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Chapter thirteen - Preparations

As Voldemort slaved over his own research day and night, Harry was plagued by fatigue that bled through the link, which he could obviously not deal with as well as the Dark Lord. The man's words of Harry being able to talk still did not result in much: each of Harry's attempts only ended up in him sitting on the floor or next to Voldemort in the study, watching the man work as he scribbled full foot after foot of parchment with concepts that Harry could only hope to grasp within a century. The others had tried to explain to him what was being done, but he hardly understood half of what they were saying, not even having a basic understanding of either Runes or Arithmancy. What he did know was what it was for: Voldemort was creating sets of runes and trying to simplify them as much as possible to reduce the chances of anything going wrong due to Barty or Harry drawing them incorrectly. The runes would bind the objects necessary in the ritual, ward the area and also start a chain reaction that would affect the potion Voldemort would use to transform his rudimentary body into a real one. The Arithmancy would play no part in the ritual itself, instead only there as a way to predict the success of the intended rites.

Knowing Voldemort, he would not settle for a chance lower than a hundred percent accuracy. As such, the man was up with little sleep all week, trying to combine a massive amount of spellwork using potions, transfiguration, charms, warding, runes and blood-magic, all factors he then keyed to numbers and worked his way with from there, ending up with entire books worth of equations to predict the outcome each time an element was changed. Harry was baffled by the amount of work that went into coming up with a single ritual. They had all looked so uncomplicated when he'd actually participated: a few candles here, some herbs with specific properties there. It was only now that he realised that to create that result, one would have had to go over every combination of magical plants in existence to find what worked best. Voldemort waved Harry's awe away easily, only muttering on about having had time to prepare most of the options before already and having experience with these things from his first life. It didn't do much to quell the teen's astonishment.

Between trying to sleep to make up for the added fatigue he felt, and watching Voldemort being engrossed in his work, Harry spent quite a bit of time with Barty too, who had been asking some pretty strange questions about the time he'd been away. Harry wasn't entirely sure what the man was on about. Just yesterday, Barty had acted even more off than usual, once again empathising that the Dark Lord was, while someone to be admired from afar, not fit for long-term company. Harry was utterly confused, not seeing much wrong with trying to get closer to the first person he'd found to have such an abundance of real knowledge. Taking the link into consideration, he'd told Barty, it was better to befriend Voldemort rather than either remaining enemies or trying to be neutral. The Death Eater had only looked frustrated and said that that wasn't what he had been on about. Lost as to the intended meaning then, Harry had tried to push on, annoyingly receiving no further answer.

Thus, the week slipped away, its only real highlights being another two sessions in the field out back practising offensive magic, with Barty even teaching him a trick or two. On the eighth day, Barty surprised him with something that wiped those completely off his mind for a while, as he was finally allowed to see Hedwig again under the Death Eater's watchful eye. It didn't matter that the owl was ignoring him for most of the time with ruffled feathers that spoke volumes of how she blamed him for being alone for so long. It didn't matter that she only started with affectionate nips after giving him his due punishment of leaving a deep gash in his hand. Harry was just entirely excited about being able to see his beloved pet again. ''Hedwig,'' he'd muttered affectionately, smiling in her feathers as he buried his face in her side. ''I promise you all the owl treats in the world when we leave here.''

On the ninth day, Voldemort's triumph was to be felt through the entire house, a wave of magic shaking the foundations of it as his research was complete. Harry's blood sang and was at the same time pained, the link and his mother's protection at a battle of wills. Barty curled up further in the corner he'd been reading in and groaned, eyes unabashedly sliding closed in ecstasy. Harry wished much to do the same, a breathless tightness constricting his chest at only the thought of how much more powerful this was going to be when the man regained his full capabilities. Five days... how peculiar that in five mere days, that sprawl of spindly limbs and piercing eyes was going to inhabit a new body. Harry suddenly realised that he had absolutely no idea how the Dark Lord had looked before, always having kind of assumed that the features he'd seen on the back of Quirrel's head and on the embryonic form were inherently Voldemort. The boy he'd seen in the Chamber of secrets however, had had decidedly different characteristics.

''Barty?'' he asked, curiosity making itself known. ''How did he look, before?''

