Hello lovelies! Thanks for all the comments. again.
This is actually the last chapter that is fully complete, so from this point onward I can unfortunately not guarantee weekly updates anymore T.T I'll still try my best though! The next chapter is about halfway finished so I hope that I can still manage to update it next Friday :)
Enjoy!
Chapter 38 - Answers
''Come on,'' Barty shouted, ''Nothing is going to happen if you're afraid of it!''
''It doesn't help that I know how it's supposed to feel, thank you very much!'' Harry yelled back. Both of them stood on opposite sides of the overgrown field that was the back garden, which was also covered completely by Voldemort's spell. ''Besides, what happens if I accidentally try to go beyond the borders of this dimension?''
''Good question, I guess you'll either get ripped to shreds, cause a sort of paradox, or just won't be able to. Let's find out!''
''Not. Helping!'' With a frustrated growl, Harry kicked the hoop that he was standing in. Today marked the third day of attempting to apparate. So far, he hadn't moved an inch. While Barty's enthusiasm hadn't waned in the slightest, Harry wasn't happy about his own progress. In truth, what held him back most was the fact that side-apparating with Voldemort had felt as if he'd been drowning until the very last moment, getting air back in his lungs barely in time not to pass out. Combined with the other disastrous ways he'd mucked up magical travel before, he'd created a huge mental block that just wouldn't let him focus enough to actually want to succeed. ''Is there no other way?''
''I myself learned it by jumping off a cliff, I apparated just in time to not be smashed on rocks,'' the other cheerfully spoke, and Harry wasn't entirely sure whether to believe it or not. A second later, Barty burst out laughing. ''I wish my story was that exciting, I waited till I was sixteen like a good little student and learned it during my lessons at Hogwarts. Putting you in life-threatening situations might actually help, but since I'd prefer not to get any backlash from your shields, and the Trace would pick up your magic anywhere else, we'll have to do with this. Come on, you're usually pretty good in catching up on these kind of things.''
''It's just that anything besides brooms sucks to travel with! What if I get stuck? Or end up where I'm not supposed to go?''
Barty shook his head and came towards him, putting both hands on Harry's shoulders, a grin from ear to ear. ''Thought you were supposed to be a Gryffindor, kid. Roar and all that. Look, you've managed to find a way of breathing underwater, you've fought off hoards of monsters, you've done so much magic that many will never accomplish. And you think that you of all people can't learn how to apparate? You're already there two-thirds of the way: the destination is right there in front of you, and your movements are deliberate enough. Now be determined to actually do it!''
Harry closed his eyes and focused again, breathing in deeply and slowly. Yet even as he turned around, it was already clear to him that he'd fail once more, the thought of squashed lungs being enough to deter him. ''Do I really have to learn this now?'' he sighed as he looked up at Barty's disappointed face. ''I won't be able to get a license until I'm seventeen anyways, apparating anywhere for me beforehand would be illegal.''
''Only if you get caught. Besides that, you have a few enemies too many, not learning this is going to put you on a difficult spot. Do you take constructive criticism?
''Not without crying. Never stopped you before though, so why ask?''
Barty sighed heavily at the sarcastic response, then perked up all of a sudden. ''Hey, didn't you tell me that you apparated once as a child?''
Harry shrugged. ''Yeah, but that was entirely on accident. I was suddenly on the roof of the school and it felt completely different. I blinked once and then I was there, there was nothing unpleasant about it apart from the consequences after.''
''Perhaps you're a bit too hung up about your negative experience from before. As I tried to explain yesterday, side-along apparition is different from doing it yourself, and while it certainly can still feel like hell, proficiency depends on the wizard. From your past success, I can say with certainty that it should feel like it did back then. If that was absolutely nothing, good for you.''
Harry considered the words, recalling the memory. He'd wanted to be away from Dudley, wanted to be somewhere out of reach, somewhere safe. With renewed vigour and sudden resolve, Harry turned around on the spot, feeling magic rise to the surface not only through his hands like when using a wand, but everywhere, a warm rush enveloping him as he travelled through empty space. He stumbled as he landed not on the opposite side of the field as expected, but in a dark room, and for a moment, he was entirely disoriented. Was this inside the house? Without thinking, he took his wand. ''Lumos!'' he spoke, lighting up the interior, rich shades of blue and cream all around on the painted walls.
''Bartemius, what in Merlin's name are you doing, get out of here!'' a rather grouchy voice spoke, and Harry nearly got a heart attack as the room suddenly burst with magic; ensnaring, choking, delicious magic. With great difficulty, he turned around and his light shone on none other than the Dark Lord himself, who shielded his eyes from the light with one hand. ''Potter?''
''I… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to… I mean…'' Flushed, Harry dimmed the light and tried to find the door, -if only those waves of power wouldn't keep crashing down on him,- in his haste knocking something over. A heavy thud sounded, and as he tried to move again, Harry stumbled over Nagini, who had wound herself around his legs.
~Coming into Master's den? How…. interesting…~ she hissed in a way that suggested she would have smirked if she could.
