Wow, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of reviews on last chapter! Thank you all so, so much! (Sorry again for the cliffhanger)
I hope that everyone is safe and healthy.
Enjoy!
Chapter 59 – Glory
The past days had been absolute hell. Voldemort did not use that word lightly – a place threatened to him in his youth by the orphanage staff as a place for his wicked soul to never find rest. It brought forth a terrible fear that could only be instilled upon one in childhood. Yet it was the one word that could accurately describe the state he was in now. Nagini, his most precious companion, was gone. She had never returned from her mission, and he couldn't find her through any magical means. That could only mean two things. Either she was dead, or behind wards cast by the most powerful mages on this planet. Those on a power level that at least came near his own.
Dumbledore.
He hadn't shown up at work, not bothering to even offer an explanation, spending all time pouring over books and trying the darkest of rituals to find her. Everything failed, and with despair he concluded that he could not even connect to the piece of his own soul in her. Voldemort did not understand… he'd established a connection with his other living Horcrux, able to reach him through dreams. Was it only because of the additional rituals? That could not be…. Nagini kept his very soul, surely that tie hadn't been so severed that he would not be able to find her location!
Barty only occasionally dropped in to bring letters from staff and followers. Voldemort did not care, snarling at the Death Eater to get out. He spent every day and night restless, living off potions to keep himself awake to not lose precious time. Wherever Nagini had been brought, if she was in enemy hands, in Dumbledore's hands, her life was in danger, each day a little bit more. He couldn't lose her. And not only because of what she was. As soon as they'd met in that Albanian forest, something had clicked. Even as a mere spirit, she'd kept him company, pulled him through it as he possessed other creatures and later Quirrel. In the rare moments that he'd been able to take over full control of the former Defence Professor, he'd checked on Nagini, who'd been hiding in the Forbidden Forest. Once he'd lost that body as well and his spirit broke free, Voldemort had instantly sought out his familiar. She'd kept him sane again, and together they had waited for the perfect moment. She'd even granted him the opportunity to possess her a few times when he'd been too weak… making her the guardian of his soul as soon as he'd received a body, rudimentary as it was, had been his way of honouring her for all of her faith in him.
The Christmas edition of the Daily Prophet came and went, but he hardly glanced at the paper that he should have had a say in. He barely took notice of that Barty had taken the reins, writing letters to the staff in Noctua's name, forging the handwriting and pretending to be ill enough that only long-distance editing was possible.
Voldemort was just about to try his next attempt: calling as many spirits as he could possibly muster in the hope of any of them seeing something. There would be a harsh price to pay: pulling spirits into one's mind required sacrificing strong memories, one reason why the Oracles of old usually turned crazy. Calling them for other people was less of a problem, as he could demand the person who'd requested the connection to supply a memory. Now however... he had no idea what exactly would be pulled from his mind. However, he was willing to risk it if it would give him even the slightest edge in his quest to find Nagini. He certainly was risking much already. He'd lost his companion right before Yule and had not had the time to pay Magic proper respects during his search. He could already feel the consequences of that but didn't care enough for it at the moment.
Blue flashed brightly and Voldemort looked up in shock, instantly pointing his wand at the whirling large mass that appeared. The double vision that resulted from forcing himself to remain awake for over a week made it difficult to discern exactly what the apparition was… until it fell apart in three figures. A bleeding man, a smaller person and…
~Nagini!~ he cried out in disbelief, watching as the snake uncurled. He dove towards her, gathering her in his arms, not taking any interest in the others who had appeared as he held her tightly. She winced in a strange way, and he realised that there was more blood, coming from strange patches of scaleless skin. NO! he spit in rage, realising that she was badly hurt.
A hand grabbed his robes and a pleading tone reached his ears, but he was deaf to the exact words as he heaved Nagini up and moved her over to a more open space on the floor of the study. Only when he cast a scanning spell and concluded with a rush of relief that she was not lethally wounded, did he manage to direct his focus – with difficulty - on the person who was still pulling at his robes.
''Evan?'' he asked in confusion, recognising his other Horcrux. The only reason he did at all was because of the familiar emotions that filtered through the haze; panic and concern that weren't his own.
