Hello lovelies! A massive thanks to all of you for reading this story and leaving so many positive reviews!
I hope the length of this chapter makes up slightly for the waiting time :P -though can't promise that this will always be the case-

Enjoy!

Chapter 40 – Full Rotation

''My mother told me that her mind and soul were struggling to process information,'' Harry spoke in a monotonous voice that betrayed none of his emotions. It had been three days since the ritual, three days in which Harry had holed himself up in the dingy room that he slept in. Against all of his own expectations, he'd needed both space and time to grieve for people long since dead. Voldemort, unsurprisingly, hadn't liked it. If not for the Dark Lord literally dragging him out of his bedroom by the back of his neck like a cat, Harry would have sat there for a good few weeks still. Yet even the hollow pain in Harry's chest couldn't overshadow the onslaught of feelings that he received from Voldemort's end of their strange mental connection. Harry's behaviour had irritated the man to no end, who wanted nothing more than to painstakingly discuss every part of the performed rite.

''That is not exact enough!'' the man exclaimed. ''How? How did these memories clash? What information was stored in their souls?''

Harry took a deep breath. They'd only just started this conversation and he was already so very done with it. ''I don't wish to talk about them anymore,'' he said through clenched teeth. For every time the Dark Lord took the names of his parents in his mouth, the wound ripped open a little bit further again. Their corpses, collapsing on the ground, swam in his vision. That the one who was to blame for their demise in the first place now tried to hound him for answers, didn't sit well with him. Somehow, Harry had imagined this all to go very different.

''You got too attached.''

Harry glowered at the sneer he was given. It wasn't as if he could deny it either. ''And what if I did? Those were my parents! I don't care how impossible that is supposed to be, those were my parents!''

Voldemort merely scoffed disbelievingly at the statement. ''I grant you that those were their real bodies and souls, but they were not truly there. Their minds were muddled since the memories were but a recreation caused by a reversal spell. Their last thoughts and memories in the moment of their deaths were all that should have been left, I cannot believe that something like that would create an actual cohesive mind. No matter what you think, necromancy is an Art that is part illusion and part wishful thinking. After death, there is nothing concrete that remains of a person. No will, no chance to return or move on to some mysterious better place. Why else would so many try for immortality?''

''Because they're scared of the unknown,'' Harry flat-out said. And now Voldemort couldn't deny it, for they both knew how much Harry had seen of his mind.

Naturally, Harry should have known better than to think that a man this self-centred wouldn't still try.

''It is the only way to never lose influence.''

''Funny, humans as a whole actually developed something nifty for that. It's called offspring.''

To his frustration, Voldemort didn't bite at the sarcasm. Instead, the older man leaned back in his chair, entirely relaxed, from his loosely crossed legs to the languidly positioned arms on the arm rests. The only part about the Dark Lord that didn't look at ease were his eyes, a sharpness in them that made Harry avert his gaze. ''We come to nothing with bickering,'' the Dark Lord finally spoke, entirely too softly.

Those had not been the right words to say. A red haze entered Harry's field of vision, and as he sprang up, a hot anger bubbled through his entire body. ''I DON'T CARE IF WE COME TO NOTHING!'' he yelled. ''I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ANYMORE!'' Rage mixed with grief, and Voldemort was the perfect outlet, Voldemort, who was the cause of all the bad things that had happened in Harry's life. Voldemort, the smug bastard who had ruined his childhood, who had instilled fear in him that had erased some of the wonders about going to Hogwarts, who had used him in obscure rituals and kept him prisoner… Who just sat there and stared as Harry's world collapsed.

''It is obvious that you care very much,'' the Dark Lord spoke in an exasperated tone. ''So stop lying to both of us. I offered to show you any magic you wished for, this was your wish and I fulfilled it to my fullest capabilities. You're ungrateful and far too dramatic. Either take this seriously or leave.''

The cold words cut straight through his fury and Harry deflated, left standing in the middle of the room like a fool. He had been the one to ask, and to have his nose basically rubbed into the fact that this was all his own fault somehow cleared his head. The whole thing of pushing the right buttons went both ways, it appeared.

~Evan,~ the man hissed softly, holding out a hand. Carefully, Harry came closer and took it, the pale hand holding his as if Harry was brittle and could fall apart at any moment. He'd never imagined that Voldemort's grip could also be so strangely tender. Usually he found those skeletal hands around his throat. Glittering, ruby eyes searched his face. ~This has caused you grief, which was predicted before. Focus instead of what else it all gave you. A taste of power, a last conversation…~ Harry calmed down, pleasant sparks of magic travelling up his arm. No wonder that so many had flocked to this man in the past despite his oftentimes cruel methods. He knew how to choose the right words. Harry allowed himself to give in, just this once choosing to follow the allure of comfort instead of defiantly resisting it. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

~I saw the other side~ he spoke, desperately trying to focus on something else, something that wouldn't involve feelings. Voldemort had wanted to talk about the ritual so badly that this was the only way Harry could be certain that he chose the right topic ~Was that intentional?~

Voldemort raised his eyebrow. ~The other side?~

~The… the Black Cosmos. I saw the moons, I was you until your soul and mind split apart.~

The Dark Lord's aura shifted, and Harry was wrapped in hungry curiosity that made him shiver. ~That is… interesting. You shouldn't have been able to. Even though our minds are linked and occasionally the connection destabilises, it shouldn't allow you to follow me into the realm of the dead. I will need to look further into that.~

''What did the spells you speak mean?'' he asked, to try and distract the both of them. ''The Latin parts. And why was there a distinction between English and Latin mentally anyways, when you were clearly speaking a different language entirely?'' Maybe he was being a bit too detailed with his questions, especially since the actual answer didn't interest him that much to be honest. He just hoped that Voldemort would start one of his usual teaching-rants, which was the state that Harry generally preferred. It meant less being cursed, and more ability to relax as he listened to that silky, low voice. He wasn't disappointed.

''Because I mentally made a differentiation. Those were the true names of your parents, not spells. Names hold more power than modern mages recognise, one reason why I changed mine. One holds the most power over another person when breaking down their names to the etymology of it, the pure origins, to truly understand the meanings behind them.'' During the explanation, Voldemort released Harry's hand again, and with a pang of loss, the teen returned to his seat, calmed down enough by now to continue the conversation. While it didn't erase the grief, his anger was gone, and perhaps talking about the ritual was better than bottling all of his feelings up.

''And why Latin? Couldn't you just say the name origins in English?''

''What language the true names are best spoken in depends on the caster. For names I generally prefer to translate it to Latin because I connect that language most with magic, as most spells that are used nowadays are Latin in origin. Also, as you may have noticed from the book I gave you, the foundations of the Art in the form I use, come from Ancient Rome and Greece, so one of those languages was favourable. Since there is no accurate information left on what Ancient Greek sounded like, Latin was also there a logical choice. Magic is often about one's own perception, certainly when it comes to something as versatile as language. Theoretically, all spells could be spoken in English when the brain makes the proper connection to activate one's magical core. With using another language, especially a dead one, it is far easier for the mind to distinguish it as something that is supposed to use magic.''

''So what are their true names?'' he asked, with real interest now.

''For your mother, Lily Jasmine Son of the Heir of the Earth.''

''Son?''

''Evan used to be a first name for males, Evans became a last name that just means 'Son of Evan', and was then passed down to both genders since that is how last names work. That doesn't change the original meaning. Your father's name is less complicated and literally means Usurper Potter.''

''So mine is just Lion Potter then…''

''True, Black told you that, didn't he? Your parents certainly were rather obsessed with their Hogwarts house…''

Harry raised his eyebrows at Voldemort. ''Your Horcrux made a whole show of being the 'Heir of Slytherin,'' he pointed out. ''And I doubt any other member of your House made a point of having gigantic snakes as companions.''

