Thank you so much for all the support once again! I hope that the new year is treating you all well so far.
(In case you are all getting two notifications and are wondering why, I re-uploaded chap 53 right before this one because I saw there had been some formatting issues with it, parts written in italics that weren't supposed to be and stuff)
Enjoy!
Chapter 54 – Bloodquill Consequences
As it turned out, Harry did not need to explain his absence at all. During the Halloween feast, Peeves had pulled a stunt, blocking the entrance doors to the Great Hall and every single subsequent door and stairway entrance after that. It left most students stuck until the teachers had taken care of the blockades and McGonagall had chased the Poltergeist down. Harry returned easily, unseen under his invisibility cloak and making use of the map to find unaffected hidden passages. When he arrived in Gryffindor tower, he even had enough time to shower and change before his tired dormmates finally made an appearance.
In the days that followed, Harry thought often about his latest encounter with Voldemort, thoughts wandering towards various topics concerning the man, including but not limited to the two Horcruxes he'd had contact with on that day. If he was honest, he didn't even know what he should focus on, letting his mind wander as he tried to place the many impressions of that day.
First of all there was the Locket-Horcrux, which had betrayed him. Harry still wanted to slap himself for being so naïve to think that it had actually wanted to help, or even liked him. All of those delusions had fallen apart the moment he'd found out how it had used everything Harry had given it to its advantage. Whenever his fingers absentmindedly searched for the chain around his neck and didn't find it, the teen had to sternly remind himself of that it was better this way, now he had escaped its influence.
Secondly, he inevitably thought of the piece of soul in his head. He'd known of its existence for more than a year now, ever since Voldemort had revealed to him what he was. It had always been something abstract: magic that mingled with his and which was the cause of certain abilities like Parseltongue. He'd never anticipated that it could materialise in his mind, much less have so much control. Harry dearly hoped that the magic he had absorbed from that place of power had played a role in his Horcrux's strength, that it had been a one-time occasion. It thankfully hadn't been eager to go along with its younger self's plans or Harry would be in a whole different world of trouble now. There were many uncertainties concerning this soul piece though. Harry wasn't sure if he should try and search it out. It hadn't looked very able to talk, and besides that, he did not want to fall into the trap of yet another Horcrux.
Finally, there was Voldemort himself, the main soul which gave Harry so many different feelings that the Gryffindor feared his brain was tearing itself apart. His heart ached as he recalled the emotions that had resonated through their mental bond. Despite his own pessimism towards the likelihood of Voldemort returning his affection, he had still hoped. Now he knew that the man indeed did seem to harbour feelings that were not usual for a mentor and his student, but it didn't lift his spirits at all. What Harry had wished to find wasn't there, instead stumbling over a raw feel of something he could only describe as ownership. Voldemort wanted Harry to belong to him, and that overshadowed anything else. Maybe other people could be happy with that, the types who flocked to powerful figures in hopes of catching their eye and one day twirl at their arm. It had been enough for Regulus: to have the Dark Lord's attention, to make others jealous of the position he'd ascended to.
Harry did not need all that. He shied away from power, would throw out all of his gold if necessary, could care less about the opinion of others by now. What he did need was someone he could talk to on equal ground, someone who'd truly and honestly care for him. As much as he yearned with all of his being to be close to Voldemort again, rationally he knew that the Dark Lord would never give him any of that. They'd never be equal, partially Harry's fault as well as he'd sworn fealty to the man in the first place.
And thus, his brain remained a mess, spiralling into dark places that only his friends could pull him out of at times. He'd barely registered the commotion that held Hogwarts in its grasp until the weekend arrived and Hermione pulled him along to the Quidditch pitch for Ron's and Ginny's first match. Harry gathered what little he had left of his sanity and decided to try his best to be supportive to his friend. He hadn't gone out to the pitch himself to watch Ron as the team was never really happy to have spectators during practice, but Ginny had told him enough about how Ron could be incredibly good. His main weakness was performing when nervous. Unfortunately, Quidditch was mainly popular because of the amount of people who could watch it at once. Being surrounded by hundreds of students who either pressured one to succeed or were vocal about how they'd wish you'd lose was not exactly a nerve-free environment.
''What's going on there?'' he asked Hermione when they were seated. Something was happening in the Slytherin stands, they were far less composed than usual.
''You shouldn't skip breakfast so often, then you'd find out more of what is going on in school,'' the girl replied a bit frosty. ''Ron could have used the support too.'' A twinge of guilt made itself known in Harry's stomach. ''Anyway, it doesn't look like they're up to much good. Some were wearing badges with 'Weasley is our King' on it. I doubt that it is in actual support of their rival team.''
Harry cursed and swore to himself that if Draco had anything to do with this, he'd practice a few nice curses on the blond. He'd reserve his judgement until speaking to the Slytherin though. Admittedly, Draco had been getting worked up over the Quidditch match and been rather nasty about how he thought the Gryffindor team didn't stand a chance with Ron on board, but he hadn't gotten personal with insults as far as Harry was aware.
The match began, and Harry did not need to wait long to understand the meaning of the badges. Before even the first goal was scored on either side, the Slytherins started singing a song that made Harry's blood boil with rage. Confined to the Gryffindor stand as he was, he could do nothing but cross his fingers for Ron. It didn't help, the song clearly got to him, and Harry's friend became less and less able to block the Quaffles thrown his way. He started zigzagging uselessly. Even from the stands, Harry could see that Ron was completely red in the face from embarrassment.
He threw a foul look over at the Slytherin stands for sinking so low as to personally attack a single player. Pansy Parkinson stood in front, conducting with her wand. Lee Jordan tried to speak louder and louder to drown out the noise with his running commentary, and Luna let her new lion hat roar, but even that couldn't compete against dozens of loud voices all singing the same thing. The match quickly turned into a disaster. Not only Ron was distracted by it, Angelina had a short shouting match with Warrington in mid-air, and Fred made a foul by throwing his beating bat at one of the Chasers in fury, giving the Slytherin team a free pass that Ron failed to catch as well.
Ginny saved the day, catching the snitch right before Gryffindor could be so far behind that even those 150 points wouldn't have saved them. It wasn't a great victory, barely scraping by on ten points. It would make the rest of the games this year impossibly difficult. The Quiditch cup would most likely go to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw unless Ron miraculously found confidence and Gryffindor would outshine both teams with incredibly high scores to make up for this. Harry silently applauded her, he'd have done the exact same thing, it was clear that they wouldn't have been able to pull back. The reactions of the other Gryffindors about their new Seeker's decision were divided until a few D.A. members started to vehemently defend Ginny's actions, making Harry proud of 'his' students.
Harry waited impatiently until Ron came out, who took so long that he and Hermione feared that their best friend was trying to drown himself in the shower.
When he finally appeared, it was with puffy eyes and a frown. ''I was miserable,'' he said first thing.
''You still won. Even after that horrible low trick they pulled, Slytherin lost!'' Hermione tried cheering him up.
''Not by any achievement of mine,'' Ron sulked. ''I want to… to be alone for now. Go congratulate Ginny from me. It looks like all Quidditch talent went straight to my sister.''
''I have something else to do first,'' Harry said, noticing how cold his own voice was. ''Ron, did Draco wear one of those badges?''
To his relief, Ron shook his head. ''At first I thought it had all been his idea, really. Neither he nor Pucey wore a badge though, and I even heard their other teammates say that they were being stuck up spoil-sports and house traitors. I don't know who orchestrated it, but for once it wasn't Malfoy.''
Finding out who had been behind it turned out to be much easier than Harry had thought. For purposes of emergency D.A. meetings, Harry was kept up to date about how to enter the various common rooms -except Ravenclaw, as the doorknob gave a unique riddle to each student- so he could easily waltz into the Slytherin common room now. Which he did. With a drawn wand. Hostile eyes were instantly on him as he approached a rather loud group smack in the middle of the common room, lounging on the expensive black leather couches.