~Nagini, ah, let me go!~ He struggled to get loose, gasping for breath as her body wound tighter around his chest, pressing slowly-
~Nagini, enough,~ As if stung, the serpent uncoiled and slithered away under the bed, her eyes flashing up an unnatural gold in the darkness. Harry coughed and slammed his own chest, trying to breathe again, tears streaming down his eyes. He yelped undignified when hauled to his feet and he stood in front of a rather aggravated Dark Lord. Somehow, Voldemort wasn't any less intimidating when wearing nothing but pyjama trousers. ''Explain yourself,'' the man hissed, cold fingers finding themselves around Harry's throat, and now he was trapped again, trapped in more than one way…
''I succeeded in apparating,'' Harry said matter-of-factly, somewhere deep within him finding the gall to be casual about the whole situation, ignoring the living air around them. Better to act as if he wasn't affected in any way.
''And that had to be in my bedroom, while I slept?'' The displeasure couldn't have been greater. The grip tightened.
Somehow, it was irking that there was not even a hint of recognition at him succeeding something that most wizards needed much longer for. ''Why are you sleeping? It's afternoon,'' he thus bit back, moving his head to show irritation at being held.
''Not all of us are blessed with regular shifts, I start work in three hours, we're having an extra edition since Fudge decided to throw himself a parade for absolutely no other reason than trying to focus attention on the Ministry rather than on Dumbledore. Fudge and the old fool had a falling out, as I'm sure you are aware of. With how much support the Headmaster has of the general public, he is doing his best to make himself look like a strong and able leader. It is highly annoying, but for now aiding Fudge is a much better option than giving Dumbledore a positive platform, I am about to drop the first controversial theme onto Fudge's lap soon after all, I can't have him see it coming.''
''Sounds like you'll be busy again…'' Harry spoke nonchalantly, trying to gauge the other's reaction. He'd mainly spent time with Barty, as Voldemort was barely ever home due to his new job. Harry had hoped to get a few answers and interesting discussion with the man, but that was absolutely impossible with how little he saw the Dark Lord.
Voldemort sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Harry shivered as he felt magic reach out and caress his head. ''Tomorrow child… tomorrow I'll make time for your ever-curious mind. For now, I'd like to make the most out of the two-and a half hours of blessed sleep I have left.''
''Right. I'll just… go then,'' Harry said, pointing his thumbs behind him at what hopefully was the door so he wouldn't look like an absolute fool. It was difficult to see Voldemort's face, but the dark chuckle he got was unmistakable.
''Go? You stumble in here, waking me, then think you can just… leave? Oh no… no, I don't think so.''
The icy fingers left his throat at last, but that didn't mean that he felt any safer now. Before Harry could make up his mind over whether he wanted to run or not, his back hit a soft mattress and he felt it dip on the other side as well. ''What are you…'' he started carefully.
''Think of some calming thoughts, I wish to sleep,'' the man commanded, and now Harry, who had half-expected to get tortured, was entirely confused. Then, it clicked as he recalled all the times he and Voldemort had slept in one room before. It wouldn't be the first time that the Dark lord used their mental link to steer his own feelings. Sighing, Harry surrendered himself to the fate of being Lord Voldemort's mood regulator. His thoughts went to Hogwarts, to flying, to his friends, and soon enough, the man's breath deepened. Carefully, Harry sat up, shaking his head in disbelief. How would Ron and Hermione react if they could only see him now?
Harry spared himself an answer on that, refusing to let his imagination run wild, for he was certain that his inner Ron and Hermione voices would only make him laugh. Instead, he looked down on the sleeping face of Voldemort, eyes now used enough to the darkness to see more than a white fleck. Why was it that sometimes, this man was so damn terrifying, and the next moment, Harry got such an overwhelming need to protect him? Voldemort made a few grumbly noises in his sleep and turned around, his hand shooting out and wrapping itself tightly around Harry's arm in much the same way he'd always grabbed Nagini's tail when sleeping in his rudimentary form.
''Okay then,'' Harry sighed, lying down again and turning in such a way that his arm didn't get completely twisted, not expecting to get much sleep out of this himself.
It appeared that he'd been wrong, for when the teen became aware of his surroundings again, light shone in his eyes from the open window, and Voldemort was already up and fully dressed. ''I shall be leaving,'' the man announced. ''Congratulations on managing to apparate, but please do still work on your aim.'' Harry groaned something incomprehensible as he registered the words, and buried his head deeper in the pillow again, somehow not feeling rested at all, perhaps due to having constant muscle aching since the first day he'd arrived. Barty fully used the fact that Harry was here to get as much teaching in before the Gryffindor would leave again to possibly more incompetent teachers. It wasn't that Harry minded very much, spending time with Barty was great and learning useful spells to survive a duel even more so. And other than at school, where he needed to focus on several different courses each day, plus homework and social activities, here Harry could really concentrate on a single spell each day until he had it down, drastically lowering the time he needed to learn it. Only apparition had had him stumped for several days now due to his internalised hatred for it.
It was unbelievable that it had been two weeks already since he'd arrived… with disappointment, Harry realised what that meant: he only had a bit over three weeks remaining until he'd go to Grimmauld place. Not that he wasn't excited to see Sirius again, that would be amazing too, but it would also mean that he wouldn't be able to see either Barty and Voldemort for quite a long time. On top of that, it would be hard not to use his wand at every convenient moment now he'd gotten into the habit of drawing it for any little thing. To not waste more of the precious time he had left, Harry managed to drag himself out of bed.