The Dark Lord bristled: ''I am proud of my family line, not of the fact that it was a Hogwarts House. I only spent 7 years of my life there.''

Ah yes, Voldemort definitely wasn't obsessed with Hogwarts, Harry thought, and then wisely kept that to himself.

''You just mentioned you use a form of Necromancy… there are different ones then?''

''The form of Necromancy that remains in Britain is the form established in Rome and Greece. The Celts also used the Art, but no written text survived from that time to describe any of the practises in detail, same with many other Germanic tribes. Other, completely distinguished forms that we have surviving knowledge about come from Egypt, China and former Persia. More certainly exist, carefully guarded by their respective countries, which is understandable. I relied predominantly on information I could find in Hogwarts and what I came across during my travels through Europe, which was all derived from the Classic rites. I have looked into the other forms, but found them unsuitable to my style of magic.''

''So…'' Harry hesitantly said, remembering what they'd been talking about before he'd blown up. ''You do not believe that what I saw that night were my parents? Despite the way they acted?''

Voldemort considered it, tapping his wand against the chair again as he was wont to do. ''I am willing to, for the sake of a theoretical conversation, consider the standpoint of this having truly been your parents. In which case, a full resurrection worked. Following that hypothesis and taking into account the fact that one's soul is inherently linked to one's magic, which is in turn accessed by the mind, they should have been magical.''

Harry's first, instant thought, was that this meant he had irrefutable proof then for Voldemort, for the lily with gilded tips he had received couldn't have come into existence in any other way, the corpse only had had her clothes and wand on it. That was immediately followed by an instinctive wariness, the words of his parents echoing through his head still. Could he really trust Voldemort? Should he tell the man that the impossible had been achieved? Who knew how a Dark Lord with near limitless power, who was already known for using the dead in his armies, would utilise this information. Then again, Lily and James had only been able to come back due to an incredibly specific and lucky meeting of circumstances. It would be damned difficult to reproduce. The ties that ran various ways, the fact that Voldemort had killed them and that their son had willingly offered blood. That strange spell that had bound his and Voldemort's wands to draw out the minds…

''Well?''

He had just trusted Voldemort enough to take the offered hand and had not been let down. Maybe he wouldn't be now either.

''Give me a minute,'' Harry spoke without further explanation, jumping up. Under a cloud of vague disapproval – most likely due to his lack of etiquette again, etiquette Harry didn't give a flying fuck about right now- he bolted from the room and went to his own. The flower he'd received was far too delicate to carry around all the time, as much as he wished to do so. Instead, he'd placed it in the drawer of the old nightstand. With utmost care, Harry cupped the flower, which hadn't wilted in the slightest these past days, proving once more that it really was magical. He wasn't sure how it was still there, he'd read that conjured items disappeared upon the caster's death. Harry held it to his chest for a moment, where his heart beat erratically. Surely, his parents would be forgiving even if the trust he showed now would be misplaced in the end.

He carried it to Voldemort as quickly as he could, the fragile, gold-dipped petals shimmering as he placed it in the Dark Lord's opened palm.

''My mother gave me this, right before she…'' the words stuck in his throat, and Harry swallowed down the lump that suddenly blocked it.

Wordlessly, Voldemort studied the flower with narrowed eyes, casting a few pastel-coloured spells on it, which told Harry that they were diagnostic of nature, an observation that caught himself off guard for a bit. He hadn't realised just how much he'd learned within these few weeks that Barty had started training him daily. ''The time of creation corresponds to the ritual,'' the man deduced. ''As does the signature feel like Lily Potter…'' The red in Voldemort's eyes glowed brighter, a feverish gleam in them. ''If she had access to her magic, then the core was there and properly linked, so her soul and mind must have formed a temporary connection again with each other and the body,'' he whispered, standing up and pacing the room, the lily pinched in between two fingertips, the pink veins in the petals visible in the light that came from the fireplace, which was once again lit in mid-summer. ''Each theory comes to the same conclusion, which means...'' Abruptly, Voldemort turned and strode out of the room, Harry following at a slight distance. They didn't walk far, only going into the adjoining study, where Voldemort pulled forth several books from a trunk that looked far too small for all of them. Harry had to learn how those expansion spells worked one day.

''Don't destroy it for experiments,'' he pleaded. ''I was asked to give it to Snape.'' At the mention of the potion master, Voldemort abruptly stopped flipping through books and looked at Harry again.

''Severus? A message?''

''It sounded more like a threat, something about him having to fear my mum's wrath if he doesn't move on.'' Harry grimaced, the fact that Snape of all people had pined after his mother was still not something he liked to think about, even now he had had about a year to come to terms with it. He'd hoped that the topic would never have to come up in any conversation with his hated professor. Fate didn't let him dance around it much longer now…

Voldemort looked torn for a moment, his magic lashing out and giving Harry an uncomfortable feeling. The book was slammed shut and the man started pacing, the lily lying forgotten on the desk. ''So she expressed a wish… a will…'' he muttered, the strangest grimace on Voldemort's face. He turned around to Harry and grabbed the teen's shoulders harshly, not seeming to notice it. When he spoke again, it was with a sense of pride and awe, his volume rising with each word. ''This means that we went beyond the limit of any known magic! We rewrote the history of the Art tonight! Thousands of years, necromancers have been searching for true resurrection, and we made this happen!'' Before Harry could reply, the Dark Lord released him all of a sudden, taking a step back and turning around. ''But then all of my previous research,'' he muttered, barely audible. ''All of my beliefs about the afterlife… were incorrect?'' A couple of books on the desk started to tremble as if a low earthquake had hit the building. Without a care for his own safety, Harry reached out and grabbed Voldemort's wrist.

''I don't know much about death, I admit,'' he started, wishing that Voldemort would turn around and face him, a wish left unanswered. ''However, much of what you've told me hasn't changed I think. Even if the dead can come back to life, they are usually split up since their soul moves to the Black Cosmos right? And their minds… you only were able to retrieve their minds since you were the one to kill them. You called it an echo… If that is the only way you know of, maybe the rest of the mind really is lost. There isn't enough information here on what is the truth.''

''Yes… that must be it.'' The other straightened his shoulders and broke free of Harry's grasp, rubbing his wrist. When he turned around again, the serpentine face was completely blank. ''Only select memories were called forth. I jumped to conclusions.'' As he moved and sat down again, Harry found that Voldemort suddenly looked closer to the actual age he must be. ''So what was this about Severus? Lily Potter ordered you to give him a warning? Despite knowing full well that in order to do so, he will need to know how you communicated with her?''

''I've no idea if there was a lot of planning behind it,'' he admitted. Not everyone tried to think five steps ahead after all. ''She asked me in her last moments, I can't say if she thought through all the consequences.'' Because now that Voldemort mentioned it, Harry found that it was true that Snape wasn't a man to just accept threats or warnings lightly, certainly not if it came from one of his most hated students. He would surely get to the bottom of it, and that included finding out about the necromantic ritual and in turn, about Harry's contact to Voldemort, the Dark Lord that Snape had once served and then denied loyalty to towards the Ministry.

''Severus hid like so many others,'' Voldemort darkly spoke, ''But worse than many others, he did so behind Dumbledore's robes, working for my nemesis. He attempted to sabotage Quirrel and was incredibly suspicious of Barty. I did not contact him before to avoid informing a possible spy of my return, one so apt in Legilimency and Occlumency that even I could be possibly fooled by some of his acts. Do the dead know more than I?''

''Snape always was strange in my opinion,'' Harry said. ''Honestly, I thought he was secretly on your side all along and that he was fooling Dumbledore. He definitely doesn't agree with many of Dumbledore's policies at Hogwarts and thinks everyone who is not a Slytherin is worthless.''

