Hello everyone, thank you so, so much again for all the nice comments, it is great to see how much you all like this story! It's definitely giving me a lot of motivation to keep writing more of it ;)
Enjoy!
Chapter six: Awakening
Both Harry and Barty avoided mentioning their talk over the next two days. Harry mostly took care of Voldemort while Barty went out to get books and strengthened their defences. In the hours that the other was gone, Harry mainly tried to revise his plans in such a way that neither Nagini nor Barty would be harmed. Physically, at least, he knew that both of them would be hurt deeply by Voldemort's passing, which had weakened Harry's resolve, but not so much that he would give up entirely. After all, the mercy and apparent kindness that the Dark Lord had given to a chosen few did not excuse the planned genocide of Muggles and Muggleborns, Pureblood ideologies and plans for a starting a second war. Not that Harry had had much time to ask about that. Acting as a follower of the Dark Lord had the drawbacks of being expected to know some things about Death Eater behaviour, plans and more of that. He couldn't very well grill Barty on the exact agenda of the Dark.
Voldemort was watching Harry at the moment, which was slightly unnerving, having those red eyes peek over the edge of the blanket and shift from right to left as Harry paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. It was soon time for another potion... Suddenly, Harry frowned. Should recovery really take this long? It had been much longer than expected already, over a week now. Once more he was faced with the dilemma of not knowing how to recognise Voldemort being well enough...
~Stop your fidgeting! Nagini suddenly hissed, raising her head in annoyance. Releasing an irritated sigh, Harry complied, sitting down next to his nemesis, whose unblinking eyes were still on him... too bright, too clear... Harry struggled to keep himself composed when realisation hit him. This was it. This was the moment. Too sudden.
Carefully, he peeked to the right, trying to stop himself from shaking when he was met with a calm and steady gaze. Voldemort started moving now, the blanket was pushed away by a fragile hand, the bony back straightened as Voldemort sat as upright as possible. Harry scrambled away from the couch in horror when he realised that the man had possibly been better for days already. Nagini hissed again, yet did not react as Harry dove for his wand at the mantelpiece, not even when he turned around and pointed it at the Dark lord. She had come to trust Harry to take care of her master so much that she didn't recognise any danger.
The door was slammed open and Barty swaggered in. There was no other way for his walk, entirely relaxed and chomping on the chicken leg he held in his other hand. ''Hey Evan, could you cook again? I'm absolutely shit at it and-'' Barty hesitated only for a moment when seeing Harry's stance, but all worry was erased again when Harry hastily pretended to cast a warming charm on Voldemort and sat down with loud thudding heart. In his panic, he'd almost really cast one, which would give a whole other slew of trouble if the Ministry suddenly showed up.
His voice sounded odd and far away as he replied: ''Sure I can, do you mind if I do that later? I should really give him his potion again... would you mind getting me one? I brewed a new batch.''
'''Course. As long as you season the next chicken with a bit more chilli.'' He left again and Harry shook like a leaf, not knowing what to do. His moment of panic wasn't over yet, but his hasty act of desperation was. Unnervingly, Voldemort didn't even speak. They just looked at each other the entire time until Barty came back with the potion. And Harry knew then that Voldemort knew. He knew that Harry was definitely not on his side. Did he recognise him? The bangs on his forehead hid the scar currently, and the last time they'd seen each other, he'd been eleven and Voldemort hadn't been exactly sane. On top of that, they'd hardly interacted much. Did the other know that it was Harry Potter sitting in front of him? If so, he didn't let anything on, nothing even suggested that Voldemort felt threatened. His stare was almost... reprimanding.
''Should I?'' Barty asked, making Harry jump, who had not even noticed the other's quick return. The blond man cocked his head when Harry didn't take the vial that was offered to him. Hastily, the teen corrected his mistake.
''No, it's fine,'' he answered with a croaky voice. ''I just don't feel entirely well, that is all.'' He needed to send Barty away somehow... needed to get him out of here to do what must be done. Harry wasn't sure if it was still possible, but he had to try. ''Look, I know you said you wanted chilli on your chicken, but all I've got right now is a bit of pepper,'' he improvised. ''Although I know you don't want to interact with Muggles...'' he trailed off. ''It would really help if you got me some chilli peppers in town,'' he clarified at Barty's look.
