"Wait up a moment, Peter," said Harry, as he took in that he was tied to a grave stone. "I want a conference with your master; without prejudice. He and I might just have a deal we can make."

"Bring me closer, Wormtail," said Voldemort.

The homuculus form was hideous. Harry made himself regard it calmly.

"How much better would your new body be if I co-operated fully?" asked Harry.

"Why would you do that?" asked the high, squeaky voice.

"Because my life is so miserable as a house-elf to my aunt and uncle, vilified for cheating the goblet when I did no such thing, and pushed around by everyone. And do you know, I don't actually care what you do to Wizarding Britain. I hate that you killed my parents. And that Peter killed Cedric, who's pretty innocent in all of this."

"Your father was already dead when I got there," said Voldemort. "I would have killed him, though; he's the sort of pure bred supremacist I hate."

"Huh? But Lucius Malfoy ..."

The thin voice laughed. It was like nails down a blackboard.

"Oh, I have them all convinced I am doing it for pure-bred supremacy. I'm not. I'm making them so hated that they will eventually fall apart. They are inbreeding themselves out of existence already. I'm a half-blood and my mother was no more than a squib; and I suffered at Hogwarts. And especially from Dumbledore, who made sure I went back to the orphanage every holiday, where kids who are freaks have to be put in their places. Does your uncle bugger you?"

Harry paled.

"No," he admitted. "The size he is, though, I'd probably die of suffocation if he did."

"Well, I only suffered it once before I learned accidental magic. And then I learned that terrorising people made them leave me alone. So I terrorised them; and then Dumbledore turned up and terrorised me, so I realised it was a valid tactic of the Wizarding World. And I put together those people who resented how he tore down the traditions and made the fascinating rituals of the old families 'dark' by declaring them so. One reason for the ravages to my body was absorbing the family magics of other families. It isn't meant to be shared, but I have been able to save magic which would be lost. I'm sorry about your mother, I truly am. I tried not to hurt her; but there was a prophecy about you. And I knew Dumbledore had set up your mother to be a sacrifice as some kind of trap for me. I did not know it would drive my soul from my body."

"I think Dumbledore should have done more to keep me from the competition."

"He could have done; I gambled on him wanting to test you. He wants to make the Wizarding World a user-friendly place for Muggleborn to bring in fresh blood. And it isn't going to happen by destroying all the traditions; but equally the oldest and most inbred lines are not going to help the cause of magic. I don't actually give a damn about blood status; my agenda is to preserve magic. I've sacrificed body and soul for it, and I will stop at nothing to bring down Dumbledore, whom I consider a dark lord more than I ever have been."

"I see," said Harry. "I confess I am inclined to see your point. Though I can't say I like your methods."

"My options are limited. Harry, may I touch your scar?"

"As you're the first person to ever ask, you may."

Voldemort touched the scar.

"It's a part of my soul," he said. "I ... need to get it back. The only way I can think of dislodging it is to temporarily kill you."

"Temporarily?"

"To dislodge it."

"Was the diary a part of your soul? I killed that with a basilisk fang."

"The diary? Yes. What do you know about it? And the basilisk?"

"Lucius Malfoy put it in the cauldron of the youngest Weasley to use it to make her open the Chamber of secrets. I killed the basilisk to save her, and she and her idiot brother have done nothing but get at me over how I got to be champion."

"Lucius? How ... foolish of him," said Voldemort. "We can explore how to release my soul part another time when I am stronger."

"I'll give you my blood if you swear to me that you will leave me alone while I do nothing overt against you."

"We swear an unbreakable vow to do nothing against each other; Peter can be our binder. Cut him loose, Peter; we have the chance of a beautiful friendship against the unfairness inherent in the system, as you are also being oppressed, Harry."

The vow sworn, Harry cut his own arm to bleed into the potion. The handsome form of Tom Riddle emerged. Harry almost shuddered.

"What?" asked Tom. His voice was now melodious, though his eyes were still red.

"You look like you did when you were stealing Ginny's life force," said Harry.

"Is she something to you?"

"No; but at the time I thought her git of a brother was my best friend, only to find out he's nothing but a jealous bastard who sneers at me."

"Ah, like Abraxus Malfoy, who used to call me the 'charity goblin'," said Tom. "I'm going to use my ritual knife on your scar."

"Fine," said Harry. "It already hurts for wanting to be back with you."

The pain was briefly excruciating, and then eased as the black shadowy spirit emerged.

"I am sorry about your mother, Harry," said Tom.

The spirit promptly seemed to be sucked right through his face.

"Remorse? That fixes it? Who knew," said Tom. "I hated most of the people I killed for my soul pieces, which will make that harder. It's easier to hate everyone when everyone hates you. But I was regretful to have left you having a childhood as hard as mine. I will be your father, Luke ... Harry ... and we will rule the galaxy together."

"You know Star Wars?"

"Of course I know Star Wars; learned a few tips from Darth Vader on how to be an evil overlord. Now, I'm going to have to send you back, but now your blood is mine, I will be able to collect you from your muggle home, and we can plot together. How much do you care about the spare?"

"I like ... liked Cedric."

"Put him in the cauldron and make a sacrifice of some of your magic ... there's enough of the potion left."

Harry did as he was told, with Wormtail's aid and wished in magic.

He felt something seem to break inside, and a wind whistled across the churchyard.

"Well done, Harry – and act of altruistic sacrifice has broken Dumbledore's binding on your core," said Tom. "Pull him out and tell him he was thrown across the graveyard and knocked out."

Harry did so, Tom helping the hapless Hufflepuff, whom he confunded.

And then they were taking the cup portkey back to school, and Harry sobbing histrionically more than hysterically that he did not want to talk about it.

He would let Dumbledore drag out of him that his blood had been used to resurrect Lord Voldemort; and then when the holidays came, he might see where he and Tom might explore an alliance, now he was old enough to recognise shades of grey.

One on the inside, one on the outside; only way it'll work.

Who knew that Voldemort liked Lee Van Cleef?