''Aww, has Potter come to defend our King?'' Parkinson cackled, jutting her chin in the air. A few people around her traded slightly uncomfortable looks as Harry approached. Everyone here had at least heard rumours, especially after Harry had been invited for the start-of-year party. It looked like Quidditch made people like Parkison a bit forgetful however, as she stood and brushed off her robes before stepping closer to Harry with a challenging expression. ''Did you like my lyrics? I wanted to add a few more lines about Weasley you know… Something about poverty and ugliness… but in the end I decided that a few strong, simple lines were best so the simpleton would actually be able to understand it.''
Harry's jaw clenched and he raised his wand to her throat. ''This is how you want to try winning games, Parkinson?'' he asked. ''So little faith in the Slytherin team that the audience needs to resolve to dirty tricks? Or do you just find it fun to walk all over other people?''
''The latter,'' she smirked. ''Someone has to put you and your little friends in place, Potter. I don't know what has gotten into some of us, but I still have enough house pride left to not do the bidding of a couple of Gryffindors.''
''Is that what this is about? You want to get back at me because I happened to befriend a few of your house mates?'' he laughed. ''That's pathetic, Parkinson. We have real enemies to focus on in this castle instead of tearing each other down.''
The girl would have none of it. In a flash, she had her wand out as well and started to circle around Harry. She had poor footwork, Harry observed. And her attempts to distract him by using feints were far too obvious as well. ''Come on then, scared?'' she bit. ''Barging in here like you're all important, whereas everything you say is just based on attention-seeking lies. Reducto!''
Harry stepped out of the way as other students dived for safety. He was slightly surprised by her choice of spell. The Reductor curse was, to his knowledge, a spell used to blast objects out of the way or -when enough power was put into the spell- to reduce them to dust. Spells meant for objects often had very different effects on living tissue and the other way around however… Even a cutting curse that could cut through a solid steel bar would only leave a deep gash in a human, not sever the entire arm. Similarly, he doubted that the Reductor curse would have been able to damage him as seriously as Parkinson clearly wanted. It showed her inexperience and lack of knowledge in duelling, so he quickly put an end to it.
''Pertimescite!'' Harry shouted, quickly moving forwards so she wouldn't get a shield up in time. As soon as the spell hit, Parkinson's started screaming. Her face twisted into a grimace of absolute fear, and she froze up completely as she stared ahead with empty eyes. Before Harry could cancel the spell, someone else did so for him, and a rough hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him around.
Completely unremorseful, he stared at Snape's enraged face before the man started dragging him out of the common room.
''What was that?'' Snape sputtered as he practically threw Harry into his office.
''A Fear Hex,'' Harry replied non-apologetically. With any other teacher, he might have tried to reason with why he'd acted like he had, told them that Parkinson had fired the first spell… but Snape was not the type of man to listen to excuses. ''It won't harm her.''
The Potion professor threw a glare at him like a dagger. ''I know what the spell was, Potter,'' he snarled. ''Why were you in there? My students did nothing illegal. Childish maybe, but not anything that breaks school rules. Was it not enough for you that their little song didn't work and your House secured a victory after all?''
''No!'' Harry loudly said, getting frustrated. ''This wasn't about the Quidditch match for me. They tried to shame my best friend in front of the entire school, there should be consequences for that! If bullying is not against school rules, then what the hell is?''
''Watch you tone!''
''Hem Hem.''
Both of them froze and looked at the entrance of Snape's office. In the doorframe stood Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile on her face and once again dressed from head to toe in pink. ''There seems to be a problem here, Professor Snape? One of your students, Ms Parkinson, was kind enough to inform me that Potter here just broke into the Slytherin common room?''
''I have been able to handle Mr Potter's punishment for years now, I do think I'm capable of disciplining the dunderhead now too,'' Snape sneered. Umbridge did not look impressed, a small frown on her face.
''It has come to my ears that Mr. Potter has been serving an awful lot of detentions with you this year, Severus. Forgive me but… if two to three detentions a week still do not show an improvement in his behaviour, maybe different punishment is in order?'' she smiled. ''After only one week of my detentions, Mr Potter did not give trouble in my classroom anymore. Perhaps he should be reminded of that this doesn't mean that he can do so in the rest of the school.''
Harry had expected Snape to jump at this opportunity, but the other seemed very hesitant. ''That won't be necessary, Dolores. While unusual and discouraged, it is not forbidden for students to enter each other's common rooms. His spat with Ms Parkinson also did not cause harm on either side. I shall put him to work for provoking my students of course, but more than that would be out of proportion.''
''It was not a request, Severus,'' she spoke, a bit sharper now. She opened her leather handbag and pulled a piece of paper out of it. ''I just received this from the Minister himself. Educational Decree number twenty-four, which gives me all authority I need to decide on a student's punishment as I see fit, even if another teacher or Head of House decides otherwise. You see Severus, after my last decree, Minerva refused to accept my decision to not let the Gryffindor team reform. A clear mistake by all accounts as I'm sure you'll agree after today. So… if I say that a few detentions for Mr Potter won't do, then that is final, understood?''
Snape's eyes flicked back and forth between her and Harry. ''I of course respect the Minister's words and by extension, your verdicts,'' he spoke in a monotonous drawl.
''Splendid!'' she smiled. ''If only all teachers would be so cooperative as you. I'm sure Minerva will try to protest to Dumbledore about this too. Well, perhaps then she will have to be put on probation for disrespecting her superiors just like poor Sybill. I am glad to have your backing in this, Severus. Your attitude is most certainly the reason as for why your students are among the brightest, I'm sure. Give my regards to Ms Parkinson when you see her. Potter, come with me. Now.''
Harry gave Snape only a half-hearted glare. He did not know if the potion professor enjoyed watching him suffer by Umbridge's hand or let him go unwillingly, but it would have been very unwise to suddenly stand up to Umbridge. So, Harry tried giving Snape the benefit of the doubt in this case. He moved from one office to another, a worse one in his opinion. Neither teacher had a great sense of aesthetics, but somehow Harry found wilted roses and kitsch décor worse than jars with animals floating in formaldehyde.
''Have a seat, Mr Potter,'' she said, already taking out a familiar black quill. ''The sentence 'I must not cause trouble' should do the trick, don't you think so? In the meantime, I will have to think on what to do about Mr Weasley…''
''What?'' Harry asked in alarm, for the first time actually addressing her. ''Why?''
''It was clear that you did this on his behalf,'' she replied. ''I cannot possibly have him get away with this.''
''Ron didn't know anything about this!'' he protested.
Umbridge only shook her head slowly, and it dawned on Harry that he was only making it worse by showing how this affected him. ''I cannot verify that as the truth. You are a known liar, Mr Potter. Just to be safe, I will remove Mr Weasley from the Gryffindor team, I think. Yes… even in the unlikely case that he was not an accomplice in this, it should make him reconsider just who he should pick as acceptable company. Write your lines now, Mr Potter.''
Stewing in anger, he grabbed the bloodquill in his fist, wishing with all his might that her head would explode. The scar on his right hand, which had already been giving him trouble before, flared up in agonizing pain the moment Harry started writing. It was far more unbearable than the last time he'd served these detentions. The thought of having to go through this again for hours or even days made him wish he could just quit Hogwarts here and now. Only Umbridge's satisfied grin made him clench his teeth together and continue writing. Sweat dropped down his face and he felt decidedly ill after a while, black spots dancing in his vision. Now would have been a good time for the Horcrux inside his scar to show some powers, he bitterly thought.
