he wanted to speak with her again. On the one hand, he could use her for information, as she was his only real connection to the magical world until he was able to leave the Dursleys in a month or so. On the other hand, she was still the woman who murdered his parents and had haunted his nightmares for longer than he could remember.

He avoided the park where she'd appeared yesterday. Just because he was supposedly easy to find didn't mean that he wanted to make it easier for her.

Harry sat down on a bench near the neighbourhood's bus stop. The bus wasn't due for another hour, and it was nowhere near the park, so he should have some peace and quiet for a while. He remained tense for a while, recalling yesterday, how Voldemort had appeared out of nowhere the moment he sat down. As the minutes passed by and he remained alone, he finally allowed that tension to leave his body for a moment.

It did make sense, he supposed. No matter how amicable she appeared, Voldemort was trying to rule Magical Britain. Surely she had better things to be doing than-

"Sorry I'm late." Voldemort said as she abruptly appeared and sat down on the bench next to him. She was dressed far more casually than she was last time. Her outfit consisted of jeans and a name brand t-shirt. The t-shirt was pink. Harry had never in his entire life imagined Voldemort wearing pink. He felt his brain seize up at the sight.

Also she had a basket of fish and chips. Harry didn't feel equipped to handle that detail just yet, though. He was still hung up on the pink shirt. Pink.

"Um…" He said, as he found it was the only noise he could make. Eventually, he managed to repeat the last word she said. "Late?"

Voldemort sighed and bit into one of the pieces of fried fish. "Well, it seems that the restaurant that served my favourite fish and chips closed down while I was bodiless. I've been having a real craving, though, and it's not like most of my followers are familiar enough with the muggle world to give me recommendations. So instead, I had to start scouring magazines for restaurant reviews and it became this whole ordeal, and the next thing I knew, I'd completely lost track of time and realised that I should probably check in on you."

Oh, well that proved it. Harry had gone insane. There was no way that he was sitting here on a bus stop bench inside of Little Whinging talking with Lady Voldemort while she rambled about reading muggle magazines for restaurant reviews so she could buy fish and chips to eat while she talked to him. Really, the notion that he'd gone insane explained so much. He probably had some sort of psychotic break back in the maze and had been in the looney bin dreaming up everything else since.

Voldemort held the basket out in front of him. "Would you like some? The batter isn't quite as good as the stuff I used to get, but the fish is cooked slightly better."

Well, it wasn't like hallucinatory food could poison him, so he grabbed a few of the chips and bit into them. They were nice and crisp on the outside but still fluffy on the inside. She had seasoned them with a bit much salt and vinegar for his taste, though.

"Yeah, I went a bit overboard on the seasoning." She said as if reading his mind. "But I have been without taste buds for far too long, so I've been going a bit overboard on all sorts of flavours."

"I never had much of a chance to get used to strongly seasoned food." Harry admitted. The Dursleys' taste in food was just as bland as their taste in everything else.

Voldemort gave a disdainful glance around the neighbourhood. "I can imagine why, just looking around. I grew up in an orphanage, so I never had much of a chance to get used to it, either. Hogwarts food was the best tasting stuff I had ever eaten before I reached adulthood."

Voldemort's tone sounded almost wistful as she talked. Harry would be more unnerved if any of this was actually real. What she was talking about was definitely familiar, though. Harry remembered just how good the food tasted on the start of term feast on his first year and how, no matter the occasion, it always tasted better than the stuff he had back home.

"Of course, I travelled for a few decades after I left Hogwarts." She continued. "I had lots of opportunities to try all of the food that the world had to offer. I wonder if any of my other favourite restaurants have closed down, too. It has been some time…"

Harry found himself relating to her once again, though not in her obsession with food and restaurants. Rather, he'd always wanted to travel and see the world. He'd never left the British Isles in his life, and he'd barely ever been anywhere that wasn't Little Whinging, Hogwarts, or London. He wanted to explore and leave this dreadful, boring neighbourhood behind him forever.

"That's an admirable goal you have there, Harry." Voldemort said as she bit into another piece of fish. "I wish you the best of luck in pursuing it."

Harry froze. He'd never told anyone that before. How did she…? "Are you reading my mind?" He asked incredulously.

