Harry read through Delphini's latest letter as he ate breakfast. Voldemort and the other Death Eaters were out last night? As much as Harry wanted to believe that there was a benign explanation, he worried what the morning newspaper would bring with it.

He didn't have to wait long. His subscription of the Daily Prophet was dropped in front of him, and the headline was clearly visible.

Azkaban Prison destroyed!

Death Toll Unknown!

Harry looked over the article. The entire prison and its island had been completely erased. Twelve aurors had been in the prison and were suspected to be dead. The number of escapees was unknown, but two of the prisoners were found dead in the sea, along with two others whose names weren't given. The DMLE wasn't releasing any details on how the prison was destroyed, but they apparently had evidence to support that conclusion.

Additionally, every single dementor that had been in the area was gone with no evidence to suggest that they escaped. The number of surviving dementors outside the prison was suspected to be in the single digits. That was good, at least.

Harry paused to take all that in. Voldemort did not fuck around.

Harry put the paper aside and went back to his breakfast. He glanced around the room, noting someone at the Hufflepuff table shooting him a death glare. She was in his year, right? Susan? Susie? Something like that. Harry had no idea what he possibly could have done to offend her, so he brushed it off. He pulled out his book on the Trace and opened to his most recent page.

The Trace was a very complicated piece of magic. It was ingrained into the very essence of each and every wand, and it was designed to break when the wand came into the possession of a magically mature witch or wizard. That led Harry down the rabbit hole of wand ownership, which was so complicated that entire books were devoted to the subject.

The Trace was a spell that was designed to be broken only when the magic of a mature mage claimed ownership of a wand. There were loopholes around the Trace, such as winning the loyalty of a wand that had already belonged to a mature mage, but such loyalties were not easily won, especially by those whose magic was not yet mature. Likewise, Harry could let his wand's loyalty be won by someone who was of age, but doing so would mean that his wand would never respond the same way to him.

So, Harry needed to find a way to do this on his own. How would one go about breaking a spell if they didn't meet the requirements to break it?

Tonks knew that something big had happened the moment she stepped into the office. Everyone was in a state of disarray, running about and yelling. Tonks steeled herself and went to Madame Bones's office so she could be debriefed.

The door was slightly ajar, and she could hear yelling coming from somewhere inside.

"You will do no such thing!" Amelia's voice yelled loudly enough that everyone could hear. The entire department quieted down so they could better overhear the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Madame Bones." An indiscernible voice said from within the room. "But this is outside of your jurisdiction."

"Twelve aurors are dead and our prison is destroyed! How the hell is that not within my jurisdiction!"

Tonks blinked. Twelve aurors were dead!? Azkaban was gone!? What the hell had she missed!?

"Yes, and your department is utterly unequipped to investigate this. We keep certain magicks away from the public for a reason, Amelia. Now hand over investigative rights and we can both be on our way." The indiscernible voice continued. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

Amelia's voice lowered to a growl. "I am sick and tired of you DOM creeps taking over cases and giving us nothing in return. I'll let you investigate, but only as a mutual endeavour."

"Unacceptable. Hand over investigation rights or-"

"If you don't like my terms, then get the hell out of my office. We're done here."

Palpable silence filled the room before the voice broke it.

"This isn't over Amelia. My people will be in touch."

Everyone scrambled to look busy as the Unspeakable glided out of the room.

"Tonks! Get in here!"

Tonks jumped and ran into Amelia's office, giving a salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

"As I'm sure you've gathered, there was a rather large debacle last night, and I'm being stonewalled from all sides. The DOM wants to take over the crime scene, Fudge is trying to stop us from releasing the names of two acquitted ex-Death Eaters who were found dead at the scene of the crime, and Crouch's replacement in International Cooperation wants us to write this off as a planned demolition gone awry. This is a major threat to the integrity of the criminal justice system, as we lost a substantial portion of our force, an unknown number of prisoners have escaped, we don't have a new location lined up to use as a prison, and we're one misstep away from this being declared a full international incident."

That was a lot to take in. "So, uh, what do you need me to do?"

Amelia scowled. "Your job for now is to watch over the crime scene and keep an eye out for any DOM interference. They've already been able to determine the cause of the prison's disappearance, but they're not sharing that information. Monitor everything that goes on. You're dismissed."

Tonks saluted again as she left, catching Amelia muttering something under her breath as she left the office.

"Merlin damn Harry Potter. This all could have been avoided."

Cornelius Fudge was feeling optimistic as he strolled into work on Sunday morning. Sure, the Ministry had lost a little credibility due to Dumbledore's recent machinations, but he was sure that things were about to turn up.

He'd barely sat down when Amelia barged into the office. "We have a crisis, Minister."

"Now see here, Amelia. I've only just got here, and I'm sure I've made it clear that any crises are to wait until after I've had my cup of tea. Now, just give me a moment." He got up and began walking towards the tea set he kept on a side table, but Amelia seemed to be in a rather bad mood as she shoved him back into his chair.

"Azkaban is gone, Minister."

He stared at her. "That's ridiculous. Islands don't just disappear! Start talking sense, Amelia!"

"Hence why we have a crisis."

Fudge took a moment to process that information. "What do you mean it's gone!? The whole island!?"

"As far as we can tell, yes. The aurors are assumed dead and the number of escapees is unknown. We have a crisis."

"Amelia, you can't just make a whole island disappear! That's not possible!"

She sighed. "Minister, that is exactly the problem. The entire island has been vanished by an unknown party by unknown means. The DOM has been poking around, but they're never forthcoming with what they discover."

"Couldn't it be under…" Cornelius waved his hand, trying to think of the word. "Fiddly-whatsit?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "You mean… fidelius?"

He pointed his finger triumphantly. "Yes, that's the one! Couldn't that be it?"

"There are a multitude of reasons why that cannot be the case, and I will not waste time going into them with you. The one saving grace from this whole debacle is that four people were found dead in the ocean due to the lightning storm. The deceased are the Lestrange brothers, Avery junior, and the sitting Lord Travers. We suspect that Avery and Travers were involved in breaking the Lestrange brothers out, as they were both clad in Death Eater regalia-"

Avery? Travers? No, Cornelius had to put a stop to this right now! "Not another word, Amelia! Avery and Travers were both upstanding members of our community, and I'll not let them be posthumously slandered like this. You are to avoid mentioning their names to the public until we've gotten to the bottom of this."

"Fine." Amelia hissed through clenched teeth. "What narrative would you prefer me to spin?"

Cornelius poured himself the cup of tea he was long overdue to have. "Just blame Sirius Black. That's been working well, hasn't it?"

Amelia took a deep breath. "Minister, Sirius Black was declared innocent three days ago. You presided over his trial. Moreover, he was under auror guard at Saint Mungo's the entire time. He cannot have been the culprit."

Was that true? Yes, he supposed it was. Must have just been a habit at this point. "Well, why don't we blame that other bloke, then. Pestigrow, I think it was?"

"Pettigrew."

Cornelius snapped. "Yes, that's the one. Blame him. The press will eat it up. Now, chop-chop, Amelia! The Ministry doesn't run itself!"

"We also need to figure out what we're going to do with any new convicts, as we currently don't have a prison!"

He shrugged. "Just make a new one."

