"It's green." Voldemort said as she stared at the stone. "It's not supposed to be green."
"No, it's not." Barty replied. "I suppose that we can systematically eliminate snake components as possibilities for the refining process. We've really narrowed down the list of possibilities through the process of elimination. I think I can get a definitive answer in a day or two."
Voldemort stared at the stone. It was a brilliant lime green, almost the same colour as the killing curse. The light of the room reflected through it, making it look as though the core was filled with acid. If their previous examples were anything to go by, then that meant it probably would shoot acid if she used it.
Not wanting to have her hand melted off if she tried to handle it, Voldemort picked it up with a metre long pair of tongs, and placed it in a crystal jar. She sealed the jar and then placed it on the same shelf as their fourteen other attempts at making the stone, each of which came out with unusual colours and properties. Not wanting to risk jostling any of the existing jars to make space, she instead opted to place it on the very end, next to the pink stone that reminded her of cherry blossom petals.
The next several minutes were spent cleaning up the carnage from the latest explosion. Every single stone had formed different patterns on the ground after the inevitable explosion. This time, the scorch marks had formed concentric rings outward from the initial blast. Voldemort had no idea how that worked, but hey, it was magic.
Alchemy was supposed to be the field of magic that was most grounded in logic, but that was something of a low bar. Alchemy was what one would get if a poet looked at the periodic table and decided that it needed more symbolism. It operated on a logic that was several levels removed from reality and sanity, and thus, Voldemort had no idea why the scorch marks patterns varied so wildly.
As they wrapped up their work, Barty sat back down at the desk. "I think I should be able to reverse engineer the process to determine the necessary primary catalyst now that we've eliminated so many possibilities." He unrolled two feet of parchment across the table, on which the arithmantic equation for the Philosopher's Stone was written. "It will take several hours of work, but I should have either an answer or an extremely narrow list by this evening."
"I'm still surprised that the catalyst wasn't serpentine in origin." Voldemort mused. Snakes were a longstanding symbol of healing. Of the extremely small number of spells that could only be cast in parseltongue, all of them were healing spells. Even the muggles had continued to use the Rod of Asclepius as a symbol of medicine.
"Nah, while the healing symbolism was there, snakes lacked the symbolic meaning that would allow them to fuel the catalytic processes of the Stone. Like I said, just give me a few hours and I should have an answer."
She nodded. "Alright, I suppose I should go take care of my business for the day. I have a meeting in…" She cast a Tempus charm. "…Ten minutes ago. Crap."
"Well, at least you helped me clean up this time." Barty teased as he began working on the equation. "Usually you just leave once the fun part is done, leaving me to do all the work."
"I am a busy woman!" Voldemort pouted. "And speaking of which, I really need to get going."
"Alright, get going then. Say hi to your boyfriend for me."
Voldemort didn't justify that with a response and Blinked out of the room. Malfoy Manor was obnoxiously large — large enough that she couldn't cross the entire thing in a single Blink like she could a sensibly sized abode. She didn't know who to blame for the manor's ostentatious size, but she was pretty sure it was because the Malfoys were French.
She Blinked directly on her throne, not bothering to announce herself before doing so. Everyone else in the room jumped but the person she was meeting with wasn't fazed at all. Then again, Fenrir Greyback had never batted an eye at any of her antics.
"Finally decided to grace us with your presence, my lady?" He said sarcastically.
"You should feel grateful to be graced with my presence. It's an honour reserved for a privileged few." She bit back.
"The arrogance of humans never ceases to amaze me." Fenrir snarled.
"Better to be an arrogant human than a savage beast."
The two glared at each other for a minute before Voldemort's composure cracked and she let out a snicker. Greyback burst into laughter a second later, and the two of them let it out for a while, to the alarm of every werewolf and Death Eater in the room. When her laughter had calmed enough, Voldemort leapt off of her throne and pulled Fenrir into a one-armed embrace.
"It's good to see you again, Grey."
He nodded. "You too, Voldie. It's been one hell of a decade, hasn't it?"
"It really has. We have a lot of catching up to do."
He grinned at her. "All that time spent on the run will be worth it once we get back to business."
Voldemort rolled her eyes. "You'll have to wait a while longer to fulfill your bloodlust. We're laying low for the time being. Why don't we catch up over lunch?"
Lucius muttered something about "food-obsessed", which earned him a sharp glare. She'd like to see him go over a decade without eating anything and then try to restrain himself.
"Lucius will escort your companions to their accommodations." She glared at him. "Won't you, Lucius?"
He nodded sheepishly, which was good enough for her.
"What are you in the mood for?" She asked.
"Sushi." Greyback replied without thinking. "It's been years since I've had good fish."
"Sushi sounds great. Mind if I bring the kids along? I'm sure they'd appreciate the opportunity."