Voldemort paused and blinked her eyes a few times. "Yes, yes I am." She swallowed the piece of fish she was chewing on. "Sorry about that. It's a force of habit."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You read people's minds out of habit? That's so… wrong!"

Voldemort sighed and put the basket down on the bench. "I know it's not a polite thing to do, but I just got my body back and I'm still acclimating to being able to use all of my magic again. I'm what's known as a 'natural legilimens' — I have an innate ability to read the minds of others, one that I came into at an unusually young age. It's so instinctive for me that it actually takes substantial self control for me to not read other people's thoughts."

Harry's indignation faded at her explanation. "That… sounds inconvenient." Assuming she wasn't lying about it, of course.

She shrugs. "It's something I've dealt with long enough that it's been normalised for me. I'm just off of my game, having spent thirteen years bodiless. I mean, I was barely able to use any magic in that state, so it's been quite a rush to get used to it again."

That… sounded horrible. Just going through the summers without magic was bad enough — Harry didn't want to imagine what it would be like to go over a decade without it.

"Besides," She continued, "all of my followers — at least the ones I've been in contact with — are able to reflexively defend themselves against such intrusions. You're the only mage I've been around in the week since my resurrection who has an unprotected mind."

Okay, being able to protect oneself from mind reading sounded like such an incredibly useful skill that he was amazed it wasn't taught in school. Maybe it was like wandless magic? Something that was theoretically feasible for the average person to do, but only after reaching adulthood? Harry had seen that most adults were able to use at least one wandless spell, while the closest thing an underage wizard could do was accidental magic, which was wild and uncontrolled in what it did.

"So… how do you learn to protect yourself from mind reading?" Harry asked.

Voldemort sighed. "Defending one's mind from intrusions is a branch of the field of magic known as Occlumency. It's an utter pain in the arse to learn, as it involves large amounts of time meditating and thinking about nothing so one can recognise external forces affecting their mind. It took me years to reach a decent aptitude, though I was also trying to learn it at a very young age, which presented its own hurdles. Did you know that modern psychological studies are showing that people's brains don't finish maturing until they're in their early to mid twenties?"

Harry was surprised by the abrupt subject change, but answered honestly. "I did not know that. Wizards have psychologists?" He had heard some people talk about mind healers, but he wasn't aware there were actual studies of the brain…

She shook her head. "No, I got this from a muggle psychology journal. Mages have never been exceptionally good at studying mental maturation from a physiological perspective."

"I'm… surprised to hear that you read muggle psychology journals. I thought you hated muggles?"

"I do, but…" Voldemort pursed her lips before continuing. "I do hate muggles, but I am fully aware that it's a personal issue that I need to work on. I try not to let it weigh on my professional choices too heavily."

Harry stared at her. And kept staring at her. That didn't… "How?"

She gave him a quizzical look. "How what? I mean, I suppose that it is a bit odd-"

"How do you not let it affect you professionally? Lucius Malfoy is a known blood purist and he's one of your followers. Snape is horrid to everyone that isn't Slytherin, but he's especially hard on the muggleborns from other houses, and I saw him and Karkaroff talking about the dark mark." Harry paused to take a breath. "And Karkaroff, for that matter, is the head of Durmstrang, a school known for not accepting any muggleborns. How can you say that you don't let it affect you professionally?"

Voldemort gave a small, knowing smile as he went on. "That is a very good question, Harry, and I'm glad you asked. The most important distinction to make is that my followers do not share all of my views with me. For example, while I will admit to having a dislike of muggles, I am not a blood purist, and I do not believe that muggleborns are necessarily weaker than purebloods. Indeed, that is an issue Lucius and I have frequent conflicts over. He gave me no end of grief over my desire to recruit your mother."

"But…" This just didn't make sense. "In the Chamber of Secrets, your diary talked about how much she hated her 'filthy muggle father', and-"

"I'm sorry." Voldemort interrupted, all mirth gone from her tone. "Did you just say that you spoke with my diary in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Um…" Harry stammered, feeling the anger emanating from her, even if it wasn't visible on her face. "In my second year, your diary possessed Ginny Weasley and opened the Chamber of Secrets. I killed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor and stabbed the diary with one of its fangs."

