Hello lovelies, thank you for all your support once again.
I got some questions regarding Harry's new arm: if it's detectable, if the bloodquill would work on it etc. I hope this chapter will clear a couple of those questions. More details regarding it will have to wait till chapter 57, sorry!

Also a major shout-out to my beta (Penname Riafya on AO3), who was a major help to me with this chapter, especially regarding analysis of the diary entries. Some of Harry's thoughts on it are hers :)

Enjoy!

Chapter fifty-six - Regulus' betrayal

When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he was on edge for days. Surely, someone would have either noticed his absence or see that there was something off about him now. The centaur arm looked and felt very human even after he shaved the off patches of hair, but Harry was hyper-aware of the difference in length and the altered nails. However, as the week went on like normal and he shared many evenings with Ron, Hermione and occasionally other members of the D.A., his fear turned out to be unjustified. No-one noticed a thing, too caught up in their own lives to take note of such a small detail, stressing out over exams and homework, family issues and detentions instead. Harry gratefully used that to get back a semblance of normalcy again, focusing on school while trying to avoid Umbridge as much as possible.

Only the nights reminded him of the secrets he carried, whenever he and Voldemort would share dreams. It wasn't as often as he would have hoped, explained by the Dark Lord's busy schedule and night shifts, but when he did reach the other, Harry made good use of it to strike up conversations about everything he could think of now that he could finally remember the encounters. Each time, Harry would be reminded of the very last time he'd seen the man in reality, waking up after a few hours of peaceful sleep. They hadn't mentioned it again, hadn't even mentioned it that very morning when the Dark Lord had unnervingly stared at him as Harry got ready before the light of day had reached them, and left for Hogwarts. He oddly didn't mind too much. It had been a moment of peace, one he simply wished to fondly remember as he went about his day without complications ruining it. Whether it had changed anything, he'd see in time… for now, there were other matters on his mind, far too many between politics, friends and Umbridge.

He learned a great deal just by talking to Voldemort, even about things he hadn't even thought of before. For example, when speaking about Umbridge's inspections and detentions, Voldemort had commented that he suspected the old gargoyle to have a time-turner.

''There is no possibility for her schedule to work otherwise,'' he'd said. ''Defence Against the Dark Arts is a mandatory subject for five years, and then she will have one OWL and one NEWT class. That is twelve classes in total, and with years varying between three to four hours of Defence a week, she has a rough schedule of 40 hours. She would not be able to inspect teachers without missing her own classes, nor have these patrols you speak of. That she spends many evenings giving detentions to singular students as well is another indication.''

Knowing this, Harry instantly informed all D.A. members that multiple versions of Umbridge might be prowling the castle. They were extra careful not to be seen together and trickled towards the Room of Requirement one by one over the span of an hour before starting an official meeting, mainly doing homework before everyone had arrived. Harry's extra 'duties' as teacher and an upped pace of trying to catch up with Runes in addition to his official schedule left him so swamped with work that he crashed in bed at the end of each day, asleep within seconds. He hadn't even found a gap of time within to continue with Animagus training. Ron and he had only spent time on it twice now, and Harry hadn't had much more success during the second try in finding out which type of bat he was, although now both of his arms transformed into wings.

It was thus that he had forgotten a bit about Regulus' last diary until one morning, where he was trying to tidy his bed a bit and found the book stuck between his headboard and the end of his mattress. He vaguely recalled that he'd hurriedly hid it under his pillow last time when Hermione had come in. It must have slipped down into the crack. There weren't many pages left at all, so as busy as he was, the Gryffindor reserved one Sunday morning in early December to finally finish the thing. He somehow felt nervous about it, having read these diaries over several months now and feeling connected to Regulus in a way - even when at times he couldn't stand reading about the Slytherin's prejudiced and extremist ideas.

Well... it was time to find out what exactly had happened in those last months.

May 21, 1979
Immortality is certainly a heavy topic, one that had weighed on my mind all week now. Tearing one's soul apart, using an object to tie oneself to the very plane of existence. It sounds like a warped fairytale… I spent all of last night discussing the topic with Voldemort, who provided me with enough details about the ritual to know that it is not a pleasant or clean process. I agree with him though: we all should try our utmost to explore our magic as far as we possibly can. Magic flows through my blood, pure and strong, I owe it to the force who granted me this privilege at birth to use it to the best of my abilities. Knowing of this possibility, I cannot see how I could refuse this humbling gift. Eternity on this earth, being able to see the span of all the centuries in which magic will bloom. For it is certain that His goals will not be reached anytime soon. They are too grand for that, and we have too much resistance from all sides from short-sighted people willingly siding with Muggles and those of low blood. A new future is ahead, and regardless of what my parents say now, they would not be able to refuse my wishes any longer once I have been granted power beyond their wildest dreams, once I will be everlasting.

May 25, 1979
Tomorrow I will meet Him again and inform Him of my decision. I do hope that he will recognise my declaration how I mean it… agreeing to share eternity is essentially declaring my willingness to marry him, isn't it? I'm so insanely nervous… Perhaps I will still ask a bit more about this concept of a Horcrux first, how he came to know of it etcetera, to calm my nerves.

Harry fiddled with the edge of the page, somehow having a bad feeling about this whole thing. It was the end of May already and Regulus was basically going to make it clear to Voldemort that he wanted to propose? At this point, Harry couldn't even fully grasp why Regulus wanted to jump into marriage. During all the dinner talks and lessons, it looked like Voldemort only ever talked about himself and his interests and did not even notice Regulus' worries and problems. Even when carefully brought up, they'd been brushed aside… Being a great lover and leader -In Regulus' eyes- did not mean that they were meant to be. It was already clear as day to Harry that these two people would not be happy in the long run, even if he hadn't known Regulus' death date before.