''Evan!'' he heard, and Harry looked up to see Barty coming up the stairs. ''I've searched everywhere for you, even went out in the Muggle town…'' the Death Eater trailed off and narrowed his eyes. ''That is our Lord's bedroom.''
''Genius conclusion,'' Harry yawned. ''I accidentally apparated straight in here and he didn't let me go. Wanted me to sleep with him, and you don't exactly say no to the Dark Lord if you value all your limbs in the right places, right?''
''You… you slept with him?'' Barty repeated in a shrill tone that Harry had never heard leave his mouth.
''Obviously, why else would I be in there for hours?'' the teen replied, wondering why Barty was making such a big deal of this, pointing at his completely tousled hair. ''At first I wanted to leave, but he dragged me to bed and didn't leave me much choice so… what?''
''You're fourteen… he assured me that… By Morgana, you're FOURTEEN.''
''Oh… OH. No!'' Harry hastened to say as he saw Barty's face contort in crazed fury. ''He didn't…'' the teen swallowed, finally understanding how Barty had taken his words and he wanted to slap himself. But really, did he need to spell it out that he obviously hadn't had sex with Voldemort? Getting red only at that unimaginable thought, he almost yelled: ''I meant literally Barty. I can influence his mood using our mental connection, and since I disturbed his sleep, he used that to fall asleep again faster, that's all. He didn't do anything… inappropriate. Merlin, why do I even need to say this out loud?'' Then, he stopped to think for a moment and warily asked: ''What exactly did he assure you of?''
Barty only answered with a strangled cry that expressed frustration, relief and a dozen other emotions all at once. Harry knew better than to ask more questions when the man was like this. Shaking his head, Harry went down to the kitchen to fetch himself some food. It was a miracle that Voldemort had survived on his own for almost a year here. For all the Dark Lord's genius, he was a shit cook, barely above Barty's level. Baking, on the other hand…
''Where does all the food actually come from?'' he wondered aloud as he walked in and found several boxes with fresh ingredients standing in the pantry once again. Picking one up, he started to restock the cabinets. ''I haven't had to go into town even once to buy groceries this time, and you aren't really making trips either, are you?''
''You don't really think that witches and wizards usually go to Muggle supermarkets, do you? And can you imagine House-elves walking into non-magical shops?''
''Well… no. I never thought about it. Is there a magical substitute?''
''In a way. Our community always used middle-men to buy necessities. That used to be 'the one mage that knows enough about muggles to bulk-buy food for the entire village from local farms and then distribute it further' in older times. After buying local became less and less popular with muggles, we also needed to adapt. Two families in the country saw a business opportunity in acting as wholesalers for the entire Wizarding community in Britain. They're not a traditional store though, you can't just walk in and buy their wares. There's either subscriptions for magical restocking of selected items at certain times, or owl-orders. We use the latter, our Lord has it all delivered to a post box in Diagon. It's a lot safer than what we did before. Now the Order is getting active, we can't show our faces in town too often. As you said, Dumbledore knows that our Lord's family used to live here and that there's a good chance we're hiding here.''
''You think he's spying on the village?''
''If not already, he will when he gathers enough men and resources. I won't put it past him to let them guard any place he suspects our Lord to have any sort of connection with. We're perfectly safe behind these walls, and both the Dark Lord and I can easily apparate when still within the illusion field near the entrance, but going into Little Hangleton regularly would be an unnecessary, stupid risk.''
''Shame, that pizza place was good,'' Harry casually said, causing Barty to laugh.
''That was your concern? If you want to get a break from feeding us, I can take you anywhere else to eat in the muggle world.''
''Sounds good,'' the teen said, then proceeded to fix himself and Barty some dinner.
While working, Harry's thoughts wandered to tomorrow, where he'd finally get some answers, hopefully. Perhaps he should really make a list and stick to it this time, for none of his conversations with Voldemort ever went where he wanted them to. According to Barty, whom had memorised the Dark Lord's work schedule, the man should be home all evening tomorrow, so Harry should have plenty of time. It was frustrating to never know what exactly was going on, and he fully wished to rectify his ignorance. Thus, in the short breaks he had during his further apparition training, Harry wrote down every thought that struck him.
It was with this list in hand that he knocked on the door of the drawing room the following evening.
''Enter,'' he heard, and Harry softly closed the door behind him, taking a few steps. How odd, he'd barely set foot in here during his stay. ''Sit down and have a drink.'' Relaxing at the tone and the generally calm atmosphere in the room, the teen crossed the distance between himself and Voldemort, who was lounging on the new couch.
''My Lord,'' he spoke, giving a short bow before sitting down. Considering that he was here for answers, he'd do everything in his power not to antagonise the one who could give him those. Harry turned the chair he'd chosen a bit away from the sweltering heat of the fireplace, which was burning even in this hot summer.
Voldemort mustered him for a moment. ''You're learning, I appreciate that.''
''According to Molly Weasley, I'm the politest young man she's ever met,'' he couldn't help but blurt out.