''Oh. Right. You really don't look well though, I can maybe do with something else today.''
''No, really, it's fine. I can-''
''Stay, Bartemius.''
Harry and Barty fell silent at the same moment, for entirely different reasons. Harry just sat there, frozen with the flask in his hand while Barty instantly dropped to his knees, losing the chicken on the way, which landed in Nagini's stomach with a snap of her jaws before she lifted herself on the couch.
~Master!~ Voldemort did not answer her directly, instead extending an arm to rest on her scales.
''I still require that potion... Evan,'' he continued, completely unfazed.
''Erhm... I... yes, of course.'' He was aware of three pairs of eyes burning into his skull as he unstoppered the cork with a dry mouth and sweaty hands. Barty's suspicious look wasn't lost to him either. However, since Voldemort was calm, it looked like neither he nor Nagini thought his behaviour was completely disagreeable. He poured the potion in slowly, aided by the fact that Voldemort could apparently suddenly swallow without a problem anymore himself. Mentally, Harry swore. The white figure shuddered for a moment after finishing, then slowly opened his eyes again.
''Bartemius, retrieve my wand, it lies in the graveyard, buried at the base of the headstone of Thomas Riddle.'' ~Nagini, accompany Barty~
Harry's mind went in overdrive. The Muggle graveyard? That was where the wand had been hidden? But why? Voldemort wouldn't have had access to it there... No wonder he'd never found the blasted thing. And why was the man sending the others away without saying another word? Harry was the one holding a wand right now...
That thought flew from his mind when, the second after the door closed behind the others, Harry's wand was magically pulled from his grip, literally pried from his fingers, to land in Voldemort's hand, sparks erupting from it as it accepted Voldemort's hand. Not surprising, considering they had brother wands. He should have tried to use the one Barty had stolen instead... ''It fits rather well,'' the other mentioned. ''Now tell me who you are and what you came here for.'' Harry stood again as if the couch was burning him.
''I... I am Evan, I took care of you while ill... my Lord.''
''Liar,'' He was forced into a bow, an incredible pressure at the spine pushing him down onto his knees. He'd felt it before, it was the same spell Voldemort had used when Harry had confronted him in the room of the mirror of Erised. ''I have overheard more than one of your conversations with Barty, and, more surprisingly, with Nagini. Oh, I believe that you took care of me, but surely not out of the goodness of your heart,'' the Dark Lord sounded amused. ''I have my suspicions of course...'' he carefully examined the wand. ''Very precise suspicions.''
Harry's heart dropped in his shoes. Voldemort was only toying with him. ''I made sure the rat got behind bars and then came here to erase you from this world once and for all,'' he spoke, balling his fists tightly at his sides. Voldemort's hoarse laugh was not the response he'd expected.
''Indeed? And, pray tell, why did you think it would work now when I couldn't be killed the first time you caused my demise... Harry Potter?'' Harry staggered back a step as he was released from the spell. His eyes flicked to the door. ''You cannot escape from here. Sit down.''
''No,'' he replied, stubbornly. For the first time during the conversation, there was a hint of impatience flashing through the others' eyes.
''Stupidity doesn't suit you,'' the other snapped. ''Sit.'' Swallowing hard, Harry complied -for now-, hating himself for it. What would Voldemort do if he tried to wring that slender neck instead of trying to attack with magic? No, that would be a stupid idea, Harry told himself. Voldemort now had a perfectly working wand and it was doubtful that the other was bluffing about his magical powers. Even when leeching off of Quirrel's body he'd had magic of his own...
''By your logic, you cannot kill me either,'' Harry said, braver than he felt. ''I survived your Killing curse more than you did.'' He was grasping at straws here, trying to find anything that would keep Voldemort talking and perhaps reveal anything useful to escape.
''I won't kill you.''
The simply answer stopped Harry's thought process dead in its tracks.
''What? But...''
''At least, not until I have verified some important pieces of information. Depending on the result of that, perhaps not even then.''
''Well... well that's too bad, because I'll always keep fighting you!'' Harry stood again. ''You've murdered my family, threatened Hogwarts, mistreated my friends! You are a murderous bastard and I won't let you ruin this world!''