With a feeling of dread, he turned the page, only slightly relieved when he saw a few more entries still, less so when noticing how forceful the quill had pushed on the parchment and seeing blots of ink and long-dried water staining the otherwise so smooth surface.

May 26
I don't know how to start writing this. Everything was a lie. Everything I knew, overturned. My fingers tremble in rage, my heart beats furiously. He deceived me, deceived everyone. Purebloods rising on top? Erasing the stain Muggles left on our society? As if… how dare he, how DARE he, one stained himself by Muggle blood, speak about this! Unknowing fool that I was, I asked about the creation of his Horcrux, and was not prepared for the story I heard. A mother barely more than a squib, giving up the remainder of her magic and pawning off a treasured artefact. A father, a plain and arrogant Muggle. This is the heritage of the great Dark Lord? How can he stand there and pretend he is grander than the rest of us, chosen by Magic herself, with that kind of history? Magic would never choose a Mudblood…

''Oh Regulus,'' Harry groaned, feeling sorrowful. He'd seen this coming of course, and as much as he felt sorry for Voldemort, who clearly had started to trust and perhaps even care for his lover, it really was Voldemort's own fault as well. What had the man expected? He'd used the hatred of Purebloods against anyone who did not conform to their 'noble' standards to push his own campaign forward. Voldemort had known how deeply indoctrinated Regulus had been, born and raised into an ideology he fully embraced, one he had discussed to great length with his Lord. Voldemort might have thought it was enough that he'd been special, chosen as a Lord of magic, and that he'd left his past behind. Many Pure-bloods surely would see that differently, including a fanatic Black Heir who wished for nothing more than those of his blood to rise up in society. Regulus had devoted his life to living up to his family's traditions, to their expectations… Finding out that Voldemort himself partially descended from Muggles must have completely shattered his worldview.

It looked like that, when having to choose between leaving everything Regulus had been led to believe about the superiority of pure blood behind, and blaming Voldemort for being deceptive, Regulus clearly picked the latter. Regulus had thrown himself into this relationship because he admired Voldemort, his leader, the one chosen by magic, but never the man himself because he never got to know him, not really. He loved the symbol, the picture he had created in his head and once that picture was broken, couldn't face the truth.

One interesting thing that Harry did pick up still from the entries was the singular use of 'Horcrux'. It looked like even with Regulus, Voldemort hadn't wished to reveal his last ace, that he had multiple ones. Considering that Voldemort's very first Horcrux had been the diary, created by the death of Myrtle, Voldemort must have somehow twisted the story a bit too if he spoke instead of his parents.

May 28
It's been three days and my initial anger is over, replaced instead by dread. There are so many thoughts on my mind that I do not have the slightest clue which one I should analyse first. I know that he lied to me and the rest of our kind. That he is a hypocrite who claims to despise Mudbloods and Muggleborns despite being one himself. It raises so many questions as well. It is well-known that both magical strength and intelligence are directly linked to blood purity. So how is it possible that he is such a genius? And why is he stronger than everyone else I know, enough that even Pure-bloods shudder at the mere touch of his magic? Was the ancient line of Slytherin really so powerful that it could heal the infection of Muggle blood? Then why did he tell me that his mother, from the very same line, barely had magic at all? Nothing about this makes sense. Moreover, while all of this coming to light should have erased all of my feelings, I cry each time the thought of leaving him behind plagues me. Damn him… damn him for making me love him so.

May 29
I know only one thing for certain now. Whatever is truth or lie in his story, I need to take hold of my responsibilities. My family is what matters most, and as much as it pains me, with him I cannot continue my line. For the good of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black, I shall have to speak of this shameful secret with my parents and admit my mistake on shunning my previous engagement in favour of this... this man.

June 1
I received special permission from Headmaster Dippet to visit my family today once I told him there was an emergency. As I'd been told not to show myself, mother and father were not pleased with my sudden appearance, as expected. However, that soon changed once I told them of what I'd learned… It felt good to have their support again, even though they shocked me as well. Both of my parents apparently went to school with Voldemort, then still called Tom Riddle. Father did not have much to do with him back then as he was a few years younger, but Mother was a year older and saw the rise of how Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort at school. They'd always suspected something to be wrong with his blood, but as he was sorted into Slytherin and revealed to be the Heir of Slytherin, none could prove that he wasn't a Pure-blood. He'd claimed the name had been given to him by the people at the Muggle orphanage he had to stay at and had nothing to do with his actual parents… another lie. It was because of this that my parents never entered his ranks, not losing the suspicion over blood impurity over time as most others did.

I can finally understand their reasoning now behind their unwillingness to accept my relationship with him. I only wish they'd told me sooner, before I would be overwhelmed by it myself. I am so glad to have gotten this off my chest now and receive approval from my family once more. The only decision I still haven't made, is how to continue forwards from now on. I have his Mark on my arm still, branded into my skin, a constant reminder. Can I stay a Death Eater whilst knowing all of this? With a leader who revealed himself to be the very enemy he claims we have to fight? I will meet him again for our weekly lessons tomorrow… Not going is not an option, I cannot deny that he is still an extremely powerful wizard whom I should not cross. I will have to keep up the pretence…

Harry halted for a bit and rubbed his eyes, taking in what he had just read. What a rollercoaster of a week that must have been for the young Slytherin. Harry could understand the stings of betrayal Regulus must have felt, although he wasn't sure if he could feel sorry for the teen. Regulus had been obsessed with Voldemort, absolutely besotted, and received all the attention that he wanted. He was throwing all of that away only because Voldemort's dad had been a Muggle, despite all evidence that Voldemort was clearly a highly accomplished wizard, perhaps one of the most powerful mages to ever live. Yes, it was true that Regulus had been raised into these ideas, but that was no excuse. Sirius had been raised in the exact same environment and rejected it despite being the oldest son. Many other Pure-bloods had as well and been burned off the family tree. If he had truly wanted to, Regulus could have followed his heart once learning that there was something not adding up about the whole 'only pure blood has meaning' ideal.