The man gave Harry a wry grin. ''That depends on what time period you are asking about. He's changed his features quite a bit over the years. His current form is, I suppose, reflective of how he looked at the height of his power. Well, of course not the size and such, but his face is much alike.'' Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that, a vision of just an oversized version of Voldemort's current form swimming in his mind. It was not an incredibly appealing sight. ''I certainly hope that his appearance is not what you are going to judge our Lord by?'' the sharp, dangerous tone had Harry instantly shaking his head in denial.

''I'm not that shallow! I know very well that power and intelligence have nothing to do with looks.''

Barty hummed at that. ''So I have seen,'' the man answered as he relaxed again.

''What do you mean?'' Harry asked, cocking his head at yet another cryptic comment.

''Never mind. Let's go upstairs.'' Harry followed Barty's eager steps with tentative ones of his own. Yes, he had seen in Lord Voldemort's mind. Yes, he knew that the man truly believed that what he was doing would be for the good of this world and that he had been chosen by magic herself... That did not mean that Harry was entirely comfortable by the knowledge of that he was helping the Dark Lord regain his full strength, strength which had often been used in that first lifetime for cruelty, manipulation and death. Also, his own mind added, every day that passes is one closer to having to leave this safe haven that is wonderfully without any sort of responsibility.

Harry gritted his teeth. He knew that returning to reality would be a shock that he wasn't sure he was prepared to face. He entered the room after Barty, taking in the absolute mess. For a man who usually was so meticulous about everything, it had come as a great surprise to discover that once Voldemort got caught up in spellwork, he would forget any other basic need and the world around him. As a result, the room was littered with papers, ink, empty plates of food Barty and Harry had had to force the wizard to eat and other paraphernalia. Amidst the mess, Nagini lay curled up, watching her master at work. Now that Harry's protective enchantments and the blood-bond with Lord Voldemort were in place, he could feel Nagini better too somehow, her emotions curling up against Harry's mind much like Voldemort's did, if not as intrusive.

''Ah, my friends,'' Voldemort spoke, opening his arms in a broad gesture, his expression one of pure elation. ''I have succeeded in my quest. Nothing shall stop me now from returning to my rightful place.'' Harry did not think that this was the best point in time to throw in a reminder that he was very much a prisoner still instead of a friend. He kept standing as Barty lowered to his knees to convey his admiration, instead concentrating as Voldemort launched into the details of the ritual. They would have a potion to brew in the coming days still, and spellwork needed to be done too. Apparently the local graveyard would be their key location as bone of Voldemort's father was needed, taken freshly from its grave. Harry wondered how they'd get it out of the coffin that Tom Riddle Senior should have been be buried in. Would they need to dig it up?

He watched dispassionately as Voldemort rewarded Barty through the mark, ignoring the distant feeling of it flowing through his own body. Five days... five days and then this whole truce would be over, wouldn't it be? Surely, Voldemort would not be so civil anymore to Harry once it was no longer needed, once he did not need to keep Harry content enough to give up his blood? His heart clenched and thoughts darkened. Once this was over, he would return to being the abnormal, useless outcast that was Harry Potter.

~Evan...~ he was shaken from his thoughts at the long hiss, trying to hide his glum mood. It helped that he was slightly shocked at Voldemort using that name in Parsel instead of 'Harrison', until he noticed that Nagini was nowhere to be seen, perhaps having slipped out to hunt. ~You cannot hide anything from Lord Voldemort,~ the man said, a tinge of amusement colouring the words. With shaky steps, Harry approached, drawn in by the man's hands, which motioned for him to come closer. Barty stood up again and took a few respectful steps back. ~You are more than what those Muggles made out of you, child. You are linked to me, the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived, you hold my soul. You are needed, if only to simply breathe and live. I shall reward you for your part in this ritual when it is over... that does not mean that we are through then.~

~Yes... Voldemort.~ Strange, in all those weeks, he'd successfully managed to avoid addressing the Dark Lord directly. Well, not counting when he'd called the man's name to bring him back out of the delirious state during the last ritual they'd held. He'd still be damned to use 'Lord', no matter how unnatural it felt to utter the name that was so feared by many, to its owner's face. A face which became a blank mask almost instantly.