''Voldemort, finally,'' the boy spoke, stumbling over his words. There were tears streaming down his cheeks, a detail that he only saw now. ''Please, it's my godfather. He's dying, bleeding out!''
Disorientated, Voldemort looked over to the third person, who was clearly unconscious. ''Black?'' he asked in shock, rage rising. ''You brought Black here? Did he-'' he pointed at Nagini. ''DID HE DO THIS?'' he screamed.
''No! No! He enabled me to bring her back here!'' Voldemort stared at Harry's face, at the boy's panicked eyes and blood-stained cheeks. He wasn't being entirely truthful, Voldemort could smell that, but it was not an outright lie either. ''Please, you are the only one who could help him! The shield… it reflected… I don't know what spell hit him, but he's dying.''
Voldemort stood and shrugged the hand off. ''Good,'' he spat, venomously glaring at Black, glee rising in him. ''Black has been a thorn in my side for far too long! I need to heal Nagini.'' Brusquely, he turned back to his companion, stroking the length of her body to calm her down and determined the exact places where she needed healing most.
''What? But-'' Harry spoke in distress. ''No, I'll do anything!''
''You have promised me everything already,'' the Dark Lord replied dispassionately. ''There is nothing more you can offer me than that. Anyone else, Evan. I'd have even healed your little Mudblood friend you are so fond of. But do not ask me to save the life of Sirius Black.'' His voice trembled with pure hatred. This man he'd gladly see die.
''Why? You know what he means to me!'' the teen exclaimed in agitation.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact that Harry had just returned Nagini to him, he doubted he'd have answered when thinking straight. Now, the words flooded out of his mouth. He turned around, got to his feet and grabbed the boy's upper arms forcefully, shaking him, staring into scared, emerald eyes that were only an inch from his own. ''Because Sirius Black has taken everything from me! The one time in my life that I-'' he broke off the sentence, chest heaving rapidly. ''He ripped it away! He would have never left if not for his brother, whispering in his ear! He'd have stayed at my side instead of betraying-'' he gasped for breath, feeling his nails digging into skin even through Harry's robes. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, trying to make sense of his own consuming rage and desperation. This wasn't him, he'd been awake for so long that he was struggling for control. It didn't help that Harry's panic was palpable.
All that the teen did was release a disbelieving noise, and Voldemort's anger was added to by the teen's own. ''You think.. you think that Sirius is at fault for Regulus leaving you? That, what, that he convinced Regulus to join the Order? Are you really so delusional that you're blaming others for that?'' Harry's voice was near hysterical.
Although shocked by the fact that the teen seemed to know anything about Regulus at all, he pressed on, growing even more furious at the mere suggestion that he had had anything to do with it. ''Of course!'' he bit back. ''Why else? Nothing I said, nothing I ever did could have-''
''YOU'RE A FUCKING HALF-BLOOD!'' Harry screamed in his face. ''AND YOU FILLED HIS HEAD WITH THE SAME NONSENSE HIS FAMILY DID BEFORE DROPPING THAT BOMB ON HIM! HOW IDIOTIC CAN YOU BE? SIRIUS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!'' He released the boy, staring at Harry as if never having seen him before. No… No, that couldn't be. Regulus had understood… Voldemort stumbled back, then took a breath and tried his utmost to compose himself. Blood dripped down as he pressed sharp nails into his own palm to ground himself. How Harry knew about Regulus, he would find out later… but for that-
Voldemort stalked over to Sirius Black, the subject of years of resentment and hatred. They'd screamed at each other for so long that the gashes were already emptying out, leaving only stained flesh. Voldemort had murdered many people in his lifetime and seen even more dying around him during his studies in dark magic or on battlefields. It was too late. With a trembling hand, he reached into the man's chest and gripped the heart, a rattling, pained sound leaving bleak lips. He stared straight into fearful grey eyes as he spoke: ''Mens et animus Sīrius Ōrīōn Nigrumi. Aequilibrium.'' His anger left him in the very same moment that those steel eyes dulled.
Sirius Black was dead.
He did not feel the joy that he thought he would. Rather forcefully, he withdrew his hand, a flicker of silver shining from within the heart he'd just held.
A dull thud sounded as Harry fell to his knees next to them, blankly staring at his godfather's face and the chest cavity. ''You killed him… I brought him here to heal and you…'' he choked out.