June 2, 1979,
So much of my resolve crumbled the moment I laid eyes upon him again… I'm hopeless, and feel so lost. As soon as I felt his magic, I could not resist in the slightest. It's all so wrong and unfair that he was gifted with so much when clearly, he should not have been? Why can so many Pure-bloods ignore his heritage, or lack thereof? And I… I am not any better. It would be a lie to say that I did not still enjoy his kiss as much as before. My own body is a traitor to my blood.

June 8, 1979
He simply laughed when I finally asked him the burning question I have had for weeks now, why he vies for blood purity. He laughed and said 'I had thought you to be intelligent enough to figure out that the idea of blood purity is propaganda'. I… I have no words, a feel of emptiness overcame me at those words, only growing as he continued speaking, explaining how he elevated 'existing biases and prejudices' to gain a hold of the Wizarding World more easily. That he only hates Muggles and needed the support of the largest group of people who already agreed with him on that. I feel so tired. None of this was supposed to go like this.

Voldemort's lack of humanity was showing once again, Harry was disappointed to find out. He'd cared for Regulus on some level, but as a follower, someone who admired him. Someone whom Voldemort clearly found should admire him. Surely, he'd loved all the attention and devotion received during this relationship, but he never really got to know the real Regulus either. If he'd tried even at one point to understand his lover's issues instead of only thinking about himself, Voldemort would have known what he was doing to him.

June 19, 1979
I still love him with all my heart for reasons I do not understand. However, what he is doing cannot continue. We cannot be led into glory by a Mudblood, especially not one who lies about his roots. Whatever he says Magic wants, I cannot believe a word of it from someone born from and raised by Muggles. How could he ever connect to the issues of magical families? There is no future in following him, more powerful wizards or witches will come along in time. To make matters worse, there is still his immortality. A piece of magic so obscure and dark that it should only belong to true mages. And he, he shamefully used it. I will need to make him see that all of this is wrong, even if it costs me my life.

Harry shook his head at the words. ''It will,'' he whispered, wanting to scream at the long-dead-teenager. He only gave credit to Regulus for not instantly turning away completely, somehow deeply convinced that he could talk the Dark Lord into resigning or whatever he had in mind. Clearly, it would not work out.

The constant use of the word Mudblood peeved him as well. Even by the standards of most Pure-blood families, Voldemort was still a Half-blood as he at least descended from one long magical line, like Harry. Did the Blacks have different ideas about that?

June 23, 1979
That talk did not go as I wanted it to. Voldemort completely lacked any insight when I tried to suggest that he may not be suited to lead us. Of course, I did not say it so directly, but he seemed to think I was jesting and only answered with 'I will ask Magic next time I see Her'. His arrogance and flippant use of the name of Magic is so incredibly insulting… With each word of truth that leaves his lips, I grow angrier.

June 30, 1979
I said goodbye to Hogwarts today. It feels so strange to leave this place behind, where I have spent the last seven years of my life. Despite all of my troubles with Voldemort, I think my exams still went well. I'll know by the end of summer.
On another note, my parents were so disappointed when I told them I still had no idea whom I wanted to marry. I did not tell them that I am still meeting up with Voldemort each week, they'll be rightfully disappointed in me if they ever find out… I cannot seem to stay away from him. What am I even doing?

Harry couldn't even imagine going through the same, with family pressure from one side while fighting feelings oneself. Sure, his own situation wasn't easy either, but for once he was glad to not be bound to anyone by blood -a thought that sent a nagging feeling of guilt through him. He'd always longed to have parents before… Yet while alive, neither Lily nor James would ever have approved of his current feelings for the Dark lord either, be it for very different reasons. Although Harry was certain that he would have chosen love over duty, it would have been incredibly difficult to leave family behind. Even now, his relationship with Sirius had gotten far more strained, and the man didn't even know half of it…

July 11, 1979
I did not think much of it when he asked to borrow Kreacher for something that would aid with his immortality. Despite all of his flaws, I had at the very least expected him to respect a magical being tied to one of the oldest families in the country. And if not, that he would respect Kreacher because by now he should know that I am attached to my Elf. But no… Kreacher came back half-mad, crying and rambling about being left behind in a room filled with corpses. All of my love has turned to ash. He tried to sacrifice a pure magical being just to increase protection of his Horcrux, which by all rights he should not even be allowed to have. I was a fool to not stop him before.

Today, I shall officially break away from him, resign from his service, and do whatever is in my power to destroy this perversion of magic: a Mudblood Horcrux.

July 13, 1979
My letter to him is on its way, there is no turning back anymore. There had been so many things I wanted to say to him, so many thoughts to put on paper. In the end, I wrote none of it. He would not have understood, as he already did not when I tried to address it in person. Surely, I shall be branded a traitor and hunted down once my letter of resignation arrives. It does not matter, I do not expect my life to be long. Kreacher told me about a dreary, dark place with a potion that makes one see one horror after another. I am a dead man already, I won't force my Elf to drink it again. As long as I get my hands on that Horcrux, I am sure my crafty friend will find a way to destroy it for good, letting my soul pass on in peace. No matter the feelings I harboured for this man, he is not above the rest of us and should not pretend to be. Perhaps my letter really was a tad too short though… Kreacher described the locket to me, it should not be too hard to forge a fake one and put it in place of the real one, holding a last letter.