Voldemort chuckled lightly. ''Having met four of her spawn and hearing wild stories about her eldest two, I'm not surprised that she has little knowledge of polite children.''
Confused, Harry leaned forwards and took the glass that floated in front of him, which held an amber substance that he couldn't identify. ''You've met Weasleys? When?''
''I wasn't unconscious while attached the Quirinius, you should know. I gathered information the entire time. I may not have spoken to anyone directly, but I certainly wasn't deaf either.''
''Right. I keep forgetting that you've been at Hogwarts for like, a year.''
''One would think that I left a larger impression on you after the grand finale of it.''
Harry shrugged and leaned back. ''So many weird things happened to me in my first year at Hogwarts that I didn't really think through all of the implications you being there had, apart from that encounter.'' He swirled the liquid in his glass around and gave it a suspicious look. ''Please tell me that this is neither an experimental potion nor alcohol.''
''You developed an aversion against alcohol? You seemed to enjoy it last summer.''
''I did, I just… you know, there were a few parties too many as celebrations of finishing the Tasks last year. Everyone tried to one-up the other and after my first massive hangover I decided to stick to Butterbeer until I am actually allowed to legally drink. Which is… actually, I don't know when I'm allowed to legally drink. To be honest, I barely know anything about Wizarding law, it's not taught at Hogwarts.''
''Another fault in our education system that should be rectified, good that you brought it to my attention. Perhaps an interview with several Muggleborn or Muggle-raised to see how much they know about common laws is in order to point this out to our dear government… To answer you: we never created a law for drinking in the Department of Magical Law and it is thus governed according to the last Muggle law that went into effect about it, which is the 1923 Intoxicating Liquor Act. It says that under-eighteens are not to be sold alcohol for consumption on licensed premises, but minors can be served alcohol as long as they are sixteen. In other words, if a sixteen-year-old goes to a pub with their caretakers, they could not buy alcohol themselves, yet are allowed to drink it when bought by those responsible for them. To make it more complicated though, this only goes for alcohol sold and served by licensed premises. In private homes, the legal drinking age is actually set at five years old.'' He gestured to the glass in Harry's hand. ''So there's nothing illegal about this.''
''I suppose I know too little about Muggle law too,'' Harry grimaced. ''Did you make it any less complicated in your legislation? I mean, you said you didn't wish to rely anymore on Muggle law, right?''
''True, but I saw no reason to change this, the legal drinking age is fine as it is in my opinion. There's no need to add unnecessary controversy to something that is already working perfectly fine. Should I set it at a specific age, be it older or younger, some people will always find issue with it. So, to move on, what burning questions do you have for me this time?''
Harry took a moment to set down his glass -legal or not, he didn't feel like consuming anything that could leave him loose-lipped and clouded of mind,- before answering. ''First of all, I'd like to know what actually happened to Wormtail. It's a mystery that neither the Aurors nor the Order have been able to solve. They say that the state he was left in hinted at the work of Dementors, even though there were none present. Furthermore, he didn't have a Mark anymore.''
''And why do you wish to know about the fate of one of my Death Eaters?''
''I brought him to the Ministry in an attempt to get my godfather cleared. Wormtail confessed only to the Aurors, not in court, and as his corpse was left without any proof of him being a Death Eater, there is nothing left to show that Sirius was falsely accused of murder.''
''Hmm, I suppose that you deserve an answer… My Mark can detect traitors, an improvement I created even before I regained my rudimentary form, after seeing just how many of my followers denounced me shortly after my demise. Wormtail's was the first Mark that I adapted. After Pettigrew gave you my address, the Mark activated and devoured his consciousness, his sense of self, every single memory he ever had...''
''That is… cruel,'' Harry whispered, horrified. He shivered as the room, which had held a pleasant, warm air before, appeared to darken. Shadows fell on the Dark Lord's face that had nothing to do with those cast from the fire.
''Yes, and also necessary. After my death, my followers scrambled to get their own names cleared, giving up names of other Death Eaters they knew, claiming they were under the Imperius curse or that they never had anything to do with me. If only they had all held true to my ideals… had they held together and chosen another, temporary leader until my resurrection, had they believed in my immortality… I would not have had to start over completely. Perhaps I would even be a decade further in my plans than I am now. Adapting the Mark in a way that betrayal means turning into little more than an empty shell should prevent it from happening again. Once I make it known, that is, I never did tell Wormtail what exactly I did, his was a bit of an experiment. Also, I am still not as cruel as the Ministry is. The effects are similar to a Dementor's kiss, true…. with one very important difference: the soul is kept intact. Should Wormtail die now, his soul can still move on. That should make it clear to my followers that choosing Azkaban over me is still not a desirable option.''
Harry wasn't entirely sure about that. Going to Azkaban didn't instantly mean the Dementor's kiss after all. It certainly would make for less traitors though, he grudgingly admitted. ''That brings me to my next question actually… Your Death Eaters, have you still not changed your mind about them?''
Voldemort slightly cocked his head. ''In what way?''
''You said you wouldn't be freeing any of your followers from Azkaban, since that would only lead to chaos. Now, Dumbledore is pulling the Order together though, and the Ministry has been alerted to Death Eater activity. Does that change your plans in any way?''