He grinned. "Bellatrix's sprog is alive? I assumed she'd been killed after the war's end."
"Thank you!" Voldemort said as she waved her arms in front of her torso. "I told her as much and she got all snippety with me!"
"I mean, isn't that just how kids are at her age?" He asked. "I mean, I always got that impression…"
"I mean, neither of us were exactly normal kids, so I couldn't say. I'll go fetch Delphini and bring her here. Would you mind apparating her to the restaurant while I fetch Harry?"
"What? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess that's fine. The usual place?"
"Of course. I'll be back in a jiffy!" Voldemort exclaimed as she Blinked out of the room.
Fenrir seemed to have a moment of realisation as she was leaving. "Wait, when you say Harry-"
Delphini was not having a good day.
She had heard stories about roosters crowing at the crack of dawn. What she didn't know was the peacocks made even more annoying noises early in the morning. Lucius Malfoy either didn't ward the house against the obnoxious noises of those peafowl, or he deliberately didn't ward the guest bedrooms just so he could rub in how well he slept when his guests woke up sleep deprived. Her money was on the second one. It seemed like the type of thing that prick would do.
Her day only got worse as Lucius's idiot son tried to simper up to her in some pathetic attempt to get into her mother's good graces. She could literally feel the sleaze emanating from him. Like, he was aware that she first met her mother a week ago, right? How was befriending her supposed to curry favour with a woman she'd only just met?
Her mother was, of course, the third annoyance. She'd been constantly trying to "check up" on her for the past several days, offering unnecessary advice on Delphini's studies and hobbies. Delphini was hoping to get some reading done, but any remaining hope of that was dashed when her mother did her obnoxious silent teleport into the room.
"Heya, Sport." She said, making Delphini physically cringe. She didn't know if Voldemort was trying too hard to be a good parent, or not trying hard enough. Regardless, the results were unpleasant and embarrassing.
"Please, please, never ever call me that ever again." She all but begged.
"Fine." Voldemort pouted. "Are there any other nicknames you don't like?"
Delphini grit her teeth. "You may call me Delphini, Delphi, or Delph. That's it."
Voldemort laughed. "You really do take after Bellatrix, you know? She was much the same way, refusing to let me call her anything that wasn't derived from her name."
Delphini felt a faint sense of longing at the mention of her mum. Her actual mum, not just the one who'd donated genetic material to the ritual that conceived her. "Will… will I be able to meet her soon?"
"Of course." Voldemort replied. "There are some hurdles I need to overcome before I'll feel confident about assaulting Azkaban, but I should be able to overcome them before the summer is over. While I've never been good at forming emotional connections to people, I do feel fondness for Bellatrix. I have no desire to see her languish in prison any longer than necessary."
That was… actually reassuring to hear. Delphini really hadn't been sure what to make of Voldemort at first. While she hadn't inherited any of the Dark Lady's famous skills in legilimency, Delphini was an empath, and she could tell that Voldemort really did mean it when she said she was fond of Bellatrix. It was the first time she'd felt anything approaching a normal emotion from her.
"Anyways, that's not what I came here to talk about. I'm having lunch with an old friend and was wondering if you'd like to come with us?"
Well, it would give her an excuse to get away from that Malfoy brat for a few hours… "What are you having?"
"Sushi."
Fuck, that did sound good. Reading could wait. "Sure, I'll go. Will you be apparating us?"
Voldemort shook her head. "No, Fenrir Greyback will be apparating you. I'll be making a stop in Surrey to see if Harry would like to come along."
…Fenrir Greyback. Fenrir Greyback, as in, the world's most infamous werewolf who was wanted dead or alive in almost every country in the world.
Delphini rescinded her earlier feelings of sympathy towards Voldemort. This woman was not operating on any sort of normal thought process if this was her idea of a family outing. And who the hell is Harry? Surely she didn't mean…
"Come on then, I'll take you to the foyer." Voldemort said, interrupting Delphini's thought process as she grabbed her arm and ran them through a series of bizarrely disorienting teleports that left them in the manor's foyer.
"Aren't you excluded from the wards!?" Delphini snapped. "You could have just apparated us!"
Her mother just shrugged. "Apparition is pretty uncomfortable. I much prefer a series of Blinks if I don't have to cross large distances." She turned to the room's other occupant. "Fenrir Greyback, this is Delphini Riddle. I'm sure you remember her. Delphini, this is your godfather, Fenrir Greyback, infamous werewolf. I'll meet you two at the restaurant. Bye!"
And then Delphini was alone with one of the most wanted people in the world. "Just to check, all of the stuff about you being a pedophile is just propaganda, right?"
He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, it's all propaganda. You don't think Voldie would leave you alone with me if it wasn't, right?"
"Honestly, I have no idea what goes through that woman's mind."