''You had an actual decent chance to vanquish me for a good while again,'' Voldemort mused, not caring much for Harry's rant apparently. ''Yet instead, you... improved my health. Why?''
''Maybe because not everyone is so thoroughly evil as to kill off babies!'' he spoke in defence.
''You could have had me shipped off to Azkaban instead. You didn't.''
Harry refused to reply further. There was no point in answering Voldemort, he didn't trust the word of the man about not wanting to kill him, one bit. He should leave here, and he needed to at least try to finish what he started. Without any sign of warning, Harry threw himself at Voldemort, using all of his Quidditch reflexes to quickly knock the wand out of the man's still weak grip, one hand diving for the neck. A quick snap and-
Harry was blasted to the other end of the room, hitting the back of his head hard against the wall and crumpling down at the floor. He cried out in pain as his skull threatened to split in two, spots dancing in his vision. If he didn't try to push through, he would fall unconscious, he could feel his limbs weakening already and his thoughts slipping.
''No!'' he exclaimed, digging his nails into his arms to distract himself from the pain in his head.
''You will stay here like you have done before,'' Voldemort commanded from somewhere far away. Harry tried to look at the man, which was hard as he still saw double from the hit, and blurry at that due to losing his glasses from the force of the blow. ''You shall continue to play Evan until I deem otherwise. I shall not give Barty your true identity, nor shall I tell Nagini. In exchange for your life, I will study you and require you to cooperate in several experiments.''
''I will not-'' Harry spit out between clenched teeth, ''be your guinea pig!''
''You really won't have a choice. Nagini would eat you for threatening me and deceiving her. Barty... he wouldn't be happy about it, but he too would murder you at my word.''
''You're a fucking bastard.''
''If you say so,'' the bored tone made it clear to Harry that Voldemort was not planning to let himself get riled up in any way. It would have been better if he'd either gotten furious or even condescending for using curse words. Like this, Harry could only stew in his own anger without an outlet. ''Oh, I will, however, tell Barty that while you are a new follower, you are no Death Eater. You make an abysmal one and it would really do to get you up to speed with my plans.''
''I already know what you are up to,'' he said, sounding triumphant. ''You want to become immortal somehow, which is why you went after the philosopher stone. You're power hungry and pose a danger to creatures, Muggleborns, Muggles and anyone who doesn't agree that purebloods are perfect.''
Even through the blur, he noticed the cold stare thrown his way. ''How incredibly surprising that my thirteen-year-old enemy who has been kept from the Wizarding world all of his life and then only spoke to Dumbledore and his chosen few, has reached such dreadful conclusions,'' Voldemort spoke, still on the same bored tone. ''To clear up a few parts of that: I am already immortal, already have power, and hate Muggles for entirely different reasons than that they might threaten Purebloods.'' Any rest of the conversation was broken off as the others came into the room again, rushing to Voldemort's feet. Harry didn't exactly notice any of the looks thrown his way due to his lack of glasses, which were pushed into his hand by Barty before he was dismissed from the room. Harry only noticed that the glass was suddenly fixed as he pushed it up his nose. Stumbling, the teen managed to get down the stairs, wondering if Voldemort had anything in place to prevent him from walking out. One step out of the front door made it clear that leaving indeed wasn't possible, for as soon as he tried going down the garden path, it felt as if a hand held his throat in a deadly grip. It squeezed harder with each step until Harry feared he would really pass out when trying to leave further.
So instead, he went to the dining room, which he and Barty had transformed even more yesterday, turning over the table to its side and placing as many blankets and pillows on the floor and against the underside as needed to transform it into a relatively comfortable sitting space. It reminded the teen of books he'd read in which happy children would make blanket forts with their friends. Groaning, he let himself fall face first into the washed blankets, cursing himself over and over again. He'd been so stupid in so many ways. Rolling onto his back, Harry stared at the ceiling, at the place beneath Voldemort's and Barty's feet. What would Barty think of him now? What would the man even be told?
His thoughts wandered to every topic that seemed important: from whether any of his friends would miss him, to what kind of experiments Voldemort planned to use him for, to how disappointed Dumbledore would look... Harry had failed everyone in failing to kill Voldemort when he'd had the chance. That was the simple truth. He'd been clever in catching Wormtail and finding out Voldemort's location... from there on he should have left it to the Aurors after all. His distrust in people had put the entire country in danger.