Harry turned the page, and only found aged, blank parchment. For a few moments, he only stared at it, fiddling nervously with the page. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine as he realised he'd come to the end of Regulus' life, which had been left undocumented. It wasn't too hard to deduce what had happened, as the Locket had most definitely made it to Grimmauld Place. Regulus had gone to the place where Kreacher had apparated from before, probably with help from the Elf. Either he had perished that very day, or made it back and been hunted down not long afterwards. Harry wondered what exactly Regulus had written in either of the letters left for Voldemort on that day. He likely would never find out.

Closing the book, Harry stared at the old leather cover pensively. The end of Regulus' tale had been… intense to read and once more solidified Harry's belief that holding superiority over others because of whom you were born to was idiotic and downright destructive. Regulus had hung onto every word that came from the Dark Lord's lips for most of his life, spent a few months relishing in love, and lastly died in simmering hatred as love was devoured by his conviction. All of that only for blood.

It was an immense relief to Harry that Voldemort was more open now about the fact that he'd mainly used it as a tool for propaganda to rise up at the start. Was that because of Regulus? Or only because he was not as dependent on supporters with the new tactics he employed now? Or -and Harry did not really wish to ponder on that possibility too much- Voldemort was not open about that at all, only telling Harry because he had already been aware of the man's heritage. Maybe his Death Eaters still held onto that false belief.

Whatever the case, apart from anger, Harry also felt pity for Voldemort. On one hand, he had fuelled Regulus' beliefs that would lead to this, but on the other, it wasn't as if he had created those. If Voldemort would never have tried to gather dark families to his cause by pretending that he had the exact same goals in mind as they had back then, he might never even have met Regulus like this. It was a story that had been doomed to fail from the start with toxicity from both sides. Only if the Dark Lord would have kept up the lie for the rest of their lives, it may have worked out, which also wasn't a solid foundation for a relationship.

Speaking of failures, Kreacher had not been as crafty as his master had hoped for, the Locket surviving unscathed for decades and finally finding its way back to its owner, because of Harry. In the end, the Slytherin had died for nothing but warped beliefs of family lines. The Heir had faded from this world, leaving everything to his previously banished brother, who clearly wished for the Black line to finally die out and vanish from the face of the earth entirely. No, Harry couldn't see Sirius getting children, and certainly not giving them the Black name.

How much had Voldemort known about all of this? He'd spoken of Regulus' betrayal before, mostly in a delirious state, and Harry hadn't been able to gather much more than that from either Nagini or Barty. At Samhain, when Harry had told Voldemort about finding the Locket at the Black family house, the man had looked rather… pained, as if he hadn't expected that. All of this had been in 1979, only about a year before the Dark Lord would die and spend twelve years as a spirit. Had he even checked up on wherever he'd hidden the Locket before? If Harry remembered correctly, Barty had been sent out to gather all of them the moment Voldemort had realised that the diary had not been safe enough and been destroyed… Impulsively, Harry took the two-way mirror from his nightstand drawer, closed the bed hangings and drew up a silencing ward.

''Barty!'' he whispered to the mirror, clasping it. ''Barty!''

For over a minute, nothing happened, and Harry was about to put it away with disappointment when the surface rippled and a very familiar face appeared. ''Evan? Why are you calling me? Is there an emergency?'' the other spoke with agitation in his voice. It sounded slightly metallic through the mirror, as if he was using an incredibly old phone. It was so good to see the man's face again, familiar worried eyes and scruffy beard that still wouldn't properly grow despite Barty being in his thirties. It was a shame that the Death Eater hadn't been there during Harry's last visit. Harry's face grew warm when remembering that last time they'd spoken, he had admitted his feelings for Voldemort.

''Erhm,'' he said sheepishly. ''Not an emergency really. Am I interrupting you with something?''

The other visibly relaxed. ''No, but I hadn't expected to hear from you. Our Lord said that you met him personally not too long ago.''

''Is he there?'' Harry nervously asked. Questions about Regulus were unlikely to be received well when Voldemort himself was listening in.

''No, he's at work.''

''Good, good,'' he spoke in relief, which caused Barty's eyebrows to rise. 'I mean – not that I would not want to speak to him,'' he defensively added, stumbling over his own tongue. ''It's just… I wanted to ask you something and it might be a bit… sensitive.''

''I'm listening.''

Harry chewed on his tongue for a bit, wondering how to word this. Grabbing the mirror to call Barty so suddenly did not sound like such a good idea as it had done a minute ago. Well, backing down didn't suit him either. ''At Samhain, after you left the room, I told our Lord that I found the Locket in the Black family house.'' Barty hummed, clearly having been informed about that, which he took as a sign to continue. ''I wasn't exactly specific about it, but it was in Regulus Black's room.''

''He figured that,'' Barty replied, sounding a tad sad as the crow-feet in the corners of his eyes deepened.

''It wasn't all I found there. There was also some… some writing. It implied that Regulus had plans of stealing the Horcrux and leaving a fake one in its stead, with a letter to Volde- our Lord. He clearly did not succeed in destroying the real on as intended, but since you were the one to check all of the locations to bring the vessels back, I was wondering… did you find any notes? It didn't look like our Lord was aware of whom had stolen it until I brought it back.''

Barty heaved a deep sigh and ruffled his hair nervously. ''I think he suspected already… Few knew of his method of immortality. I didn't even know until last year, only that he'd managed somehow. However, I did not want to rub salt in wounds that should better stay closed, you know? After you told me that he'd called you Regulus and asked about it, I figured that he still hadn't completely… healed. When I did find a fake locket with a note in place from Regulus, I thought it better to not inform him about that.''

''Was that really your decision to make?'' Harry asked, surprised that someone as loyal as Barty would hide such an important thing.