Petunia frowned when she heard a knock on the door. She was quite enjoying her lunch of bite-sized sandwiches that she could daintily eat while reading the latest women's magazines. Life was all about performance — one never knew when neighbours might be watching, after all.
But what kind of neighbour would she be if she left her door unanswered? With a small sigh and a gentle brush of her blouse to ensure she was free of any errant crumbs, she stood up and answered the door.
Ah. It was that woman again. She'd heard from her weekly meets with the neighbourhood gossips that an adult woman with dark hair had been meeting up with him on an almost daily basis, though she'd only met the woman when she came to take Harry out for lunch last week.
The woman was obviously… one of Them. Thankfully, unlike the family of rambunctious redheads, this woman was sensible. She dressed like an ordinary person, often in business or business-casual outfits. Moreover, she had the common sense to use the front door instead of travelling through the… the fireplace!
The only sign that this woman was magical at all was her interest in Harry — Petunia had dissuaded the entire neighbourhood of that notion long ago — and the fact that her eyes were red. It was like someone had managed to take the colour of blood and concentrate it to an unnatural vibrance. Petunia did her best to avoid looking at them. They always felt like they were staring into her soul.
"I assume you're here for the boy again?" Petunia asked tersely.
The woman nodded. "I'm having lunch with a business associate who just returned from travelling abroad and was wondering if Harry would like to join us."
"What's your interest in the boy, anyways, Mrs…?"
The woman stared her in the eyes before answering. "Riddle. Just Miss Riddle, actually. I've never been married nor do I have any interest in doing so. Romantic entanglements always seemed like an unnecessary complication."
Oh, she was one of those "working women". Petunia did not approve of such frivolities, but tried to keep it off her face. "No first name?" She asked.
"I have one, but avoid using it by any means necessary. My mother died in childbirth and was completely delirious when it came to naming me, and the nuns and the orphanage abided by her request, even if I wish they hadn't. I stick with using my last name or a pseudonym whenever possible."
Oh, so not only was she a working woman, she was a working woman from a bad background. Well, she at least respected the woman for being able to make something of herself. Petunia knew firsthand how hard it was to claw your way up in the world.
"To answer your question about my interest, I'm trying to persuade Harry to take up an apprenticeship under me. His parents were some of the most talented people I ever met, and I'd love to see what their child can accomplish when he's put in the right environment."
Petunia's lips thinned. Of course it came down to Lily. Everything always came down to Lily. It was Lily who got all the praise. It was Lily who painted a target on her own back by opposing that 'Dark Lady'. It was Lily who drew the wrong sort of attention that got their parents killed by those freakish terrorists. It was Lily who married rich. It was Lily who got herself blown up in some freak sacrifice. It was Lily who invoked blood protections that got Petunia saddled with raising her son, 'for his own safety'.
Petunia didn't approve of the boy doing any of that freakish nonsense, but there was a potential silver lining to all of this. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'd be able to take custody of the boy if you did?" If he was going to do it, he could at least keep it away from her and her family.
Miss Riddle looked pensive for a moment. "Well, I do think I'd be better suited to providing a conducive learning environment — there's only so much a magical child can accomplish in the Muggle world. There would be a lot of red tape involved in doing an adoption, but we do share a blood relation, which would hopefully speed things up on the matter…"
That was good. The boy had never belonged here. He never would belong here. He should be among his own kind. Just… "You will take care of him, won't you?"
Miss Riddle gave her a look between a gentle smile and a smirk. "Believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, if you could please call him? My associate and my daughter are waiting for us to arrive."
Petunia nodded, silently judging her for having a child out of wedlock. "Harry! Get down here and make sure you're presentable! You've got a visitor!"
Riddle sighed and leaned against the doorway, appearing casual with an ease that Petunia envied. Deciding to change the subject, she asked the woman about a detail that had been bothering her.
"What happened to your eyes? I mean, you clearly know how to act presentable in normal society, so why not change the eyes to a normal colour, too?"
"Ritual scarring." She replied disinterestedly. "My eyes were originally dark brown, but when I was young and foolish, I engaged in dangerous forms of magic because I was arrogant about the strength of my own abilities. I don't bother hiding them because hiding magical scarring is extremely hard, and because I don't actually mind how they look. There's a certain intimidation factor to be had with them that I've found useful."
Petunia couldn't imagine why anyone wouldn't go out of their way to hide unsightly scars. For all the boy's faults, he at least tried to keep that scar of his hidden under his fringe. Still, she knew that… people like her tended to have stranger eye colours. One of the people at Lily's wedding had grey eyes. Not blue grey, either, but stone grey! Positively unnatural.
She heard the sound of footsteps descending the staircase only for them to stop halfway down. "Oh, um, hi." He said.
"Hi, Harry." Riddle replied. "Are you up for having lunch again?"
"I guess…" He said slowly. "What will we be having?"
"Sushi."