''I informed him of that the prophecy spoke of the Potters, that I would kill Lily Potter. I knew that the bothersome emotions that tied him to your mother would make him run to the other side if I just went ahead and offed her, especially since he was the one to bring me the prophecy.''

''You offered to spare her though, on his request, right?''

''Certainly… but he does not know this, does he? You mother refused to move aside several times and I struck her down. Then I died and haven't spoken to Severus other than in disguise. I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore guilt-tripped him into doing his dirty work while Severus believes that he is doing the right thing in hating me. Although, as I said last time this topic came up, Severus might have had many other reasons for staying there. I cannot be certain of his views until I confront him. Since I am not in need of a potion master at the moment, I found it unnecessary until now. Severus has no political power and barely moves beyond Hogwarts.''

''He might be a member of the Order of the Phoenix though,'' Harry suggested. ''The teachers at Hogwarts are those who are closest to Dumbledore, and Sirius has told me a bit of the previous Order. Then too, several teachers were members. I imagine that Dumbledore tried to recruit more of them this time around, and Snape wouldn't be in a position to decline if Dumbledore is protecting him.''

''A sound line of thought,'' Voldemort mused. ''Perhaps… it certainly would be an asset to the Dark to have such a talented dark magician back in my ranks, especially one who could give me information about the organisation set to hinder my progress... yet the risk remains that I would invite a double spy. Revealing myself would give Dumbledore irrefutable proof of my return if Severus runs back to him. Secrecy spells can only do so much when it comes to a creative mind like Severus'. On the other hand, incurring the wrath of the dead by ignoring their wishes is nothing any intelligent necromancer would do either.''

''Maybe combine the two,'' Harry suggested. It pained him to part from his mother's flower, though it might be the only way to find out where Snape stood and honour his mum's wish. Harry personally had no desire to see the bitter git any more than he already had to at Hogwarts, so he'd gladly leave it to Voldemort and avoid any conversations with Snape where he'd have to spin uncertain half-truths. If Snape truly was apt at Legilimency, he didn't stand a chance in the first place.

''Give him your mother's gift and her message?''

''Exactly. Maybe also tell him about that you tried to spare her. To be honest, I detest Snape, but if you think it's better for the Dark side as a whole to have him as your follower again, this chance is better than many other moments.''

A smirk played at the corners of Voldemort's mouth as he looked at Harry. ''I think I appreciate your cunning side a lot more than your brash one. I shall attempt to still contact him today. Should our conversation take a positive turn, I can… invite him to stay over for Lughnasadh tomorrow. Perhaps one of the ancient celebrations and contact with a few fellow Death eaters will strengthen his ties to the side he turned his back on for so long.''

''And if it doesn't go well?''

''Then he'll be the second potion master for me to kill this year.''

XxX

The fireplace flared up with emerald flames, and Snape quickly drew his wand, instantly on alert. Few knew of his home in Spinner's End where he spent his dreary summers brewing potions. Was it Dumbledore again, trying to convince him to move toBlack's house of all places? ''I said no Albus, for the thousandth time,'' he sneered when a figure with long hair appeared, hunched over in the flames.

''Albus? Are you trying to insult me, Severus?'' Lucius Malfoy haughtily spoke as he straightened his robes and flipped his hair back.

''Lucius, I thought it was that meddlesome fool again,'' he sighed. Severus didn't bother with trying to question Lucius' identity: precious few indeed had this address and an access to the floo, and no impostors would have been able to recreate the link that had been branded into the both of them. Even now the Dark Lord was but a mere husk, their Marks recognised each other as fellow Death Eaters, burning slightly as soon as Lucius faced him. ''What are you doing here? It's unwise for me to have contact with you. Karkaroff was enough of a bother, following me around and trying to talk to me at the most inconvenient moments possible…''

''Unless the Headmaster of Hogwarts is putting his crooked nose in your business each moment of the day, I doubt he'll notice when you receive visitors in your own home, my friend.''

''So why are you here?''

''There is a slight crisis and I have no further time to explain. Grab an extra robe and a couple of healing potions.''

Severus' mouth twisted further into a sneer. ''You know very well that I can't do hippogriff dung with the term 'healing potions'. Specifics, Lucius, I'm not taking my entire collection with me.''

The blond man waved impatiently. ''Blood-replenishing, possibly something to repair tissue and bones. A pepper-up and pain-relievers, those kind of things. By Morgana, I'm no Healer nor expert in potions Severus, I don't know what is all necessary.'' Without a word, Snape went to one of the cupboards and started pulling a few vials out. A feeling of discomfort settled in his mind, and he decided to keep his guard up. This was undeniably Lucius, so why would his old friend lie? For he had no doubt that the other was lying, no-one needed so many generic healing potions, certainly not Death Eaters, who had all been trained to at least perform basic healing spells for first aid in battle. Nothing that these potions could do, apart from perhaps blood-replenishing, was something Lucius couldn't have achieved with spells.

From experience, he knew that no Malfoy who was worth a damn would ever admit to being untruthful. There must be a reason, there was always a reason, and the easiest way to find it was to play along. Whilst preparing his bag, Snape threw in a couple of extra ingredients that might come in handy: an antidote against Veritaserum, a bezoar, and a couple of focusing crystals that he could use to enhance his Occlumency shields. He wasn't about to walk into a trap unprepared. He was stopped by Lucius as he walked back to the fireplace.

''I have a Portkey,'' his friend spoke, voice tense. Fantastic, so the location was most likely unplottable and cut-off from the outside world. He gave Lucius a look, to which the man merely replied by raising his chin just a tad higher. Severus accepted the Portkey, which was thankfully not one of the pieces of muggle trash that the Ministry littered around, instead a stylishly cut dragon figurine of onyx. It was so typically Lucius that Snape could imagine it normally having a trophy spot in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. It was slightly calming to know that either Lucius had created this portkey himself, or had entrusted the person who had with such a prized possession. It lessened the chances of his friend having been threatened into luring him somewhere with this.

''Ready,'' he spoke, and Spinner's End disappeared in a blur. The moment they landed, Snape was on high alert, looking up at the building in front of them. It was an old, Muggle-style Victorian house, and as he turned around, he saw that it looked out over an ordinary village. In contrast, there was nothing at all Muggle about the garden, which was filled with dozens of florae used specifically in potions, from clusters of motherwort to tall asphodel stems. A bit further to the side of the house, he even saw a Wiggentree surrounded by hissing cobra lilies and a couple of flutterby bushes. It was clear that the owner of this home knew what they were doing. And by the strange shimmering in the air around them, it looked like the house was hidden in some way, so the Muggles wouldn't notice the odd garden.

''Severus…'' Turning around, he noticed the concern in Lucius' eyes. ''You did not lose the old ways, did you?'' he whispered urgently.

''This is hardly a topic to be discussed so openly,'' he hissed back.

''Openly?'' the blond laughed, a slightly shrill tone in his voice that made Severus wish he was back home already. ''Dear friend, I was asked to bring you here to show you the truth. Our Master is not as dead as many would have you believe.'' A wicked grin spread across Lucius' usually so schooled features. Instead of mimicking any of the portrayed feelings, Severus just felt as if ice flooded his veins.

No, it couldn't be… ''The Dark Lord is…?'' he rasped, looking up to the imposing house, suddenly far more afraid. None of the items he'd taken with would do him any good if he was the one to have sent Lucius.

''Yes, he's risen again,'' his friend confirmed with an awed whisper. It was clear that Lucius was ecstatic about it for some reason. Severus hadn't expected that, for the entire Malfoy family had managed to talk and bribe their way out of persecution, he'd been certain that this would not look favourably to the Dark Lord, should the man ever return. Speaking of which…

''What do you mean with 'returned'?'' he asked, grabbing Lucius' arms, staring directly in steel grey eyes to pick up on any hint of untruthfulness. ''I know he never died, but you make it sound as if he… regained a form.''