''Maybe not, but I thought… what's the use? Black is dead, it's best to move forwards. Getting angry at a ghost isn't worth it. Why should I add to my Lord's misery by bringing such a message? Surely, it was already enough for him to suspect who had removed that vessel…''

''I suppose you're right… and he has it back now anyways. Could I ask what the note said?''

Barty shrugged a bit uncomfortably. ''Something about knowing he'd die, planning to destroy the Horcrux and hoping that the Dark Lord would be mortal once more when finally meeting his match. I burned the thing. Our Lord has enough on his mind already.''

''Thanks, for telling me,'' Harry muttered.

''Hey, Evan?''

''Yeah?'' he answered, shifting to get a bit more comfortable, staring at the man he had come to consider as a mixture of a close friend and an older brother.

''I don't know what happened back then between them, nor do I want to find out. But I just want you to know… if you ever hurt him like that… I won't be able to forgive you.'' It sounded pained, as if Barty had to force the words out, but his hard stare was full of resolve.

Harry wished that he could instantly promise that he'd never betray the Dark Lord. With how unstable the man had proven to be though, that was a difficult promise to make. People could change, Voldemort might suddenly give into that hunger that always seemed to plague him and go onto a path where Harry could not follow anymore. ''I will stay by him through much,'' he said instead. ''That I can swear. I wish to see the goal that he has now fulfilled, and you know my current feelings towards him. I also realise that if war will break out at one point, I cannot protect everyone. That I might have to face my friends on the opposite side of a battlefield if I cannot convince them. However, anything can happen in the future. You told me about what happened last time. His plans derailed, the country was thrown into chaos and he started murdering and torturing people to keep them under control. If he is so far gone then to not back down again, if he suddenly goes crazy and decides to torture other people I care about, I won't stay passive.''

His answer did not please Barty, who frowned deeply. ''You should have more faith in him. And more loyalty.''

''He is a man, a rather troubled man at that. Not a God.''

''He is the voice and hand of a god.''

The words sounded so convinced that Harry did not wish to speak against that. Truth be told, he did not know what exactly magic was, and was not going to argue religion with a fanatic. The force that gave him his powers was closer to any descriptions of a godly being than anything else he'd encountered though, so he did lean toward the same opinion as Barty there. ''Look, I do have faith in him. I don't think anything like last time will happen. You are there now, and he allows me to talk him out of his less sane episodes too. I'm just saying, just in case… In this crazy world anything can happen.''

''That is not what you said before. Did you not claim that you'd do anything for him? That, as a wizard, it is only right to fulfill Magic's wishes?'' Barty accused. ''There should be no room for 'what if's' in there, Evan.''

''I do believe in magic's goals, the balance of all. But back then, I had not yet seen him break down the moment five muggle tourists walked up to us. In that same conversation, he claimed to have mastered his inhumanity and to stick by his own codex to not give into the need for hurting others unnecessarily, surely you can recall that too? He greatly overestimates his own abilities and is prone to lapses when it suits him. He is not perfect, Barty. He is human. As he should be. Putting him on such a pedestal is exactly what enables him.''

Barty simply shook his head. ''He is far more than human. You don't want to see that as you wish for an equal to share your feelings with. But for that, he should not be forced to step back, you need to grow. Now, I'll go and try to forget all of your doubts, so I won't have to yell at you. I wish you good luck with school.''

The mirror went blank and Harry groaned. That could have gone better.

Was it really such an offense to want to have a way out in case Voldemort went on a mindless killing spree all of a sudden? Sure, he'd come to trust the man to reign himself in, but Harry could feel the raging, murderous emotions at times and was pretty sure that he would have given in at some point when feeling the same constantly. He had made up his mind generally. It was just like with Ron and Hermione: they were his best friends and he'd never do anything to actively harm them… However, if Ron would, for example, decide one day that he had enough and slit the throats of every Hogwarts student, Harry wouldn't sit by idly and say 'oh, he's my friend so I can excuse this'. And while with Ron that was a very long stretch, it unfortunately had happened before with Voldemort already when the first war got so out of hand that people held it in memory as one of the worst tragedies that Wizarding Britain had ever seen. The man Harry had sworn loyalty to -and fallen for- wasn't the most stable individual around. He'd do everything in his power to support the man, of course, and would absolutely even stick by if things ever started going downhill again to see if he could fix it, but not everything could be predicted to be set right in the end.

It was unfortunate that out of all areas of magic, divination had to be the most unreliable one. If only he could be sure… yet he couldn't, and he refused to fault himself for making back-up plans like every other reasonable human being.

At least he'd gotten the answers he'd wanted to out of Barty, even if it hadn't been much. Harry placed the diary back under his bed first, then changed his mind and moved all of them to his trunk. He surely wouldn't be rereading them, so found it only fair to return them to Grimmauld place as soon as possible. Which wouldn't even be too far from now.

Sirius hadn't stayed in contact as much as Harry liked - although he himself was to blame too, often only replying quite late as he didn't know what to write, especially with Umbridge checking the post. They still did send occasional letters back and forth though, Harry giving Sirius brief overviews of the situation at Hogwarts and his godfather writing about his life. The topics were kept as neutral as possible and were highly coded, with 'your hawk' being used by Harry to ask after Buckbeak and 'get-togethers' referring to Order meetings. The Order may sweep Sirius being an official criminal under the rug a bit, Harry has not forgotten and neither would Umbridge have. Being linked to an escaped fugitive would be exactly the material she would dive down upon to get Harry expelled from Hogwarts. In either case, though the letters were scarce, they still did communicate and Harry was thankfully invited to Grimmauld again for the Christmas holidays.

Upon announcing that, Ron had looked rather disappointed as his family had offered to let Harry stay at the burrow as a surprise, but a promise was a promise. And Harry truly was excited to spend some alone time with Sirius again. Or as alone as it would get with Grimmauld still being used as Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Luckily, Ron had accepted it easily once Harry said they could still floo towards each other and spend some time together.