''He was dead already,'' Voldemort spoke without a single shred of compassion. ''Those wounds were caused by a curse I have not seen before. Without time to research the counter curse, healing him would not have been a possibility.'' He glanced over tiredly at the teen, who was clutching his godfather's hand. He'd stopped crying, only shock on his face. All the weight of last week was slowly disappearing now that Voldemort had Nagini back, and the revelations before about Regulus, that he still stubbornly refused to think about, had drained him. Whatever leftover energy he had, he'd put into this last spell. ''It does not mean that he is beyond saving,'' he added. That was probably important information to get out still.
Harry snapped his head up, giving him a disbelieving look, but he offered no further information as of yet, instead saying: ''Get me one of the potions on the desk. I need to think.'' While Harry mechanically followed the order, Voldemort dragged himself over to Nagini again. He accepted the potion with trembling hands, downed the contents and waited until it replenished his energy enough to lift the fog from his brain. The instant it did, he turned his attention to Nagini. Let Black rot for a moment longer, he spitefully thought.
''What did you mean?'' Harry finally asked in distress when Voldemort had carefully cleaned the blood off his familiar and healed the worst wounds, inflicted by a variation of damaging, yet common spells.
''How did you know about Regulus?'' he demanded to know first. He'd not give the teen an inch before dragging the whole story out.
''From you,'' the boy surprisingly spoke.
''I never-''
''When I first arrived here, you were feverish,'' Harry interrupted. Voldemort bristled, no-one dared to interrupt him! He was about to say so, when Harry continued speaking in a quiet voice. ''You mistook me for him, called out to Regulus and said you were so glad that 'I' had returned to you. Nagini gave me a better understanding of who Regulus had been to you, and when I asked Barty about it, he gave me a couple more details, although not much. And then…'' The boy swallowed and hesitantly glanced over, the stench of guilt all around. ''I was exploring Grimmauld place and came upon his room. I had only wanted to see if I could find out a bit more about him. There was an entire collage dedicated to you and your deeds, and from Sirius' stories he was painted as one of the most fanatic followers you'd ever had. I couldn't understand what could have happened to make him betray you in the end, especially as he did not join Dumbledore's side either. I was looking at some interesting books in his room when I stumbled across them… diaries, from when he'd started Hogwarts to his death.''
''You dared,'' Voldemort hissed, clenching his hands. Harry looked away and shrank a bit.
''I know I shouldn't have, but I… I somehow felt…'' he sighed. ''It doesn't matter why, but I read them. Everything was so perfect until those last few months. It was a twist of the irony of life that in the end, he cared more about the values you promoted than who you were. Ironic, but not surprising. He couldn't live with the knowledge that you'd deceived him about your blood for so long, and that someone of 'lesser blood' was unrightfully trying to achieve the highest piece of magic possible: immortality. Despite everything, he vowed to make you mortal, for what he thought to be the just cause of Pureblood supremacy.'' The bitter words reached Voldemort somehow, but he could not bring himself to react to it. The careful talks they'd had, the one time Regulus had asked him if he really was fit to lead them… He'd dismissed it then, believing the boy to have been smart enough to understand what was going on behind the scenes…
He stood, looked pensively at his wand, then turned it on Harry.
''Crucio.''
For once, Voldemort did not relish in the screams nor the pain he inflicted. And yet, he did not dull the spell as he had several other times when punishing Harry for small things, nor did he end it after only a few seconds. The boy needed to understand the severity of his actions. Voldemort tried to keep a tight grip on the link they shared, but could not hide from the sharp echo of pain and despair that Harry emitted through their bond. After half a minute, Harry crumpled on the floor, panting.
''You had no right to his privacy, and certainly not to mine. Your curiosity will be the death of you one day,'' he predicted, attempting to look unaffected even though he was anything but. It wasn't only the echo of pain he'd felt, that he probably could have brushed off easily. He'd experienced far worse when putting himself through numerous rituals throughout his life. No, the hurt came from something deeper. He felt… betrayed by Harry, whom he'd started to have not insignificant feelings for. Not only had the boy exposed his past relationship, he'd somehow found a way to make all of his feelings about Regulus' previous betrayal flare up worse than before. And beyond that… Harry now knew of his failures in detail. Would that affect the teen's own imagine of him? He needed to improve the situation somehow, slip back into the familiar role of a reliable Lord in order to erase any doubts Harry might have now.