She gave a nasty scowl and stood up so abruptly that Harry jumped back out of reflex. "I'm sorry to cut things short, but it seems I need to have a talk with Lucius Malfoy about keeping track of other people's belongings."

With a loud crack, Voldemort disappeared, leaving Harry alone on the bench with the half eaten basket of fish and chips beside him. A minute after she left, Harry stood up and grabbed the basket, munching on it as he went back to number four. He wasn't one to waste food, even if it was a bit too heavily seasoned for his taste.

Lucius was looking over the agenda for the next Wizengamot meeting, provided to him courtesy of Cornelius Fudge. Really, winning over the man was comically easy. A few words of flattery and some generous donations, and the Minister was now willing to bend over backwards to do him a favour.

Non-members of the Wizengamot weren't even supposed to have access to this sort of information, but Cornelius was nothing if not indiscreet. Still, as deplorably corrupt as he may have been, Fudge was a huge boon for Lucius in the current political climate.

He felt a slight twinge in his awareness as one of the alert wards around the manor was triggered. It seemed that Voldemort was back early today from her latest recruiting mission. He made a note to avoid bothering her and went back to his work. That went on for a few moments until his attention was torn away from it by the sound of his office doors slamming open.

In the middle of the doorway stood an absolutely furious Voldemort, raw magical power flowing off her in waves. Whatever had happened today, it had clearly made her furious. He stood up from his desk to address her properly.

"My Lady-" He began, but was cut off before he could get any further.

"Crucio." Voldemort snarled.

Lucius had just enough time to think 'Oh hell' before the pain slammed into his mind with the force of the Hogwarts Express. It dragged on and on, consuming his entire being in utter agony, until it finally stopped. Slowly, he felt his mind forcing it way back to coherence through the lingering fog of pain. As he wiped the tears from his eyes to clear his blurred vision, he could see that Voldemort was livid.

What the hell had he done to anger her?

"We need to have a talk, Lucius. Please, sit down."

She didn't even give him a chance to stand up, conjuring an uncomfortable chair under him instead. Lucius desperately tried to pull himself together, as he was sure that he'd need his full faculties if he wanted to make it through the rest of the day unscathed. Voldemort was glaring at him the whole time, which was not doing wonders for his nerves, if he was being honest.

"So, I met up with Harry Potter today." She began.

Ah, the Potter brat. Why she was so interested in recruiting the half-blood son of the mudblood who bested her, he had no idea. He wondered if she was angry because Cornelius had pushed out an article slandering the boy without running it by him first? Voldemort was very explicit when she ordered him to have Cornelius focus the brunt of his campaign on Dumbledore, rather than Potter. The man's paranoia was making that a tricky task, but something like that wouldn't make Voldemort this angry.

"Imagine my surprise," Voldemort continued, "when he mentioned that in his second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened by a girl a year below him. A girl who was possessed by my diary. A diary that I left in the care of your family some years before."

Oh.

Oh Shit.

Lucius had forgotten all about that.

"I want to hear your explanation for how this came about." She demanded. "And for your sake, I hope it's a good one."

Okay, okay, he could do this. He took another few seconds to compose himself before he began his explanation.

"Arthur Weasley had just pushed his Muggle Protection Act through the Wizengamot." He explained. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't have bothered myself over such things, but one of the provisions he put into the law allowed for the DMLE to perform unannounced searches of wizarding family homes so they could seize any items that violated the new law." He scowled before continuing. "In truth, it was a thinly veiled excuse to get people pinned with possession of illegal objects. I didn't own anything that would have violated the Muggle Protection Act, but…"

"You owned other objects that were illegal under other laws." Voldemort said, completing his thought.

Lucius nodded. "One of those objects was your diary. I kept all of the objects that would have fallen under scrutiny in a hidden and secured room, but felt uncomfortable taking chances after the third search in as many weeks. I liquidated most of the items, and relocated a few to other locations under the custody of other people. I originally planned on storing the diary in my vault at Gringotts… but I don't trust the goblins. They demand heavy fees for the storage of dark objects, and I didn't trust them not to destroy it at the first excuse to do so."

"But it was destroyed regardless." She said accusingly. "Surely you can see that it would have been better to take the chance with the Goblins? Or have you been doing your typical routine and offending them at every opportunity because you can?"