~Not many who address me with such... familiarity... get away unpunished. Did Dumbledore teach you to disrespect me in such a way?~

Harry blinked, wondering why he wasn't under the Cruciatus curse yet then. The other sounded more curious than anything else. ~He did spur me to say your name, yes,~ he admitted. ~But me saying it now was more since.. well, I do not know what else to say. You are not my master.~

~Debatable,~ Voldemort answered with glittering eyes. ~The very language we speak in is a reminder of how much sway I hold over at least part of you. I am certainly the master of my own soul.~ Harry refused to reply to that, giving the man a stubborn look. Sir will do, I suppose. Even if by regular etiquette you should address me as Lord even if I you are not in my service. Queens and kings of other countries than your own are still named as such.~

~You would never address anyone as king or queen, for the fact is that only Muggles bear those titles,~ Harry snapped back, causing Voldemort's face to split into a grin.

''While you are correct in that assumption, you shouldn't test me by trying to be impertinent. Be thankful for the fact that I am too exuberant today to take your spite seriously, Evan. Take this and assist me in taking care of this clutter, I wish to get the room cleaned out so I can get that potion started.''

Sighing, Harry started with his useless task, cleaning up so Voldemort could instantly make a mess again. It was not so much assisting as handling it all by himself either: Voldemort lacked the strength to move very far without exhausting himself and Barty made up an excuse of going ahead with laying out the runes upon the graveyard. As a result, Harry walked back and forth between kitchen and study quite a few times, all under the penetrating gaze of the Dark Lord. Why was the man always so unnerving with his staring in the first place? Harry had seen the man in the most humiliating states: bathing him, hearing him cry out for the comfort of his pet snake, having been inside of his mind as he recalled the horrors of being a wraith. For fuck's sake, he'd killed Voldemort as a mere baby! Why was it then that there was no trace of shame or discomfort in those damned crimson irises as they met Harry's? He stilled as he felt something brush against him, as if his arm was being caressed. Turning, he met Voldemort's pensive gaze.

''I am merely testing the extents of the mind-link Evan, do continue.'' Inexplicably furious at the discovery that the man was experimenting yet again, without even asking this time, Harry stomped out of the room with more force than necessary. A maddening chuckle followed him out into the upstairs corridor. The Dark Lord could be so... so... Harry snarled at nothing as he couldn't find the correct words. The righteous and smug authority that the wizard commanded with ease just had him trembling in anger. Sure, he was genius, a magical prodigy. That didn't mean that Voldemort could just go ahead and mess with Harry's mind without consent!

Sulking, Harry stayed away from Voldemort for the rest of the evening. He'd secretly hoped to have time to speak after the research had been finished. That hope was squashed as he learned of all the preparations necessary: the spells, the incantations that needed to be learned, the potion, the symbols that had to be placed still... The days passed with even more alarming swiftness than the past week had, the house filled with Barty and Harry running around to set everything in place in a timely manner, all the while still taking care of the rest of the household, from washing to cooking. A certain air of unspoken anticipation was strung tight over Riddle manor, all occupants having their own reasons for being tense about the deadline that raced towards them. It was only on the very last evening before the fateful day would arrive that found them all in the same room again.

Harry concentrated on blocking out the foreign feelings that rippled through the multiple links that bound him to Voldemort. He did not succeed well; impatience, longing and fear seeping over, as if it spilled to the floor in waves that threatened to drown. ''Please,'' he suddenly gasped after suffering silently for a good hour. ''It is too much.''

Voldemort, who had been staring into the fireplace, raised his head and for the first time in days really looked at Harry, a shivering, doubled-over form on the floor. A flutter of regret calmed the waves, easing up the teen's chest again. Regret from Voldemort... how wondersome was that? That one second gave Harry more reassurance than any of the previous words that had come from the Dark Lord's lips. ''Thank you,'' he sighed, resisting the urge to move himself closer to the man. When searching for anything to start a conversation about to avoid thinking of his own emotions instead, Harry's eyes landed on the book that Voldemort was still reading.

''I didn't imagine you would enjoy Muggle literature,'' he commented, pointing at the copy of the bundled Lord of the Rings volumes, Voldemort's bony fingers holding the heavy thing open, only a few pages left unread despite how busy the wizard had been. A quick upturn of the lipless mouth told him that the words had been received.