Petunia tsked. Really, foreign food. What was wrong with enjoying some simple and down to Earth English food?
"The problem is that it's far too bland. I had enough flavourless, unseasoned food during the Great Depression and wartime rationing." Riddle snarked. "Are you ready to go, Harry?"
That woman… did she just…?
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Let's go."
Petunia glared at them as Riddle grabbed his arm and they vanished with a loud crack. Petunia looked around to make sure none of the neighbours noticed anything off before she huffed and went back to the house. She hoped that that mind reading freak did take the boy off her hands so she'd never have to deal with any of this nonsense ever again.
"I am so glad I thought to read your aunt's mind before giving her a name." Voldemort commented as they reappeared in an empty back alley. "I almost introduced myself as 'Miss De Mort', which would not have gone well. Apparently, Dumbledore spoke with her about my return during the beginning of summer."
"Um…" Harry didn't know what to do with that information.
"So, if your aunt's thoughts were anything to go by, I'm assuming that you've not been exposed to much foreign food?"
He was not going to address the fact that Voldemort was casually reading his aunt's mind. If anything, he pitied her for having to see Petunia's thoughts again. "Uh, no, I've never eaten much foreign food. The Dursleys periodically got curry, but it was so bland that it was almost unpalatable."
"Right then. Really, I don't understand why there are still people in this day and age who refuse to try new food, even when it's so accessible… Do you want me to order for you? I know the menu better than you, so I can pick out some items that would be better for someone new. You'd be amazed how many people get hung up on the idea of raw fish."
Harry couldn't say he was that big on the idea of eating raw fish, but it wasn't like he'd tried it before. Unlike the Dursleys, he at least liked to try something once before deciding he didn't like it. Some types of sushi were likely to be acquired tastes, though, so… "Sure, that sounds fine."
"Alright then… Oh! There they are! Harry, this is Fenrir Greyback, infamous werewolf and a dear friend of mine from Hogwarts, and Delphini Riddle, my daughter."
Harry took in their appearances. Fenrir had shaggy, dirty blonde hair, though with a lot of greying, and had a generous amount of stubble on his chin. He was tall, around the same height as Voldemort, and visibly muscular, even beneath the leather duster he was wearing. The most striking detail, though, was his amber eyes. That was not normal, even among werewolves.
Delphini, on the other hand, was standing around with a visibly disinterested look on her face. It really seemed as though she'd rather be anywhere else. She was maybe an inch or two shorter than Harry, though she was around a year younger than him, so that made sense. Her hair was obviously dyed, as there was no way that silver hair with blue tips was natural. At first glance, he wouldn't have guessed she was related to Voldemort at all, though he could see some similarity in their faces once he started really looking. Her eyes, though, were an impossibly vibrant shade of purple that she must have inherited from her… well, her other mother. She was dressed in all black — black combat boots, black jeans, and a black t-shirt with some sort of band logo on it. Harry literally could not read what it said, though — it was completely illegible.
"And I'm sure that you two recognise Harry Potter." Voldemort continued. "He is rather famous, after all."
Yeah, this was definitely the weirdest thing Harry had ever done. Not even the headache he'd gotten from the time turner trip back in third year was as weird as having Lady Voldemort take him out for lunch with her daughter and childhood friend who also happened to be a werewolf.
Harry racked his brain for details, trying to remember where he'd heard the name Fenrir Greyback before. He'd been reading about the war just recently, and he was sure he knew that name from somewhere…
Fenrir Greyback, the… infamous werewolf.
Oh, wait.
That Fenrir Greyback.
The one who was notorious for biting children and was rumoured to be a pedophile.
Granted, Harry doubted that was true. Voldemort had mentioned that there was a lot of propaganda against them, and he doubted that she'd just leave her daughter alone with a known pedophile, childhood friend or not. Or maybe she would. Harry genuinely had no idea what to make of that woman most of the time.
As they entered the restaurant, Delphini moved beside him and hissed at him. Literally hissed.
"§Can you please stop feeling so confused? It's incredibly distracting.§"
"§What?§ Er, what?" He was briefly shocked at the parseltongue, but it made sense that she could speak it. He'd slipped into the language almost without realising it. Why did she want him to stop being confused? For that matter, how could she even tell that he was confused?
She groaned. "Ugh! Just forget I said anything."
Yep. Harry was most definitely lost.
"I have a reservation for four under 'De Mort'." Voldemort told the host, who looked down at the bookings.
"Ah, yes, right on time, too. Your table will be ready momentarily."
"You had a reservation?" Harry overheard Greyback whisper. "How?"
"Of course I didn't have a reservation!" Voldemort whispered back. "I just confunded him a bit."
"Seriously? 'De Mort'? You really went all in with that fake name, didn't you?" Delphini asked sarcastically.
"Well, if you'd had the misfortune of my birth name, then you'd go out of your way to avoid using it, too."