What was more unfortunate, was that Hermione's parents apparently wished to go on a skiing holiday with their daughter, throwing soot into the plans for Christmas shopping a bit. In the end, Hermione had arranged it so that she and Harry would go for a quick shopping spree on the very first day of the holidays, as the Grangers had booked their flight to the Alps only on Sunday. Harry did not really look forward to pushing through crowds of Muggles on a Saturday in London the day before Christmas Eve, with everyone doing their emergency last-minute Christmas shopping, but it was the only chance they had. Voldemort's birthday would be soon after already and Harry didn't want to go alone either.

It was an odd thought that the end of the year was approaching so fast already. Merely two more weeks of school before the holidays would arrive. This weekend was the last one that Harry expected to spend relaxing, as the week before the holidays practically all of their teachers had scheduled tests. He'd always thought that tests throughout the year were rather redundant as only the end-of-year exams really mattered in deciding who would pass the year or not, and especially more so this year as they'd get the O.W.L.s. Still, failing to study would result in house points being taken away, which would be unnecessary attention on him that he really didn't want. They were good practice for the O.W.L.s in June too, as Hermione kept telling everyone who did or did not wish to hear.

Harry sometimes had a suspicion that Hermione must somehow have gotten her hands on a time-turner again too. She seemed to race through the castle to be everywhere and do everything at once: Prefect duties -which included having to decorate the entire castle this month-, studying at the library, attending all of her classes, helping Harry with teaching the D.A., beating back her massive amount of homework and spending time knitting hats and socks for House-Elves in case any of them would wish for freedom. She'd laughed when he mentioned his suspicion and said that unfortunately, she wasn't allowed a time-turner anymore after third year. His respect for her grew by the day, no regular human could deal with all of that at the same time.

He and Ron did what they could to help her in between their own workload, mostly helping her put up decorations and getting some other D.A. members involved too. Harry even asked Dobby for help to distribute the clothing items, which the elf did enthusiastically, even as he whispered sadly that he hadn't yet been able to convince any of the other elves to actually take part in gaining freedom. Instead, the little elf wore as many of Hermione's knitted items as he could by himself, making for a comical sight.

At the moment, he was sitting on his bed, nose deep into his Herbology textbook. Professor Sprout had asked all of them to choose one plant from a list she'd given them, to analyse and show practical handling skills on for the test next week. Harry still hadn't figured out which one to choose, none of the listed plants were any he particularly liked. In combative situations he'd certainly be able to handle all of them easily, but the point of Herbology was to make the plants feel better, not burn them like weeds.

''Hey Harry!'' he heard as the door was opened.

''Hi Neville,'' he replied absentmindedly, frowning at the page he was at, which described the effects of 'Puffapods'.

''Uhm…'' the other said, clearing his throat a bit, making Harry look up in bewilderment.

Realising that Neville's greeting hadn't just been casual in passing by, he sheepishly said: ''Oh, sorry. Is there anything…''

''I wanted to ask you something about the next meeting tonight,'' the boy spoke, stumbling over the words a bit and nervously shuffling his feet. ''Or.. or are you very busy now?''

''Just looking up some plants to pick one for my Herbology project, don't worry about it,'' he answered, putting the book to the side and inviting Neville to sit down with him.

''Great,'' his friend spoke in relief. ''It's just that, I wanted to ask you if we could do a revision at one point again. You know how forgetful I am and… well. I know revisions aren't the favourite subject of most people, but I feel like my spells would slip otherwise. There's not really anyone who wants to practise separately with me in the Room of Requirement and I can't train most of these spells by myself.'' Neville had said all of it in one rush of breath and looked extremely guilty.

''That's a great idea,'' Harry spoke encouragingly. ''Were there any particular spells of our November sessions that you want to repeat?''

''The Inverted-Movement Hex was rather difficult to get down,'' Neville admitted. ''I even struggled at the end with it. I think it's incredibly useful though, to get out of a situation without actually harming anyone. Same thing with the Knee-Reversal Hex. I don't really feel ready to get started with such complicated things like elemental magic without even having immobilising hexes down. Of the fire spells that you showed us last week, we've only ever covered Incendio in class before, and I still find it very hard to control even after those hours of practice. I'm sorry, it's just… all going very fast,'' Neville finished, with a slightly desperate look on his face. ''I know we had many lessons in these two months, but we've already covered twelve spells, not even counting those of this month.''

''I could ask if anyone else wants to do some revision today,'' Harry promised. He hadn't realised that he might be going too fast. He'd learned most of these spells already for the Tournament, but of course he'd been under much more pressure then, than his students were now. Maybe he would have gone slower with a smaller group, but some of those in higher years got easily bored and started getting restless if he just let them practise the same spell all over again. With the help of two Headboys and a few Prefect who were teaching alongside him, it was easier to up the speed…''I do need to think of the group as a whole too,'' he decided. ''Those who want to stick with elemental spells can revise the fire spells of last week and the others can revise everything we practised in November, okay?''

''What if no-one wants to?'' the boy mumbled, grimacing.

''Then I'll practise it with you,'' Harry promised, making Neville smile hesitantly.

True to his word, Harry instantly announced his new plan for the evening once every member had trickled through the doors. No-one seemed to mind his compromise too much as he wasn't forcing anyone to do either, and a few of the younger students indeed did look relieved upon hearing that they could go back to practising some of the spells they'd already been taught a couple of times before instead of starting with a series of fire spells that became more complicated over time. Harry took note of that and instantly scribbled a reminder in his notebook about needing to still keep everything age-appropriate. Just because Hermione had already mastered some fifth-year spells in her first or second year did not mean that everyone could. Teaming up in groups after the holidays might be a good solution…

''Before we start, any questions still?'' he asked. Some shook their heads and already searched partners, although a few stayed behind.