Lucius bit his tongue. He really didn't get Voldemort's interest in creatures and half breeds. If it wasn't for their short-term political goals aligning, he was sure they'd be enemies. They were really more allies of convenience than anything.

His distaste with her request must have been obvious, as she scowled at him again. "You know, your father had a far better poker face than you do. I sometimes wonder how you were able to get out of Azkaban." Well, that was lots of money, lots of luck, lots of playing the sympathy card at the right moments, and skills in occlumency that were just barely good enough to let him lie under the influence of veritaserum. "So, continue telling me about your rash plan that led to you planting my diary on an eleven year old girl."

Right. "Well, I was considering myself short on options. I didn't dare sell it, and was lacking in any places to store it that were as secure as that I'd removed it from. I was debating what to do when I spotted the Weasleys entering Flourish and Blotts. At that moment, I improvised a plan. I planted the diary in the girl's belongings and cast a confundus charm on her to make her believe she found it in her own house instead of among her school supplies. From there, she was… supposed to hand the diary in, to either a teacher or a member of the ministry, telling them where she found it. Arthur Weasley would be accused of privately violating the laws he publicly upheld, dragging his reputation through the mud and hopefully bringing an end to the frequent searches being held under her supervision. Truth be told, I have no idea why she didn't turn it in…"

Voldemort pinched the bridge of her nose and took several steadying breaths before levelling her gaze at him. "Why in the world did you think confounding someone to turn in the diary was a good idea? Do you have any idea what that book even was?"

He did not, and said as much.

"Right!" Voldemort exclaimed with exasperation. "Of course Abraxas never told you what it was! He probably just told you that it was something your family had been entrusted with safekeeping! He never would have dreamed that he'd have to tell you how to handle such an object!"

Oh gods, now she was being sarcastic. Lucius had no way of knowing if this was a turn for the better or a turn for the worse. She did accurately nail down what his father had told him about it, though. Granted, he'd held onto the diary up until a few months before his passing in 1988, and he'd died before he had a chance to elaborate on what it was.

"The diary was…" She paused, visibly considering her next words. "It was an experiment in soul magic that I performed in my Hogwarts days. There were compulsions laced into it to make one want to hold onto it and keep it safe — compulsions far stronger than whatever confundus you cast on her."

"Well, that does explain that much, at least…" Lucius admitted. "It's also worth noting that the location I was originally using to hide it was compromised two weeks later during Weasley's next 'unannounced search', so it was going to fall into someone else's hands regardless."

"Unless you did the sensible thing and put it in Gringotts."

Lucius schooled his expression. "Much as you disagree with me, I can truthfully say that I wouldn't trust those greedy little blighters if my life depended on him."

Voldemort sighed and began hissing to herself in parseltongue. Lucius refrained from making any further outbursts, as he knew this was her way of attempting to keep herself calm.

Once she stopped hissing to herself, she took a few deep breaths before continuing. "The diary was irreplaceable, and its loss is… beyond regrettable. There is a possibility that I will be able to undo most of the damage done through its destruction. The diary possessed the girl. Do you have any idea how complete the possession was when the diary was destroyed?"

Lucius had no idea how complete the possession was. He didn't even know that it was possessing her until Dumbledore said as much in his office after the diary had already been destroyed. Still, he at least had the official report to go by…

"I can't comment on that, but I know that she had been writing in it for most of the year. She was carrying out attacks on muggleborn students using the basilisk to petrify them. At the end of the year, she was abducted into the Chamber of Secrets with a message implying her imminent demise left painted on the wall."

Voldemort appeared exasperated at his first pronouncement, but perked up when he mentioned the girl being abducted. "That sounds… promising. Hm, let me check some numbers…"

She summoned a piece of parchment and a quill from his desk and began scrawling a few arithmantic equations.

"Yes… I think I can work with this. It will be tricky, but that's never stopped me before…" She incinerated the parchment with a wandless spell and stood up from her chair. "Be grateful that the damage caused by your mistake was not permanent. I would be much angrier if it was."

Lucius sighed with relief as she left the room. He was sure that he'd be trembling for days if he'd had to endure another cruciatus as intense as that first one. As it was, he'd likely have some small shakes for at least a day. On the bright side, such shows of weakness were unlikely to be noticed, as he had no appointments outside the manor, and had no need to make public appearances.