"§The parseltongue is pretty cool, though.§" Delphini hissed. "§The intimidation factor alone is awesome.§"
Voldemort sighed. "§Yes, the parseltongue is 'cool'.§"
"§I've never been able to do any parselmagic with it, though.§" Delphini pouted.
"Wait, there are spells you can cast in parseltongue?" Harry interjected. He wasn't surprised that such things weren't commonly known in Britain due to the stigma on the language, but it was an interesting idea.
"Hold on, it looks like our table is ready." Voldemort interrupted.
The host approached them and gave a small bow. "Your table is ready, Miss De Mort. I hope you didn't mind the delay."
Harry followed the rest of the group and slid into one of the booth's inner seats, with Voldemort across from him and Delphini to his right. Voldemort quickly flipped through her menu before shutting it and placing it on the table. Harry glanced through his menu and was immediately lost. Most of the words were just romanized Japanese, so he had no idea what most of the items even had in them. What the hell was ebi, anyways?
"To answer your question, Harry, yes, you can cast spells in parseltongue." Voldemort explained. "It's an ancient language, and therefore a viable choice as a spellcasting language, just as Latin, Old Chinese, and many other languages are. While most spells can be cast in a variety of languages, every language has several spells that can only be cast in it. For example, the impediment jinx can only be cast in Latin."
"So there are some spells that can only be cast in parseltongue?" Harry asked. "What are they?"
"Healing spells of variable usefulness." Voldemort said offhandedly. "There's no real advantage to casting in parseltongue. The language may have magical properties when it comes to speaking with snakes, but none of those properties extend to spells cast with it. It's overall useless, especially once one starts to learn silent casting."
"Oh." Well that was disappointing. Harry had been hoping that parseltongue would grant him some unique advantage in a fight.
"May I take your drink orders?" The waitress asked. Harry blinked. When had she gotten here?
"Yes, and I believe we're ready to order our food, as well." Voldemort said. "Delphini?"
"I'll have the Salmon teriyaki with an ohitashi and an osuimono." Delphini said as she handed the waitress her menu.
"I'll have a hot sake, and the tekka don with a seaweed salad and a miso soup." Greyback followed.
Voldemort glanced down at her menu briefly. "I'll have a genmaicha, a salmon skin roll, an eel cucumber roll, a tuna nigiri, and a squid nigiri."
"Um…" Harry was pretty sure he had a deer in the headlights expression right now.
Voldemort gave a small sigh. "Harry will have an alaska roll, a spicy grilled roll, and a shrimp and asparagus roll."
He didn't know what was in any of those — except the shrimp and asparagus roll, but that was obvious.
"So, Fenrir," Voldemort said, turning towards Greyback. "How's the werewolf situation been while I was out of commission?"
Greyback let out a huff. "Lots of ups and downs. In many ways, us being seen as a fringe movement has helped several legitimate movements get off the ground, but like other similar groups, they're stuck trying to change the system from within."
"Right, there were similar issues with creature-being rights groups in the UK when we were kids, although they were lesser in number back then."
Harry tuned them out as their discussion delved further into politics. He didn't understand half the things they were talking about, and he doubted he'd be interested even if he did.
"So, they're being boring. What team do you support?" Delphini asked him.
"Um… team?" Harry asked. "Like, quidditch teams?"
"No, I mean baseball." Delphini said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I mean quidditch, you dolt! What team do you support?"
"Um… I don't really support any team in most instances, but if I had to pick a favourite, then I'd say it would be the Harpies."
She huffed. "Leave it to a guy to pick the Harpies."
"Hey, it's not just because of that! I mean, yes, that is a factor, but I also really appreciate the coordination between the different parts of the team. Sure, they may never be the best team in the league, but they consistently place towards the top. Not to mention that all three of the chasers on the Gryffindor quidditch team are huge supporters of the Harpies, so I've just sort of become a fan through exposure."
"Aren't all of the chasers on the Gryffindor team girls? What, do they all bat for the other team or something?"
Harry thought it over for a moment. "Um… I'm ninety percent certain that Katie swings both ways, though she might just enjoy teasing everyone, regardless of sex. I have no idea about Angelina, and I've barely ever seen Alicia interested in anything besides her quidditch career."
Delphini nodded. "Oh, yeah, anyone trying to go pro usually does so at the complete expense of their social life. If the gossip around Durmstrang is to be believed, then the date that Viktor had for the Yule Ball is the first one he's had in years, if ever."
Harry mentally crossed "Professional Quidditch Player" off of his list of potential careers. It was fun, and he was good at it, but he really did enjoy having a certain amount of time to himself. "So, what about you? What team do you support?"
She shrugged. "I'm mostly interested in local leagues, since the international games tend to be too predictable for my taste. Like, Viktor is a good seeker, but he basically carried the entire Bulgarian team to the world cup last year. There was no way they stood a chance against the Irish team's tight chaser formation, and I could have called the outcome of that match a week off."