He avoided looking at the other at Harry shakily got to his feet again and glanced over at Nagini instead, who appeared to be doing much better already, not releasing pained hisses anymore. ''I will reward you still, because you brought Nagini back to me.''
''That is what you call a reward?'' Harry spoke, a tad slurred. Blood dripped from his mouth, the teen had bitten on his tongue. Now that the just punishment was over, Voldemort allowed himself to feel a twinge of worry, and carefully grasped Harry's jaw. The teen winced as the Dark Lord pointed his wand again, though did not try to crawl away. With a swift movement, the wound was healed.
''Your reward is yet to come, although you will have to work for it,'' he said. ''You said anything, yes?'' he asked, gesturing over to Sirius. Harry started shivering again when looking over to the corpse. He nodded.
''Then you will allow me to teach you Necromancy at last, without a word of protest,'' he decided. Green eyes widened and stared at him in silent accusation. ''You cannot ask me one day to teach you how to breathe magic, then reject my offer to hone your natural ability for the Arts the next. You will become a Necromancer, and that is the last say about it. That will be the price for the life of your godfather.''
''I thought a full resurrection was impossible for more than a few minutes?'' Harry asked.
''That is usually the case. It is only his body that has died, however. In the moment before it gave out, I locked his soul and mind in a state of equilibrium, inside of his heart. The slight silver glow you see there is the concentration of his soul, his magic. As both were locked in this plane before and have not dispersed into the Black Cosmos, you will only need to heal and revive his body before re-connecting the soul and mind.'' This was much better, he found. Teaching. Performing magic and show his powers. The boy naturally gravitated towards him each time he released even a small amount of the tremendous power he possessed. Yes… that would make everything alright again.
''Only,'' Harry rasped out.
''Evan,'' Voldemort sternly said. ''I am offering you an opportunity to revive a man that I deeply despise for his every action in life. Even if… even if he played no part in that betrayal, he is still an ex-Auror, a fanatic fighter for Dumbledore's cause and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Someone who would actively wish to cause my fall and with that, the fall of Magic. Someone who was born in a dark family and turned his back on my type of magic. All because you pleaded me to. Do not throw my mercy back in my face.'' The boy did not answer, staring at him with a strange mixture of resentment and gratitude. Voldemort looked away, unable to face the teen for much longer. He was doing the right thing, he told himself. One day, Harry would see that too, when he could command armies of the undead with as much as a thought.
The teen moved, kneeling down at his godfather again, hesitantly touching the body. ''This was my fault,'' he muttered. ''So I have to put it right.''
Voldemort still had a hundred questions for Harry, predominantly about Nagini and the state she had arrived in. However, they had mere hours to work with this body. Rigor Mortis could set in within three hours, after which the body would empty its fluids on his expensive carpet. Preferably within that time span, they needed to find if the curse worked after death, possibly find or devise a counter-curse, patch the damage up enough for Black not to die again instantly after being resurrected, and still do the actual resurrection itself. The faster they worked, the less trouble they'd have that could be caused by autolysis. Voldemort doubted that Harry would like to resurrect his godfather with all brain cells damaged beyond repair.
If Harry's story would displease him after, he could simply kill Black again. Besides, touching any part of a person with death magic formed a link. Although Black would not be bound in the same way as an Inferius would be, Harry would have a certain amount of control. Perhaps this whole ordeal was not so useless after all.
''Tell me what to do,'' Harry said, feeling as if he'd gotten over the initial shock.
Voldemort paused for a moment still, trying to assess any information that he could understand from their link. As usual, the boy was filled with overlapping emotions that fought to be on the forefront, and it made him feel uneasy. The Dark Lord hoped that it would pass when Harry became more concentrated on the task at hand. ''First of all, we need to ensure that there will be oxygen in his body still. The longer it is not replenished, the more damaged all of his cells will become,'' he spoke, trying to explain it in a way that someone who'd never had any training in the medical field nor performed an autopsy would understand. ''I shall first analyse the corpse itself to see if the curse that was cast on it still remains in death. Afterwards, you shall attempt to mend the lungs first and get those working again. If it is too damaged or not connected enough to the rest of the body anymore, we shall magically have to feed oxygen into multiple places, the brain especially.''