Amelia was looking a little twitchy. Perhaps she needed to relax. "Minister, Azkaban had a ward-grade gemstone stabilising its wards. With the stone gone, it will be substantially harder to create a ward scheme capable of preventing the escapes of anyone we jail."

He looked at her. "Well, just because it's hard doesn't mean that it's impossible. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little elbow grease, Amelia! Just put in the hard work necessary to make it happen. Now, you'd best get going. It sounds like you have a lot of work ahead of you!"

She glared at him and stormed out of the room. Must have been that time of the month.

Cornelius sipped at his tea and relaxed in his now-quiet office. Life was good.

Delphini wasn't sure what to expect when Voldemort wasn't at breakfast. She'd apparently retreated straight to her room last night and hadn't emerged since. When Barty also entered the room and stayed there for over an hour, Delphini decided that she needed to find out for herself.

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was that Voldemort didn't have a shirt on, which was just… Ew. Thank gods she was still wearing her undergarments, at least.

Barty was casting diagnostic spells on Voldemort, rather complicated ones from the looks of things. Delphini found herself acutely aware of the fact that Barty was extremely turned on by getting to see Voldemort shirtless, even if he was focused on maintaining professional decorum.

Being an empath had its perks, but moments like this really made Delphini wish she could turn it off.

"Seems the toxin has cleared up well." Barty said. "Whatever damage it might have caused has already been repaired. Smart thinking keeping some Elixir of Life onhand, as that mitigated most of the immediate effects."

"I'm sorry, poison?" Delphini asked. "What the hell happened to you two last night?"

"I was forced to use Light magic to destroy the dementors when they tried to defend their hive." Voldemort said as she pulled her shirt over her head. "And doing so is rarely pleasant for the caster."

There was a lot to unpack there, but Delphini decided to start with the obvious. "Light magic is a thing? I mean, I've heard some people argue that the patronus is light magic, but they never got taken seriously."

Voldemort sighed and conjured a chair for Delphini to sit in. "That's because it isn't light magic. All magic is otherworldly in nature — most magicks we use, including the patronus, are Aetheric, and a small minority are Void. These aspects embodied in these magicks allow them to be easily processed by mortal minds and bodies." She held up her hands, summoning a bright orb of light in one hand and a ball of blazing darkness in the other. "Light and Dark magic are not designed to be processed by mortals." The dark orb flared up. "Dark magic is Demonic in nature, addictive and deleterious, eroding sanity and decency, reducing its addicts to a shell of their former selves." The dark orb settled and the light orb flared. "Light magic is Seraphic in nature, toxic and absolutist, poisoning the caster and warping their morality. It is not uncommon for reckless users of light magic to go on rampages, destroying others for the slightest 'impurities'. Neither of these forces are easily wielded and require proper caution to approach."

Delphini had heard about the supposed effects of dark magic, but everything else was new to her. "But you use dark magic all the time!"

"Of course I do. But I am a Dark Lady."

Delphini stared at her. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Voldemort sighed again. "This is far from common knowledge, so I can hardly fault you for nor knowing it. A Dark Mage is someone who has rendered themselves immune to the deleterious effects of dark magic by resisting its addiction. It is a painstaking process that takes years to achieve, but the end result is that I am able to wield these magicks without issue. Likewise, a Light Mage is someone who has built up an immunity to the toxin involved in the use of light magic, rendering themselves immune to the negative effects. Albus Dumbledore does not advertise this fact, but he is a Light Lord. The years of building up immunity have taken their toll on his body though, which is why he looks so much older than mages of similar age."

Well that was interesting. "I'm kind of surprised you never tried to build up the toxin resistance."

She shrugged. "Dark magic is better suited to my purposes in ninety-nine percent of cases, so building up the resistance felt unnecessary. Even last night only required light magic because I was fending off a horde of dementors in the middle of their hive."

Voldemort's continued use of the word "hive" was definitely odd, but Delphini really didn't want to unpack that conversation. Voldemort's rants tended to be both long and really hard to derail. "Wait, but Barty also uses dark magic. Does that make him a Dark Lord?"

Barty shrugged. "Technically. Voldie was big on making sure her apprentices could safely wield a wide array of magic."

She nodded. "Ostensibly speaking, dark and light mages are a 'danger to the public', so most people who achieve the feat don't advertise the fact. Never mind that some three to four percent of the magical population are prodigies and a majority of us become light or dark mages in our lives, and that's not even getting into the occasional non-prodigy who accomplishes the feat. The Department of Mysteries simply can't contain us all, despite what Rookwood has assured me are their best efforts. How can you contain information when a significant chunk of the population can independently rediscover it at any time? They have at least done a decent job suppressing public knowledge of light magic, which is sensible. Whatever damage a dark magic addict can do is nothing compared to the damage that can be wrought by a poisoned light magic user."

Voldemort apparently decided that that conversation was over, as she walked over to the bed and looked down at the occupant that Delphini was only just now noticing.

"Are you sure there's nothing more we can do to speed up her recovery?" She asked Barty.

Barty shook his head. "She needs time to recover, and there's nothing we can do to speed that up. Some mind healing might accelerate the process somewhat. I could ask Rookwood to-"

"No." Voldemort said firmly. "There are many things I trust Rookwood with, but Bellatrix is not one of them. I'll do this myself."

"Voldie, are you sure-?"

"I'm quite sure, Barty. I know Bella's mind better than anyone else. I'll do this on my own. Now, leave us."

Barty bowed his head and left, leaving Delphini alone in the room with her mother. …Well, both of her mothers, technically.

The silence was extremely awkward and only got worse the longer it stretched on. Delphini got the impression that she was intruding on something personal and should go. "I'll just, uh…"

"You can stay. If anyone has the right to be here, it's you. It's hardly the circumstances I would have preferred, but you're long overdue to meet Bellatrix."

Delphini walked over to the bed and stood next to Voldemort. Bellatrix was lying on the bed, unconscious.

Pictures of Voldemort were rare, but pictures of Bellatrix were much more common. Gran had a photo album full of them, and Delphini liked to look through it a lot as a child. Bellatrix had always seemed full of energy and life. Lots of smiling, lots of laughing, and lots of doing magic for magic's sake.

The person in front of her was gaunt and frail, unlike how she'd looked before. Moreover…

"She feels empty." Delphini said. She was only just now realising how Bellatrix had managed to evade her attention when she entered the room. Normally, her empathic abilities made her acutely aware of everyone in the room, even when they were asleep, but Bellatrix's mind felt… blank. Blank except for a very deep and faint sensation of fear.

"It's a defence mechanism against long-term dementor exposure. The body begins shortening the REM phase of sleep to avoid nightmares, but that just furthers the deterioration, as that's a necessary part of sleep. Her mind has been very badly damaged. I'd like to get to work repairing it, but it's best that I wait for her to regain consciousness first. It's next to impossible to repair damage to someone's mind without their consent. The last thing she needs is to accidentally worsen the damage by trying to fend off a mind probe she's not expecting."

"You seem much more… protective of her than I expected." Voldemort seemed so passive about most things, and even though the emotion was coming out just as warped as her other emotions, it was clear that Voldemort was really mad about Bellatrix's current state.

Voldemort, to her credit, just laughed. "Oh you should have seen me when I found Barty last year. I didn't even have a proper body back then and I still tortured his father for months. He deserved far worse than I was able to give him."