Lucius impatiently shrugged him off. ''He did, last year already. If you stayed true to our beliefs, you should be more than happy to hear about it. Don't tell me that Dumbledore really did butter you up.''

Severus snarled: ''Don't insult me! It was convenient to me that he believed my story of being remorseful, that is all. Throughout the years, I have not let my Slytherins stray from the path of Magic.'' The other seemed satisfied with that. He was safe for now, but as they moved towards the front door, his guts twisted unpleasantly. Would the Dark Lord just welcome him back? No, that was laughable… Certainly, he'd never been firmly on Dumbledore's side either, detesting the old manipulator for using his guilt against him to bind him to Hogwarts. As if having to protect James Potter's spawn wasn't enough, he also had to run whenever Dumbledore wanted him to, always bound to the whims of the one who kept him out of Azkaban. Had that damned unbreakable vow not been there, he'd long since moved on, perhaps gone to a faraway country where neither the ghost of the Dark Lord nor Dumbledore would ever find him.

Severus had even been pressured into joining the Order to 'increase his standing' despite feeling like he had nothing at all in common with the other members. All those years ago, he'd gone to Dumbledore in a fit of desperation, that didn't mean that his personal grief and vengeance somehow erased his favouring of the Dark Arts or his belief that Muggles were far less than mages. The only good thing about that was that he could use that fact as leverage now if it came to having to defend his life. And if he would be allowed to live… then what?

The house was empty as they walked in, and smaller than he'd expected, no expansion charms had been placed on any of the rooms he could see from here through open doors. It was also eerily silent, only a vague humming coming from the walls itself, which was more a feeling than a sound and which he knew instinctively to originate from the Dark Lord himself. So his Lord's magic was this powerful already? He was doomed…

''Go upstairs, then it is the first door to the left,'' Lucius spoke. ''I have to return home. Severus… good luck.'' He was left standing in the dark, at the bottom of the stairs, his friend hurrying out as fast as he could. If he'd survive this encounter, Lucius neck wouldn't… He closed his eyes and stored away all unwanted thoughts and memories behind a maze of doors and walls. No emotions of that showed on his face as he knocked on the door behind which the Dark Lord sat, nor did he betray anything when he was called in by a voice he'd hoped to never hear again. Stiffly, he walked in, met with an overwhelming heat. What moron would start a fire on a day it was thirty-five degrees out?

''My Lord,'' he spoke, managing to keep his voice even, sinking to one knee as was expected, eyes trained on the floor until spoken to. If there was one thing Severus was good at, it was having absolute control over his own body and mind. An iron discipline was what had enabled him to return home those dreaded summers to his abusive father, and was what had kept him alive there. This was no different: another cruel man, playing his cruel games, ripping loved ones away from family after family. Severus would see Voldemort destroyed if it was the last thing he did, all the while suppressing his bloodthirst, raging grief and hatred. It wouldn't do to show how intensely he wished to destroy Lily's murderer. Merely killing him wasn't enough… Oh, how he would ensure that this man he once worshipped would see life unravel, how he'd howl when noticing how Severus had subtly torn his world down. Perhaps the only good thing about having to protect the Potter brat was that in aiding the Boy-Who-Lived, he'd cause the destruction of the true villain.

Rustling robes came ever closer, unnaturally white feet entering his line of vision. Without hesitation, Severus reached out and grabbed the hem of Voldemort's robes, kissing it in a show of deference. Yes, he'd play his part well, the way he always did.

''Rise, Severus.''

He complied, staring straight into red eyes that had more than once haunted his nightmares. There was no use in trying to avert one's gaze from the Dark Lord, it would only be taken as a sign of weakness. Voldemort looked as terrible as the last time they'd met. Apart from the man's frighteningly unnatural eyes that showed more than anything the extent to which he'd delved into dark magic, the Dark Lord had papery white skin, a serpentine nose that was almost, but not quite flat, and a gaunt, skeletal frame that even robes couldn't hide. It didn't help that Voldemort stood at 6'5'' and towered over Severus, who was by no means small himself. ''You look well, my Lord'' he simply spoke.

''No need for flattery, my slippery friend.''

Severus chose not to answer that, for whatever he'd say, it would be wrong. He hadn't searched for his master despite having more evidence than any other Death Eaters of the Dark Lord's continued survival, and had even hampered his early return. If Lucius had spoken he truth, the resurrection had already been last year, and Severus only heard word of it now, which was very telling. He wasn't trusted in the least.

''I am certain that you have many a question, Severus. Speak.''

''Why did you summon me, my Lord?'' the unspoken 'why now' was apparently clear enough, for the Dark Lord answered:

''I did not find it favourably to inform you of my return any sooner. After my death, I lost precious time… I have been busy in the past year with research and expanding my network. Now however, I find that Dumbledore is trying to revive his little rebellion group. And who do I find among those annoying insects? You…'' Snape inwardly cursed whoever it was that had opened their damned mouth. It had to be Mundungus, he was sure of it.

''The Headmaster was the one to keep me out of Azkaban, I found it a better strategic move to start working at Hogwarts and continue developing my potions than to have my sanity sucked out of me by Dementors. I grew rather close to Dumbledore during this time, and he trusts me as much as other teachers. When he offered me a spot in the Order, I found it would be unwise to refuse. Despite his trust, he has to date rejected me in the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts, and my contact to my colleagues is not favourable. There is suspicion among them that I never relinquished my old ways.''

''And I have a suspicion that you might have,'' Severus looked up to his Lord, who had moved towards a large chair that was turned away from the fireplace to face him. He frowned slightly, having expected having to play word and mind games. It was unusual for the Dark Lord to be so direct. ''Ah, were you expecting something different? Come now, I think we both know that it would have the same result… You give me a brilliant story of how your actions until now were only to support my cause in the end, I do not believe you and demand to see your mind, you give up enough precious information to make it believable and earn your spot at my side back, then I find out at one point that you were not so loyal as I believed after all… Had things not gone as they did, perhaps it would have even worked. But fate is not in your favour today, Severus. I have been reminded too often over the past year of what truly motivates your actions. Lily Potter. Or should I say, Lily Evans? You never really recognised her new surname, did you?'' The name was but a mere whisper that echoed in Severus' mind, yet enough to make his so carefully crafted mask crack. He knew he'd shown too much when his Lord chuckled darkly. ''Ah, there is that burning spark of hatred that I've been waiting for. Do not think that even you can fool me, I know your heart.''

With as much dignity as he could muster, the potion master rose from the ground, positioning his cape so that it would be easy to grab his wand, should the need arise to duel for his life. Blood-red eyes followed his every move, the serpentine man alike a predator searching for the perfect moment to strike. ''If you know as much, why the charade?'' he asked, head held high. A Slytherin he may be, Severus Snape certainly wasn't a coward.

''You swore your loyalty to me, no matter what. I branded you as mine, yet the instant I died, you ran to my greatest enemy. Do you think that would have no consequences?''

''You promised to spare her,'' he accused the Dark Lord. ''Why would I uphold my faith in a man who breaks his promises so easily?''

''I tried.'' The words were spoken with no emotion, no regret at all.

A cold fury burned through Severus' body. ''You are the most powerful wizard that walks this earth, I refuse to believe that you couldn't have spared her if you'd wanted to.''

''True, but she was being more bothersome than I had anticipated. I gave her two chances to step aside, two more than I would have given anyone else. It was more than reasonable to strike her down after she threw my mercy back at me.''

''Why would I believe you?'' Severus spat. In a flash, a bone-white wand was pointed it at him, so he calmly stepped aside to avoid the curse thrown his way. With his opinions already revealed by whatever information the Dark Lord had received before, he wasn't going to just take a Cruciatus curse.