Wow. Delphini really knew her stuff. "So, what's your favourite team, then?"
"Oh, probably the Steenwijker Schutters. They've got the best pair of beaters in the Netherlands."
Harry blinked. "Right, I forgot that you live in Europe. How come your accent is so British, then?"
She rolled her eyes. "Gran always insisted that I 'practice my mother tongue'. She would get really pissy if my English ever lapsed while I was at Durmstrang."
"What's Durmstrang like, then?" He asked. "I've heard that they actually teach the Dark Arts over there…"
She shrugged. "Sort of, though it's not as bad as you're probably imagining. I mean, most of it is taught from a defensive standpoint. You can't adequately defend yourself against something you don't really understand, right? They make a point of not teaching us anything that can cause permanent damage unless you're in the NEWT class and you get a license for it."
Harry paused to process that. "You can get a license for using Dark Arts? How does that work?"
Delphini scowled. "Liberal application of veritaserum and potions designed to weaken occlumency defences, followed by a huge amount of invasive legilimency. It's a pain in the arse, but they really want to make sure they don't go about giving these sorts of things to the wrong people, and magic makes it much easier to create a false psychological profile. It's a better system than the one used here, but it's still got a lot of flaws. Regardless, I plan on applying for one, or at least I did before someone resurrected herself and pulled me into her life."
Voldemort just smirked. "If you can't learn how to hide secrets while under the influence of anti-occluding drugs and veritaserum, then I'd say that you don't really deserve that license."
"That's impossible!" Delphini groaned. "LIke, the whole point of the exam is so that people can't hide things!"
"Impossibility is a challenge, not a limit. You're a smart girl, Delphi, so I'm sure you can figure things out. Besides, you won't have to keep my return secret for very long. I don't expect the war to take longer than two years. Sure, the fighting may have stopped when I 'died', but all of the structures I need to ensure victory are still in place. A few key strikes, a few words of persuasion, and I can finally reforge Magical Britain in a new image."
That was… harrowing to know, actually. "What sort of image would that be?" Harry asked.
"That would be telling, wouldn't it, Harry? Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to use the loo."
And with that, Voldemort Blinked past Greyback into the aisle and walked towards the back of the restaurant.
Delphini groaned and sunk her face into her hands. "Why is she so extra!?"
Greyback just laughed. "Your mum's always been prone to melodrama. Believe it or not, she's actually mellowed with age. You should have seen her back in her school days."
"I think I'm good, thanks." Delphini said brusquely. "I swear, I really hope that Bellatrix is a less overbearing parent than 'Lady Voldemort' is. You'd think someone feared across a good portion of the western world would be more of a hands-off parent."
"She's trying to avoid making the same missteps that her parents did." He explained. "Her mother arguably cared about her, but she had lost the will to live by the time she gave birth, and chose to pass on rather than take care of her child. Whatever upbringing Merope could have offered wouldn't have been much, but it would have been better than that orphanage. Her father is… a whole other issue. I was with Voldie on the one and only time she met her father, and it was… not a pretty affair. I won't go into further details, though, as that's really her story to tell, not mine."
Delphini crossed her arms over her chest and hunched a bit. "…Fine. That doesn't mean she's not annoying, though."
Greyback just laughed. "I can't tell you want to think, kid. I'm just trying to give you some perspective."
"Speaking of perspective," Harry said, jumping into the conversation, "What can you tell me about Voldemort's goals? She keeps mentioning propaganda against her, and she'll sometimes tell me what she doesn't stand for, but she never tells me what she does stand for."
"Voldemort's gotten a bit paranoid about that." He said frankly. "And not without good reason. On two separate occasions, she brought people into the fold who did not agree with her goals and were prepared to take steps to oppose her. The first time, Voldie was able to contain the situation herself, but not without cost. The second time, though, only worked out because of sheer luck. He died as a result of his own actions mere days later."
Okay, well, that did explain some of the caginess. "But she obviously does want me to know."
"Of course. She thinks that you will agree with her, but you need time to adapt to the idea. Let me ask you, Harry, what would you have done if Voldemort blabbed her true motivations to you right after she was resurrected?"
Harry thought it over. "I'd… I'd have told Dumbledore and Fudge."
"Exactly. And while they wouldn't have believed you, that information could have made its way to the ears of people who did, potentially undermining her movement. She's giving you time to adjust. Moreover, she also thinks that you'll be more likely to believe her if you draw the conclusion of your own accord."
That was… weirdly reassuring, actually. "So, there's nothing you can tell me, then?"
Greyback looked pensive for a moment. "You're a smart kid, Harry. I'm sure you can put the pieces together. Do some research, and I don't just mean reading the four or so books that cover the conflict. Ask around, and try to read between the lines."