''You look like an Inferius. A drowned one.''
Harry sighed at Barty's tone. ''I have no idea what that is.''
''Merlin, how did you ever want to pass as a Pureblood? No wonder the Dark Lord got so angry with you. Posing as someone you aren't isn't going to win you his favour. Of course, I can understand that it might be a scary thought to be one of the few Muggleborns followers he has... but in the end, only your loyalty really matters, not your blood.'' Barty plopped down without asking for permission and patted Harry's shoulder awkwardly for a moment.
''Isn't blood all that matters?'' he asked miserably, surprised when Barty let out a loud disbelieving laugh.
''Are you mad? Sure, punks like Malfoy would like to see it that way, and the Dark Lord tries to keep his lot happy too. Purebloods ruling the world though? No way. Didn't you know that the Dark Lord himself is a half-blood?'' Now Harry was really incredibly shocked, turning around to stare at the man, who misinterpreted his expression. ''Yeah, we both had very disappointing fathers, you know. Remember when I asked you whose house this was? Well, turns out it was his dad's, one more Muggle who abandoned his magical kin for being 'abnormal'. I already knew of his story before, and found that the grave the wand had been buried at was his father's. It is Muggles like that who are going to ruin our world. Fearful, hateful, uneducated...''
''Many purebloods are also hateful, fearful and uneducated about Muggles, hating them and Muggleborns on principle too.''
''Hmm, there's truth in that. I certainly hope that our Lord can do something about the opinions of both sides. Now, I see you are in no condition to make my chicken so I shall gracefully offer to cook. I can only boil eggs and peel potatoes though, so if you don't mind, you'll get mashed potatoes with some eggs. One of the drawbacks of living only in a posh house, Hogwarts and Azkaban was that I never had the opportunity to learn the fine art of preparing food.'' Harry groaned at that, his stomach turning at the thought. Slowly, he picked himself up from the floor.
''I'll do it,'' he grumbled. ''If you can bring it to... our Lord. I have the feeling that I should rather stay away from him for a bit until we've both cooled off.''
''About that... he still cannot move on his own and said that you always help him get to the bathroom,'' Barty said matter-of-factly, as if he was talking about walking the dog. ''I would take over that job but his instructions were specifically that you should.''
''Fucking great,'' Harry muttered, getting a raised eyebrow from the other man.
''Any task of our Lord is a glorious one Evan,'' Barty reprimanded him. ''I'd give my wand arm to be able to be so close to him as you can be.''
''It's more that I will then have to wait with food even longer, I didn't mean...'' he hastily said. Barty clearly didn't believe him.
''Evan, you're a good kid, perhaps a bit too good for a place like this. Covering up mistakes isn't a great trait though. I get where you are coming from, really I do, but you should be more honest with both me and our Lord. That is a simple rule within our ranks: as long as you speak the truth, you don't have much to fear. Own up to your mistakes if you make any, it will spare you a lot of pain. If there is anything the Dark Lord hates, it is cowards and liars. Maybe even more so than Muggles.''
Harry thought it was rather hypocritical of Voldemort, considering the man had just told him to still keep up the pretence of Evan. Or was that only a test? As Barty moved to grab another book he'd brought, Harry contemplated on that possibility. Even Dumbledore had constantly tested him, it was only logical that Voldemort would too. If he truly despised liars then...
''I'm not Evan. I'm not even a follower.'' The confession rushed out in a single breath and he kept his eyes trained on the floor as heavy seconds ticked by.
''What?'' something dangerous slipped into Barty's tone, a growling sound that Harry had not heard before and promised pain.
''The... The Dark Lord knows,'' he hurried to say. ''I... I do not yet know if I can really tell you who I am. Since you asked me to be honest, I will try to be as much as possible. I am, right now, a prisoner here.'' He glanced up, seeing Barty's clouded face. ''I planned to... kill him.'' As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry knew this confession had been a mistake. A crazy gleam entered the man's eyes and a second later Harry hung upside down in the air.