''Not at the moment. I wish to be as inconspicuous as possible. The Order has absolutely no proof as to my return, and Fudge would still deny my resurrection even if I came to kill him personally. That leaves me with just as much freedom of movement as before. However, should one of the other sides indeed declare a state of war, I shall not hesitate to free my soldiers, does that suffice as an answer?''
''You say that as if it will be easy to cause a mass-breakout.''
''It is, Dementors are possibly the darkest creatures in existence. They naturally submit to me, the only reason they do as the current Ministry dictates is because no-one bothers them and they are fed enough. As soon as they know I've risen again, they'll gladly return to my side. A few have already felt my return and have left Azkaban in search of me.'' Harry stayed silent for a while, taking in that information. He'd always wondered why the Ministry would work together with something so obviously foul. It didn't improve his image of the Dark that Voldemort made it sound as if the fearsome creatures were his lapdogs. ''As of now, you needn't worry about Dementors patrolling the streets, as I said, I prefer to remain in hiding.''
''Why?'' Harry frowned. ''I'm sorry if this sounds rude but… I've seen some of your memories, I feel your emotions constantly, and if I noticed one thing, it's that you love being in the centre of attention. Hiding away, letting an unknown man you use as a disguise take credit for your achievements, doesn't fit your personality.'' The air around Harry crackled dangerously. He tried not to pay too much attention to it and looked straight into red, narrowed eyes. Oh yes, he had wanted to not piss off Voldemort for once, so much for that. Calling him an attention-whore had perhaps not been Harry's smartest approach. As it was too late to take back, Harry pressed: ''I don't understand why you'd choose such a long-time approach when it's clear that you want to show the entire Wizarding World that you were capable of resurrecting yourself against everyone's expectations.''
''What I wish for and what is clever are entirely different things. There is something called restraint, perhaps you've ever vaguely heard of it?'' Voldemort's tone had taken on its well-known hissing quality that was always reserved for either threats or snide comments.
''Can't recall,'' Harry replied. The other opened his mouth, closed it again and gave Harry a sort of astonished look that told him he'd effectively avoided a disaster. ''Okay, so you're basically saying that you choose the smart route, got it. So what are your current short-term plans? What are your working on right now? Me and two of the other Champions accepted your envelopes, but so far you haven't published anything about it, right?''
''True, even though both Delacour and Diggory contacted me through my company. It is a shame that Krum was so stubborn… then again, it was never my intention to focus on Eastern-Europe in the first place, so his lack of support is not going to give me much difficulty. I am rather glad that he wasn't the one who won the Tournament, that would have made it much more complicated.''
''He didn't sound very happy about whatever it was you'd given him. What did his envelope contain?''
''In a moment, you're a bit too hasty with your questioning. About short-term plans: I am still in the middle of reforming both newspapers to fit my ideal way of getting across information. Once I have reached a satisfactory format and teams, I'll start introducing more controversial topics. I've already announced it to my staff, but it will take a while to gather sufficient resources for it. Also, it would be too easy for outsiders to notice the massive changes in the way I run these papers if I'd do both at the same time. The next step I wish to achieve is to cause debates and turmoil in the Ministry by using the taboo topics given to you, as well as a few others I will write about later, when I will not need the feigned 'requests' of celebrities to get these published. During that time, my Death Eaters currently working at the Ministry can build up a network of sympathisers and take action against these atrocities to give dark magicians a better name. This will take at least a full year. I personally will be overseeing both the press and these select groups to ensure that nothing escapes my notice. Naturally, I'll need to be adaptable, for I do not yet know what Dumbledore is planning, if anything at all. Barty told me that you will be at their Headquarters the last two weeks of August?''
''Yes, although Sirius already swore to keep me away from meetings to not compromise the Order,'' Harry grimaced. He looked away as he caught Voldemort's unimpressed look.
''Ah, Black… You certainly created a dilemma there. I am mostly impressed that he did not instantly run to Dumbledore once finding out what side you are on. Apparently he still remembered his heritage somewhat. I will not intervene in whatever plans you have with Black, as long as they do not compromise mine. It is good that he is still regarded a criminal, so he doesn't have too much contact with others. I prefer to have his sphere of influence be as small as possible.''
''About that,'' Harry hesitantly spoke. ''There is something you should know that I found out about Sirius. I don't know how, but he is still my magical guardian even though he went to Azkaban.''
''What,'' Voldemort hissed, jumping up from his seat, starting to pace back and forth ''That is impossible, all convicted criminals are stripped off any legal rights for the duration of their sentence.'' The Dark Lord stood still all of a sudden, long fingers placed at barely visible lips. ''Unless… unless they were not really convicted. Black never had an official trial. His bank account has not been frozen then either, correct?''
''Probably not, he took the risk of going to Gringotts to get money just to buy me a Firebolt.''
''I should have known then… this leaves us at a disadvantage. Black is both your godfather and your magical guardian. This could mean that he could claim full guardianship of you, including influencing your political and financial decisions as well as your place of residence until you are seventeen.''
''Wait, you mean I really wouldn't have to live with the Dursleys again?'' Harry spoke, instantly seeing the positive point in it.