Delphini resisted the urge to comment on Voldemort's apathy towards morally questionable activities, and changed the subject to a lighter one. "What can you tell me about Bellatrix?"

She smiled. "Lots. Take a seat." She waved her hand and conjured two chairs next to the bed. "Bellatrix and I first met in 1969, during her fifth year at Hogwarts. Abraxas and I had only just started putting our plan in motion, so the main goal at the time was to establish the Death Eaters and scout out anyone who would support our actual agenda. At the time, the Black family was the largest of the so-called 'Noble and Ancient Families', and I was able to receive an invitation to dine with the main branch of the family early that January…"

Bellatrix hated family dinners. Sirius and Regulus were as tolerable as nine and eight year olds could be, but Orion and Walburga were never pleasant to be around. Even her own parents became more unpleasant when they were with company.

Maybe she should burn down her parent's house once she was old enough to leave. What was the worst they could do, expel her from the family? That would be a blessing at this point. Although, it would leave Andi and Cissa homeless, so maybe that would be a bad idea…

Bellatrix mentally filed arson under the "possibilities" list and went back to her experiments.

Magical experimentation was the one hobby she had that her parents approved of — The others required more discretion. Currently, she was experimenting with stabilised blood fusions, as she wasn't allowed to do work with live subjects while inside. Stupid January weather making it too cold to work outside…

Fused blood was worthless outside of a few niche potions, but the principles involved could easily be translated to a larger scale with a little work. This experiment was a simple one designed to work as the basis for crossbreeding doxies and pixies, ideally in an attempt to take the best aspects of both. Venom and aggressiveness from the doxies, and agility and swarming from the pixies. It would be so cool!

Bellatrix turned the heat up a bit, waiting for the right moment to add the melding agent. There was no easy trick for this — just pure intuition. Luckily, she had a very good intuition. Three drops in, then wait for it to…

Was it supposed to turn that colour?

Bellatrix had just enough time to yank the sheet off her bed and hold it in front of her before the mixture exploded, shattering the beaker and sending green goop flying everywhere.

Her mother slammed the door open. "What was that?"

"Nothing!" Bellatrix lied blatantly. "Everything's fine! Everything is fine."

She looked at the obvious mess. "I expect this to be clean before you go to bed. Be grateful you didn't get any of that mess on your robes."

The door was slammed shut, and Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Be thankful you didn't get any of that on your robes." She said mockingly.

She took the already ruined sheet and began using it to wipe up the green smears that covered her workspace. It wasn't like the sheet would get any more ruined than it already was.

Bellatrix dropped the ruined sheet on the floor once she'd cleaned up the worst of the mess. The house elves would take care of the rest.

After washing her hands to make sure they were free of any spare goop, Bellatrix went to the floo room and waited for everyone else to be ready. It took her all of ten seconds before she became bored out of her skull. She briefly considered doing some wandless magic to keep her entertained, but that would probably be a bad idea. All the wandless spells she knew were fire ones, and she'd already decided that arson should wait until she was of age. Probably.

She instead settled for grabbing a blank piece of parchment from the nearby desk and using one of her knives to carve it. Burning it would have been more fun, but cutting things was a close second.

By the time she finished carving her third spider, she was bored again. She flicked the parchment into the fireplace and lit it with a spell. Watching the fire consume her creations sated her boredom for a few seconds, but it wasn't long enough for anyone else to be ready.

Bellatrix groaned aloud. Why did everyone always have to be so slow?

Well, if they were taking this long, then she might as well do something interesting. She ran up to her room and grabbed the latest article published by Dumbledore. His work on the uses of dragon's blood was fascinating. Sure, Bellatrix didn't care much about its use as a scouring agent, but apparently it had some unique catalytic properties when used with mammalian tissue while performing blood alchemy.

The paper was ripped out of her hands, revealing Bellatrix's mother, staring at the paper with a sour expression. Bellatrix was pretty sure that the woman frowned so much that it became her default expression.

"I fail to understand why you read the garbage published by this man."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I don't have to agree with his politics to appreciate his academic work. His advances on blood alchemy are revolutionary."

Her mother continued to frown. "Well, get up. Your sisters are ready, so we're going to Orion's place now."

Bellatrix folded the article and put it in her pocket. "Yes, mother."

Walburga, Orion, Sirius, and Regulus were waiting for their arrival, as they always were. Bellatrix didn't understand why such things were necessary. Why bother putting on a show if no one is watching?

Bellatrix spaced out as they went through all the formal greetings, wondering when she would get a chance to sit down.

"I'll escort you to the dining room. Our guest should be joining us soon enough." Orion said, gesturing to the door. "After you."

This was the first Bellatrix had heard about a guest joining them, though it did explain why they were so obsessed with decorum at the moment. They obviously wanted to pander to their guest for some political reason or another. If the adults were going to be talking politics, then this dinner would be even more boring than normal.

They had only just reached the door when the floo flared green once more, and an extremely tall woman with dark hair stepped out.

"Ah, You made it." Walburga said with an obviously false smile. "It's been a very long time, Miss-"

"Voldemort." The woman says, cutting off Walburga. "I have taken great steps to shed my old identity, and I will be incredibly displeased if you sabotage those efforts over old grudges."

Walburga's smile falters, which almost makes Bellatrix snicker. "Of course. Still, I must say that I'm surprised to hear you taking our side in these matters. You were quite vehement about your views back in Hogwarts."

"Abraxas has been a very persuasive friend, and my own journeys over the past few decades have been enlightening. Besides, even if our views have differed in the past, surely you recall that I was never fond of muggles. My current position is just an extension of those beliefs."

"Of course. Please, come sit down. We've prepared a lovely meal for you."

"I'm sure." The woman said.

What kind of name was Voldemort, anyway? Still, that train of thought didn't get very far, as Bellatrix got her first look at the woman's face when she turned around.

Her eyes were red. They were such a bright red that they almost glowed.

That was fascinating! What sort of modification would it have taken to induce a physiological change to the pigmentation? Blood alchemy was well known for creating odd eye colours, but red was practically unheard of.

Still, that didn't keep her attention for long, as they quickly sat down for dinner and the adults started talking politics. Bellatrix did her best to keep herself distracted with food, but even that didn't work forever. Eventually, all the food was gone and the entire table was dominated with boring conversations.

Stupid dumb adults and their stupid dumb politics with a stupid dumb name like Voldemort. Bellatrix really wanted to light something on fire now.

She didn't even notice the legilimency probe until it was pulling out of her mind. Bellatrix had just enough time to panic about the fact that someone got past her occlumency before she started panicking about what they probably heard her thinking.

Crap crap crap! She didn't know who even did it, and she didn't know which person would be worse. Her parents, her aunt and uncle, or their mysterious visitor with a silly name.

"Druella." Voldemort said, cutting off the conversation. "May I have a word in private with your eldest? Bellatrix, I believe it was?"

Oh fuck.

Druella looked at Bellatrix. "I don't see why not. What do you wish to speak to her about?"

Voldemort smiled. "I have an opportunity that I believe she is perfect for. We'll just be in the other room."

She was in so much trouble.

The moment they were both in the room, Voldemort snapped her fingers, shutting every door into the room. Then, she held out her hands and released a long series of rapid magical pulses.

"Good, we're alone." Voldemort said without making eye contact. "The room is sealed and all external scrying is blocked."