That was probably one of the few advantages he saw in not being a politician. The lack of accountability was something he savoured for the time being, as if things went according to plan, then it was not to last.

Voldemort fumed to herself as she walked through the halls of Malfoy Manor. It was best to get all of the frustration out of her system now, lest it impact her judgement later.

"§You seem angry, Mistress.§" Nagini hissed at her.

"§I am.§" She replied curtly.

"§Who are you angry at? I can eat them, if you'd like.§"

She let out a curt laugh. For all her intelligence, Nagini tended to be straightforward in her approach to problem solving. "§Unfortunately, I'm not sure who I'm angry at. I'll let you know when I figure it out.§"

It was true, though. Voldemort didn't know who to blame for the destruction of her first horcrux. Sure, it was Lucius who set off the events that led to its destruction, but at the same time…

Well, it was probably for the best that it was destroyed instead of being captured by the ministry, especially since it was destroyed while possessing someone. The Department of Mysteries would likely have taken an interest in it if the Ministry got it, and she didn't want them prodding around a part of her soul. They might have even been able to track down her other horcruxes if they had an intact one. She didn't know if such a thing was possible, but she did her best not to underestimate the Unspeakables. Rookwood was probably more knowledgeable than she was, and they weren't even a particularly high ranking unspeakable!

So, while Lucius certainly made some questionable choices, she didn't know if she could blame him for its destruction.

She could have blamed Harry, but she could hardly blame him for something that was by all standards an act of self-defence. After all, her diary had been petrifying people using the basilisk and kidnapped the sister of his best friend to absorb her life force. She could hardly blame Harry for destroying it at that point.

Voldemort strode into the lab space that she and Barty had set up in one of Lucius's too many spare bedrooms. Shelves full of reference texts that she'd accumulated over the years had filled the shelves that spanned one of the room's walls. Barty had set up a work bench of sorts in the middle of the room, full of equipment that was mostly used in potions, but had uses in alchemy, as well. He was currently boiling a glass beaker filled with what appeared to be a solution of some kind of blood over a violet flame.

She ignored all of that for the time being and slumped down in a chair, letting out a sigh as she did so.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Voldie?" Barty asked without letting his attention drift from whatever he was working on.

Voldemort twitched at his choice of wording, but let it slide. "One of my horcruxes was destroyed."

Barty froze and looked up at her, horror written on his features. "Shit. I mean… shit. Are you okay? Are you feeling any adverse effects?"

She shook her head. "If I was going to feel any adverse effects, I would have felt them by now. The horcrux in question was destroyed two years ago."

He clicked his tongue. "That's not good. How is this the first you're learning of it? I mean, it was a part of your soul, wasn't it?"

"Well, do you remember how I was experimenting with one of them? Seeing if I could give it a sense of agency and ability to function as an independent entity?"

Realisation dawned on Barty's face. "So, because it was acting as a separate entity, you weren't able to sense it, leaving you unaware of its destruction."

An awkward silence filled the room, punctuated only by the faint sound of liquid boiling away in its beaker.

"I can't say I'll miss it, if I'm being honest. I never did care for your diary."

Voldemort stifled a giggle. Leave it to Barty to break the mood like that. "You know, that diary was a highly accurate replica of what I was like at sixteen."

Barty shot her a look. "Does that really make it better?"

"No, it doesn't." Voldemort groaned. "Gods, I was such a melodramatic little shit when I was a teenager. Really, why the hell did I think releasing the basilisk was a good idea? The bloody messages on the walls? Just about the only sensible thing I did that year was getting Hagrid expelled for keeping an acromantula as a pet, and even that's wrapped up in all the crap I pulled with the chamber."

And that was the real rub. When it really came down to it, the only person she could think to blame for her horcrux's destruction was herself. After all, she had been an arrogant little shit as a teenager, and yet she still decided to try and make the youngest soul fragment capable of acting independently. It would have been more sensible if she'd just left the diary alone. Instead, she made the most unstable part of herself able to actively possess people and absorb their lifeforce.