Having had at least a rudimentary understanding of healing, Harry picked up surprisingly quickly. Whatever the curse was that had lacerated Black with a thousand gashes, it was gone now, leaving only the residue of dark magic behind, which he cleansed with ease. In the meantime, the teen worked on the lungs, carefully sealing each wound with a stroke of his wand with spells that Voldemort showed him. It was a great teaching opportunity with how high the stakes were for Harry, so he pushed his student to the limit. The ghastly sight of the lungs that started pumping air again in a destroyed rib cage at first made the boy jump, but soon Harry ignored it and worked around the organs to remove splinters of bone and mend the flesh around. It was especially a challenge as they could not replenish blood in this state, which Black had lost most of. Blood-replenishing potions would have to do the trick once the rest of the body was restored fully again. Another issue was that the curse had cut so deeply into one leg that it was only hanging on by the skin and a thin strip of flesh of the calf, the bone itself entirely being sawed through.
He directed the teen on how to mend the leg while he himself inspected the work on Black's chest, correcting a few mistakes where the flesh had formed too quickly and knotted together. They worked in near silence for the rest of the hour to ensure every single wound was sealed up and left no scars. If Voldemort was honest, it could have been far more difficult, he was rather pleased at how smoothly the process had gone. Naturally, there was still the actual resurrection to worry about.
His entire stock of blood-replenishing potions disappeared down Black's throat, and Voldemort was very glad that he had a habit of always having a significant amount at hand in case he needed to torture prisoners for information and they lost too much blood. Keeping the renewed blood flowing was a far more complicated task than getting it in, as he needed to encase the entire vascular system with magic to force it through. Simply trying to pump the heart wasn't going to cut it anymore without any life in the body.
''It's working!'' Harry whispered in awe, eyes glistening again.
''Time for the next step then.''
XxX
Harry's limbs felt like lead as he dragged them through the house in search of the book on Necromancy he'd need. Everything hurt still from the Cruciatus curse cast upon him shortly before. He couldn't lie and say that he hadn't seen it coming, but it had somehow felt so much longer and intense that he'd been disorientated when the curse had been lifted. His stomach churned at only the memory of that excruciating torment. On the bright side, he cynically thought, Voldemort hadn't killed him. And Sirius apparently 'only' temporary. He'd been very hesitant to leave his godfather's body alone with Voldemort. What if the man decided to abandon this idea and concluded that Harry shouldn't be rewarded at all? He still wasn't entirely certain that his godfather would live very long even if they'd manage to drag Sirius back to the land of the living. As long as the Dark Lord wouldn't ask, Harry wouldn't tell, but at one point he'd surely have to explain the entire situation with Nagini… Plus, who knew how Sirius would react to waking up here, being subjected to Necromancy of all things. Harry knew that all of this was as unnatural as it could be… and yet, he couldn't simply give up. If Muggles could start up a heartbeat again, why shouldn't he do this with the abilities he had? Was there really so much of a difference? In the end, he was saving a life… right?
He grabbed the book he'd spent time reading before the very first necromancy rituals and leafed through it until he got to the part which showed a myriad of different diagrams. It was odd to not need much else. Most rituals used various objects, yet all there was to Necromancy was symbols, magic and blood sacrifices. Technically, there was this 'veil' thing that Harry still did not entirely understand, but Voldemort hadn't breathed a word about it yet.
''The diagram we need should be on page one-hundred and seventy-three,'' Voldemort spoke. Harry looked at it, a complicated pattern of orderly lines that formed a very angular shape of the human body. Scribbled beneath it were the sentences:
A diagram for the terrestrial body engraved in physical earth. Create negative space for the suspended Corpus with which it may become organic matter once more.
''Aren't corpses still organic too?'' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, thinking of all the packages of 'organic meat' on the supermarket shelves.
''Organic as in 'living' in this context,'' Voldemort explained, peering over the book. The teen wondered if the man could read text upside-down easily or if he'd memorised the book instead. As he was talking about Voldemort, both were a possibility. Harry was sure he himself could do neither.