Bellatrix didn't think she wanted to know what this woman had planned that involved sealing the room and blocking scrying of any kind of scrying. "Um…"

Voldemort chose that moment to slump onto the sofa and groan loudly. "I fucking hate politics."

Wait, what? "Then, why are you doing it?"

She pushed herself upright. "Necessary evil… for now. Your family is one of the most politically powerful, so I have to strike a delicate balance between sucking up to them and establishing myself as stronger. It's a huge pain."

Bellatrix had no idea what was going on. "Why are you telling me this?"

Voldemort grinned widely. "Because you hate your family. You hate their politics, their posturing, and you want nothing more than to burn them to the ground. And that, my dear Bellatrix, is exactly the sort of attitude I'm looking for."

Bellatrix gaped.

Voldemort stood up and looked down at her. "Come now, surely it's not that surprising? I was looking through a few of your memories while I was poking in your mind, and I can also see that your talent is being wasted. You are an artist of flesh and blood, who creates for the sake of creation. Moreover, I was reading everyone's mind in that dining room, and yet you were the only one to notice me intruding in your thoughts. As such, I'd like to offer you a position as my apprentice."

She blinked. Then blinked again. This was not at all what Bellatrix was expecting. "You want to teach me?"

"I do." Voldemort said firmly. "I enjoy research most of all, but teaching is another great passion of mine. I've heard that Merrythought is going to be retiring at the end of the school year, and I plan to apply for the Defence position in her stead. So, what do you say, Bellatrix? Do you want to be my apprentice?"

Bellatrix's head was swimming. This was more than she would have ever dreamed up. Teaching specialised to her interests, a chance to fuck over her family and all that they stood for, a place to just get away from them. There was only one answer for her to give. "I'd love to!"

Voldemort laughed. "Good. I'll speak with your parents to get the formal paperwork taken care of. Believe me, Bellatrix, we will burn this country to the ground."

Bellatrix could only grin in response. She did love fire.

Voldemort watched Delphini as she finished talking, wondering which bit the girl would ask about first.

"I'm sorry, you were going to apply to teach at Hogwarts? What the hell happened there?"

She felt her smile vanish. Of course she'd pick that detail. "It went… very badly. I don't like to dwell on what happened." She hadn't even finished fixing it, yet. "I was able to independently teach several students through personal recruitment, but I did not get the job. I said some things I shouldn't have, and it just went downhill from there."

Voldemort was not a person who tried to dwell on "what ifs", but that interview was one of the few moments that she always wished went differently. It had been twenty five years, and she wasn't even close to undoing what she'd done. Every time it seemed like she might be able to line up a solution, something happened to throw it off.

She sighed and pushed those thoughts to the side. No sense dwelling on it when she didn't have the means to do anything.

"Much as I'm loath to leave Bella alone, I do have some minor business to take care of elsewhere. Would you mind watching over her in case she wakes up?"

Delphini nodded. "Sure thing, mum. Should I grab a book, or…?"

Voldemort shook her head. "I shouldn't be that long. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She Blinked out of the room, jumping around the manor until she found the people she was looking for.

"Rookwood." She said coldly. "How's Peter?"

"Unconscious." They said, apparently having decided to give the least helpful answer possible.

"I can see that he's unconscious, you obtuse moron! How is he besides the fucking obvious!?"

"Voldie, you need to take a chill pill. My personal recommendation would be benzodiazepines. Those things will make anyone chill the fuck out, so I'm sure they'd even work on you."

Voldemort took a deep breath and reigned in her temper. She mentally repeated the phrase Rookwood is useful to herself until the urge to kill them subsided. "I'll refrain from your offer to get high on muggle drugs. How far have you progressed in your treatment of Peter?"

They hummed. "Well, right now I'm waiting for that memory potion you invented to take effect. It's impossible to say how much of his deteriorated mental state is due to which factors. I mean, he spent over a decade in an animagus form, then had a year's worth of memories removed, then had to deal with dementor exposure for a few days. I have no doubt that restoring the memories will improve his mental state, but there's no way to know the extent of the improvement until we get there."

She sighed. "I'm starting to hate waiting. Bellatrix still hasn't woken up, and I'm getting worried."

Rookwood smirked. "Do my ears deceive me? Did the great Lady Voldemort just admit that she feels worried? Who would have thought that someone as amazing as her could experience normal human emotions like us mere mortals."

Voldemort took another deep breath to calm her nerves. "Rookwood, you are useful to my movement and I have great respect for you as an academic, but I hate you so fucking much. For reasons beyond my comprehension, you choose to waste your considerable intellect on finding the most aggravating thing you can say in any given situation."

Their smirk widened. "Why Voldie, are you hitting on me? Because this sounds like a lovely precursor to hate sex."

"I am not going to have sex with you!" Voldemort shrieked. "It will be a cold day in hell when I have sex with anyone!"

"Is hell actually hot, though?" Rookwood asked pensively. "It could be a cold day there right now, for all we know."

"Hell is hot. I've been there. It was interesting, but not worth the trouble." She sniped back.

They shrugged. "Fair enough. Anyways, I'll let you know if there's any change in Peter's condition. Is that all you stopped by to ask about?"

Voldemort sighed. "Much as I'd love to leave your company as soon as possible, I have another job for you. I expect you to be professional when you do this, so leave your personality at the door."

Rookwood grinned and put their arms behind their head. "Voldie, you wound me! When am I not professional?"

The glare she shot was withering, but it didn't affect them in the slightest. Arse.

Harry rushed down the hall, trying to catch up with the group of people. "Malfoy, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Malfoy looked confused, but gestured for the others to move on without him. "What do you want, Potter?"

"Two things. First of all, I've been asking around about Voldemort's motivations, but most of Gryffindor house just knows the standard 'blood purity' narrative. I'm not sure who else to ask, so… do you know anyone who was neutral in the last war?"

Malfoy's expression softened a bit. "Yeah, I do. You'll want to talk to Greengrass."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Slytherin girl in our year. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, doesn't talk much, but is a bit of a bitch when she does? Ringing any bells?"

Harry couldn't actively recall much about the girl, but he was pretty sure he knew who Malfoy was talking about. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks."

"She's got a bit of a reputation for being tight-lipped about anything involving her family and the war, but I know for a fact that Voldemort paid them a visit this summer. Feel free to bring that up, as it might put enough pressure on her that she'll start talking." Malfoy looked hesitant for a moment before continuing. "Just… watch out for her friend Davis. She's worse than the Weasley twins, and she's somehow managed to evade the attention of every single teacher. Offend either of them and she will make your life a personal hell until she gets bored and moves on."

What the fuck?

"So, what was the other thing you wanted to ask?"

Harry grinned. "Oh, just a plan I came up with to mess with Umbridge. It'll work best if everyone's in on it, though, so I'll need you to fill in the Slytherins."

Draco looked skeptical. "Okay, but why should I? Just because I'm not going to antagonise you doesn't mean I'm going to join in on your stupid plans."

"Well, first of all, she's a horrible teacher and she treats us all like children. If anyone's deserving of being messed with, it's her."

"Uh-huh. You're not really convincing me here, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Well, it would also win you quite a lot of good will with the other houses. I mean, all of us united against a common enemy? It would certainly improve Slytherin's reputation among the rest of the school." He turned around and started to walk away. "But if you're not ambitious enough to see the value in that, then I won't waste anymore of your time."