"Didn't you also come up with the name 'Voldemort' when you were in school?" Barty asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, but… I mean, it is kind of a cheesy name. Don't get me wrong, I like it, but it's sort of a silly thing to call myself."

Barty gave a brief chuckle. "Well, it certainly makes people take you more seriously than if you used your birth name. If I had been named something like that, then I would have invented a new name for myself, too. I also would have killed my father a lot sooner for putting me through that."

Voldemort laughed back at him. "That's entirely fair. My father wasn't even responsible for giving me my name and I still killed him before I graduated Hogwarts."

"Yeah, but you've always been an overachiever."

She had really missed bantering like this. Now that every moment wasn't a struggle to continue existing, she could really bask in Barty's company. Granted, bonding over patricide probably wasn't a behaviour that most would consider healthy, but Voldemort was not about to claim she was an exceptionally well adjusted person.

"So," he began, sombering instantly, "how did the horcrux get destroyed and who did the deed?"

Voldemort sighed. "I don't know the details, but the basilisk was killed and one of its fangs was stabbed through the diary."

Barty whistled. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"As for the who, it was none other than Harry Potter himself."

He shot her a look of disbelief. "And you still want to recruit him? Hell, he destroyed a piece of your soul and you still think the prophecy was fulfilled? For all you know, he is some prophesied chosen one who's going to vanquish you for good!"

Voldemort had her reasons for wanting to keep Harry alive, though she hadn't told Barty the truth. All she'd told him before sending him off to Hogwarts was that Harry was to come to as little harm as possible. She toyed with her options before deciding to tell him the truth that she had omitted earlier. "Harry is also one of my horcruxes."

Barty froze and stared at her, disbelief etched on his features. "He… really?" He paused, taking the revelation in. "People can be horcruxes? How did this happen? How long have you known?"

"I've known since the end of his first year. I could sense the soul fragment in his body the moment I was disembodied from Quirrell. As for the how… I'm not sure, really. I was attempting to make another horcrux that night, and I can only assume that whatever Lily did to protect him interfered with the ritual in a weird way. I will admit, I didn't know it was possible for living things to be horcruxes. Learning that Harry was a horcrux was the reason I decided to try and make Nagini into one, as I wanted to know if it could be done intentionally. That, and the protections that are now on Nagini make her highly resistant to damage, so I can help ensure her safety."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Leave it to you to be so concerned about your snake."

Voldemort brushed his comment aside and positioned herself opposite Barty on the workbench. "So, what are you up to today?"

Barty grinned. "Moody had confiscated some samples of wyvern blood just before I took over for him. I decided to 'appropriate' the samples for my own use. Right now, I'm seeing what happens if you substitute them for dragon's blood in various alchemical recipes!"

Voldemort grinned at the beaker full of violently bubbling violet liquid. "Awesome! I'll activate the wards to keep this room safe from explosive damage! This'll be so cool!"

She made a mental note to check on the status of her other horcruxes soon. It wouldn't do if someone started tracking them down, after all.

A/N (Tendra): Yes, I'm alive. Yes, I'm still writing. No, I haven't abandoned any of my fics.

I fell ill in early March with a "severe respiratory illness". Unfortunately, I live in the U.S., so I was never able to get tested for COVID. Whatever it was, the illness left me struggling to breathe for three weeks and gave me an erratic fever and occasional bouts of vomiting in addition to an almost complete loss of taste. That really interfered with my workflow. While I did not get pneumonia, I did end up with chronic costochondritis, which I have had to learn to deal with in the time since. Then, allergy season started…

Yeah, it's been hell. I'm finally getting back into my old workflow. I'll aim to get either a DftD or HPSS chapter done soon.

E/N (Xgenje): Ten may be alive but I'm actually dead. Working full time with a constrained oxygen intake while doing heavy manual labor will do that to you. I'm on the second line for the U.S. fight against COVID.

On a relevant note, do y'all have any idea how dumb some of these people are, or how bad they are at following simple instructions? Like, it's do 2 things mate: wear a mask, and stay 6ft apart.

E/N (Foadar) : No trouble but boredom here as the outbreak clears up in Europe. Uni's gone all digital and I am healthy, but bored to hell. Stay those 2 meters apart, everyone is better off because of it. Obey the measures to prevent further spread. We can make it through this.