''Harry Potter survived by her sacrifice. Do you think no other parent threw themselves before their child? A true sacrifice needs to come from someone who could have lived and actively chose to die. Ironically, had I not attempted to honour my word to you, Harry would have died that night, and I wouldn't have lost twelve years of my life!''

A sense of satisfaction settled in. So his attempt to save her had in a sense made Lily responsible for the peace they'd had for over a decade now. Even if he wouldn't survive this night, this knowledge would make his death a little bit more peaceful.

''Yet that wasn't the end of your beloved Lily. Not quite.''

Shock and disbelief battled for control as the Dark Lord, with a sinister smile, reached inside his robes and withdrew a white flower with slightly pink veins. Severus was frozen like a statue as the man stepped closer and offered the lily on an opened palm. The magic that exuded from it was unmistakable. Not even a Lord would have been able to imitate that signature… ''It can't be…'' he breathed, staring at the flower, this gift from the devil.

''Lily lived, if only for a few minutes more. I am a necromancy master, didn't you know that? Her last thoughts before vanishing went out to you. Take it.''

It had to be a trap. Even when summoned, the dead didn't just conjure items. They barely spoke coherently when properly summoned. Despite all those rational thoughts shouting in his head and warning him, Severus still mechanically reached out to pluck the flower from his Lord's palm, cradling it in his trembling hands. His Lily had always had an affinity with nature. Most of her accidental magic made flowers bloom out of season, and it had become a signature of her to leave around conjured lilies exactly like the one now in his hands. Once, she had even made one appear in his bedroom in the Slytherin dorms, and she'd always refused to tell him how. ''Lily…'' he whispered to it, soaking up the warm magic of which its absence had left him cold and dead inside.

''The dead are oftentimes far more insightful than they were during life. Her exact words for you were: 'I am always watching, and you had better fear my wrath if you do not move on from bitterness.' She was not very happy with how you treated her son, I believe.'' Coal black eyes snapped up to meet his Lord's.

''Why did you summon her of all people?'' he demanded to know.

The other clacked his tongue in disapproval. ''Not summon, the word is resurrect, Severus. A full resurrection I might add, if only for a few minutes. I do not believe that I owe you an explanation for my actions, although you will find out yourself if you stay here and participate in the harvest feast tomorrow.'' He must have looked rather confused, for his Lord continued: ''I was thinking of whether it would be more beneficial for me to kill you, and the scales tipped in favour of that until I spoke to Lily Potter… The dead seem to think you have a future if they are giving warnings to change your ways. Only a bumbling fool would outright ignore the wishes of the deceased, for they have strange powers that the living should not play with. As such, combined with a number of other reasons that I might reveal to you in time, I will allow you back at my side. Of course, should you show any signs of betrayal, I will be more than happy to dispose of you in a way that would make you eligible to join the Headless Hunt. It might encourage you that your dear Lily has admitted that it was foolish to thwart my efforts and fight for Dumbledore instead during her lifetime. If only she'd realised that sooner… Imagine the life you could have had. That she could have had. But for you, Severus, it is not quite too late.''

Severus was, for the first time in years, absolutely torn on what to do and think. The wild claims of having resurrected Lily for unknown reasons, the flower in his hands that could only have come from her, the warning that sounded so much like her, it all was too much to instantly dissect. The only reason he had ever defied the Dark Side was because of his dear Lily… And if even a tiny part of the information he received now was true, she was pushing him in the direction of the Dark lord again. No Unbreakable Vow could keep him from following her wishes. He didn't move this time when Voldemort slowly pointed his wand in between the centre of Severus' eyes.

''You have a choice to make. I suggest you make it fast.''

He didn't need to ask what the choice was. As calmly as he could muster, Severus spoke: ''Cruciatus.'' If he wanted to get to the bottom of this, he needed to live, even if that was bound once more in servitude.

''Welcome back, my friend,'' the Dark Lord spoke with a grin splitting his terrible face. ''Crucio.''

Upon the weathered stone tiles, in between plants and cracked pots, stood five imposing people in a half-circle, their garments all black and heavy, most having little decoration. Harry recognised two, and both were people he had harboured a great dislike towards ever since meeting them: Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. Their presence should have taken away from the comfort Harry usually found in the warm, earthy-scented veranda. In fact, quite a few things that had happened here should have taken that away a long time ago, and yet it was as inviting and musty and homey as ever. He imagined this was how Neville felt when entering a greenhouse, the clumsy Gryffindor always took in a deep breath whenever entering the ones at Hogwarts despite the many accidents that had happened with vicious plants. Harry felt much like doing the same here upon entering each time and now was no different. Harry ignored the miniscule frowns and raised eyebrows he received. If they all thought he was crazy, he couldn't care less. Snape's opinion of him could sink any lower anyways.

Speaking of Snape, considering that the man supposedly hadn't even known that Harry was here until this very moment, the man sure schooled his expression well. Harry couldn't pick up anything from his potion professor, not even the slightest hint of surprise. Yesterday had been… strange. For once, Voldemort had actively invited Harry into his mind, and the teen had witnessed the entire conversation through the Dark Lord's eyes, unable to influence it. In his opinion, it was a surprise that Voldemort even still had followers if this was how he treated all of his Death Eaters.

Apart from the changes in everyone else's expressions, they also looked a lot more neutral than Harry had imagined. Meeting Death Eaters for the first time -even if he'd never known them to be so apart from Barty upon meeting- had always been with an instinctive animosity on both sides. Pettigrew had been unsympathetic, Malfoy had acted cold, Karkaroff had been a strangely unpleasant individual and even around Quirrel, Harry had had a feeling of discomfort. Not to even mention Snape. All in all, the ones Harry had met either disliked people affiliated with him or somehow blamed a teenager for their Master's demise and their friends' imprisonment. Now, he saw something else in the eyes of those new faces: curiosity. The lack of hostility was honestly throwing him off. Was he supposed to say hello to them or..?

''Evan!'' Barty shouted from behind. ''Don't think you can just sit on your arse already and relax with our guests, we have prep work to do!''

''I'm a guest too if you recall,'' He shouted back, grinning slightly at the whining noise he received in reply.

''Please release me from some of the five thousand tasks I've been given?''

''Hold on,'' Harry sighed, and turned around again without saying a word to the other 'guests', who didn't seem inclined to help. Which honestly wasn't fair on Barty, they all were Inner Circle Death eaters, just because Barty was here regularly didn't mean that he had a greater responsibility to take care of Voldemort's orders than the rest of them. ''Five thousand sounds a bit of an overstatement,'' he commented as he popped his head around the corner of the kitchen. ''Besides, we've got five of your buddies here who are to partake in the celebration with us, why are they just standing around in expectation?''

''Because they think they're too good for it and forget that they'll displease the Dark Lord with their behaviour. As I don't feel much for allowing them to suck up to him in any way, I'm not reminding them.''

Harry snorted. ''So basically, you get all the rewards for the work?''

''You too now,'' Barty smirked.

''I'm eternally grateful that you're letting me help with chores,'' he snarked. ''It is so much better than enduring the Dark Lord's wrath. Which I somehow still manage to do on a daily basis so I'm not sure why I'm bothering.''

''Evaaaan.''

Harry sighed dramatically. ''Everything for my favourite Death Eater. Why are we starting this late with it anyways? I was told to hole up in my room all day before, I had expected something to be done already during that time.''

''I did do something, I played host for our other 'guests' and managed not to curse any of them, which is quite a feat if I may say so. Snape especially just kept sulking everywhere. He was a bad colleague, and is even worse as a fellow Death eater. And if you have to know, since you are an unpredictable ball of emotions, our Lord wanted you to stay up in your room to not start beef with the others too early.''

''Hey!''