''You damned traitor!'' the feral growling voice reminded strongly of a werewolf. Harry seriously hoped that Barty wasn't one. ''You snuck in here? You tried to fool me? Was your life story all a lie as well? I tried to help you! You, who intended to hurt the only real father I ever had!'' Barty was screaming now and red in the face. ''Do you know how it feels to be rejected? To see the person who is supposed to care for you with a face of stone as he sentences you to hell? My Lord was the only person to ever give me a family and you wanted to rip that away?''
''He ripped my family away!'' Harry shouted back, crying at both Barty's story and his own. ''He killed my mother, my father, he was the reason why I ended up with my abusive family in the first place!''
~Silence!~ Harry stilled at the loud hissing that echoed through the house. Barty, despite not being able to understand Parsel, had surely understood the tone of the voice at least and let Harry down, only staring him down angrily.
''It looks like we angered your dad,'' Harry said, still pissed. ''I shouldn't keep him waiting for potty time.''
He knew it was an incredibly low blow, yet couldn't bring himself to care. That is, not until he entered Voldemort's room and was instantly hit by a curse that made his entire body flare up in agonising pain. It felt as if his skin was being ripped to bits, his nails pulled off again and again, his entrails sliding out through his stomach. He screamed until he couldn't hear himself anymore.
He awoke on the carpet in front of the Dark Lord's sofa, apparently having been moved. Voldemort still sat where he usually did, and Barty was hovering over Harry, wand pointed at his face. ''You're a stupid boy,'' he muttered, sounding... concerned? ''My Lord, may I...?''
''You may.''
A wave of tingles shot over Harry's whole body, instantly erasing the lingering aching in his limbs. Sitting up, he looked at the blond man. ''Why?'' he mumbled. ''I thought you'd hate me now.''
''Don't be an idiot, I've been insulted worse every day in Azkaban. You think I'd stay mad at one broken kid?'' Barty snorted. ''Not your fault that you were raised the way you did and believe any propaganda Dumbledore crams through your throat. I... could have dealt more civilised with that conversation too.'' It was as much of an apology as Harry was going to get.
''I'm also sorry for the insults,'' he spoke hesitantly, only directing it at Barty. He wasn't about to grovel to the one who had just put him under a torturing spell of sorts.
Said person suddenly directed his attention to Harry: ''So, Evan... as I gather, you spilled some of your secrets to Bartemius then?''
Harry frowned. ''He asked for honesty. What good would it have done to keep lying?''
''And yet, you did not reveal your identity.''
''Was I allowed to?'' Harry asked, raising his eyebrows at the pale man. ''You are the one who told me I would keep being 'Evan' here.''
''I was curious to see what you would do with the instructions I gave.'' Voldemort didn't say much more, inspecting a pure white wand in his hands. So that was the brother wand... ''Bartemius, for now he shall indeed remain Evan. Whether or not I shall reveal his identity to you will be dependent on how my research goes. Evan shall be our...guest, yet isn't to leave the house or left unsupervised. I shall leave it up to you to get him up to speed with our agenda, he seems to be horribly misinformed.''
''It will be my pleasure, my Lord,'' Barty muttered, bowing low.
''Good. Come here.'' Harry watched as Barty eagerly shuffled closer, a look of adoration on his face, eyes sliding close as Voldemort reached out and placed a single finger in between the other's eyes. No spell was spoken out, so Harry had to quickly shield his eyes as a bright light flashed through the room. Not wanting to miss what was happening, he peered through his fingers, seeing a web of silver threads wrap themselves around Barty's head. At long last, the light died down and the threads snapped and dissolved into nothing.
''Thank you, my Lord,'' the blond spoke, voice dripping with reverence, tears streaming down his face. ''I shall never disappoint you.''
''I know,'' Voldemort merely spoke. ''Now, Evan. Time for your duties.'' One blissful moment long, the meaning of these words escaped Harry until recalling the reason why he'd gone upstairs in the first place and groaning in dread. It was going to be so much worse when knowing that his enemy was fully conscious. One mortifying trip later -and he was somehow entirely sure that he was far more embarrassed than Voldemort was, who seemed to take some sort of sick pleasure in his disgust- they were all sitting near the fireplace again in silence.