That was… surprisingly sound advice. Well, he could probably get some information out of Sirius and the Weasleys when he finally got away from the Dursleys. Whether or not he'd agree with Voldemort was still on the table, but anything beyond that would probably have to wait until he was at Hogwarts. Harry… really didn't know that many people.
"Oh thank gods, our food is here." Delphini said. "I'm starving."
Harry watched as several rolls of sushi were placed in front of him. Okay, the one with the shrimp tail sticking out of the end was probably the shrimp and asparagus roll. Was he supposed to eat the tail? He hoped removing it wouldn't be some kind of faux pas.
The one covered in sauce must have been the spicy grilled roll, as it was visibly browned. He wasn't sure what to make of it just from its appearance, but it smelled heavenly.
The alaska roll had some kind of fish and… avocado? He wasn't sure what that would taste like at all.
"I'm back." Voldemort said as she blinked back into her seat. "Just in time, too."
Voldemort grabbed her chopsticks and began digging into her food. Harry grabbed his, but just stared at them blankly. How was he supposed to…?
"I don't feel like watching you struggle to learn how to use chopsticks, so I'll teach you." Voldemort told him. "Look me in the eye. This might hurt a bit."
He did as she asked, but why would it-
Pain lanced through his head and foreign ideas inserted themselves into his mind. It hurt horribly, felt like his skull was going to explode from the sheer pressure filling it, and then it stopped as soon as it had begun.
"There, now you should know how to use chopsticks. You're welcome."
"What did you do?" Harry gasped.
Voldemort stared at him quizzically. "I taught you how to use chopsticks. Actually guiding you through the motions would have taken too long, so I just inserted my muscle memory of how to use them into your brain. Much faster."
Delphini groaned and slumped onto the table. "Can't you do anything normally?"
"There is no greater vice in this world than normalcy." Voldemort explained. "Now do behave yourself. We are in public, after all."
Delphini grumbled and began eating her spinach thing — Harry didn't know what it was called — with as much aggression as it was possible to put into the consumption of spinach with chopsticks. He was honestly impressed with the effort she put into it.
Still, he had his own food waiting. He grabbed his chopsticks, pleasantly surprised to find that Voldemort's painful method for teaching him how to use them worked perfectly. He tapped them together a few times with what felt like well-practiced ease before turning to his food.
"That one is better with some soy sauce." Voldemort gestured towards the one with fish and avocado — the alaska roll? "The others already have sauces."
Harry poured some of the sauce and dipped it in. He was savouring the surprisingly rich flavour when Voldemort asked him a question.
"What would you two say your favourite classes are?"
He was still chewing, so Delphini answered first. "I haven't started the class yet, but I've really enjoyed my extracurricular study of ritual design."
"A very solid choice that lends itself to numerous purposes."
Harry swallowed his food. "Mine would be Defence."
Voldemort smiled. "Yes, I do remember you being at the top during Quirrell's class. I assume you've not lapsed in your studies if Peter's tale of your patronus is to be believed."
Well, even if he had, the extra studying he had to do for the tournament more than made up for it. "Durmstrang offers ritual theory classes?" He asked, changing the subject away from his own academics.
Delphini raised an eyebrow. "Hogwarts doesn't? Rituals are the basis for all forms of high magic. Lots of the more advanced forms of healing are based in ritual."
"Rituals are taught at Hogwarts." Voldemort corrected. "But not as its own class. Rituals and enchanting are both covered together in Hogwarts's ancient runes class."
"Weird."
Harry couldn't hold in the snicker at Delphini's deadpan response, which only got him a death glare in return.
"Academic standards at Hogwarts have fallen somewhat in recent years." Voldemort elaborated. "And some of that is my fault. While the magical side of the Isles was mostly untouched by the war with Grindelwald, a large number of its citizens still travelled to the continent to fight against him. The population losses sustained from those conflicts was substantial, and given that I began a new war less than a generation later…" She shrugged. "The population simply isn't big enough to have the necessary specialists needed to support a complete curriculum."
"And yet you still want to wage war again." Harry said accusingly.
She shrugged again. "I can't say that I like it, but I refuse to back down and let the country continue to stagnate as it has for the past several centuries. Luckily, circumstances are heavily weighted in my favour this time. The Ministry is in outright denial about my return, and I already have plenty of loyal followers who are waiting to return to the fold. If all goes according to plan, then I'll be able to secure victory with a few well-placed blows."
He took a moment to absorb that information. "How?" He finally managed to ask. "I mean, the last war took years before, um, my mum ended it."
"The Death Eaters have lost very little ground in the past ten years." Voldemort explained as she ate another piece of sushi. "All of the key figures I worked to kill are still dead, the Ministry has done very little to restore the auror program, and a majority of my followers were able to escape any form of punishment by pleading Imperius. The few followers of mine who didn't escape are all locked inside Azkaban prison, and I should be able to breach its defences and have them freed in less than a fortnight."