''Secondly,'', Barty continued, raising his voice a bit to talk over Harry's protesting noises. ''I also needed to prepare some things for you as well. Since you locked yourself in the past days, we couldn't celebrate your birthday before. It's Lughnasadh today, so we don't have time now. There is something planned for you tomorrow instead, just a heads up. Happy Birthday.''

Somehow, Harry had completely forgotten about his own birthday again. It was touching that Barty had thought of it. He didn't especially care about it not being celebrated today, he knew by now that it was important for the Sabbats to be celebrated on exact dates and times. ''Thanks,'' he mumbled. ''So, should I get some wheat again?''

''Barley specifically. The hot summer made it ripe enough that we do not even need to ripen it further with spells like last time. Do try to not be seen, there might still be some farmers in the fields at this time. The Muggle harvest feast is only tomorrow so I'm sure they're still working. After that, we need to find or produce enough clean bowls and cups for everyone, make spell bottles, slice apples, clean the veranda up a bit more, set up the cauldron, and during all that somehow manage to keep Nagini from biting anyone.''

''Nowhere close to five thousand,'' Harry teased.

''That snake alone is at least half of all the effort and worth over two-thousand other tasks!'' Barty protested.

''Yes yes, I'll get her off your hands when I get back, I'll rely on you to do everything else. Although I'm rather hungry, and since last time we only ate that bread during Lughnasadh, maybe I should prepare some dinner for everyone?''

''Sometimes I think you were sent by Merlin,'' Barty spoke, sighing in relief and patting Harry's shoulder. ''I'll get to work then, I want to be done by the time our Lord gets back. He's in France.'' The meaningful look that was thrown his way not only told Harry that the Dark lord was still at work, but also that Barty didn't trust any of the other Death Eaters who could possibly overhear their conversation, with that information. Harry supposed it made sense, even if Voldemort had informed some of them of his take-over of the newspapers, he certainly hadn't told Snape yet. Harry decided to first ensure that Nagini wouldn't run rampant. Not that he cared much for her biting anyone since he didn't like anyone currently here apart from Barty, but he would hate for others to upset her. It took a while to find the serpent, who had curled up in the living room and was hissing in displeasure over having so many people here.

~I'll keep you in the kitchen with me~ Harry hissed to calm her down. Then, he got an idea. ~I would really like it if you could help me with one little thing before.~

She swished her tail a bit, then rose from the ground. ~You make master more agreeable, so I will help you, little one. What do you need?~

One minute later, he casually walked over to the veranda, from which rather distraught sounds came. Harry opened the doors and gleefully took in the sight of five grown men trying to avoid the playfully snapping fangs of Nagini. ~That probably scared them enough. Thanks a lot, they won't give me any trouble now,~ he spoke, making sure that he was speaking a tad louder than necessary so they would not miss the Parseltongue. By the stumped looks of the Death Eaters he hadn't met before, they hadn't known about his ability. Good. As even Snape didn't know the reason for him being a Parselmouth, all of the theories they could come up with would probably earn him a bit more respect. That would make interaction a whole lot easier.

''Gentlemen,'' he spoke in English once Nagini had returned to him and had draped herself partially over his shoulders. Harry tried his best not to struggle to keep upright. How the fuck did Voldemort make carrying a 30 pound snake look like a breeze? ''I am not sure why you are all standing here, there is a lot to do in means of preparation, and the Dark Lord won't return for a while still. Since Barty needs to clean out this room, I kindly ask you to at least move your hanging around to the living room. Dinner will be ready in about forty-five minutes.'' He sighed softly in relief when Nagini decided that she would rather slither on her own, and he led her to the kitchen, where Barty was watching him with a roguish grin.

''How Slytherin of you,'' the Death Eater commented. Then, he dropped his voice a bit. ''I sense that dear Severus has a million questions for you.''

''I can imagine so,'' Harry shrugged. ''I don't particularly feel like humouring him. Besides, from experience, whenever he has something unpleasant to say to me he'll try to catch me alone. With this many people to overhear a conversation, I doubt he'll sit me down for a talk. Also, I have Nagini here with me and by his reaction before, he isn't any fonder of her than anyone else here.''

''Aren't you interested in what he has to say?''

Harry frowned as he started preparations for dinner, figuring that the later he went to get the barley, the better, so it would remain fresh. After peeling the first few potatoes, he had sorted his own thoughts on the matter of Snape enough to give an explanation that wasn't an incoherent mess of thoughts and feelings. Pausing with his peeling, Harry cast a few silencing barriers, then started speaking, all the while continuing with cooking. ''You told me before that he was horrible as a colleague… imagine him as a teacher. Even when I completely leave out the grudge he has against me for looking like my father, which is dumb in itself, he is a straight-up arsehole at school. He tried to poison Neville's pet as punishment for getting a potion wrong, he blatantly ignored complaints of Gryffindor students when Slytherins tried to sabotage our potions, he looked straight at Hermione when she'd been hit in the face by a curse from some bullies and had the gall to say there wasn't anything wrong… And those are his 'petty teacher' moments with only one out of dozens of classes. He's also made sure that Lupin got fired by 'slipping up' about him being a werewolf, actually leading to the creation of an anti-werewolf law last year that made it even harder for an entire subspecies to find employment, and he did all that because Lupin was part of the group that used to pick on him at school. I'm not saying that it was good of my dad and his friends to bully Snape either, but I am not going to make Malfoy's life hell when we're adults just cause he was mean to me at Hogwarts.''

''How do you know that they used to bully him?''

''Sirius admitted that. I spent the Easter holidays at his place, remember? To avoid talking about Dumbledore and all that stuff, he talked almost non-stop about my parents and what kind of things they got up to at school. Snape… came up in conversation and I wanted to know why he hated Lupin so much especially. The usual racism regarding werewolves didn't make much sense since Snape adores everything about dark magic. Turns out that Sirius and my dad played a prank in which they wanted him to see Lupin in werewolf form. Sirius was rather fuzzy about the details, but in the end my dad decided not to go through with it and got Snape to safety. Dumbledore once told me that my father saved Snape's life, I suppose that must have been when.''

''Not much saving going on if you prevent a person from walking into a trap you set,'' Barty commented.

''As I said, details were fuzzy, so I have no idea what exactly transpired. It was still enough for Snape to eternally hate Lupin, who wasn't even in on the prank. Speaking of holding grudges, getting Lupin fired wasn't enough, Snape tried to get Sirius kissed by Dementors, while knowing very well that he was innocent of the accused crimes. Eternally damning a person's soul sounds rather extreme to get back at a childhood bully. I wouldn't even wish that on Dudley. My Aunt and Uncle maybe, but not Dudley.'' Harry sighed deeply. ''So to sum it up, I have no positive experiences with Snape. He likes to belittle and traumatise children, is extremely petty about things that happened a long time ago, and it sounds to me that from hopping to our Lord's side to Dumbledore's and back again, he is rather untrustworthy too. His one redeeming factor is that he tried to save my mother, and even that is questionable. He had no problems with the prophecy when thinking it was about some faceless family instead of my mother. He didn't even have a problem with my dad and me being killed, only her. I honestly don't know how he and my mum ever became friends in the first place.''

''Childhood connections can do a lot,'' the blond spoke up. ''I never really got it either though. When I was at school with them, Snape already hung out with a lot of people who were looking forward to becoming Death Eaters. Not that I think that's a bad thing of course, but it's strange since a couple of them were rather high on blood purity, and Snape bullied a lot of Mudbloods, throwing slurs at them and such.''

''Sirius told me that he was the kind of person who put down Muggleborns, made an exception for mum because he thought she was special, and then expected her to be grateful for the fact that she would be spared while he wanted to see all others like her dead.''