His hand was swollen like a balloon once she let him go. She didn't even bother with healing his hand this time, probably overconfident in her new position. Harry did what he probably should have done the very first time as well: swallowing his pride, he went to yet another office, knocking on the door with his good hand. McGonagall opened it, already dressed in a quilted night robe. He hadn't realised just how late it was.
''Potter! What are you doing here?''
''I… I had detention with professor Umbridge,'' he quietly admitted.
Her face fell, eyes twinkling sharply. ''I told you how dangerous-'' she started, until her eyes fell on Harry's hand, which he was holding now. ''Come in,'' she said, her voice changing to concerned.
''There is a new Decree,'' Harry instantly said once he was seated. ''I didn't do anything that involved her personally, professor. However, she has the power to overrule other teachers on punishment now. Professor Snape was just about to give me a detention for causing a commotion in the Slytherin common room, when she showed up and said a common detention with him wouldn't do.''
''Hand, Potter,'' McGonagall sternly said. He winced as she took the fleshy thing that hardly resembled a hand anymore. She studied his swollen skin, which had only thinly healed over again. The new words could still be read beneath. ''Severus mentioned this decree before in teacher's lounge before. I did not know that you would be the first person she'd test that on. If the Minister gave her full authority over disciplinary actions, she might indeed be allowed to change the current policy against corporeal punishment,'' she muttered. ''This goes further than that though. You told me once before that she used a blood quill, correct?''
''Yeah, those are illegal, right?''
''They very well should be… Whether that will help us now the Ministry is so clearly against us is another thing altogether. But really Potter, the Slytherin common room? If this was about the Quidditch match-''
''It was about Ron! Professor, why can people just get away with such open bullying? They attacked his pride, his weaknesses. That it was in relation to a game as provocation for him does not change the fact that they insulted him! Why is that so accepted?''
''Nothing about it was against school rules,'' McGonagall frowned. ''As long as he was not physically harmed or jinxed, my hands are tied. It is also not forbidden to enter another common room though, if you got detention for that then I will go have a word with both Severus and Dolores…''
''I hexed Parkinson,'' Harry admitted, not backing down at another disapproving stare. ''She tried to throw a Reductor curse at me first, but neither Umbridge nor Snape found that worth noting or punishing.''
McGonagall sighed and rubbed her temples, staring at Harry's hand. The time she took with it did not give him many hopes for emergency healing happening anytime soon. ''If Professor Snape was a witness to this event and chose not to punish a student from his House, I am not in the right to correct him. The only thing I can do for you is to inform Professor Dumbledore about this event.''
''I didn't come here for myself, Professor. I understand why I was punished and also that you probably can't do anything about it. She also punished Ron though, who wasn't even there! She said she didn't believe that I acted on my own, that Ron must have sent me on his behalf or something like that. She is planning on banning him from playing on the team without any proof he's done something wrong, and he doesn't even know about it yet!''
''What?'' she growled. ''No, no matter how much new power she has, she can't just decide to punish students on a whim because she thinks they were involved! I will besure to put in a complaint against her for this. I am afraid that is all I can do for now, Potter. Go visit madam Pomfrey, this looks far more complex than what simple healing charms can fix.''
''I'll have detention for another two days,'' he grumbled miserably. ''What's the point in healing it now if it'll be cut open again tomorrow?''
McGonagall pursed her lips, then waved her wand over his hand. The pain lessened considerably. ''Even if I cannot force you to go to the hospital wing, I still highly recommend it to avoid infections or curses festering. These numbing charms won't hold forever either and you still need to perform well in class despite this.''
Overcoming his own stubbornness for a second time today, Harry followed her advice, getting really tired of having to walk from office to office. Madam Pomfrey did not look exceptionally happy about having to deal with a student this late in the evening either as he walked in.
''Here you finally quit the Quidditch team and you still end up here,'' she huffed in frustration. ''Pick a bed, Mr Potter, I have several injured I am tending to at the moment. I'll get to you in a minute.'' A minute turned out to be almost an hour later, as three Quidditch players had been injured in the match and several Hufflepuffs had been the victim of some unknown experimental spell which left them unable to speak.
''So, now to you,'' she sighed, taking a chair to sit at his bedside. Harry sat upright and showed him his hand. ''Can you give me any information to work with?'' she asked as she too studied the skin with a frown.
''I had detention with professor Umbridge, she made me write with a blood quill again,'' he grimaced. ''I also had to do so at the start of the year for a week. At the very end of that, she healed it and I think she deliberately messed up the spell as it scarred. I didn't think too much of it then, but recently the scar started hurting and at one point even opened up and bled. When I had to use the quill again today, the pain was far worse than last times and now my hand is swollen.''
''That horrid toad,'' Madam Pomfrey hissed furiously, taking even Harry aback by the amount of venom in her voice. ''It's not enough to hurt students, now she also has to hinder the healing process? I cannot wait till the moment she is gone from this school.''
''That might take a bit, the Minister just gave her more power. She can do whatever she wants with punishment now without consequences, from what I gathered. I expect more students to start showing up here soon.''
The nurse's face became deeply wrinkled with worry. ''Students should not have to fear for their health and safety in a school,'' she spoke. ''It's madness. And this…'' she gestured to his hand. ''Potter, I am very sorry to be the one that has to give you this news, but this is… not possible to heal.''
He looked at her in stunned silence for a moment, wondering if she was joking. ''I'm sorry?'' he asked in disbelief. ''You once regrew all the bones in my arm, you de-petrified people! Surely, a swollen hand is not so much more difficult!''
She pinned him down with a frightening look. ''Do not tell me how to do my job, Potter. Simply said, blood quills are cursed objects. When the effects are not properly healed, the curse remains. From what you described, it sounds as if the curse was locked beneath poorly healed skin, then spread over time. It is in your very cells by now. I can stop it from spreading and slow the effects, that is all. This curse cannot be removed anymore, it's far too late. Had you come to me right away, perhaps I could have sent you to a curse expert in St. Mungo's to reverse the damage. Now, even that is ruled out.''
''So… so what happens to it now?''
''If you're lucky, nothing for a long time. Eventually though… blood quills curses are designed to affect your blood, to touch it with dark magic to draw it out through the quill. Without the quill as an outlet, the curse itself will slowly poison your bloodstream, disrupt the natural flows and hamper the creation of new blood cells. Frankly spoken, the outcome isn't entirely clear. I could vary from your skin always remaining this irritable to your hand becoming unusable completely. I will speak to some of my colleagues at St. Mungo's still, but I cannot make any promises.''
Harry returned to the common room feeling absolutely numb. Should they be rid of Umbridge in the future, her influence would always remain in Harry's hand… Looking at the red skin in worry, he vowed to himself to make her life hell as soon as the opportunity would arise. This, Ron's punishment, the way she treated students and staff alike… He'd never thought he could hate a teacher more than Snape, yet Umbridge rose far above that. During the next D.A. meeting, perhaps the members could brainstorm a bit about solutions to get her out of the castle once and for all. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't do this to other children as well.
The victory party was long over by the time he made it back. It did not look like it had been a major one either, with just a few spats of glitter and rests of fireworks being sprinkled throughout. Harry wouldn't really have celebrated ten points much either, he couldn't blame them. The small taste of victory was merely because Slytherin had lost, nothing else. The Chasers had not been able to catch up, Ron hadn't stopped a single Quaffle, Fred and George hadn't been in best form, allowing Slytherin to score many points. This victory was solely because Ginny was a better Seeker than Malfoy was. On the other hand, he did not even want to imagine how utterly crushed they'd have been if Slytherin had also caught the snitch, earning another 150 points on top of the massive amount they had already. The end score had been 200 to 190 for Gryffindor, with 150 points credited to Ginny's catch. Had Malfoy managed to grab the tiny golden ball, the match would have ended in 340 to 50 for Slytherin, throwing Harry's house out of the competition instantly. Like this, they still had a chance against the other Houses.