"Fine!" Malfoy said, his voice slightly raised. "I'll go along with this. Fill me in on the plan."

Harry turned back around, grin still plastered on his features. "Just a few little things to drive her crazy. I mean, she can't punish all of us."

It was almost twenty four hours after being rescued that Bellatrix finally woke up. The moment Voldemort sensed it, she dimmed the lights in the room to make it easier on Bella's eyes. Azkaban rarely got any light, and even the torches in the building were dimmed by the oppressive presence of so many dementors.

Bellatrix's first response on seeing her surroundings was to flinch, then look around. Voldemort sat patiently while she waited for Bellatrix to come to terms with her new situation. Eventually, her gaze fell on Voldemort, and then she tried to speak.

"I… I…" She rasped, her vocal chords unused to speaking.

"You're out." Voldemort said as she grabbed a cup of hot chocolate she'd laced with multivitamins. It was less effective than a nutrition potion, but it also tasted better. "Drink this. It will help. I've been spelling food into your stomach for the past day, but it will help if you do so yourself."

Bellatrix took a few sips from the cup, demonstrating remarkable motor control for someone who'd spent so long in Azkaban. Tremors were an unfortunately common side effect of long-term exposure. "Where…?"

"Malfoy Manor." Voldemort replied. "Lucius has been accommodating me after my resurrection. These are my dedicated quarters. The only other people who have access are Barty and Delphini."

Bellatrix closed her eyes for a moment in some sort of strain. "I… she…"

Voldemort pulled out a phial she'd filled with Elixir of Life. "Drink this when you finish the chocolate. Now that you're being fed properly, it should have a greater effect than it did in Azkaban. Hopefully, it will at least mend your ability to speak."

She looked at the phial quizzically but continued to sip at the chocolate for a while.

Voldemort let out a small sigh. "I'll try and answer the questions I expect you have. Barty is, in fact, alive. He was smuggled out of Azkaban by his father and kept under imperius in his basement for a decade. Better than Azkaban, but only barely. Delphini is alive, though I was unaware of this fact until this summer. She's a talented witch and has struck up a promising friendship with Harry Potter. Currently, the Ministry does not know about my return, so we're lying low until we're better prepared to strike. I was not able to rescue you earlier because of a flaw in the resurrection ritual Barty and I modified, so we had to make a Philosopher's Stone first. The phial on your nightstand is Elixir of Life. Azkaban is gone and all the dementors inside it are destroyed. Your 'husband' and his brother were killed in an 'unfortunate accident' while evacuating." She thought for a moment. "I believe that covers most of the basics. Let me know if you have any questions when you are able."

Bellatrix tried to speak, but it descended into a coughing fit quickly.

Voldemort gestured to the elixir. "Drink. It will help. If it can purge light magic toxins from my body, then I'm sure it can help you speak. It also has the advantage of being flavourless, so you won't have to worry about gagging on it."

She downed the potion and waited for a moment. "That… does feel much better." She said, her voice slightly raspy, but intact. "I have a lot of questions, but…" Bella began rubbing her temples. "My head is killing me."

"Your mind was in shambles when we found you." Voldemort said frankly. "It still is. It's a miracle you're as coherent as you are. Do you want me to see if I can help?"

She nodded. "Please."

Voldemort easily established a legilimency link between their minds. Barty wasn't kidding when he said it was a mess. Most of the threads were barely tenable. This was going to take a lot of work.

She focused on the surface memories to start with. Rethreading them should fix the immediate problems, but repairing all the damage was going to be a huge undertaking. Voldemort began feeling out the threads and properly connecting them to the appropriate memories, using her intimate knowledge of Bellatrix's emotional state to draw the right connections.

Voldemort pulled out of Bellatrix's mind once all the surface thoughts and memories had been rethreaded. "Better?"

She nodded. "Much better. I feel… lucid now."

"It's temporary, unfortunately. I'll be fixing the damage gradually. It will give your mind more time to adapt to the changes and should be less painful."

Bellatrix looked down at the cup of hot chocolate. "Do I really have to finish this? It's awfully sweet."

Voldemort paused. Of course Bellatrix wouldn't be used to sweet things. It wasn't like Azkaban would have fed her anything with actual taste. "Yes, you really should finish it. I added some vitamins to it, and the chocolate should help ward off any of the remaining influence of the dementors. I'll make sure you get a milder diet for now. Now, what were the questions you wanted answers to?"

"I think I'd like a detailed overview of everything that's happened to you over the past few years. I mean, what happened when you died? You said Delphini struck up a friendship with Harry Potter — is that a long game to get him on our side, or are you still trying to kill him? I get the impression that I've missed quite a lot."

"There is quite a lot to catch up on, but it's better to pace myself for now. We don't want to overwhelm your already fragile mental state with too much information."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Voldie."

Voldemort crossed her arms. "You're fine for now. We're going to pace ourselves and I will make you if I have to."

She huffed. "Fine."

"Good. Now, to start with, I can say that dying is incredibly painful…"

"Good morning, students!" Umridge said sweetly.

"Good morning, Pepto Bismol." They all said in unison.

Her façade of kindness melted instantly. "What did you just say?" She all but snarled.

"We said 'good morning, Professor'." Dean replied innocently. "What did you think we said?"

Umbridge's hand twitched a few times. "Nevermind. Please read your books quietly."

Harry took out his book and began reading. He wondered how long it would be before someone spoke up.

One of the Slytherin boys raised his hand and held it there for a moment before Umbridge called on him. "Yes, Mister Nott?"

"I'm confused about something in the reading. Where are we supposed to get a tiger?"

Umbridge gaped at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's right here in the reading. It says that the best way for us to defend ourselves against attackers armed with raspberries is to release the tiger. Where are we supposed to get one?"

She scowled at him. "Mister Nott, I don't know what you're playing at, but I will not abide-"

"But it's right here in the book!" Lavender interrupted. "It clearly says that the best way to defend yourself against raspberry stalkers is to release the tiger. I'm more confused about how we're supposed to drop a sixteen ton weight on our attackers, though. I mean, a tiger could be conjured with enough skill in transfiguration, but a sixteen ton weight would need to be levitated before it could be dropped."

"Yeah." Ron added. "Wouldn't it be easier to just shoot them?"

Parkinson, who had the misfortune of sitting in the front row, had her book snatched by Umbridge, who began to flip through the pages. Harry didn't know what Fred and George had done to the book to alter the text, but it was able to resist every single dispelling charm she could cast at it.

"I don't know what you have done to your books, but I will not tolerate this!" She said firmly. "I have my own copy, and I know for a fact that…"

Umbridge trailed off as she began to flip through her own copy of the book. Harry bit down on his smile. Fred and George really were thorough.

She slammed the book shut and put it on her desk. "Class dismissed!"

They all filed out of the classroom and made sure the door was shut before the laughter started.

"I wonder if we can manage to get every class cut short?" Harry wondered aloud. "How long would it take before she stops trying to teach at all?"

"It would be a better use of our time." Draco replied. "I understand why father can't stand her."

"So, uh, thanks guys." Ron said awkwardly to the Slytherins. "See you, I guess."