''Don't forget that Black has an agenda too. Sure, Snape isn't the most pleasant person, but everyone on the dark side knows that even Mudbloods are necessary. We're too small of a community already to not acknowledge that those born from Muggles are still magical people and thus belong to our kind. We can't just kill 'm.''

Harry threw him a hard look at that. ''It's true that that is the Dark Lord's opinion now, but he used to think all Muggleborns were better off dead as well when he was younger, and that line of thought is still very present in Pureblood circles, you should know that. Draco Malfoy was bragging about how he hoped Hogwarts would be rid of all Muggleborns when that basilisk ran loose.''

''Draco Malfoy is a child-''

''- who parrots his parents' opinions. One of those parents is standing in the next room.'' Harry finished. Barty shut his mouth with an audible clack. ''We still have a lot to work on,'' he continued. ''And hardly anyone seems to give a damn about Muggleborns, other than when trying to force them into some sort of lower status. I know now that there is an entity of Magic, so I refuse to believe that when she granted Muggleborns powers, she wanted them to be treated like outcasts. We're all one kind.''

Barty gave a noncommittal hum that Harry didn't like in the least. Sometimes Harry tended to forget that, as great as Barty could be, he also worshipped Voldemort to a fault, the same man who would have liked to keep Muggles as slaves if he had it his way. The teen chopped his onions a bit rougher than before. Getting the mood, Barty snuck out without another word and didn't show his face until Harry set a heavy pot of stew on the dinner table. The atmosphere during food was rather unpleasant, everyone completely quiet. More than once, Harry caught eyes flickering his way and then being cast down on the plates again. His scare tactic had worked even better than he'd hoped for. Barty was also unusually quiet.

A surge of magic went through the air and Harry looked up, his skin suddenly covered in goose bumps. It looked like the others hadn't noticed yet, only Snape giving Harry a strangely piercing look. It took a good minute before Voldemort entered the house, which was when Barty perked up, also finally having noticed their Lord's presence. The rest of the Death Eaters moved one after the other, one rubbing his arm absentmindedly, another having his eyes trained on the door that led to the hallway. Harry tried to take note of all reactions and how fast they were in sensing Voldemort's magic. He'd learnt that sensing magic was generally a rather rare ability. It only became easier to notice the magical signature of a person when being very close to them over a long period of time, or, like in Voldemort's case, when they had power in spades. And even then, it looked like some people were a lot better in picking it up than others. Harry didn't believe that he was especially apt at sensing magic if he was honest, the only reason why he was so affected by the Dark Lord was due to the many accidents and rituals that bound them.

''My followers, it is good to see you all gathered here,'' their Lord spoke upon entering, taking them all in with a taxing look. ''I hope that you all made yourself acquainted with my youngest… guest?'' Around the table, guilty looks were exchanged, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. ''I see…'' Voldemort whispered, walking around the table, placing his cold hands on Harry's shoulders ''None of you thought it strange that I housed Harry Potter? None of you thought that surely, there must be an extraordinary explanation for why I trust the very person who was the reason for my demise thirteen years ago, to be present during such an important evening?'' Harry tried to concentrate on the faces around him rather than on the weight of Voldemort's hands, which was incredibly difficult since one of the man's thumbs brushed against his neck rather than the fabric of his robes. In a twist of irony, he was saved by Snape, whose blank face broke for a second as the surly potion master's nostrils flared and let out a barely audible noise of disapproval. ''You have something to say, Severus?'' Voldemort spoke, instantly fixating on the bat-like man, leaning over Harry a bit.

Harry had to give it to Snape, the way the potion master caught himself and straightened to look Voldemort flat in the eye was not a feat many could have accomplished. ''Apologies, my Lord, but Potter has never shown a single sign of being extraordinary in anything but dumb luck and Quidditch. He is a bad student, incredibly rude and arrogant, always sees fit to break the rules… I find it hard to find a reason why you think his company is suitable.''

The Dark Lord let out a chuckle, while Barty, from the other side of the table, started growling quietly. ''Were you absent during the Triwizard Tournament?'' Voldemort spoke in a ridiculing tone. ''This boy mastered a bardic spell to calm a dragon, learned two ways to breathe underwater in the span of barely four weeks, one of which was the Rite of Weaving, and conquered a maze filled with creatures and spells designed for students who are of age. If he does poorly academically in your class, Severus, perhaps you should look at the teacher first.''

Harry would have laughed at that, if it wasn't for the fact that Voldemort's fingers now applied more pressure to his shoulders and even if he could have been oblivious to the gesture, the raw possessiveness that bombarded him through the link certainly didn't leave much room for doubt. For whatever reason, the Dark Lord very much disliked Snape's critique. ''Apart from Bartemius, this child did more for me than any of you combined,'' Voldemort snarled, magic spiking, and some of his followers seemed to shrink a tad in their seats. ''His actions are the reason I stand before you today as powerful as I am. So don't you dare belittle him when you haven't shown a fraction of the loyalty or effort that he has. What. Is. it, Lucius,'' he hissed at Draco's father, who had risen from his seat.

''I would like to agree with you, My Lord, and bid Severus to rethink his opinion. Upon first meeting Mr. Potter a few years ago, I was disappointed in what I saw: it seemed to me that Dumbledore had crafted a perfect loyal soldier just like Mr. Potter's parents had been. But my son informed me of Mr. Potter's changed behaviour at Hogwarts. He struck a deal with Draco, who aided him with the Rite of Weaving which, as you all know, is one guarded by my family. I was amazed at the potential and growth.'' He nodded and sat down again, averting his gaze from Voldemort's narrowed eyes. Harry hadn't really gotten the idea until now that Mr. Malfoy thought any better of him, the man certainly hadn't been friendly at Easter. Was this merely an attempt to suck up?

''If I may say something,'' Harry spoke up, a tad annoyed, especially addressing the people he didn't know yet. ''As much as I appreciate all of you discussing my character and abilities, I would prefer to get to know you myself rather than have your opinion formed from hearsay. So hi, you all know my name, but I much prefer to go by Evan while I'm here due to the load of baggage that hangs on the name Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and all that. So yeah, just Evan. Questions? Other introductions?''

The other Death Eaters kept quiet for a while, looking at their Lord for a reaction. Harry couldn't see his face, only picking up on that his mood had calmed down again. With a last brush of icy fingertips, Voldemort moved away to the only empty seat left, the ladle in the pot of stew magically filling up his plate. A few moments in which the Dark Lord completely ignored his followers later, one of them dared to speak up, addressing Harry. ''My name is Yaxley. Proudfoot here and I both work in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law, I in the Administrative Registration Department, he in Department of Intoxicating Substances. We've both fought during the War.''

Proudfoot nodded and added: ''I also have some friends in the department of Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and help out there occasionally when there isn't anything to do in mine. Which is quite often, we only regulate the sale of alcohol and certain potions. It's been pretty useful since I can falsify evidence that might point in the direction of one of our friends. Every year there are a couple of searches for dark artefacts in random homes.''

''I see,'' Harry spoke. ''I don't know an awful lot about dark artefacts to be honest, I've been focusing on practical spells and rituals.''

''You should visit Borgin and Burkes one day,'' Malfoy spoke, actually looking interested. ''Borgin is a bit stingy, but he has a decent selection.''

''Oh, that place,'' Harry frowned. ''To be honest, I was there once. I had a Floo accident, hid in the shop and spied on you and Draco. It might be good to visit as an actual customer one day though, I couldn't see much from that closet.''

Malfoy looked very indignant at that, then carefully asked: ''So you had evidence of my buying dark artefacts? And didn't report it?''

''I was barely twelve and had no idea how everything worked,'' Harry said. ''Nothing about legal issues is explained at Hogwarts and I grew up in the Muggle world. So even if I would have known that it was illegal, I didn't know how or where to report it. By the way, if one isn't allowed to have dark objects, why is there a shop that specifically sells it? Wouldn't it be easier for the Ministry to forbid selling the stuff rather than for people to buy or own it?''