''That I despise Muggles as a species does not mean that I cannot recognise a work of art of the individual. The variety of Muggle music and literature is, like the numbers of their kind, a hundred and thousands times more vast than we could ever create. For an avid reader such as myself who has lived as long as I have, the limited libraries of Wizarding kind fail to keep me interested after reading all the pearls a dozen times over. Besides-'' Voldemort tapped on the pages with his knuckles. ''There is much that we can learn from books like these that tie into our own history. No witch or wizard ever recorded the extent to which knowledge of our world has been leaked to Muggles over time. To find that out, we need to study those Muggles who attempted to accurately represent magical creatures and spells in their works. Naturally, they themselves believe it is mere fantasy, folklore to be used for entertainment. Still, when read by one who is familiar with the reality of these concepts, it can be... enlightening. I have gathered from this that Muggles have a good idea of giants, dragons and dwarfs to name a few, yet know next to nothing about elves. They even made up several races that do not actually exist either, although I can see the influence of both real trolls and goblins in the portrayal of this race called 'orcs'.''

''I never thought of it like that. Haven't read much fantasy either myself, it was banned by the Dursleys, they didn't want me to get any funny ideas. And the Hogwarts library is dedicated to educational books.''

''So I recall. A shame, that,'' Voldemort mused. ''In my opinion, fictional books have a value of their own even when not trying to dig deeper as I tend to do. While they do not teach anything that specifically stands on the cover, does not list instructions or explanations, they do teach values that shape our sense of morality.'' Harry coughed disbelievingly at the thought of Voldemort taking morals from Muggle fairytales to heart. A challenging eyebrow taunted him. ''That is not a jest, Evan. Fictional books reflect the current values of a certain period of time and geographical location, admittedly oft tied to the writer's gender, class and race, yet ultimately still applicable to all if one so wishes. Take this book specifically. In between all the lines where good is pitted against evil, more subtle messages shine through: that there can be strength in mercy; that bonds we choose can overcome the bonds we are born with; that sometimes we must sacrifice ourselves to reach our goals; that freedom is a fragile thing and that cultural decay needs more complex solutions than enforcement. Naturally, it holds many more messages that I personally do not agree with, but that is the beauty of books: we can choose what to identify with, what to take with from the pages and incorporate into our lives. It certainly shaped my view on how the world should be and influenced my own ideas.''

''Wow... I could never have imagined that... you know, that someone like you would care about any of those things.''

Voldemort chuckled. ''I especially should care. I wish to ultimately rule this country, how far would I get if I did not implement a set of rules that are based upon specific beliefs? All laws should reflect the ideas of the ruler and the people. I cannot just do what I decide on a whim, chaos would reign. No... I admit, I did not always have such beliefs. When I was younger, I found it hard to connect to people and often did not understand their reactions. The world was far simpler in my mind back then. Reward and punishment for specific deeds, obedience without question... It was only through books that I could learn and understand the far more complex workings of human minds that were not my own. Written down on the pages, I analysed hundreds of books, both fictional ones and non-fiction relating to human psychology. It taught me what I could not naturally see... the emotions that drove others, the strength that conviction could bring. I dedicated myself to understanding, and during that time, discovered the importance of a fixed morality.''

''But you still murder and torture,'' Harry spoke up, not understanding how that fit in with all the talk of morals. ''You still think Muggles are a lower life form that should not exist.'' To his mind, the number one thing that fantasy books taught about good and evil was that the evil side always used a false sense of superiority to squash others, exactly as Voldemort tried to do with Muggles.

''I never claimed that my morals are widely accepted, only that I believe strongly in keeping to my own code. I put value in my higher task, the protection of my people. For that, I am willing to do a great many things. Murder is not a tool I shun or condemn, for it can offer a swift solution. Torture I use only as either intimidation and interrogation of enemies, or as punishment for failure, to ensure that those under me do not grow lax or think they can get away with not giving their all. What I morally condemn is torture for the pleasure of it. There is no sense to harm those who do not have any information to give, nor is it wise to curse followers who have not failed me, no matter my personal feelings on it.'' Voldemort sighed, looking old. ''I admit that it can be taxing, I greatly enjoy instilling pain in others for no other reason than my own enjoyment, just like it makes me feel alive to see another die by my hands.'' Harry shivered at the casual confession, a sharp sting of primal hunger piercing his lungs that did not show on Voldemort's face at all. ''Alas, I cannot if I wish to aim for higher goals. I need to apply my own codex as much to myself as I expect from my followers.''

''Do you never slip up?'' Harry said, with trembling hands grasping the front of his own robes and squeezing until his knuckles hurt. The piercing grew rapidly in strength, hunger was a raging, consuming fire within that did not compare to any desire he'd ever held in his life. ''I can feel it,'' he whispered. ''How much you wish to give in, to kill, to hurt.'' A pained noise escaped his throat. ''Oh god, your desire to fill the emptiness by losing yourself in that... that feeling of power. It is overwhelming, how do you cope with something like this?''