''Don't act as if this is a good thing,'' Voldemort snarled. ''Your Muggle family has only limited access to your resources since they don't know how our world functions. Black on the other hand, could fully exploit this to bind yourself to him as tightly as a parent to their child. He could decide anything for you, unlike your ignorant Muggle Aunt. I wish to see detailed memories of every conversation you've had with him. Now.'' Harry's hand automatically twitched and searched for his wand as Voldemort got closer again, looming over him. The movement was interrupted by a strand of magic that caught Harry's wrist. ''Don't even think of it,'' the man whispered as he sank down in front of the chair, deathly pale hands reaching for Harry's face. The teen closed his eyes tightly, tensing up and hoping it would be over soon, for the last time had been anything but pleasant. ''The less you resist, the less painful it will be.''
It was not very helpful advice. Even before Harry could halfway try to let down his guard, a sharp pain already stung through his skull, and he was lost in it, half-aware of his own cries as shreds of his own mind flashed by, visions he couldn't grasp. And he was drowning again, suffocating in the darkness that surrounded him from inside and out, that choked up a throat raw from screaming. Harry tried to grasp the magic that held him in its grip, clawing at it in a futile attempt todefend himself. At long last, the pain abruptly stopped. Harry curled up into himself, gasping for air, blood pumping far too fast, fast enough for it to rush into his ears and make him dizzy. Alive… he was still alive. And Voldemort was already talking again, nonsensical syllables that Harry couldn't hear properly through the rushing blood. He reached out again, grasping the man's robes in an attempt to push, for there was no other way he could convey that he needed space more than anything now. It didn't work as intended, for instead of moving away, the Dark Lord came even closer, pulling Harry out of his chair. At least he'd stopped talking…
A spark, a shudder. The cloud of pain made way for blissful peace, as if Voldemort's hands that stroked the side of his head were coated in a healing spell that fixed his mind. ~Evan?~ Harry refused to speak still. A few seconds of healing by far did not make up for the pain he'd gone through for so long before. He didn't care where he was, relaxing and letting his head rest against the first thing it found, which happened to be a bony shoulder. He counted minutes before his body returned to normal and he dared move again without fearing falling over instantly.
''That was a lot worse than last time,'' he rasped, his throat still feeling as if he'd swallowed sandpaper.
''It was longer.''
Voldemort let the teen move away, and Harry slowly heaved himself up into the chair again, trying not to think too hard of what had happened before. Why did he always end up clinging to Voldemort after the man hurt him? That was definitely not healthy. ''Yeah, well, that made it worse,'' he replied. ''And, what are your grand conclusions?''
''He does not know more about me or my followers than Dumbledore does, apart from the fact that you follow me. Or would follow me in case I resurrect… I am in two minds about it. On one hand, he knows far too much about your true goals, and telling him your allegations was still incredibly stupid in case you misjudged his loyalties. All of my plans regarding you could be destroyed the moment he decides on a whim to trust Dumbledore with this information. Taking into account how unstable he appears to be, there is a chance of that happening still. On the other hand, Black is perfect when it comes to covering you, and he does not seem to be as averse towards dark magic as I thought. His desperation to act as a substitute father to you and make up for his mistakes towards his dead friends is something we can use.''
''I am not going to use Sirius,'' Harry bit. ''After all the support he's given me, after the risks he's willing to take, I am not going to betray his trust by manipulating his emotions or intentions. What's more, I shouldn't need to! Your cause is just, your ideals are better for this country than anything else we could have, you have Magic's support, by Merlin! If with all that, you still need to deceive others into doing what you want, you're doing something fundamentally wrong.''
''Yes, because speaking to your godfather about my cause did so much good,'' Voldemort countered. ''He doesn't believe a word of it, and he will never. As it stands, I need to minimise the damage he could possibly do with the knowledge he has. You always fail to recognise your own importance, Black becoming aware of his power over you would be disastrous, it's a miracle that it eluded him till now that his status as guardian was never revoked!''
The words halted the angry cloud that had started to redden Harry's vision again.
I am… important?
He failed to voice those thoughts, though Voldemort fell silent nonetheless, perhaps picking up his confusion. ''Evan, do you think that I sit down with all of my followers to sate their curiosity?'' the man quietly asked. ''In a way, you are me. Nothing is more important to me than myself.''
The glimmer of hope he'd felt for a moment died in Harry's chest. Of course Voldemort only cared for the piece of soul stuck inside. As if he'd ever care for anyone else. Harry's last short, involuntary trip into the man's mind had shown that the only reason why Voldemort didn't pursue the prophecy was due to fear for himself. It had nothing to do with Harry as a person. ''I won't tell Sirius that he is my guardian,'' he dispassionately spoke. ''Please don't ask more of me than that.''
''And if he finds out?''
''He's still a criminal in the eyes of the Ministry, I doubt that he could adopt me or something like that. As long as this guardianship is still shared with the Dursleys, he won't be able to anything drastic. I'm not active in politics, and the key from the main Potter vault is missing, so he wouldn't be able to touch too much of my finances either.''