''Technically, it is forbidden, which is why Borgin has a couple of contacts in the Ministry who tell him when there are shop inspections coming up. Most of what is on direct display isn't harmful or cursed, that is all in the back and he gets rid of it at convenience. Officially, he runs a shop for curiosities and artefacts, not specifically dark ones, even if all of his regular clientele knows better.''

The conversation continued for a bit, the last Death Eater also mingling after a while. He turned out to be one of Voldemort's original followers who had even gone to school with him, Rosier. There had been a different Rosier too in Voldemort's ranks, the son of the Death Eater present now, who had been killed by Alastor Moody's hand.

''Whatever happened to Moody?'' Harry asked Barty. ''Dumbledore said they couldn't find him.''

''Since I knew that my time at Hogwarts was limited, I relocated him to just outside of Hogsmeade. As soon as I was gone and didn't need Polyjuice anymore, I killed him. We don't need a fanatic ex-Auror to bolster the Order's ranks,'' Barty confessed, not sounding the least bit sorry. ''Moody was responsible for the demise of several Death Eaters. He didn't really believe in imprisonment and preferred to 'execute' people by himself instead of waiting for trials, which also cost a few innocent lives.

Harry couldn't really find it within him to mourn the real Moody. He'd never met the man and from what he heard now, it wasn't a loss.

As the evening slowly set in, Harry excused himself soon after a bit of small talk, leaving the dimensional bubble to scavenge the fields for some barley. He didn't see as many farmers out as feared, it looked like the regular working shifts were over. Following the same dirt path as last year, he reflected on the differences. This summer was most definitely a lot hotter, the heatwave holding all of Britain in chokehold. It appeared that they never had normal weather, it was either this or constant rain… He should start looking into weather magic at one point to counter that. Harry rubbed his neck, very glad that this time he wasn't limited by the invisible choking magic that Voldemort had been so fond of last year. Clearly an improvement.

He retrieved a bundle of barley without much difficulty, only encountering one lonely farmer on the way back, who ceased his suspicious look after Harry gave him a confident nod and strode past as if he belonged. Everything else had already been prepared when he got back, so he lounged in the kitchen with Nagini until it was time. A knot had formed in his stomach during all the waiting. Would it be as magical as last time? Or had his mind only tricked him into thinking it had been amazing and would he be disappointed now? Would he stumble over the words of the verse he had written to not stick out like a sore thumb?

With these nervous thoughts buzzing in his head, he sat down on the now grass-covered floor of the veranda in between Barty and Rosier, facing the wide-open doors to the field in the back. Harry swallowed heavily as he looked at the two large rocks to the side, the only decoration he'd found to mark the new graves of his parents. His last deed before retreating in the bedroom for days had been to spend the rest of that night digging with a rusty spade he'd found in the tool shed of the house. Barty elbowed him in the side all of a sudden and whispered: ''You look like you're about to puke, kid. Come on enjoy, there are no expectations on you here, not now. Just let go.''

At that, Harry managed to relax a tiny bit, concentrating rather on the smell of cinnamon and apple in the air than the people around him. Through the glass ceiling, he could see that the sky was slowly turning from azure to ultramarine, though the layer of various lichens that covered the glass panes made it impossible to clearly see if there were any stars already visible. Around the room, the candles flickered to life and the cauldron melted as Voldemort closed the circle. The veranda suddenly looked a lot smaller than the impression Harry usually got now it housed eight people. It might have been better to do it out in the field instead. Barty was entirely to blame, who hadn't wanted to deal with any insects. Harry took the slice of bread and glass of whisky offered to him, once more slightly annoyed by how often alcoholic drinks played a role in these things. He didn't like the lack of control that was always the result, legal or not. He should find out a way to decline this politely. Having a clouded mind was alright when it was just Barty and Voldemort, but not with strangers. A second later, that thought brought about a whole internal debate as to why Harry felt comfortable enough around a Dark Lord who was feared enough by all that even his name was forbidden, to get smashed with him.

~You should heed Barty's advice and relax,~ The man in question hissed, leaning forward. It did not help that they were sitting exactly opposite each other, and due to the cramped space not even that far away. Usually during rituals, Voldemort was standing or kneeling. Now, his pose was relaxed, sitting on one folded leg and having the other slightly outstretched. As Harry looked at the man, his eyes were drawn down towards the perfectly smooth, white leg where the fabric of robes fell away.

Hastily, he looked away without answering as a strange hotness overcame him, so he instead concentrated very hard indeed on the delicious bread in his hands, taking small bites to make it last longer. For a second, he actually debated whether or not to down his glass in one shot to overcome the weird confusion he felt, for which no explanation came to mind. Then, he finally calmed completely as waves of magic rippled through the air. Somehow, it was so much easier to breathe, and Harry closed his eyes to ride on the thrums of energy that enveloped all of them. All worries he had fell away, Voldemort's magic for once not being suffocating as the Dark Lord channelled his powers in a more positive way. It was clear now why the man had complained last time about being limited by the rudimentary body in more than physical aspects. Harry was vaguely aware of that Voldemort was singing the same chant as back then, but instead of hearing the words, it called visions to his mind of golden fields, blood-red skies and people who marched as one, twisting and turning in a strange dance under moonlight. A scythe rose and left were dry brown stalks that covered the lands.

As the dream-like state faded, others said their part, calling out to their ancestors and thanking Magic. Some sang, others spoke. Snape merely said a few sentences about letting go, which Harry found all too ironic. All of a sudden, it was his turn and the words just flowed out. To spare everyone his horrible singing voice, he'd gone for a short recital as well of a Lughnasadh chant that he'd put together from various traditional verses he'd found in books borrowed from Voldemort. It had taken a while since he had tried to combine it with Arithmacy to get two separated four-line verses of eight words each. Taking a deep breath he spoke, voice slightly shaky:

''Golden sheaves born of sacrifice
Raising our hands with wand and scythe
Ready to start, to turn the wheel
Heigh for the honour of Magic

Praise the mother, her blazing hand
Runs over and takes this heavy land
Then heals, the wheel has spun around
Heigh for the honour of Magic''

Harry breathed out slowly when the last word was done and as he looked up, a rare smile played at Voldemort's mouth, gone as soon as Harry blinked, the man entirely concentrated on Rosier now, who had started a low song about blood on fields as soon as Harry had finished. To not have to think about all the strange signals he received by both the man's actions and feelings that were woven through the pure magic that still filled the room, Harry finally gave into the whisky, trying to block out the fact that there were any other people. This time, he knew that it had to be laced with some additional potion of sorts, for none of the drinks he'd had at Hogwarts made his head fuzzy this instantaneously.

He listened to the voices of the other Death Eaters, at one point lying down and just enjoying the atmosphere. This, he thought, was what home was supposed to feel like. Hogwarts would always be his first home, true, and it certainly provided shelter, comfort and friends during the year. Yet it also would never be completely separate from that feeling of school, teachers, restrictions and homework. Here, as he lay back on the grass-covered, weathered tiles and stared into a sky that became ever darker, listening to the sounds around him of celebration as the others paid homage to the gift of Magic, he felt truly content. Wanted.

''We offer your own fruits, so that the next generation can grow,'' Voldemort spoke, his voice far away. ''We offer your gift, so that you may spread it further, we offer our results of the skills and grain you granted us, so that we may live and enjoy life.''

Harry was enjoying life to its fullest right now.

I hope you liked the chapter :) I will save Harry's birthday for the next one, this chap became way longer than I had originally planned because Snape just had to butt in haha.
Are there any characters that you wish to feature more often? Please let me know.

Please Read and Review,
xx GeMerope