''With negative space, I assume it means doing the same thing as we did in the previous two necromantic rituals? The first time you cut lines in the grass and the second time you carved it into the floor, right?''
If the situation wouldn't have been so dire and stressful, Harry might have paid more attention to the slightly proud smile that graced the Dark Lord's face. ''Exactly so. To add something, you first have to take something. When it is about life and death, that applies even more so. Simply giving a sacrifice is not enough. We take something away from this world in order to receive life, which can find its way through that lost space as easily as following a ley line. This is not so necessary when working only with the nonphysical mind or soul, which still have a will of their own and will let themselves be guided back. For life to return to the body however, it is essential.''
''Where does this life come from? Before learning about this, I always thought that it is the mind and soul that bring life to the body… The bodies of my parents too seemed to come to life the moment you put those back.''
Voldemort shook his head. ''If that was the case, Inferi could not exist. They are merely resurrected corpses without a mind or soul, oftentimes very damaged corpses to that. It is far more the other way around: without a functioning body, neither soul nor mind can remain for long as they aren't properly tied to the earth. They dissipate if not forcefully held back. The life you speak of is an energy, an essence that gathers between worlds and dimensions. It is what holds the universe together. This is why it can be accessed in the Black Cosmos. In short, we are siphoning off the gathered force of life to restore that which was lost when Black's body died.''
''Wait, so that means it might not be his life?'' Harry asked, disturbed by the explanation of there being even more forces or powers than magic that he hadn't known about. It sounded all very… abstract.
Voldemort chuckled as if he'd asked a very amusing question. ''Life is, it does not belong to anyone in particular. The way we developed, nature is tied to life and all 'life forces' have found multiple ways of gathering it, be that through binary fission or internal feeding of life. Pulling it from between worlds using magic is hardly any different than using 'natural' methods. The only disadvantage to this method is that you can only use it to pump life into a body. The actual body is not created alongside it, and neither do a soul or mind come into existence, as they are very refined forms of matter that are not necessarily 'alive' themselves.''
''Wait,'' Harry said, sure that his clueless look spoke volumes. ''To be clear, you are saying that you have the answer to the age-old question of when life begins?''
Voldemort raised one, incredulous eyebrow. ''Of course I do. As every apt Necromancer who studied the source material should. If you wish to witness the return of life however, we need to continue instead of harping on details.''
Harry winced and looked at the pale, cold face of his godfather. Even though some colour had returned due to the blood-replenishing potions, the man was still very much clearly dead, causing a flood of guilt to engulf Harry. It was still difficult to face the corpse, especially knowing that it was because of Harry that the man wasn't breathing anymore. He had provoked his godfather, who was still mentally unstable, then hadn't been able to find a way of regular healing quickly enough. Expecting Voldemort to heal one of his worst enemies obviously hadn't been a bright idea either. Harry was very aware of that the Dark Lord wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart now either, only as a way to force Harry down the path of death magic. Well, there were consequences for everything, he'd learned that lesson harshly over the course of his life.
He stared at his bloodied hands, hoping that he wouldn't turn insane from this. That Sirius would not resent him for this… Necromancers were feared and hated after all. Even the darkest of wizards oftentimes didn't dare touch the subject. On top of that all was the fact that Necromancers were actively being hunted down. One more secret to add again to his already heavy heart. But if it would bring Sirius back, it would be worth it.
''Do I carve this into the floor again?'' Harry asked, looking dubiously at the heavy wood beneath their feet. Any destructive spells he knew might not be accurate enough for precise lines…
''To avoid too much damage, I shall prepare this diagram. I shall have to teach you another time how to properly carve them, a skill which would take longer than I'd like to spend on this matter at hand. In the meantime, you will have to tie yourself to the earth. Unfortunately, the moon is in the first quarter and waxing, not an ideal night to do this. My soul in you might be enough to stabilise the three elements that make up your being, but I do not wish to take any chances of losing your mind into the void. Besides, I wish to keep a connection to you for as long as possible while you reach out to the Black Cosmos, in order to instruct you.''
Recalling what exactly the book had mentioned about ways to tie oneself, he grimaced. ''Do I need to eat dog meat?''