''I still didn't really get the difference between the two fire spells we are at now,'' Michael spoke. ''I mean, both produce fire, right?''

Harry thought about it for a while before answering: ''While true, Incendio basically starts a medium-sized fire if pointed at something flammable and produces a medium-sized fireball when shot into the air. Inflamari on the other hand, can only be used on objects and adapts its size to the item you are trying to burn and the amount of power you feed into it. I'll put it like this: if I put together a pile of twigs and cast Incendio on it, it'll start a nice campfire. If I cast Inflamari, the one twig I am pointing at will start to burn and I'll have to hope that it jumps to the other twigs. If I need to burn the tip of a piece of rope, then Incendio is a very, very bad choice as there won't be any rope left, got it?''

''Yeah, thanks man,'' Michael said. ''What are the next steps on fire spells?''

Harry flipped through his notebook to look at everything he'd scribbled down about lessons plans. ''Fire breath, fire stream, a charm to fire-proof clothing, a flame shield and finally the lava spell Torrens Igneus. We should be able to manage all of those in January if we can meet up often enough. Most of them follow the same principle. Perhaps then we can make a start on different elements too, plus specific defensive spells against them. There's so much more to elemental magic than I ever thought once I started researching dragons and merfolk for the Tournament,'' he spoke, getting a few murmurs in agreement. Harry clapped his hands. ''Alright then, let's get started!''

Effortlessly, he fell into the role of teacher that had been appointed to him, helping people left and right, giving instructions and preventing disasters. Hermione and Cedric stood at the ready to extinguish any fires that got out of hand, such as when Padma's aim was off and her fireball shot a bit too high, the golden tinsel that Dobby had already placed all over the room in festive spirit lighting up like fireworks. Fred and George whistled simultaneously at the sight of the long string burning up and instantly put their heads together.

''No Weasley Wheezes experiments here,'' Hermione scolded them, whacking one of them with a twig of mistletoe that had fallen to the ground.

''Hermione!' one of them said, placing a hand over his heart in shock. ''We wouldn't dare to prank our friends here.''

''Or more than friends?'' the other threw in, wiggling his eyebrows at the piece of mistletoe in her hand. ''Usually you're just supposed to hold it above the head, but I admire how straightforward you are!''

''George Weasley, that was not an invitation!'' Hermione sputtered, hiding the leaves and berries behind her back. Harry found it mostly admirable that she apparently had correctly guessed whom she was speaking to. So far, only Angelina had been able to manage to keep the two apart -which was dead useful for Quidditch games-.

''Alright, get back to it guys, or I'll burn your bums off,'' Harry interjected to save Hermione from the Twins. She sent him a grateful look and joined up with Terry as he had some trouble aiming as well. Harry turned around to check on Neville and the younger students like Dennis and Astoria. Before he could reach them however, Draco blocked his path.

''Potter,'' he greeted coolly. Harry tensed up, the use of his last name was not a good sign. Truthfully, he'd avoided Draco and the other Slytherin D.A. members outside of their meetings after the whole Parkinson incident, for all their sake's. He was fully aware of how much flak Draco and the others had gotten from their housemates for not taking part in bullying Ron and not fully condemning Harry lashing back. Thankful though he was, Harry did not think it would have been appreciated if he'd made it worse by suddenly being all buddy with them… The Greengrass sisters seemed to have understood that, as well as Adrian. Daphne had told him once in private that, although she did not like the actions from the rest of her House now she'd gotten to know Ron, she thought Harry had overstepped unspoken boundaries by attacking a student in their own common room. Adrian as well had forbidden Harry from setting foot in there again and refused to give the new passwords out, but had not treated him differently. Draco however… well, Draco did not like being ignored, to put it lightly.

The Slytherin Prefect had gone out of his way to show how displeased he was with Harry – even though Harry wasn't sure which aspect the other was most angry about, him storming into the Slytherin common room, attacking Pansy or avoiding any and all Slytherins after. Maybe it was all three, he wouldn't put it past Draco to hold a grudge about everything on that list. Whatever the case, even during the D.A. meetings he deliberately had avoided speaking to Harry, going so far as to dictate messages to others and pretending Harry was air. It was annoyingly childish, even more so as Draco was supposed to be an example for the rest of his House mates as a Prefect. The Gryffindor hadn't wanted to give into the little temper tantrum, having much more important things to focus on during these meetings than one offended student. It wasn't as if Harry had ever become close friends with Draco or anything. At most, they'd had a tense alliance that depended on neither of them flying at each other's throats anymore. And Harry really got very close to doing so a few times upon realising that the other teen could still be a vicious bully – he just directed it at other people than Harry or his friends nowadays. Mostly first-years.

Harry was not Draco's personal conscience though, and while he tried to minimise the damage by talking to the boy about his behaviour or getting Adrian and other students to do so, he was ultimately not responsible for the boy's actions. It was still a shame, as it was the major factor that hindered Harry from ever seeing Draco as more than a former enemy that he still did not like being around much. After discovering a particularly nasty prank where the Slytherin had cursed some Ravenclaws who had apparently done nothing apart from not moving out of the way fast enough, Ron had asked why he wouldn't deny the prat from coming to the D.A., at which Harry had taken it into serious consideration. However, Draco didn't interrupt the lessons and Harry firmly believed that everyone who truly wanted to be taught, should be given that opportunity. Moreover, he still really did hope that at one point, the Slytherin would get over his arrogance and mellow out a bit. He'd seen enough examples now of former enemies turning out to be decent enough people. Even with Snape, he was having second thoughts about how much of his hatred against the man was still justifiable. Not giving Draco other chances would be unfair too.