Maybe he shouldn't worry about Quidditch so much, Harry grimly thought when looking down at his hand again. Madam Pomfrey had done all she could to contain it, telling him that the curse had spread roughly up to his elbow before she had been able to halt it today. A de-swelling solution had taken care of the bloating for now, and numbness charms kept the pain at bay, but it was no permanent solution.
He fell on his bed completely exhausted and not in the mood to talk. As no-one else seemed to be either, Ron lying in bed staring at the wall and the other three casting hesitant glances at their new Keeper, Harry just shut his bed hangings, drifting off to sleep fast.
XxX
Thin strips of light made the unwelcome presence of dawn known through the blinds that had been put up in front of all windows in the Riddle residence. With a single flick of spidery fingers, the additional curtains were drawn shut, as the room's inhabitant was not ready yet for any sunlight. All night, Voldemort had been sitting at his desk in the inky darkness that eased his eyes, staring at Slytherin's locket. It would have been his by birthright, had Merope Gaunt not sold it for a fraction of its worth before he'd arrived on this world. He'd reclaimed it now, taken it from that old witch Hepzibah… it was more than a mere relic of the past now, he had made it so, imbued it with magic and soul.
A piece of soul that had become quite the mystery. Disappeared, resurfaced in the Black house, found and carried by his human Horcrux… The power it had gained across these past few months was not surprising if it had been so close to Harry. Its plans were far more concerning. As much as Voldemort would have wanted to however, he could not open the locket the instant his human Horcrux had left for Hogwarts. They were sturdy things, Horcruxes, made to withstand most anything… including their maker. Without knowing the intentions of this soul piece, it would be unwise to interact with it without draining it first of the power it had borrowed from Harry.
Doing so had been easier than expected. Harry's soul piece 'staving off the other Horcrux' hold' as the boy had worded it, had left the locket inactive. It was fascinating to see that although the metal clearly buzzed with magic, it remained locked and immobile. Once again, he checked the magical field around it, pleased to find that it had reached an acceptable level of innocuity.
~Open~
Voldemort leaned back as the locket clicked, two small metal doors swinging open. Wispy trails of grey mist made their way out, forming the figure of his younger self. It was almost transparent and could have been confused for a ghost if it would have been pearly.
''You… what did you do to me?'' it asked, a hostile look on its face. ''And why is it so damned dark in here?'' it complained, narrowing its eyes. Voldemort sighed and let the accursed light in a bit more. He'd forgotten that his nocturnal sight had only developed so strongly after creating the diadem. The beams of sun shone straight through the apparition, which the Dark Lord looked at in disdain. While his Horcruxes would always remain one of his grandest displays of magical prowess, they also served to remind him of a flawed past. This one still looked so strongly like his muggle father had… not only that, he'd been much more aggressive and impatient back then, convinced that he could take over the world in his mid-twenties. Looking back on that, it was laughable. Those years had in the end mainly served to improve his magical abilities and form connections that were useful much later, nothing else.
At least it wasn't the diary-Horcrux, he mused. Or the ring. He didn't think he could have held a meaningful conversation with his teenage self.
''I hardly did anything other than drain the magic you took for yourself. Most can be accredited to the last Horcrux I ever made,'' he answered.
''Harry?'' it growled. ''I underestimated the boy… and the piece of soul he carries.''
''It seems that way. Now, you are finally back under my control. Why did you hide?''
It glared at him again with eyes that were not quite red yet.
''I was locked up for decades,'' it snarled. ''No-one to talk to apart from a few sparse visits, sensory deprivation… Only the purpose of my existence kept me relatively sane. And then Harry came along, allowed me to feed off his magic, live again for a while. Why would I give that up and go back to being a prisoner? Especially when I found out that you have lost your mind.''
Voldemort arched an eyebrow and leaned forward. ''And how is that?'' he asked.
''Living peacefully alongside Muggles?'' it snorted. ''Letting Mudbloods infiltrate our society? What happened to crushing those who are unworthy? Merlin, even your magical ability must have waned if it got you killed. I heard our followers ran for it in an attempt to wash their hands off you. Not exactly great deeds. I followed the path of magic, I don't know what the hell you are doing!''
''Enough,'' Voldemort dangerously spoke. ''You know nothing. The world is not as simple as I once believed it to be. I have underestimated my enemies before and paid the price for it. My followers returned, are stronger than ever. I will not let you ruin my plans because you still believe in the superiority of blood. I am a Half-blood myself and none can match me, disproving that theory immediately. It is nothing but propaganda started by a select few families. Magic is what counts. However, I am not here to discuss my current views with you. Your reckless behaviour was extremely unpleasant and jeopardised my plans regarding Harry. You made him lie to me, blocked our communication and tried to turn the piece of soul inside him against himself. Do you have anything to say against that?''
The Horcrux sneered. ''You would understand if you'd have been imprisoned for so long and the main soul you'd been trying to protect was making such grave errors.'' Without a word, Voldemort balled his hand into a fist, concentrating on the source magic he held, to affect the soul piece. It dropped to its knees, shaking under the force of his magic. ''Yes, I used the boy!'' it ground out. ''So what? It wasn't as if it was no mutual agreement. I refrained from harming those close to him, I honed his magical abilities and ensured our secrets were safe! I did more for him than you could have! I was at least there. And still-'' the Horcrux broke off, face twisting into a furious expression.
''Still what?'' the Dark Lord hissed, keeping his iron grip on the disobedient soul. When it didn't answer, he turned it from unpleasant to painful, making the Horcrux scream out through gritted teeth.
''And still I wasn't enough, he still wanted you!'' it finally yelled, breaking free from the spell with an unexpected burst of leftover magic. They stared at each other, two livid gazes locking. Then, Voldemort's brain started making connections fast. The posture, those robes… he'd seen once before.
''When you say that you honed Harry's abilities… did that include his Occlumency lessons?''
The Horcrux brushed off its robes and ran a hand through its hair, now refusing to meet his eyes. ''Yes,'' it curtly said. ''If that is all, I shall return to the eternal hell you put me in. If you fail our task, I will find a way to make you experience it as well.'' The figure dissipated into fog again after that empty threat and returned to the locket, which snapped shut with another audible click.
Voldemort leaned back in his chair, a million thoughts whirling. The most prominent of all were relief and satisfaction over being proven wrong in his previous assumptions. It was not very often that finding he'd reached erroneous conclusions brought out a positive response. This time, he felt almost giddy about it. It had all been a ploy then, the whole scam of this Durmstrang student he'd directed so much anger at. Undoubtedly one to fool Snape as an excuse for how Harry could have learned Occlumency so fast, without revealing the existence of this Horcrux. Not that his follower would have an idea about what a Horcrux even was, very few were privileged enough to have found that information. Nonetheless, it was appreciated that Harry was not careless with this kind of sensitive information, and many things finally made sense. The boy had avoided him purely due to the Horcrux's manipulations, there were no other factors diverting Harry' attention from him. Even that kiss… it sounded as if rejection had followed.
''He still wanted me?'' he gleefully whispered into the dark. All bitterness he'd harnessed since Severus' news faded into the background. The speed at which his own emotions changed was disturbing, yet he could not deny it. There were quite a few things that he should deny no longer, Voldemort reluctantly thought. At the start, he'd mainly played into Harry's clear addiction as it was amusing. But as he'd recently admitted to Barty, he had gotten… attached to the teen. He'd looked forward to new shared conversation and dreams, only to be angered when those did not follow. The short fuse he'd had over the topic of Harry's lover was uncharacteristic, it had made his blood boil with jealousy. It reminded him all too well of the previous relationship he'd been in, the only other time in his life where he'd actively wished to be in the company of another human being for no other reason than being around them.