''That is reassuring. I will let the topic of Black rest for now then. You also asked about Krum… it's not so important anymore since he refused my offer of publishing the topic, but I gave him information on the systematic eradication of necromancers in Europe.''
''Necromancers?'' Harry asked. ''Those actually exist?'' He'd read the term before in books, but that was about it. The topic hadn't even been mentioned in Defence against the Dark Arts until now, and Harry had this vague impression of wrinkled and grey men and women forming circles to raise zombies.
''Of course, I myself am quite versed in Necromancy. I had to be to be… anchoring ones soul to this plane of existence is one thing. Actually getting a body back after dying is another altogether. Necromancers study death and soul magic alike, animate dead bodies, and try to contact those who have passed… with limited success. Due to the dark nature of their magic, necromancers are shunned and, more recently, victims of organised killing. Governments of sixty-five countries in this world actively 'control' the amount of necromancers within their population by making them disappear in various ways.''
''And what does that have to do with Krum?''
''He used to have a sister, four years older than him. She was a born Necromancer, which is about as rare as a born Leglimens or a Metamorphmagi. Her parents tried to hide it, but her talents became obvious to her teachers once she started education at Durmstrang. Fortunately, Durmstrang is one of the few safe havens left for aspiring Necromancers, even if there are no courses available to train it. She stayed at the school even during summers and lived to graduate still, then was murdered within the first month after. One of her fellow students must have notified a government official in Bulgaria.''
With each word, Harry grew more angry. ''That is awful! Especially when you say that it was a born talent, she couldn't do anything about… whatever powers Necromancers can naturally have. How is this any better than Muggles punishing magicians for having magic?''
''It is true that she was more dangerous than most of us. She could influence life and death with a mere thought and was thus considered a threat to Muggle and mage alike. Even if she'd learned to control those powers and been taught properly, she could have chosen to use it for utter destruction.''
''You agree with it?'' Harry frowned.
Voldemort scoffed. ''Of course not, if a person has more magical power than another, I believe they should have the right to wield that magic. Magic is, after all, what determines the value of life. I agree with your analogy: this is no better than what Muggles often do to us. My explanation was to clarify that I think it is understandable, not that it is just or even acceptable.''
''What do you mean with 'value of life?'''
''Simple, magic is the deciding factor in the superiority of a race. As soon as a person shows that they possess magic, they have revealed to have transcended to a higher being.''
Harry stared at Voldemort for a couple of seconds and tried to take in the tone it had been said in, as if this was the most widely-accepted statement in the world. Yes, they'd talked before about blood purity and Voldemort seeing Muggles even as mere cattle, so it really shouldn't come as a surprise, but the words struck something. It wasn't so much that Voldemort thought that magic equalled superiority as much as the fact that he'd said it as if it wasn't an opinion to be discussed about as much as an obvious fact. ''You know we disagree on that,'' Harry carefully reminded the man. ''I do not think that any one life if more valuable than another. If I'd start thinking of those without magic as lower than those with, I'd also have to start dividing people by other things: gender, race, intelligence…''
''Why? Just because you take one factor into account does not necessarily mean you are forced to suddenly separate people in other categories as well. That is an active choice. I disagree with racism or sexism, I have found no evidence for people with one skin colour or gender to have better qualities than people with another overall. Magic however, is a power given to a chosen few by a goddess which lets us bend the laws of nature to our will.''
''But magic is indeed exactly that! A power, a skill so to say. So does that not equal power to value? Why would that not be the case for different kinds of power that Muggles can also wield? Money, intellect, royalty?'' Harry just couldn't fathom how someone who was supposed to be so genius could not see humanity in its entire complexity rather than through this limited all-or-nothing view. Even a lack of natural intricate emotions couldn't explain this kind of logic, for Harry found that Voldemort completely ignored many factors to make them fit his point.
The Dark Lord leaned back and mustered Harry, then answered, rather calmly for his doing. ''Magic is a very specific power, the only one that truly matters when it comes to the right of wielding authority and rights over other species. Only when it comes to an already established equality in magic, such as between different magical species, do other factors play a role in further developing a hierarchy.''
Harry admitted to not being the most observant person. In fact, Hermione more than once had told him straight out that he was dense. Now though, a moment of clarity struck him that made Voldemort almost see-through. The teen noticed all the ways the man tensed while he spoke, the far-too precise and controlled movements, the flat tone of voice that masked a tremble of insecurity. Voldemort clung onto this belief as if it was the last rope that held him from falling into despair. It wasn't that the view Harry had of the world was unfathomable to the Dark Lord, but it would destroy everything he had ever worked towards. And even with the Task he'd been given only being to protect Wizardkind from the rising threat of Muggles, Voldemort had somehow interpreted that as a huge us versus them battle that he had to win by establishing dominance over them as if Muggles were an entirely different species. A battle he'd fought all of his life now. Not for the first time, Harry could only feel pity.
Should Harry ever succeed in changing this man's view of the world, should he destroy that belief that Voldemort's entire system was built upon with logical arguments, what would he even achieve with that? What would be left? Even now, he could see that succeeding in that might be easier than he thought, but at what cost? Would their world be left without a Dark Lord to restore balance and provide protection? Then again, was it in any way ethical to let Voldemort continue as he did, being so alienating towards Muggles that he felt it to be his right to even kill them? And moreover, was it up to Harry to make this decision?