Nagini slithered up to his legs, draping herself over him. ~Harrison, pet me,~
~Oh, Harrison, subtle. How would you have ever escaped my notice.~
Any scathing remark he wanted to make was swallowed since Nagini's fangs were far too close to his hands to risk angering her. Still, she raised her head in curiosity.
~What do you mean Master? This is Harrison Black, one of your followers. You had many Black followers did you not?~
~Very well remembered dear. Yesss... such a good follower indeed.~ Harry threw a glare, yet didn't say anything.
''So, err, my Lord, would like for me to educate Evan already? Perhaps while he cooks? I'm starving.''
In a far too human gesture, Voldemort pointed his eyes skywards. ''Off with you two.''
Glad to be away, Harry jumped to his feet and hurried downstairs. ''You got yourself into a real mess here,'' Barty grinned widely, leaning against the counter.
''You don't sound so upset about it anymore.''
''As said before, could've handled it better. Am supposed to be an adult, you know? May not look like it...''
''Your magnificent beard says otherwise,'' Harry joked, pointing at the scruffy week-old stubble that could have belonged to an adolescent.
''Funny, careful with that cheek or next time I hoist you up in the air, you'll find your pants missing. Anyhow, the Dark Lord seems fine with you for now, thus so am I. You might have some potential if you aren't so misguided anymore.'' Harry snorted in disbelief.
''What about 'he killed my parents' didn't you hear before?''
''The circumstances,'' the other answered in all seriousness. ''Considering your age, it must've been during the first war. Lots of people got killed on both sides in battle.''
''He broke into our house and struck then down before they had a chance to defend themselves,'' Harry answered tonelessly, directing his anger at the chopping block, bits and pieces of raw chicken splattering the walls. Any professional chef would have fainted at the disregard for health policies. Harry hoped a piece would hit Barty in the face.
''Just like that? Very unusual,'' the man frowned. ''With a few exceptions of specific high-target enemies being found after being in hiding for a long time, he always killed in open battles or duels. It was considered disrespectful otherwise. The only reason for those exceptions were that enemies who went into hiding were considered cowardly enough to not have to apply rules of courtesy to anymore.''
''You would also go into hiding if you just got a baby.''
''I wouldn't risk getting a child in the middle of a war in the first place,'' Barty shrugged. ''Definitely not when participating in the war in such a way that the Dark Lord would personally want my head. Admittedly, I've got no clue as to what your parents did to warrant that status. Did they fight in Dumbledore's Order?''
''His what?'' Harry frowned.
''The Order of the Phoenix, a band of Dumbledore's most loyal friends,'' Barty scoffed. ''More like pawns, he treated them worse than our Lord treats even his second circle. They all had to be ready every moment of the day to prevent us from gaining ground. Using manipulation and games, Dumbledore always had them right where he wanted...''
While Harry really did wish that he could vehemently protest against Dumbledore doing any of the sort, he recalled the elaborate 'traps' in front of the philosopher stone that three first years had been able to cross, and the way Dumbledore had set up him and Hermione to free Sirius, staying out of any illegal business himself. ''I don't know if they were part of this Order, sorry. I hardly know anything about them. No idea what they supposedly did. The only one who would know is sitting upstairs and I don't feel like talking to him more than necessary.''
''Why'd you even come here?'' Barty asked with curiosity. ''And why'd you stay?''
''Because I was stupid and thought I could handle all of this myself,'' Harry sighed. ''Now look at the mess I'm in. Trapped, with no way to contact anyone who cares about me.''
''That isn't true,'' Barty simply said, clapping him on his shoulder again. ''Even if I don't know your real name, I care about the kid I got to know. So, ask me anything you want and I'll try to answer you.''
''What does Voldemort want?'' Barty blinked rapidly a few times, the only recognition of Harry speaking the Dark Lord's name.
''Instantly starting with loaded questions huh? He wants to fix our world of course. Or at least a lot in it. How much do you know of the on-goings in the Ministry of Magic?''
''Not much,'' Harry admitted. ''I only know one person personally who works there and he's not exactly high up on the ladder. I've never been there either. Did meet once with the Minister of Magic. He was... far too friendly to be real that first time, and I got that confirmed when he was quite a jerk at the end of last school year. Other than that, I know that the Ministry tried to get rid of Dumbledore, but mostly by the influence of Lucius Malfoy, who is your man right?''