Somehow, it was even stronger now, with the added ability of sensing Harry's emotions and being influenced by them in return. A whole world of new emotions had opened up since resurrecting and he suspected that sharing Harry's blood was one reason why. It had affected his own abilities. Over time, he'd come to realise that the emotions he felt were not purely those anymore that he'd learned by studying. Some of them were… genuine, natural.
How to proceed was the ultimate question. The fears over Harry permanently being out of reach by being swept off his feet by another coming true after all if he waited, was unacceptable. Voldemort knew now what he wanted, and he should not be denied. Yet, even his own sense of feeble morality that remained was protesting against it. Regulus had already been young, but at least his former lover had been an adult. It was an uncomfortable thought that he could be attracted to someone who was even younger. He had very few issues with most things other people reviled: murder, torture, theft… but this? Then again, it was not necessarily physical attraction he felt. It was far more on a magical and ethereal level. He wished to share magic, to converse, to challenge and teach the stubborn Gryffindor. Admittedly, the few times he had held Harry felt delightful, but that was merely an additional pleasantry to something deeper.
In the past, the finer details of developing relationships had always escaped him. Neither care nor any other emotion most connected to being with someone had been within his range of abilities. Physical stimulation had been the only logical way to bind people to him whom he wanted something from. He hadn't bothered with social rituals, especially as he'd usually gone for outcasts. It had not been necessary. Even after he had expanded his range of emotions artificially, the most effort he'd put in had been with Regulus, organising one-on-one talks over dinners. Voldemort still wasn't sure if it had been picked up, Regulus had been just as dense as Harry was when it came to this. In the end, he'd simply dragged the other into his bedchambers, which had worked out splendidly. That was not a possibility now.
Instead, he'd have to find a way to draw the teen's attention away from all other possible suitors, while still keeping him at bay long enough. The only solution he could think of was attempting to take up Harry's time as much as possible, be it through visits or dreams. It was of course made easier by that Harry clearly had much going on at Hogwarts right now, and did also have feelings to some extent. Feelings that Voldemort couldn't quite figure out just yet, but it did lean towards the romantic side. It wasn't quite what he was used to, the boy always seemed to infuriate him with hot-headed, rash actions instead of showing utter devotion and worship. That was not to say he found it undesirable, instead it made things more interesting.
Annoyingly, he could not ask other people for advice. The only ones he would have trusted with that were Bellatrix and Barty. The Lestranges were still in prison, and Barty was clearly biased, trying to shield Harry from him. It was ridiculous, but Harry trusted Barty all the more for it, so he let it be. Voldemort had initially wanted to cast Legilimency on his follower to see the conversation the blond had had with Harry before his own arrival, then thought better of it. One reason why Barty was so open was because he too, trusted to not being taken advantage of. There were few people in this world that Voldemort respected, his young Death Eater being one of those.
He took the locket in his hands and debated over whether or not to forcefully call forth the piece of soul again. Although revealing its intentions, it would still have a wealth of information to share, both on the situation in Hogwarts and Harry's current abilities. Furthermore, he still had not punished it quite enough for the little rebellion it had tried to start. After a short debate with himself, Voldemort decisively started weaving spells around the Horcrux. With how much his younger self seemed to despise him, it would be best to lock it up and keep it in a safe location once more. Many other channels could provide him with information, and punishment would bring nothing but an even more resentful Horcrux in the end. All others apart from Harry were currently located in this house, he did not want to risk the possibility of the locket's ideas affecting the rest. It would be wiser to leave it at this.
~I'm hungry~ he suddenly heard, and he looked up to see a very annoyed Nagini slithering into the room. Speaking of Horcruxes… She heaved herself up and tried to look intimidating, which was very entertaining as he knew she would never even dare to bare her fangs at him.
~You ate two days ago, my dear. Are you unwell?~
~I miss the taste of meat~ she muttered.
~That is called having an appetite, not hunger. Very well, you don't get treats too often and I'm in a good mood.~ She perked up at that, eagerly waiting until he summoned a rabbit from the pen downstairs that he'd started to breed them in. It hopped across the room until his familiar showed her skills at moving with lightning-speed, swallowing the creature whole. ~I hardly think you can taste much of the meat like that,~ he commented.
Nagini eyed him lazily, her mouth stretching into a mockery of a human grin. ~Why are you in a good mood?~ she asked, ignoring his comment. He let it slide, arguing with her was hardly ever worth it. He moved away from his chair and gestured for her to follow. She did so reluctantly -eating always made her instantly lazy- but sped up as she realised they were merely changing rooms. Voldemort took his time to answer, stoking up the fireplace high and lying down on the couch in front of it. Nagini draped herself across his chest, wiggling until he would stroke the top of her head.
For a moment, he debated on how much to tell her. Well, it wasn't as if she could spill any secrets… ~I thought Evan had kissed someone, which made me angry,~ he admitted- The word 'kissed' came out very strange and long. It was only afterwards that he realised there was no word for kissing in Parseltongue and he'd literally said 'pushed his snout against another'. Nagini gave him a blank look.
~Evan… Harrison?~
~Evan, Harrison, Harry Potter… Call him what you like, he doesn't appear to mind. Either way, I just now found out that he didn't.~
~What is so bad about pushing his snout against someone? I do the same with you~ she spoke, instantly demonstrating by rubbing her face against his cheek.
Voldemort released a suffering sigh. ~Human customs dear. Snakes like being close to each other much more than humans do. They usually only embrace their direct family, very close friends and mates. Pushing faces together is reserved for mates only.~
She instantly reared her head back and gave him her best scandalous look. ~You could have told me that earlier!~
He let out a hissing chuckle. ~I abide by the rules of your kind when I am with you, my dear. The etiquette of my own often fails me. Were I to treat you like a human, I could not let you into my sleeping den anymore. Or have you on my lap.~
She hissed something unintelligible but did lie down again. ~So Harrison didn't do that with another, and you are happy because you want him to do that with you?~ she guessed.
~It's a bit more difficult. He is… basically a hatchling still. I cannot take him as my mate yet. I do not want anyone else to claim him before I do though.~
~Why would anyone else if he is still a hatchling?~
~Hatchlings do it among each other to find mates for later.~ was his curt reply. He wished he'd have found a better example, but Nagini had a difficult time understanding concepts beyond the world of her own kind.
~You want to have him as your mate then? Later?~
He pondered upon that. Harry intrigued him, and he did want to own the teen. Further than that, he hadn't thought yet. How it would develop, how long it would last… Regulus had only been with him for less than a year before the betrayal, one that he'd now found out ran even far, far deeper than initially thought. That Harry had found the locket in the Black's house could only mean that Regulus had stolen it all those years ago… Not only had his former lover ran away and vanished without an explanation, he had taken one of the most valuable treasures Voldemort possessed with him. The Dark Lord had to be prepared for Harry to turn his back also, at which point he'd be forced to dispose of the boy if his own life was put in danger.
So he answered: ~To your standards, yes. To human standards, I am still unsure. Humans often mate for life as you may recall. Or at least as long as possible.~ It was a concept he'd painstakingly had to explain to her before as she hadn't understood why he'd still been angry about Regulus leaving him after so many years. Snakes searched partners to mate with during one season a year, often even having multiple partners during that time, whom they then never saw again. Not that Nagini had had that chance. Gigantic tropical snakes were a rare sight in Britain and she'd never explicitly expressed an interest in having him bring her somewhere else for those kinds of needs. He certainly wasn't going to offer.
~He'll be glad to have someone as strong as you~ she hissed.
Strength was unlikely to be high on Harry's priority list, which he did not care to try and explain to his familiar. ~I need to find a way to keep his attention until I can allow him to be with me,~ he explained.