Some part of Harry was immediately tempted to inform Dumbledore about those plans, but quickly quashed it. For one, who would he explain how he got the information? Just tell him Voldemort took him out for sushi? That would raise far too many questions. Besides which, he wasn't sure that anyone deserved Azkaban from how Hagrid and Sirius had described it.
"And then I'll finally get to meet Mum?" Delphini asked, hope just barely audible in her voice.
And in that response died any remaining desire to inform anyone about Voldemort's plans. Fuck Azkaban. It could crumble into the sea for all he cared.
"Yes, you'll finally get to meet Bellatrix." Voldemort confirmed. "She's likely to be in a rough state after so much dementor exposure, but I can assure you that I'll do everything possible to get her back in top form."
Harry finished off his first roll of sushi and moved onto the one that was covered in sauce. This one was the spicy grilled roll, right? He picked up a piece and popped it in his mouth and nearly let out a moan as the flavour hit his tongue. It was more decadent than anything he had ever tasted before. It was delicious!
Voldemort just smirked at his response. "I thought you'd like that one. It's got a lot of umami in it."
Harry took a moment to collect himself. In spite of the absurdity of going out to lunch with Voldemort, Voldemort's daughter, and an infamous werewolf, he felt more grounded than he had in ages.
If Harry really was insane, then reality could go fuck itself. He was having a good time.
As that new sense of calm came over him, some tension seemed to bleed out of Delphini, too. "Thank gods. I was worried you'd never relax. Do you know how annoying it's been feeling all of your stress this whole time?"
"Um… given that I was the one feeling it, I'd say yes?"
Voldemort snickered, and even Delphini couldn't keep the smile off of her face. "Whatever. So, what's Hogwarts like? Gran's told me a lot of stories about it, but there's no way they can all be true. Like, the kraken in the lake I can believe, but she tried to tell me that there's a corridor in the dungeons that doesn't have an end, which is just ridiculous, right?"
Harry smiled. "Well, actually…"
Voldemort Blinked back into the lab. "Lunch went well." She told Barty, who was still hunched over the desk.
"Yeah? How'd Harry and Delphi get along?"
"Very well, actually. Delphini insisted that they swap addresses so they could owl each other. Granted, she did so with the justification that she'd 'go insane if she didn't have a normal person to talk to', but I think it would be good for both of them. Delphini is obviously feeling constrained by the change in her living situation, and I'm sure she'll appreciate having someone she can speak freely with. Someone besides Draco, that is. Harry, on the other hand, has been doubting his own sanity ever since my resurrection, and having someone of his own age that he can speak freely with will certainly help ground him. He actually seemed settled today, for the first time since I've seen him."
Barty nodded in a manner that told her he was only half paying attention. She sighed and blinked into the chair next to him.
"So, how's your day been, Barty?"
He pushed out from the desk and swivelled to face her. "I have news."
Well that was ambiguous. "Good news or bad news?"
"Yes."
She sighed and spun her chair around. She was so glad she'd picked up these swivel chairs at an office supply store. They were so much fun. "Lay it on me, Barty."
Barty picked up his notes. "After several hours of calculations, checking, and re-checking, I have been able to determine with ninety-eight point two percent certainty that the prime reagent of the Philosopher's Stone is Fae blood."
Oh. "…Well, fuck."
A/N (Tendra): One last chapter to take care of some loose ends before the plot gets moving in the next chapter. Most importantly, though, this chapter gave me a chance to decide what the characters would order at a sushi restaurant, which is the true test of character. Time for someone to make a clickbait quiz about "which Harry Potter character are you based on your usual sushi order?"
Fenrir wound up being the character who fills a role originally suggested by Bolshe. Namely, that of a friend from Voldemort's schooldays who became infected with lycanthropy, was expelled, and ended up setting Voldemort on her current path. Few of the details are critically important, but there might be one or two flashbacks to those years.
Lots of people have been begging me to ship Harry and Delphini from the moment Delphini was introduced. SlenderGnome has written several omakes on my server about the two of them, Voldie, and Bellatrix. Truth be told, I have no idea how this fic's pairing will go or what it will be. I don't plan shit. I just have to start writing the characters together and see how it goes.
Delphini lives in the Netherlands just because I can rely on Leyrann and Foadar to give me information about the area and culture. I'll probably be incorporating some minor details that they give me into her character.
The Philosopher's Stone being made with fae blood is a worldbuilding detail bother from one of my (unpublished) original works, The Paradox of Fire.
You can join my discord at 6YwQewK for updates on my writing schedule and early access to chapters for all of my fics.
E/N (Foadar): Steenwijk is a lovely if unremarkable Dutch town. Perfect to hide, say, a wizarding community in.