Barty's face darkened.
''Was,'' he spat out. ''As soon as the Dark Lord fell, Lucius turned on his tail, dumped a load of gold in the hands of the Minister and secured himself a job. Just one more coward whom I will look forward to seeing punished. Never even tried to search for our Lord, not believing the Lord's promise of his own immortality. Anyhow, the Ministry is coated with a layer of sugar, but beneath that all their smiles are rotten. Our laws are a product of outdated debates, mainly a result of fear and prejudice. You wouldn't believe how legal discrimination is against all kinds of creatures, even those considered light. It's a disgrace. Everything, from the hospital to Hogwarts, is regulated closely by Ministry standards, which does not give way for innovation. The single thing they have progressed on, is banning more and more practises that are considered dangerous due to their dark nature, even when they are not. It is to make Muggleborns feel more included since they've got no idea how else those poor children could possibly survive the shock of diving into another world. Absolutely stupid if you ask me. Why would we have to abolish our own history, traditions and feasts just so Muggleborns can safely celebrate Christmas with us?'' Barty huffed again, clearly looking displeased. ''So, the Dark Lord wants to set things right again. Bring the Wizarding world to an age of progress instead of stagnation. Many people aren't ready for progress though, wanting to stick to what they know and avoid any talk of radical subjects like the Dark Arts.''
''Isn't that because they harm people?'' Harry asked carefully. ''In DADA, all dark spells that we learnt to defend against were intended to hurt others.''
''It's true that many do, which is why caution is understandable. Not all dark magic is intended for destruction though. Large portions aren't, in fact, and could really help us all. The vision I strive for is a world in which magic is free to be explored rather than securely tucked away by its users.''
''It all sounds too good to be true,'' Harry remarked dryly, turning the meat in his frying pan. ''If this is Voldemort's vision, why would so many oppose him? Why have I heard tales of how horrifying it was under his rule? People not being able to trust either friends or family, afraid to lose their lives over the smallest things?''
Barty hesitated for the first time. ''I said before that many people didn't desire change at all,'' the man spoke, his forehead creased as he watched spirals of steam rise from the food. ''Furthermore, there is still a large stigma on Dark Magic. Not entirely without fault, the Dark Arts can... corrupt, when one isn't careful. People lose themselves in rampages. To counter that, the Dark Lord installed a strict hierarchy in his ranks and by default in the entire society, which many weren't happy about. The whole idea of only Purebloods being worthy in the eyes of the Dark Lord stems from this: it was only natural to place them in top positions, having most knowledge and experience on magic and our traditions. From that moment on, things spun out of control... Many Half-bloods and Muggleborns panicked and tried to put up resistance and rebellion against the Dark Lord's ideas. It didn't help that he never had the chance to officially rule either, the mass panic already started while we tried to overthrow the government. It was a right mess, ending in a bloody battle. Needless to say, our reputation by that time had taken a deep dive despite the Dark Lord's noble plans.
Every Death Eater was officially branded a criminal, yet we held half of the Ministry in our grasp so no-one actually landed in Azkaban back then. With the awkward status of only being half legal, the hierarchy was difficult to properly upkeep... Secret groups formed on either side, people tried to backstab each other, the Dark Lord tried to get more and more of the Ministry over to his side. That is possibly the moment your friends or acquaintances spoke of when not knowing whom they could trust, those were confusing times for all of us. The Unforgivables were suddenly made free game for both sides too, and for the life of me I cannot recall who started that. From that moment, it was battle after battle, hunt after hunt.''
''Unforgivables?'' Harry asked, ''What are those?''
''Three banned spells, currently all branded as dark arts but in actuality only two of them are. The Imperius curse, the only light spell of the three, imposes the caster's will on the victim, steering them like a puppet to do literally anything the caster desires, from the worst crimes to suicide. The Cruciatus... you've experienced a weak version of that one earlier today as a warning. Lastly, there is the Killing curse, which has, up until now, only left one survivor to date: Harry Potter.'' Harry shivered at the venom in Barty's voice as he spit out the name as if it was a piece of dirt.
''So,'' Harry quickly continued as he loaded the now done food onto plates. ''How did it continue after the 'mess' you described?''