~Don't humans have all kinds of rituals for that? I vaguely remember things from before… before I met you, I think. They throw bright plants at each other, and food. Then move together in a mass of other people to the waves of music.~
Voldemort was surprised, both by the fact that she seemed to recall something and by how accurate it was. People did indeed have whole detailed courting rituals. Rituals that involved much more than simply inviting someone over for dinner. Flowers, chocolates, all those frivolities that he had scoffed at before. Although he doubted that he could use either to keep Harry's attention and his own imagine intact… surely there were bound to be some more fitting ideas to be learned from books about these matters. He'd already given the boy gifts before, that had to count for something. ~I'll keep that in mind,~ he answered, smiling thinly as a plan started to form.
XxX
Walking into the Great Hall, Harry was met with a sight of empty tables and a stormy sky raging overhead. A moment later, he realised that he had no recollection of what he'd been doing before arriving. His gaze was pulled towards the middle of the head table, to what was usually Dumbledore's chair. Instead of the regular sight of extravagantly coloured robes and long silver hair, he was met with something he hadn't seen in quite a long time; Voldemort, with entirely red, slitted eyes and an even more skeletal frame than usual that reminded of Thestrals. Silky robes rose and fell in the air around him like smoke. A dream, then. Although the normal reaction to a Dark Lord showing up in your dreams was probably fear, all Harry felt was immense relief, as he had missed the odd nightly visits in which everything wasn't quite real. He shouldn't have been so excited about it… The past few days, Harry had had plenty of dark thoughts regarding Voldemort, his own feelings battling with the knowledge that he couldn't allow it. Whatever happened, Harry would not end up as someone's possession.
That resolution fell apart quickly with only a single look. Voldemort had accused him of being addicted once… had he been right?
''Evan, how good of you to join me, I've been waiting for a while,'' the Dark Lord spoke, his velvety voice carrying through the empty hall. ''Come here.''
It felt as if the path stretched out before him as Harry tried to reach the other. On either side of him, plates and dishes popped into view on the tables. Singular raindrops plunged into filled goblets, making sharp tinkling sounds that rang in his ears. At long last, he stood before the raised dais upon which the head table stood, and with the Dark Lord regally looking down on him from his highchair, Harry felt infinitesimal.
''Hi,'' he managed to rasp out after shaking himself from his stupor. ''I was already wondering when we'd meet again in one of our dreams. This one is yours, right?'' he asked, looking at the table. All details were so sharp that Harry got the impression that he was looking at a hyperrealism painting. From the weave in the tablecloth to the crisp on the chicken skin, everything looked too perfect.
''Your last dream left my form rather lacking,'' Voldemort answered. Harry frowned, at long last remembering that his last one from months ago had shown the man in his Noctua disguise, perhaps since Harry had seen it shortly beforehand. It had been easier to converse with the Dark Lord when he'd looked more human, Harry admitted. Especially as in Voldemort's own dreams, the other looked even more serpentine than usual, patches of shimmering scales and all. A few of those were visible in between the slender collarbones, as the robe had a deep V-cut that was decidedly distracting. Strange that he'd once found Voldemort ugly, repulsive even. Harry could hardly pull his eyes away now to instead focus on the man's face.
''Can you taste that?'' he asked, grasping for straws to get a conversation running. The Dark Lord had started to cut a slice of meat and speared it on a fork. ''I don't think I've ever eaten anything in a dream before.''
''Senses differ for everyone. Your dreams hold barely any sound apart from our voices. As I invite you in my mind, you dream as I would.''
''True, and there is no smell in yours,'' Harry noted. As delicious as the roasted chicken on the table looked, it lacked any aroma. ''Could I…'' he awkwardly gestured to the other empty chairs, as he felt rather uncomfortable standing in front of the long table as if he'd been called up and was in trouble. Voldemort flicked his fingers and a chair moved back. Funny, how even in a place where magic itself was absent, one could still recreate the impression of it. Voldemort was most likely so used to doing everything with magic that his dream-objects instantly reacted to similar gestures. Harry wasn't sure if he could do the same. His own dreams were far more chaotic.
Somehow, he was able to walk around the table in less than two seconds, blinking in surprise as he suddenly sat down. He glanced sideways to Voldemort, who was clearly enjoying his food. Thinking 'why not', Harry loaded up a plate as well, taking a generous bite out of a Cornish pastry and being delighted as the buttery flakes of the crust melted in his mouth. It might even hold its own in a competition with Mrs Weasley's home-made bakes.
''Did you… call me for a reason?'' Harry asked nervously, never very sure what to expect out of these conversations. ''Not that I'm not glad you're here, but you usually have something in mind.''
Voldemort hummed and wiped his thin lips with a pristine white napkin. ''I have heard far too little from you these past months, and our last conversation was rather hurried. The little news from Hogwarts that trickled through since a High-Inquisitor was appointed has been disturbing. Statements of educational decrees, a teacher on probation, Dumbledore being under fire... As someone who is confronted with this daily, what are your thoughts?''
Harry's mood instantly worsened as Umbridge came up, and he clenched his hands around the cutlery. ''It's horrible, living with that woman in the castle. She tries to control all aspects of life in Hogwarts, for students and teachers alike. She wants to be the only one who has power over a mass of helpless people of whom she takes any weapon away. She teaches us theoretical defence out of a book that was surely meant for six-years-olds and brands everyone who asks questions as a troublemaker who should be punished. We're not even allowed to regularly hang out with more than a few friends after class anymore because she fears we might band together.''
''And do you? Band together?''
''Of course,'' he heatedly replied. ''You don't think I'd sit back and do nothing, do you? We've formed a secret, underground club to practise magic with around forty members, to learn everything she says we're not allowed to. Defence mostly, but also offensive magic. I even threw in a bit of heavy magic into the curriculum.'' Voldemort, who had listened with interest, frowned at the last sentence.
''When you say 'we formed'… Who is leading this?''
Harry sheepishly scratched his head. ''Err, me mostly. I mean, I teach the others. Ron and Hermione help me, as well as Cedric and a couple of the other older members. It was your Horcrux which gave me the idea in the first place, we spoke about several options on what to do about Umbridge after a plan to uncover her usage of dark magic on students failed. It suggested I either kill her, go under her radar for the rest of the school year, or start a rebellion. The first two were no options for me. We've only formed about a month ago, but it's been keeping me going. Now we all might have a chance at passing our Defence exams, because we certainly wouldn't have otherwise. We literally are not allowed to practise the spells she teaches us the theory of.''
''I can see how that is problematic. Do you have any further plans regarding this Umbridge?''
''Nothing concrete yet. We want her out of course, but at the same time have to be careful enough about it to not get the rest of the Ministry involved. We could still be expelled. For now, the knowledge of that we are doing exactly the opposite of what she wants allows me to get through her classes. Her plan of pitting the Houses against each other backfired, our group becomes tighter each time and we have members from all four Houses. We might have to get more active though. She takes more and more power away from other teachers, and while until now that wasn't the students' problem, that changed today. She has the authority now to override any other teacher's decisions regarding punishment and abuses that power immensely. She…'' Harry broke off, staring at his right hand. Right now, in this dreamworld, it looked as perfect as before Umbridge had touched it. ''She likes using bloodquills to make students write lines with,'' he said. Voldemort, who was still listening intently, did not seem fazed.
''Corporeal punishment is effective,'' he commented. ''Dumbledore is the first headmaster to have changed that.'' It sounded as if everything was said on the matter with that, to him.
''Not everything Dumbledore changed was bad then,'' Harry snapped, on which the other narrowed his eyes until only two red slits were visible. ''She is hurting us, unfairly on most occasions, for crimes such as questioning her teaching methods. Not only that, the method she picked also happens to be one that can leave permanent damage!''