''Look, I can… I can understand where you are coming from,'' he started. ''You've made clear to me why Muggles can pose a danger, and also that people with the abilities that we have are maybe better at running the world. But that also gives us a certain kind of responsibility, doesn't it? Kings, Queens or Presidents all have a higher status than the civilians they govern, the law might even elevate their status so that their life is legally worth more than that of a regular person, but in return they need to protect their citizens. The head of a country can't just condemn random people whenever they wish to based on the fact that there is a difference in value of life, as you put it.''
Voldemort sighed deeply, a strange emotions trickling over through the link that was hard to identify. ''I may have been too pressing with my views. Barty told me that you… identify with Muggles in a way. I won't ask you to take over my own beliefs, it isn't necessary since in the long run, we won't need to deal with Muggles at all. I only wish for you to understand that you cannot always judge groups of people only as individuals. There are systems in place, and the system in which the Muggles of this country move about is a threat to us. Their entire society would wipe out ours. To keep with your analogy, Kings and Queens can condemn civilians when they pose a threat to the crown. And Muggles are a threat to us.''
''Yes, but we're also stronger, and can choose how to deal with them. Your idea of creating a safe environment for us to live in, separate from Muggles, is actually a great solution, instead of trying to rule over them by force. Before that happens though, it's still important to see Muggles as people we can talk to and make deals with instead of rabid dogs who are out to get us. It's a fact that we're greatly outnumbered, and let's be honest, most magicians aren't exactly self-sufficient. Purebloods like to pretend that they don't depend on Muggles, but Barty just told me yesterday that in the end, they too eat food farmed by and bought from Muggles. You won't be able to get around working with them in some cases I think. Then acting dismissive because you firmly believe that you are a transcendent life form won't smooth any conversations, certainly not when they find out how easy you find it to kill their kind. Murder is not the most responsible option.'' Maybe Harry would never be able to change Voldemort's opinions, he could certainly try to influence the methods used to get where they wanted to go.
''As much as I wish to strangle you sometimes, in moments like these I am glad that you are here,'' Voldemort spoke, completely out of the blue. At Harry's uncomprehending look, he continued: ''Even Barty would never dare to discuss with me this freely. I already told you last year that a fresh opinion is welcome when it is in a private conversation and you do not become insulting. I'll consider your words.'' Relief washed over Harry. He hadn't actually thought that he'd succeed in getting through to the other in any way. It was very telling for the future, that Voldemort was sane enough to consider any kind of advice. ''So, is there any other pressing matter that you'd like to hear more of?''
Harry looked at the list in his hand. There was one word that he'd written down completely randomly, scribbled in the top corner. He tried to resist the mental link as little as possible to fully gauge Voldemort's mood and with that, his own probability of survival. Before he could change his mind again, he asked: ''Did you ever use the word 'cool' when you were younger?''
The other smirked. ''You should have asked me that in the past weeks. I just saw every conversation you and Black had, I know there is a bet running. As such, I'm not going to answer that.''
''Damn it!'' Harry exclaimed, laughing. ''I didn't think of that at all. Okay then, a serious question now, if I'm still allowed to stay?'' Voldemort chuckled and gestured for Harry to continue. You took up the position of Head Editor of the Daily Prophet right? What happened to the real Noctua? You said he was mutilated but not dead?''
''I remember you trying very hard to get the point across that just killing people doesn't accomplish anything. You were right: by restraining myself, I could keep him around for a long time to have ingredients for Polyjuice potion, and now still to occasionally seep off his memories. Using his disappearance to my advantage by usurping his position, then keeping him imprisoned and drugged was indeed much more effective than merely erasing him from existence.''
''That's not.. I…'' Harry inhaled deeply. ''Glad to have been of help.'' Small steps, Harry reminded himself. One spared life was already a huge deal for someone who thrived on slaughter. Although it could still have something to do with how much he valued lives of magicians more, and the fact that it physically hurt the man to kill the ones he was supposed to protect. ''Thank you as well, it is relieving in a way to finally be able to speak so openly about everything that's been bugging me, it's always so impossibly hard to get answers anywhere else…''
Voldemort dipped his head in acknowledgement. ''I know the frustration,'' he spoke. ''Now I have a question for you… if you could learn any spell in the world, what would it be?''
It really should have taken him longer to form an answer. Harry knew that there was an almost limitless possibility of what magic could do, and choosing a particular spell definitely should be naught impossible. But there was really only one thing Harry had always longed for, something which Dumbledore and many others had told him didn't exist. But hadn't Voldemort said that he was a proficient Necromancer?
''A spell to bring the dead back to life,'' he whispered. ''More than anything.'' He looked up, directly into his Lord's eyes. ''You have told me before that you can do that. As an exchange for the philosopher's stone, you told me you'd bring my parents back for me. Was that a lie?''
''No,'' the man spoke, and Harry's heart lifted, even as his brain sent warning signals at the tone and feelings that he received from the other. ''Not entirely. Very well, I shall show you, but be warned: you might not like the results.''
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xx GeMerope