Suddenly, the image came to mind of that first lesson on the Unforgivables, where Barty had cast the Imperius curse on Malfoy, who'd confessed all of his insecurities to Harry. Back then, it had looked like they might have been able to start a friendship… And then the other just had to ruin it by taunting Harry and going back to his old ways. To say the least, it was frustrating.

''Potter, stop gaping,'' Draco snapped, and Harry realised that he'd been just staring in stupid silence for a while.

''I thought I'd ignore you for once and see how you like it,'' he retorted instantly. ''Back to 'Potter', are we?''

The blond's mouth twitched into a scowl for a moment. ''You are the one who started pretending I didn't exist anymore, and that after I defended bloody weasel.''

''Yet now you're instantly back at insulting him yourself,'' Harry unhappily replied. ''You really wonder why I won't talk to you with that attitude?''

''That's not… I…'' Draco stuttered, his pale cheeks getting a pink tint. ''That was a bad start,'' he grudgingly admitted. Then, he subtly moved his head to indicate wanting to speak somewhere to the side of the room. Harry complied and sneakily drew up a silencing barrier so they would not be disturbed. As soon as he did so, the Slytherin slightly relaxed again and withdrew a small scroll of parchment from his pocket. With a frown, he said: ''During the Prefect meeting, I was given this. From the Headmaster.''

Harry recognised the scroll easily as another invitation for the 'lessons' that had been on hold for so long now. Dumbledore suddenly wishing to see him wasn't what threw him off most though. ''Why would he ask you to deliver this to me?'' he wondered aloud. ''I mean, Hermione was surely at that meeting too. And Dean…''

''I don't know,'' Draco spoke, looking uncomfortable. ''Surely it has to mean something? Do you think he knows anything of importance?''

''I can't even begin to guess…'' Harry answered with equal worry. Dumbledore asking his former school rival whom he barely spoke to, to deliver this invitation when one of Harry's friends could have, felt very off. Had Dumbledore found something out and was using this as a warning? He couldn't think of any other reasons. ''Thanks for the delivery though,'' he added.

Draco shrugged. ''It's not as if I could have kept it, surely the Headmaster would have been alerted if I hadn't handed it over to you. What is it, anyways? An invitation to receive the Order of Merlin?'' he sarcastically drawled, although Harry could hear genuine curiosity beneath the snide comment.

''He has this ridiculous idea that me talking with him about the Dark Lord's past will somehow help me defeat him,'' Harry sighed. ''Even if I'd still be out to off him, it's not teaching me anything.'' He didn't consider the lessons a complete waste of time though. Finding out more about Voldemort's past was always rather insightful. He had wondered when the next 'lesson' would take place… the last one had been when Dumbledore had arranged for Occlumency lessons with Snape. That had been months ago, the one and only time that Harry had entered Dumbledore's office this school year.

Draco tensed up and whispered: ''Does he know about this?''

''Of course. I wouldn't be so stupid as to neglect mentioning one of his worst enemies gathering information about his past. Anyways… Can I take this moment to talk to you about our issues? Because while I admit that I started with ignoring you, I in no means did that to insult you. I do appreciate you not participating in Parkinson's bullying to get Gryffindor to lose.''

''Then why be so cold afterwards?'' Draco asked, giving him a confused look that he probably would never admit to.

''I saw that the other Slytherins were already questioning you, Theodore, Daphne, Astoria and Adrian about not going along with it. One day, when you were already out of the classroom, I heard Parkinson and Bulstrode gossiping about how too many Slytherins of our year were starting to suck up to Gryffindors or some bull like that. She even suggested that you were leaving your family behind and would be found in Dumbledore's ranks in no time. I thought it better to cut off contact for a while altogether. I thought that was clear. I did the same with the rest of the Slytherin D.A. members and I'm still having normal conversations with them during meetings here.''

Draco looked rather dumbfounded. ''Here I thought that you were blaming me for the actions of the rest of my House even when I explicitly didn't do anything.''

''I don't like generalising. And I don't think that all Slytherins are evil anymore,'' Harry huffed.

''I'd still have liked to be notified.''

Deciding to be the better man, Harry sighed and spoke: ''Sorry, I guess I messed up. If you want to, I can start acting like before the whole incident again.'' Now he'd shown his reason, he didn't expect Draco to actually agree to that, but the blond surprised him.

''Please do. I've spoken in your defence several times now and would not like to be proven wrong in the eyes of my House-mates. I don't care if they think I am the one switching sides, I know they'll all be proven wrong soon.''

''Soon?'' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. ''Your statement implies that I'll be revealed as a follower of the dark soon. The Dark Lord isn't planning any grand revelations or outbreaks of war.''

Draco smiled mysteriously. ''Maybe you are not the one who knows everything, Potter. Now, it looks like your students are in need of instructing. Better not let them wait.''

As much as Harry wanted to keep questioning Draco, the other was right: many people had stopped their practise and glancing over to him, clearly waiting for new instructions. Filing this information away in his mind, Harry broke through the silencing barrier and returned to his usual position, even as a feel of worry gnawed on his mind.

Problems are finally being mended! And a few new ones coming up, maybe?
Seriously considered splitting this chapter up so it would only have been about Regulus, but then figured it might have gotten a bit TOO short.
Next up, finally another lesson with Dumbledore..

Also, I just realised that I hit a 500,000 word milestone! I never thought this story would get this long, especially not in such a relatively short time when compared to my other writing.. I took ten years for the same when writing Visitor. Crazy.. Hey, at least those who are mainly here for the slow burn get exactly what you're (not) paying for X'D For the rest of you, I'm so sorry, but at least we are getting somewhere with this complicated pairing haha.

Please Read and Review!
xx GeMerope