''Blood quills don't leave scars,'' Voldemort dismissively spoke. ''It was originally created as a tool to easily and precisely draft up blood-contracts without having to cut one's hand open. It was only made illegal because it uses dark magic to draw blood, not because of its general function. It contains a self-healing charm that perfectly knits the skin back together after its usage, I fail to see the problem.''
Harry fell silent, frowning. ''I told you she uses these as punishment. Sure, bloodquills heal the wounds they inflicts instantly afterwards, but that only goes so far. It's not as if she makes us write ten lines and done. I'm talking about hours of carving into skin, for days on end. At one point, the healing charm can't keep up anymore and the wound goes down to the bone. Multiple students have scars from it, or open wounds.''
''If one knows the proper counter-''
''Oh yes, because obviously, everyone will?'' Harry snorted sarcastically, not caring that he was being rude.
''You have a school nurse-''
''And also our pride! You must remember how it was to be a student yourself. Did you or your house mates droop off to the hospital wing each time you were punished by teachers? Only to get another scolding from the school nurse or perhaps your Head of house? We got Murtlap tentacle juice and badly brewed healing potions to take care of it.''
''But surely, she wouldn't have dared to make you use it,'' Voldemort spoke as if that was obvious. ''Why would you care about what she does to others?''
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again a few times, trying to think of what to say. The man really sounded curious of all things, and Harry once more had to ask himself just how much out of touch Voldemort was with reality.
''Okay first of all, I care about other people… like most other people do,'' he stated. ''That is not such an abnormal thing as you seem to think. If someone hurts my friends, I'll do anything to stop that. Even if you cast that aside, why on earth do you think she wouldn't touch me?''
The Dark Lord let out a short, humourless laugh. ''You're Harry Potter, somehow the darling of the entire Wizarding World because you defeated me when you were young. You saved Hogwarts from a Basilisk, the Minister of Magic personally visited you after you blew up your aunt with accidental magic to reassure you that you were not expelled, and you became Britain's Triwizard Champion last year! The public would be in a riot if anything happened to you. All I hear every day in the office is when we can publish new 'Potter news' as people want their celebrity back.''
Harry tried not to feel hurt at the biting tone in which Voldemort said all of this, instead focusing on the topic at hand: ''Umbridge was there at the award ceremony of the Triwizard Tournament. For some reason, she absolutely despises what she calls 'crossbreeds', any creatures that partially are or look human. Merfolk, centaurs, werewolves etcetera. She insulted Fleur for having Veela heritage and I punched her in the face. Back then I didn't yet know that I would be saddled with her for an entire year. She also seems to believe most gossip magazines and assumes I stand firmly behind Dumbledore's claims about you being back. She likes order and control, so 'fear-mongering' is one of her other most hated things. Me saying that I did not claim you were back, only that a death eater had been out to get me last year, did somehow not improve her opinion of me. On top of that, the entire student body, including me, was outraged about her classes and all of the stupid rules she put up.''
''You're saying she used it on you?'' Voldemort growled, and Harry wasn't sure if he should continue speaking or not. The man had put down his food and was leaning towards Harry, body all tensed up. His left hand looked suspiciously as if it was forming into a full-fledged monstrous talon. Harry's rage for Umbridge won out over his concern about angering a Dark Lord who could plunge them all into war if he so desired. Harry found it rather ironic that someone who'd just lectured him on that he shouldn't have cared if it only affected others, was now furious on his behalf. The irony seemed to escape Voldemort.
''I've served detention with her at the start of the year for four days, after which Umbridge purposefully messed up healing my hand and left a nasty scar that troubled me after. Today my second row of detentions started for something that hadn't even involved her. I did go to the school nurse this time on request of Professor McGonagall, but Madam Pomfrey said that it's too late to do anything.'' He clenched his fist, where words now started to appear as they had when he'd had to write the lines. 'I must not tell lies' and 'I must not cause trouble' appeared and vanished again and again. ''The combination of the curse on the quill and her purposefully incorrectly healing it caused my cells to be deeply afflicted with the curse. It spread to my arm, Madam Pomfrey says I shouldn't hope for a cure. I don't know how long it'll lasts still, but I will lose my arm eventually. It feels surreal, I only got this news an hour ago before I went to bed. I haven't even told my friends yet. I… I don't really know how to process it.''
He received neither pity nor compassion, which Harry was somehow grateful for. It would already be difficult enough to tell Ron and Hermione, knowing he'd receive horrified gasps and awkward hugs from them. He truly loved his best friends, but he needed a more proactive approach to his problems. Voldemort rose abruptly, starting to pace with his hands clasped behind his back and muttering under his breath in words that Harry did not understand. ''She will die for what she did,'' the man spoke after a while. It was said with barely restrained anger. How and when are still up for debate, but I will hunt her down if I have to.'' The Dark Lord stopped his pacing and looked at Harry. ''You are not going to protest this time about my desire to murder someone?''
Harry sighed, trying to figure out how to express his thoughts best. ''Wanting someone to pay for what they've done is vastly different from wanting to murder someone for who or what they are. One is based on revenge, the other on prejudice. Personally, I don't think killing is ever good if other options are available -I didn't even kill you when I had the chance-, but I can't fault you for wanting to murder her. She's done plenty to deserve swift justice. At times, I deeply wish she were dead as well.''
''Yet you refuse to bring that about yourself.''
''If she is dead, then what? She will be gone from this earth, having learnt nothing, having realised nothing. The Ministry will send someone else to enforce their will and that's that. I want her to…to pay. To know deep down that what she's done is wrong and will bear consequences. To make her lose everything she desires to have. I want the roles to be reversed and have her feel helpless for once, stripped off all the power she greedily obtained and misused. To show her just how hated she is.''
Voldemort cocked his head slightly, studying Harry. ''I did not know you had it in you. Perhaps we are not so different as I thought.''
''No… I image we aren't,'' the teen agreed quietly. From everything he'd seen of Tom Riddle's childhood, he knew that the possibility had been there to swerve off on the same path. If Vernon and Petunia would have been even a tad worse, if Harry hadn't befriended blood-traitors and Muggleborns right off the bat, if he hadn't landed in Gryffindor… he too might have found the call of dark magic sooner and practised it without restrictions or people to show him how to do so responsibly.
''You have a Portkey to me now,'' the man said after a while. ''As soon as you can leave the castle unseen, do so. I wish to have a look at your arm personally. Few are better versed in curses than I am.''
Harry raised his eyebrows. ''I thought you said 'emergencies only'?''
''You are about to lose a limb, I do count that as an emergency,'' Voldemort dryly countered.
Harry shrugged awkwardly. ''Madam Pomfrey says that if I'm lucky, it will still hold out for years. I didn't take your warnings about the Portkey lightly and Umbridge watches everyone like a hawk. My inconvenience should not hamper your plans…''
''Evan,'' Voldemort chided, coming closer and putting a hand on top of his head. ''Do as I say. We will talk about this topic more then.''
''Alright,'' Harry agreed, a bit too quickly for his own liking. The weight of the man's hand and the way thin fingers brushed his scalp felt nice and was gone far too soon.
''Good. Are there any other developments of note in Hogwarts apart from Umbridge?''
''Not much. I haven't seen much of Dumbledore either, there haven't been any further lessons in the past weeks. There was only a single one this year, where he showed me a couple more of his own memories of you as a student. He appears to be very busy and is not in the castle most of the time.''
''That does not surprise me in the least, The Order of the Phoenix is becoming desperate as they cannot uncover my location or any activity. They've stationed people everywhere they might think I could focus on, from the Department of Mysteries to Godric's Hollow. In an attempt to be faster than me in gaining allies, they have recently been trying to rally creatures to their side, from giants to werewolves. A bit too late, I have the firm support of most magical beings and beasts because I ended the slave trade and ensured the survivors received proper care. Even those who do not believe in my ideals yet are so indebted to me now that they will not pickthe side of my enemies either. Only a few isolated ones who are not aware of what went on behind the scenes might still give Dumbledore their support.''