''We turned more extreme,'' Barty shrugged. ''There was too much resistance from those who came from Muggle families against the supposed 'unfair' treatment, and it got so out of hand that blacklists were made of especially troublesome ones, who were always searched out first in battle to be disposed of. I'm not proud of it,'' Barty admitted. ''But our Lord wasn't about to let his own people be slaughtered either, he's not the kind of person to use cannon fodder. It then came out that our Lord wanted to not only replace the current government, instead wishing to reform the system entirely, having had the experience by then that even with new people, the government just didn't work effectively. He wished to rise as its sole leader.''
''A dictator,'' Harry helpfully added, only making Barty smirk.
''If you say so. I think King or Emperor make for nicer titles, essentially saying the same thing. A leader who is not democratically chosen by the people, yet who is strong enough to keep the country together and solve its problems without the hassles of layers of bureaucracy. We all stood behind the idea, his chosen followers... we knew without doubt that once he stood on top, everything would be cleared up. Then... he died, and it all fell to pieces.''
''Quite the story, didn't convince me very much of you being the good guys.''
''There are no good guys in war, only sides fighting for their beliefs.''
''There is no good or evil?'' Harry whispered bitterly. ''I don't buy it. There have been plenty of wars where one side was definitely evil: stripping humans of their rights, experimenting on them, slaughtering hundreds and thousands. And yes, I know very well that not everyone on those evil sides were aware of that happening, those leaders also had the support of plenty of blissfully ignorant good people, yet that doesn't mean that the methods used and ideologies followed by the higher-ups were acceptable. I see much of the same in your description. As much as you want to blame general confusion, you still pushed through with hunts, blacklists, secret societies, torture etcetera. You could have backed up, revised the plans and tried anew a couple of years later when noticing it wasn't going as you wanted. Still, Voldemort used the confusion to spread fear more than trying to clear up any misconceptions, didn't he? In the end, he did exactly what those Muggleborns had been afraid of: register them, hunt them, make them and their families feel unsafe. And did you reach any of your original goals of improving the world?''
''It will be different this time around,'' Barty muttered.
''After that first war? Every survivor will fight you tooth and nail, even if you'd suddenly have a change of heart and promote charity events for Muggles. Everyone lost at least someone in their family back then, how many will be happy to have that start again, other than some idiots looking for a fight and a way to crawl up the asses of some powerful people?''
''Are you implying what I think you are, Evan?'' Barty snapped, narrowing his eyes.
''No. You made your convictions quite clear, and I believe that the others who went to Azkaban with you will be too. Everyone out there though? People like Malfoy, who ran first chance they had? He'll never come back out of belief for the cause,'' he spoke with sarcasm. ''Even after thirteen years, people are too afraid to even speak Voldemort's name.''
''Not you. How interesting,'' Barty spoke, picking at his nails.
''I'm just saying, where do you even plan to start if you really do not want a repetition of the extremism of last time? If you truly believe that the ideals the Dark Lord has are good - which at this point I still doubt because he seems to like hurting people a tad too much- you can't just start another war like that.''
''No-one was talking about doing so either.''
''What?'' Now it was Harry's turn to look bewildered.
''Who ever said something about another war?''
''Well, he's returned right? Doesn't he want to finish what he started?''
''As you just pointed out, that would be a stupid idea. Our Lord is intelligent enough to realise that himself as well. If he doesn't want to rule with absolute fear, he won't rule at all if going about it the same way as the first time around. Thing is, he's immortal and has all the time in the world now he's put it to the test and revived. It might take decades to change the system slowly, might even take a century, fact is that it will happen how he wants it eventually. Gathering a large following is unnecessary for that too as long as he has a few key people within the Ministry up until the point that most laws will have been replaced.''
''I... I had not expected that,'' Harry replied, baffled. Dumbledore had said...
''Evan, we're not looking for another bloodbath, okay? Does that ease your mind a bit kid?''
''If it is true... then yes, yes it does. It is only... hard to really trust in,'' he spoke. Barty only gave him another grin and waved his wand over the food - which had cooled down considerably by now to heat it up again.
''We shouldn't let our Lord waiting any longer,'' he chirped. ''Let's head upstairs.''
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xx Gemerope