As the crowds began to part for their respective houses, Hermione moved next to Harry. "I can't believe you got Malfoy to agree to this. Did you even tell him it was from a muggle show?"

"I know when to hold my tongue, Hermione." Harry replied. "He took a little persuading, but it wasn't that hard. He's a lot mellower this year." And with Voldemort living in his house for several months, that was completely understandable. The woman had a way of… changing people.

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that he starts being nice the first time we see him after Voldemort returns?" She asked. "I mean, what if this is some plan to make you trust him so he can betray you later?"

Harry was almost certain that that was not the case, though he really couldn't tell Hermione how he knew that. "Call it a hunch. I mean, maybe being around Voldemort all summer made him have a change of heart."

Hermione hummed in thought. "I'm not convinced."

"Yeah, I agree." Ron added. "I'm not saying that he's necessarily up to no good, but we should keep an eye on him. Make sure that he's not up to anything suspicious, and all that."

"Definitely. Are you in, Harry?"

Harry held up his hands. "Sorry, but I'm going to be really busy this year. Even if I did have time, though, I'd really rather not spend it stalking Malfoy. I think you two might just be looking too deeply into this."

Hermione crossed her arms in consternation. "Harry James Potter, this is serious! What if he's dangerous?"

"There are lots of words I would use to describe Malfoy, but 'dangerous' isn't one of them. Besides, I, uh, actually do have to do something. Like, right now." Harry said, racking his brain for excuses. Fortunately, he caught a glimpse of Greengrass down a corridor behind them, and decided now was as good a time as any to talk to her. "Bye!" He shouted, pushing past Hermione and running away before she had a chance to protest.

It took a few minutes before he caught up to her, but Greengrass whirled around and pointed her wand in his face the moment he got close. Harry found his wand in his hand through pure reflex, though he lowered it once he got a hold of himself.

"Sorry." He apologised. "Habit. Uh, can I talk to you, Greengrass?"

She didn't lower her wand. "Are you going to give me a choice?"

"I mean, I'm not going to force you to talk to me, but I'd really appreciate a few moments of your time."

Greengrass sighed and pulled her wand back into her holster. "Fine. Walk with me. At least this way any time you'll waste is time I would have used walking regardless."

She didn't seem inclined to start the conversation, so Harry had to start the conversation on his own. "I've been wondering about Voldemort lately…"

Greengrass tensed in what he could only assume was aggravation. "Get the fuck out of here."

Well that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Um… sorry?"

"Do you have any idea how many times I've been asked that question? My family is infamous for being one of the only ones to exit one of Voldemort's 'ultimatums' unscathed. Do you have any idea how aggravating that is?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I have absolutely no idea what it's like to be constantly approached for something that happened when I was a baby and can't even remember."

"Uuuuuugh!" She groaned, raising her voice as she went on. "Fine, I'll give you one chance to convince me why I should tell you anything."

"Because I'm confused." He said honestly.

"Not my problem. Goodbye."

Greengrass picked up the pace of her walking, leaving Harry struggling to keep up with her.

"Fine!" Harry said in exasperation. "You want the truth? The truth is that Voldemort arrived on my doorstep multiple times this summer and took me out for lunch on a few occasions. She's nothing like I expected and I don't know what to believe anymore. And don't try to play coy with me, because I know for a fact that she visited your family this summer. I want to figure out her motivations because I genuinely don't know if she's right or wrong and I'm not comfortable standing on the sidelines!"

Greengrass stopped and turned to face him, tension gone from her for the first time since they started talking. "Oh. She's trying to recruit you, isn't she?"

Harry nodded.

She huffed. "Fine, I'll talk to you. Keep walking with me."

They continued walking down the halls, Daphne only breaking the silence after the third corner.

"Back during the first war, Voldemort was offering ultimatums to a large number of families that didn't join her from the start. All sorts of families were approached, but the Sacred Twenty Eight were a major focus of hers. She would explain her motivations and offer an ultimatum — join her, or die. Occasionally, only one member of the family would join, but they would have to willingly let the others die, or even kill them. Eventually, my family's time came."

Greengrass took a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't know most of the details of what happened — I was just a newborn, after all. What I do know is that my grandfather was able to strike a deal with her. We would stay out of the war and make no effort to oppose her. We would keep her motivations secret. And of course, we would support her if she won."

Harry blinked. "What, that's it? Why didn't anyone else try something like that?"

"We have less to lose than the rest of the Sacred Twenty Eight. The Greengrasses have an incredibly diverse business portfolio, and our position would be practically identical should she win. Not to mention that most everyone else would be too prideful for what Voldemort has planned. That's all I can tell you without breaking the terms of secrecy she imposed on us."

"It was informative nonetheless." Harry did feel like he was finally starting to get a vague idea of the bigger picture, and he wasn't sure that he disliked what he was seeing. That alone was… unnerving.

"Good. I'd tell you not to mention this to anyone, but it seems like we're in the same boat for now. Goodb-oof!"

Daphne was cut off as she was tackled by a shorter girl with straight brown hair. "Daph!" She yelled. "Daphdaphdaphdaph! You'll never guess what!"

"Oh, Morrigan." Greengrass said, mostly to herself. "What?"

"You have to see this! It's amazing. It's the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

"Tracey, the last time you said that, you took me to the acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest."

"And that was awesome! Now come on, you have to see this!"

"Can't you just tell me?"

"I said that you have to see this, not hear this! Now come on!"

The brown-haired girl — Tracey, presumably — dragged Daphne off, leaving Harry alone in the corridors.

Had everyone in Hogwarts gotten weirder lately, or was it just taking him this long to notice?

Tonks had been staking out the site that used to be Azkaban prison ever since the day of the breakout, and it was the most boring job that she had ever done. There was literally nothing to see! It was just open ocean now. She'd cast some long range scanning spells, and even the seabed looked like Azkaban had never been there. That was odd in and of itself, but it didn't get her any closer to actually knowing what happened.

Unspeakables had been in and out, but none of them ever said anything to her, and if they were doing something, it wasn't something she could detect, let alone prevent.

Currently, she was alone, floating above the sea on a broom with no one around for miles.

This sucked.

"Hello, Nymphadora." An unfortunately familiar voice said from behind her. "I see your talents are being wasted again."

Tonks turned around. "Voldemort. What do you want this time?"

She shrugged. Showoff wasn't even using a broom. "Your aunt finally woke up a few days ago. She was in quite a state when I rescued her, but she's been slowly improving. I just thought I'd check in now that I'm comfortable leaving her alone." Voldemort grinned. "She'd really like to meet you, by the way."

"Pass." Tonks said, turning back to the ocean where Azkaban used to be. "If you're going to be here, can you at least make yourself useful and tell me what you did that got the Unspeakables involved? Islands don't just vanish, you know."

Voldemort glided around so she was in front of Tonks again. "Atlantis would beg to differ on that front, but that's neither here nor there. Azkaban didn't vanish — I just put it back where it belongs."

"That tells me nothing."

"It's not my fault that you didn't study extraplanar displacement. Really, what are they teaching aurors these days? Although, if the aurors in Azkaban are anything to go by, maybe you're not being taught at all. Even if you discount the aurors who were asleep when we entered the prison, they outnumbered us two-to-one and still didn't even manage to last ten seconds!"

"Those were my colleagues." Tonks replied coldly.