''You've started your next plan, right? I read a few things about hospitals in the Daily Prophet recently.''
''I did, although this will be implemented more subtly. The slave trade was mainly abroad, with only a few of our own politicians involved, so openly criticising it was easier. The conspiracy St Mungo's and other magical hospitals are involved in is endorsed by Ministries around the world, including our own. I am trying to frame it first as failures from singular hospitals before revealing that there is a larger picture to consider. The Minister of Magic does unfortunately have the power to ban the Prophet, censorship is a common practise. How was the news received at Hogwarts?''
''With everything that is going on inside of the castle, it didn't receive much attention. Much of it was also talk about finances so far, which is a bit too dry for most students to really care about, I think. It caused a small commotion among the Hufflepuffs as Cedric was quoted. He told me that he corresponded with you through writing?''
''With some of my staff, yes. I had other things on my mind personally. I am not surprised that this does not pull the younger generation so much, it is mainly meant to catch the eye of those people who are at risk themselves of being affected by bad hospital policies. Perhaps it will still take off in Hogwarts too once the information becomes bolder and I start attaching some personal stories to the articles shortly before the Yule holidays. It is important to read the mood of the public, and around Yule many people get much more sentimental and are willing to invest in charity for some reason.''
''You do not seem to care much yourself,'' Harry remarked.
''I don't, this is politics for me, nothing more. It will gain me support that I can use in the long run, right now it only means more work.''
''Surely, you must at least be somehow glad for the people whose lives will improve because of you.''
Harry received a bewildered expression, which looked rather terrifying in Voldemort's current form. ''For them? Why?''
Harry inhaled and exhaled deeply, unable to try and explain the concept of empathy to someone who would doubtlessly be repulsed at the very thought of it. ''Never mind. About portkeying to you, it will have to be at a time where Umbridge can't catch me, so probably at night. She randomly summons students to her office during the day or evening just to check what they are up to…''
''The next night where I do not have other appointments is coming Wednesday. I do think your arm should hold out four more days.''
''Perfect. I only hope I will actually remember… I always forget these dreams so easily.''
Voldemort, who had moved to sit back down in his chair and was watching the falling rain, shook his head slowly. ''You are well-versed in Occlumency now, I've heard, and even have a mindscape. The more control you have over your own mind, the easier you will find it to recall anything it registered, including these dreams.''
Harry perked up at that. His forgetfulness was one of the things he'd disliked most of all. Hearing that his efforts in Occlumency had additional benefits made the hours of practise all the more worth it.
The rain stopped abruptly and started falling into the sky, where the clouds dissolved. Harry shielded his eyes from the sudden flood of bright light, trying to blink the sunlight away.
''You're going to miss breakfast again,'' he heard, and Ron's face appeared in his vision, a halo of light enveloping his head as he stood right in front of the windows. ''I promised Hermione to not let you skip another morning.''
Groggily, Harry grasped for his glasses and pushed them on his nose. It was then that he realised he still hadn't thanked Voldemort for giving him this new pair as a birthday gift. He really should do so, it wouldn't do to come across as ungrateful or rude. The second thought he had was being annoyed for his first thought to have gone out to Voldemort once again.
''Thanks for waking me, I guess,'' he yawned, still feeling as if he was half-asleep. ''How are you feeling?''
Ron shrugged. ''Don't really want to talk about yesterday if that's alright with you.''
Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder and gave him a wry grin. ''Sure thing.'' He knew at least a bit how Ron felt, he hadn't wanted to speak to anyone either after that disastrous Quidditch match in third year when the Dementors had made him fall off his broom and lose the match to Hufflepuff. ''I did get a bit of revenge for you though,'' he couldn't help but grin. ''Hexed Parkinson.''
Ron gave him a weak smile back. ''That must have been a glorious sight. I already wondered why you didn't return until so late. Did you get in trouble with the greasy git?''
''At first I thought so, but then I got detentions with Umbridge instead,'' Harry grimaced. ''Had a talk with McGonagall after and needed to go to the hospital wing for my hand.'' The back of his hand looked rather nasty if he was honest, and Ron looked at it in shock. Harry couldn't blame him, despite the treatment of Madam Pomfrey last night, the back was swollen and red again, with knotted scar tissue on either side of a purple stripe in the middle.
''That looks more like you'll have to visit St Mungo's instead of the hospital wing,'' he said with obvious worry.
Harry reluctantly shook his head. ''Madam Pomfrey says she'll contact some Healers there, but that it is unlikely they can do something about it. The bloodquill curse got in too deep. I'll have to live with it.'' He didn't want to scare Ron with the news that he could technically lose it at one point, not with the possibility of Voldemort finding a way to counter it on Wednesday. Harry had a lot of faith in the Dark Lord's abilities, so hopefully he'd find a way even if trained Healers couldn't.
''Hey, I also have some good news,'' Ron said suddenly. ''Hagrid is back! Hermione told me that he returned last evening!''
The news instantly made Harry excited. Having non-lethal Care lessons was alright, but he'd handle firecrabs without protective gloves if it meant having Hagrid around again. ''That's fantastic!'' he exclaimed. ''It's Sunday, so how about we go visit him right after breakfast?''
To Harry's disappointment, going to Hagrid didn't work out as he'd wanted. The man wasn't at breakfast and after the three of them ploughed through two feet of snow, they arrived at an empty hut. Rumours about Umbridge having visited Hagrid on the evening of his return to interrogate him about his whereabouts made their rounds among the student body that day. Harry deep down wished he'd looked out of the window last night instead of instantly crashing into bed. Perhaps then he'd have been able to make it to Hagrid before Umbridge had. Whatever she'd said was bound to be bad. Hagrid was a Half-Giant and wasn't a very popular teacher. If Trelawney was already put on probation, it wasn't unfeasible that Hagrid would be too soon. Hermione had had the same thought, instantly starting to work on a safe lesson plan that she planned on giving to Hagrid to prevent him getting fired.
He spent all day worrying about Hagrid and Umbridge. On top of that came the hostile looks from the Slytherins who hadn't forgotten either yesterday's Quidditch match or Harry storming into the common room to hex one of their own. Just as things had started to take a turn for the better, Harry appeared to have ruined it. Even the Slytherin DA members didn't talk to him that day… he hoped he hadn't fucked it up completely, and refused to apologise for something he found entirely justified. Parkinson had had it coming.
At dinner, he finally saw Hagrid for the first time, and ran up to the man without caring for Umbridge's glares. ''Hagrid!'' he exclaimed, although his outcry was muffled by the man's heavy moleskin coat as they embraced.
''Harry! It's been far too long! How are yeh?''
''How are you is a better question,'' Harry said, raising his eyebrows when seeing Hagrid's face. One side was swollen and bruised.
''Oh, 'tis nothin','' Hagrid said nervously, eyes flicking quickly to the teacher's table. ''How about you an' the others come down for a cuppa after food?''
''Perfect,'' Harry smiled. ''I'll be sure not to eat too much in case you have rock cakes,'' he joked.
''Somethin' better!'' Hagrid beamed. ''I still have some self-made toffees lyin' around somewhere!''
Harry grinned back, knowing all of those would probably sneakily be fed to Fang under the table, who seemed to be able to consume most anything without a problem.
Maybe now Hagrid was back, things would finally start looking up.
Phew, that was a rather massive chapter once again. There's just so much going on that I can't possibly leave out X'D
Hopefully you all liked reading the dream sequence as much as I loved writing it haha. Sorry that I couldn't squeeze more diary-reading in here.
Please read and review!
xx GeMerope