Voldemort looked at him, his impassionate face not betraying any of the darkness that swirled and gnawed inside of him. ''It matters not how, only that I do. I am too old to be overcome with my emotions. Yes, I still had occasional lapses in my first life, but now... I have died and come back to life, not an experience that would leave me unchanged. Did I not tell you before, child? I mastered my inhumanity. When Dumbledore came to me as a mere boy, he saw a monster and he was right. And yet, I have overcome the impossible, picked at the minds of others, studied those I deemed beneath me so I ultimately understood what I lacked. I know that he told you I cannot feel... I laughed it off before, realising you had already experienced my emotions. What I did not admit was that I didn't always have these. I fought tooth and nail to claim the full spectrum of what it means to be human, even as, in sharp contradiction, I delved into dark arts and shred up my soul.'' Harry stared at the man with utter bewilderment. He looked at Barty, who had stayed silent throughout the entirety of their conversation, a rarity for the Death Eater. The man only had a contemplative and worried look as he regarded his Lord. It was obviously not news to him.

Harry licked his lips, trying to get rid of the dryness in his mouth and throat. Voldemort's feelings dulled again, withdrew from him, easing his mind. How could he ever have thought of this person as a mere power-hungry evil that had to be erased? Tears slid down his face as he wept for Lord Voldemort, unable to stop himself.

Voldemort had just admitted to being born without the ability to feel, without the ability to understand those around him. And he had remedied it? Healed himself without any outside help as others only saw the monster within him, all the while trying to study every aspect of magic and fighting his own urges to maim and kill, urges that Harry could understand very well now he'd felt the clawing hunger. How had this man not fallen victim to madness? Trembling, Harry sat upright, filled with renewed respect. He looked the Dark Lord directly in those deep, old eyes, this contradictive and complex being who fought his own nature on a daily basis for a task shared between himself and Magic. Not breaking eye contact, Harry bowed as low as he possibly could.

''I will do anything to realise your dreams,'' he vowed with breaking voice, his heart jumping at the way those proud eyes softened at his declaration.

''Come here, child,'' Voldemort whispered, extending an arm. In a daze, Harry shuffled towards him. Elongated, dry fingers found their way into Harry's messy hair and their eyes met, Harry filled with confusion as to what was happening. The next moment, he knew nothing anymore, entirely consumed by raw magic that had him gasping for breath, curling on the floor as Voldemort's hand slipped away from the crown of his head. The blinding power had only lasted a second, and oh, how Harry craved for more! ''A taste of Her gift to me,'' the Dark Lord smiled as he looked down upon Harry's dishevelled form. ''The only true way to recognise a Lord of Magic.''

''It is... wonderful,'' he gasped.

''Truly... and I know that it is what influenced you to make such a rash decision as that promise. Evan, I am not going to keep you to the word you just gave me. While I... appreciate that you believe in me, I also know you are only fourteen and prone to impulsivity.''

''But I meant it!'' he exclaimed, affronted at being treated like a child. ''Are you going to act like Dumbledore now, not accepting that I know very well what I am doing?''

A dangerous flash had him cringe, realising he'd gone too far with his words. ''Do not lash out to me, lest you'll regret it. If it hasn't gone through your thick skull by now, unlike Dumbledore, I did not hide important information from you nor did I send you on your way into dangerous tasks to test you without proper support. I do not think you are too young to receive answers when matters involve you directly, dangerous though they may be, but I do believe that promising me everything was neither a wise nor a realistic offer. There is a reason why I usually only take followers who are of age, with precious few exceptions. Did you even think about your words before you spoke them, truly? Your dear friends will oppose me, your godfather is part of Dumbledore's Order, I very well may need to slaughter the lot of them if it comes to battle. For while I do not plan to instil another war, Dumbledore knows I am alive and will not rest before he sees me dead, it is only a matter of how long I can fool him to think I have not yet resurrected. Do not tell me that you are ready to face that.'' With every word, Harry felt himself becoming smaller. ''I have seen your heart as much as you have mine, you do not have the strength to stand by my side and murder those you love for my task, which is what I would have asked of you if I had taken your word right now seriously.''

Harry turned away, conflicted. He wished to scream at the man he had sworn himself to a moment ago, wished to rage on about the unfairness of it all. He'd come to this house knowing very well that he could die, had tried to put the fate of the world on his shoulders, he'd gone through all of those damned rituals, yet now he wanted to help he was being rejected?