Voldemort laughed. "Really? And did those colleagues of yours also shunt you out here to babysit the empty ocean?"

"You destroyed our country's only prison!"

"It was an abomination that was long overdue to be destroyed." Voldemort shot back. "Besides, there are so many better uses of your talents. You know that there hasn't been a metamorph prodigy in several centuries? And here's the auror department, sending you on the most boring and unnecessary stakeout there is. There's nothing here! There are no residual signs to detect because Azkaban should never have been here in the first place! All I did was right an ancient wrong."

"You killed a dozen aurors and released who knows how many prisoners! That's not right by any stretch!"

Voldemort stared at Tonks like she was a puzzle that needed to be solved. "Why did you become an auror?"

That was an easy one. "Because I want to help people."

"And have you been?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Have you been helping people? Or have you just been unwittingly enforcing the Ministry's corruption? Has every arrest you made been just, or were some of them just in the way of those who have power?"

"I don't have an answer to that question. And no matter what the answer to it is, I'd still rather try to change the system from within than do things your way."

"The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house, Nymphadora." Voldemort sighed. "Get out of here. Tell Bones or Scrimgeour or whoever it is that you report to that you overheard two Unspeakables talking about extraplanar displacement. Anywhere they put you would be a better use of your talents than here."

Voldemort apparated away with a loud crack, leaving Tonks with nothing but the open ocean, and a few small, niggling doubts that weren't there earlier.

Harry had been enjoying this year far more than any of his previous ones. Despite the crappy defence teacher, he didn't find himself having to worry about either any direct threats from a Dark Lady, nor was he dealing with constant antagonism from his peers. As such, he'd completely forgotten about one detail until an owl arrived for him near the end of September.

Right.

Court appointed mind healer.

That was bound to be fun.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked. He leaned over to look at the parchment. "Ah, that. Don't worry — you'll be fine."

"What's this about?" Hermione asked. Harry handed the sheet of parchment to her. "Ah, that. I honestly think it's a good thing you're going. After, well, everything you've been through, I'm sure that it will help to talk to someone."

"I don't like talking about this stuff, though." Harry countered. "And I especially don't want to talk to someone appointed by the Ministry."

"Mind healers take the same oaths of confidentiality that other healers do." Ron explained. "So she won't be reporting to the Ministry and there are stipulations on how she can act. They're not even allowed to use any mind magic in most cases. You either have to let them do it or do something really crazy before they're allowed." He lowered his voice. "Ginny actually had to get some of that done after the, uh, you know."

That really didn't make Harry feel any better, knowing that he was being placed on the same level as people who'd just been possessed. He stared at the parchment, trying to light it on fire with his mind. It was with some degree of surprise that he actually succeeded.

"Fuck!" He yelled, quickly plunging the burning parchment into his pumpkin juice. "Stupid paper."

Hermione and Ron gave him weird looks. "You alright, mate?"

"Fine." Harry mumbled as he pulled out the ruined parchment. At least he'd remembered the time of his appointment before it burst into flames. Unfortunately, said appointment was several hours away, giving him plenty of time to wallow in his feelings of dread.

He trudged into the hospital wing wondering just how badly this was going to go. Was there a risk that he would be kicked out of school if he was deemed too crazy? Ron had mentioned that they could even use mind magic if he did something crazy. Did believing that Voldemort was back count as crazy? Did thinking that maybe she wasn't so bad count as crazy?

"Here for your appointment, Mister Potter?" Pomfrey asked. "This way."

Harry's mood must have been visible on his face, because Pomfrey felt the need to address his concerns.

"Chin up, Mister Potter. I can understand your hesitancy to speak to a mind healer, but rest assured that Healer Rowan is extremely capable."

"Right." He replied despondently.

She led him towards the back of the hospital wing to the private wards, then opened one of the doors on the left, revealing a simple office occupied only by a petite woman in white robes.

"Thank you, Poppy. I'll take it from here." She said.

The healer drew her wand. "Don't mind me. I'm going to cast several spells to seal the room and purge any external interference. Standard confidentiality requires me to take every precaution to ensure that no one could be listening in on the conversation. I don't think it's likely, but it's better to be safe than sorry wherever your confidentiality is concerned."

She finished casting, nodded to herself, and sat back down.

"Now that I've confirmed we're truly alone, let's start with introductions. I am Healer Rowan, but you may call me Tina. How would you like me to address you?"

"Oh, uh, just Harry is fine."

She smiled, and Harry took in the sight of her while he waited for her to respond. Tina had straight, dirty-blonde hair that went down to her chin, grey eyes, but her loose-fitting white robes didn't give much information about her figure. She wasn't tall, being close to Harry's height, which put her… well below average, if Harry was being honest. At least he still — hopefully — had a few more years to grow.

"So, um, how is this going to work?" Harry asked. "One of my friends said you can use magic to do stuff to my mind if I act crazy."

Tina laughed. "Harry, that's reserved for very extreme cases. In order to be justified in using mind magic on a client, I have to have substantial reason to suspect that you are a direct and immediate danger to yourself and others. And just because I'm sure it would help put you at ease, I'm not talking about wanting to send schoolyard jinxes at your rivals. I feel confident in saying that I don't expect any such cases to apply to you."

He let out a breath, feeling some of the tension leave his body. "So what now? How do we start this?"

"In cases like this, I find muggle-style works best. This is mostly going to be a chance for you to talk about your life and the problems you've faced in it. I'll mostly be here to keep you on track and ask the occasional question."

Harry's brow furrowed. "And what exactly is going to be accomplished by this?"

Tina smiled ruefully. "Human minds are rarely straightforward. Just because we're aware of something doesn't mean we've come to terms with it or accepted it. Sometimes we need to say it aloud to truly accept the reality of our experiences, or we need help to arrive at the right conclusions. Now, I'm sure there are a lot of things you could talk about, so I'll let you decide where to start."

Harry didn't really want to start, but he didn't think that was an option. "I guess I'll start from the beginning."

She nodded. "The Ministry investigation into your ex-guardians turned up a lot of dubious stuff happening. Nothing outright criminal, but a degree of neglect strong enough to have you pulled from there. Tell me, what were your years there like before you got your Hogwarts letter?"

He shrugged. "Bad? There's not really a lot else to say."

Tina sighed. "Harry, you can't just say that the first decade of your life was bad and then shrug it off — that's two thirds of your current life. You are going to have to go into more detail."

Harry took a deep breath. "It was bad. I didn't have a proper room until my Hogwarts letter arrived addressed to 'The Cupboard Under the Stairs', and even then, they only gave me a room because they thought they were being watched. I don't know if I was kept there as a baby, but I can hardly see Vernon and Petunia giving me any more care than was absolutely necessary."

She nodded. "What's your earliest memory?"

"I don't know. Being yelled at, probably. Vernon liked to yell a lot."

"Did he like to yell a lot, or did he like to yell at you a lot?"

Harry hadn't ever thought about it like that before, but he knew the answer. "He liked to yell at me a lot."

Tina pulled out a notebook and began writing a few notes with a pen. That was certainly an odd sight in the magical world. Ballpoint pens didn't tend to write well on parchment, so that was either a fountain pen or she was writing in a muggle notebook. Harry was distracted enough by that train of thought that he jumped when Tina looked up and asked him another question. "What about chores?"