The faces of his friends appeared in the forefront of his mind and the anger dissipated. He was talking with his stupid pride now, there was no way in hell that he could follow each and every one of the Dark Lord's orders if they would directly endanger those he loved. ''But if I could just make them see,'' he spoke, an idea forming in his mind. ''That your ideas are good, that you are good.''

Voldemort released an irritated sigh. ''Did you not listen to a word I said? There is no good, no evil! I have a task to complete that will benefit some and be devastating to others! Balance favours society as a whole, not every individual. I will have to erase the current enormous influence of light magic, which many will never wish to give up on in favour of using more dark spells. I will have to contain Muggleborns to avoid exposure of our world and I shall see to it that spells and rites will be legalised that could pose dangers to humans, if only to ensure stability returns. Many will refuse to see the larger picture of magical harmony if it endangers their way of life. Considering that you befriended Muggleborns and families that turned away from the old traditions and the usage of both sides of magic, I wish you good luck in trying to convince them why laws should be put into place that can cost them their jobs and freedom.'' Voldemort laughed humourlessly. ''Precious few are honestly interested in what is best for our kin when it affects how they like to live.''

''I am!'' Harry defended himself. The angered face melted somewhat into a contemplating expression.

''Are you now? My goals would not hamper you personally in any way. You have no Muggles you are close to, you are not negatively affected by dark magic being legalised. The single thing that will change is that your popularity will drop if you do not live up to being the hero of the light side, but you never cared for fame, did you? I don't doubt that you would be happy with the changes, but only because you are not going to lose anything by it.''

''It will also have an effect on me if those I care for are unhappy!'' Voldemort shifted in his blanket and rubbed his chin in a very human gesture, silent for a while, considering Harry's words. The teen was reminded of the wizard's recent admittance of having to study people to learn empathy, perhaps it wasn't such a logical jump for the Dark Lord as it was for Harry that other people hurting would also concern him.

''Hmm, yes, I suppose it would. Not strong enough, however, to suffer any personal consequences. Added to that are the benefits you would receive, such as never having to see your Muggles again or being free to explore magic as you have come to know it here. I have felt how you crave it Evan, how the ancient spellwork calls to you as it does to me. And in part, you wish to follow me because I can give you that,'' the man concluded. Harry felt exposed as motivations were laid bare that he hadn't even consciously thought of. Was that alluring call of Voldemort's magic really why he'd given in so easily? Yes, it was, but...

''That's not my only reason,'' he stubbornly countered.'' I won't deny that it is.. appealing, but that isn't why I said I'd do anything to reach your goals. I've seen the moment in which you received your task. As a wizard, I firmly believe that it is right to fulfil Magic's wishes. It took me a while to reach that conclusion and believe in what I saw in your head, I admit. Now though, combined with everything else you told me about the prophecy, Dumbledore's lies, our... connection, and with knowing your personality and zealousness, it sounds like the best option.''

''I am glad for it. Then, I suppose a compromise is in order. I will expect of you to follow my demands, trusting myself to not ask of you that which you cannot handle. In return, you will not be granted a position as my follower and keep yourself safe. Stay out of the business between me and Dumbledore as much as possible and don't actively help either side until you are older and can make up your mind better. I cannot risk losing you to insanity or depression by getting you torn up between two sides.''

''Dumbledore still expects me to fight for him.''

''You are under no obligation to as long as I do not come after you. He cannot expect a child to hunt someone like me when it is not in self-defence, if he tries you can take legal action at the Ministry. I'm confident that Fudge would love to see you indebted to the Ministry and on a bad foot with the old fool.''

''Then I... agree with the compromise,'' Harry said, happy with the result. Being able to help Voldemort while at the same time being able to protect his friends was the best deal he could have gotten.

''Good. Then let us speak no more on the matter now, I wish to still finish this,'' he gestured at the book.

''Of course. Then, good night Barty, and good night... my Lord.'' The words sounded bizarre in his mouth after having avoided that title for so long. He knew that two pair of amused eyes were on him as he left and went to his bedroom.

So, as many people were hoping for, Harry is finally giving in.. a bit ;P -and, as my beta noticed, perhaps getting a bit too comfortable with Voldemort's powers.-
And yes, next chapter will finally be the first Big Thing, haha.

Please read and review!
xx Gemerope