"Oh, uh, I did most of them from the moment I was physically able. I cooked breakfast and did most of the cleaning and gardening. Petunia always insisted on cooking dinner and everyone was responsible for cleaning their own bedrooms." He shrugged. "I honestly thought that it was just because they didn't want me getting a chance to poke around their bedrooms, though."

She wrote down a few more notes. "Why was there such a focus on making you do chores?"

"They… wanted me to 'earn my keep'. Said that it was the least I owed them for putting me up."

Tina hummed in response. "Was there any sort of affection or human contact between you?"

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, Dudley was real big on 'human contact'. His fists were always his first choice when it came to interacting with others."

She gave a slight smile at his joke. "Let me rephrase, then. Was any physical or verbal affection given to you?"

"No, not really. I mostly just tried to stay out of their way whenever I could. Getting their attention was never a good thing."

"And how did you feel about all of this?"

"I mean… bad? I'm not really sure what else there is to say. It sucked, but I lived with it."

Tina sighed. "Harry, you may be a teenager now, but you weren't back then. You may have grown thick enough skin to brush off most of what they did to you now, but I'm certain that you didn't start out that way. Let me ask again — how did you feel? I'm not asking about how Harry the adolescent feels when he looks back on his childhood, but how Harry the young child felt when he was starved of any affection and made to work like a slave for people who despised his very existence."

Harry's throat felt dry. "Bad."

"Harry…" She said warningly.

"It sucked!" He yelled, his voice cracking. "I cried to myself a lot during the early years, but I had to be quiet about it or they'd get worse. When I learned that tears wouldn't solve anything, I kept imagining fantastic ways that I'd be able to get away from there. I spent every night until I was eleven dreaming that some distant relative would come and take me away. The one time I tried talking to anyone about what my life was like, the Dursleys treated me worse than they ever had. So I just kept it bottled up inside and didn't talk about it to anyone."

Harry took several deep, ragged breaths as he tried to calm his nerves.

Tina let him take his time, and spoke up once he'd calmed himself slightly. "Harry, what the Dursleys did to you isn't normal or healthy behaviour that guardians should have towards their wards. Children shouldn't be expected to earn their keep by doing most of the housework, especially not when their age is still in the single digits. They certainly shouldn't be starved of any type of affection and kept in a closet. What the Dursleys did to you was wrong."

"I know." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sure that you do know, but I want to hear you say it."

"What the Dursleys did to me was wrong." He said, the words feeling like a raw wound.

"Good. I know that another common issue with emotionally abused children is a… a lack of self-worth, for lack of a better term. A pervasive feeling that they're only worth however much they can give to other people, even if it comes at their own detriment. There also tends to be a feeling that they're unworthy of any affection unless it is earned in such a way."

Harry didn't say anything in response. He didn't like the notion of what the Dursleys did being "abuse'. What they did was fucked up, but he didn't feel comfortable saying that it was abuse.

Tina sighed once again. "We'll get into that later, I suppose. For now, I just want you to say one more thing to me."

"What?" He croaked.

"I want to hear you say that you're worthy of affection."

Harry tried but the words didn't come out. After a minute of attempts, he shook his head and gave up.

"We can work on that later. I think we should end our session here, as you're obviously emotionally taxed by what we've already done. How are you feeling?"

"Bad."

She smiled at him sadly. "Healing is rarely a painless or comfortable experience, but that doesn't mean it's not important. Do you have anything planned for the rest of the day?"

He shook his head.

"Good. I recommend that you take this time to yourself. Normally I'd recommend going to your room, but I know that Gryffindor has shared dormitories, and I'm not sure you want company."

She picked up the few odds and ends that she'd brought with her — her notebook, her pen, and a muggle water bottle. She opened the door, then stopped and looked back at him.

"If you want some privacy, go to the seventh floor. Pace three times in front of the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy while thinking about whatever you want, and the room will do its best to recreate it. I always liked using it to create gorgeous vistas where I could meditate."

She left, closing the doors behind her. Harry could barely find it in him to move, but the talk of that secret room was interesting enough that he donned his invisibility cloak and began reluctantly making his way towards the seventh floor.

Early on, he'd occasionally go out in the invisibility cloak just for the fun of it. It was enjoyable being in the hallways knowing that no one could see him. It felt odd to go back to that habit after all these years. Still, the part of the seventh floor that Tina had mentioned wasn't very far from the hospital wing.

Harry paced in front of the tapestry, wishing for a place to get some rest and be alone. On his third pass, a door did appear on the opposite wall, and Harry quietly slipped inside.

The room had dark wood floors, light blue walls, and a canopy bed with dark green sheets. The windows had sheer white curtains that let in lots of light, making the room feel bright and open. The view outside was untamed wilderness with tall grass and weeds interspersed with the occasional copse of trees. It felt familiar to Harry, and it took him a moment to realise why.

This was the sort of bedroom he'd always dreamed about having as a child. All the rawness he was experiencing felt fresher at the sight of it. A bedroom of his own in a home where he was welcome in an area as unlike Little Whinging as possible.

Harry grabbed one of the pillows and laid in bed for a long time. He'd go back to his dorm eventually, but only after everyone else was asleep.

A/N (Tendra): You know, I was originally hoping to get through the first term of Hogwarts in, like, three chapters. Two monstrously long chapters later, and I've only gotten to the end of September. Fortunately, most of the stuff that needed to get covered occurred in those first two weeks, so the pace should (hopefully) pick up.

My new antidepressants are making me really manic, so I've been insanely productive. Idk how long I can keep this up (I wrote this 11.5k word chapter in three days), but I'm damn well going to take advantage of this productivity while I can.

Daphne in this fic is a lot colder than she is in Scrambled Sorting, but Tracey is always Tracey.

I was pleased that I at least got to use one of the backstory scenes I had created. Seriously, I have a boatload of scenes from Voldie's schooldays that are probably never going to make it into the fic. I might release them separately at some point, but that is going to require me to get to the point in this fic where none of them would be massive spoilers. Young Bellatrix was an adorable little psycho, though.

I drew a lot on my own experiences with therapy when I wrote the appointment he had with Tina. It's never comfortable to bring up old emotional wounds, but it is a vital part of the healing process. I cried a lot after therapy when I started seeing a therapist about my current issues, and coming to terms with emotional abuse is never easy. I tried to strike a balance between making the therapy realistic and not being too angsty.

E/N (Xgenje): You know? I thought I was a colossal dumbass, but Fudge has me beat. But onto more important notes, I am really hoping we get to see more of Tracey in this fic, either as a side plot or as an eventual convert.

At one point I was 'medically diagnosed' as a 'psychopath' so therapy has always left a raw feeling on me. Especially because I felt it was the wrong kind of help in the first place.

I really want to see more of Bellatrix/Mommy-Mort interactions. It's so damn adorable, but ya know… with fire and stuff. Which is adorable in its own way.

E/N (Foadar): I lowkey want to see a oneshot where Voldemort is driven to murder, because she's gonna go insane at some point from the combination of Barty Crouch and Rookwood, I guarantee it. Knowing how Tracey is on the discord, the description is accurate, and Daphne best be careful! Too impulsive by half, heh.

Personally, I have not experienced the likes of what Harry or Tendra has experienced, or not in the exact same way, though I can sympathize with bullying and its various forms, and the scars it leaves. At least Harry has now started to heal.