''Didn't I tell you to take certain aspects of this book lightly? The only canine cadaver that could help us further here would be of a Grimm. Or perhaps a Jackal, neither of which we have access to. No… In short, all dimensions are separated by walls. However, there are some dimensions, such as the Black Cosmos, that are so close to ours that it is less of a wall and more a thin piece of cloth. Because of this, that particular wall is called the Shroud or the Veil. Necromancers try to thin this shroud even further to force their way through. However, while certain energies can travel through rather easily, that is usually a one-way trip. Any Magus Mortem who steps through needs a guarantee back. Admittedly rather confusingly, protecting oneself against the consequences of stepping through the Shroud and into the Cosmos was coined 'cladding oneself in the veil'. This was afterwards shortened to the word 'veil' meaning not only the Shroud itself, but also the method of protection against being lost in the Cosmos.''
''No wonder I thought it was so incomprehensible,'' Harry muttered, glad to have that cleared up. Even after Barty's attempt of explaining the concept 'veil', he'd been left confused, as the Death Eater had only spoken of it being a piece of protective magic.
''To avoid confusion, I will refer to the barrier as 'Shroud', and the method you will use to keep your body, soul and mind linked 'Veil'.'' Harry nodded quickly in agreement, happy about anything that would keep him from possibly messing up. ''Now, there are several methods, and it is best to choose a permanent one, so you get comfortable with a specific technique. For me, I need nought but my Horcruxes. As for you…'' The man walked over to a small cabinet that Harry had always thought to be there for mere decoration. A quick scanning of the titles hadn't shown much that caught his interest. He was thus surprised when Voldemort withdrew a slim, black book and handed it to him. ''If you find anything that suits your tastes, inform me once I am done.''
Harry threw a last concerned look at his godfather as the corpse was levitated away from the bloodied spot it had been lying on all this time to make some more room. The study was cramped as it was, and he questioned the decision to not move this to a more spacious area. Nagini slithered away under the desk, staring at them all without her usually running commentary.
Upon opening the book, he recognised the fine slant instantly. One of Voldemort's own works. Like the last one he'd read, it was written in short, to the point paragraphs that read more like a summarised essay rather than an embellished novel. It was refreshing after the lyrical text written by Cadmus Peverell. He frowned as a thought flitted through his head. Peverell… he'd heard that name before…
A sharp stinging pain hit his side. ''Don't get distracted,'' the Dark Lord chided.
Harry's heart sank as he started reading, about each half of a page describing a different method, one more gruelling than the other. Splitting one's soul had been put rather at the start, on the same page as submitting oneself to funeral rites for several days. Consuming strange meat of various kinds and giving oneself tattoos were on the next. Hardly any of them did not seem to involve either time that he didn't have, or permanent changes to his person. The only feasible option he came across would be another mage casting protective spells to keep him tied. This of course brought the negative side effect of always needing that person present, and completely relying on them. Harry was about to give in and grovel to Voldemort in order to use this method, when his fingers stilled at an entry in the far back of the book called 'Hiding from the Black Cosmos'.
Instead of facing or adapting to the Black Cosmos, a handful of Necromancers have tried to find ways to hide from it entirely instead. The underlying theory of this is that the Black Cosmos cannot touch what it cannot perceive. This is based on the assumption that the forces at work in the dimension of the dead can register the Necromancer's presence and intentionally try to lure them in. While unconfirmed whether being pulled into the Cosmos without protection is due to malicious forces or simply a fact of the nature of things, there are credible accounts of Necromancers who hid their presence and returned from beyond the Shroud. Nonetheless, these are scarce, and each mage guards their secret way to such an extent that hardly any concrete information on possible methods to hide from the Cosmos is available.
According to legend, one way of hiding from death itself was the wearing of an invisibility cloak – a tale that recurs over the centuries throughout South-Asia and Europe in particular. It is unclear whether the item in question is a specific invisibility cloak such as in the fable of the Three Brothers, or if the material certain cloaks are made of is supposed to grant immunity. There may be truth to it, as more expensive Cloaks of Invisibility are manufactured from Demiguise hair as opposed to cloaks which have disillusionment spells woven into them. When this creature uses its fur to disappear from view, even magical locating spells are ineffective. Moreover, no Demiguise on record has ever been killed while invisible, leading to interesting speculations.
Harry kept his finger on the entry even as he skipped through the last few pages, where he found nothing thathe would have the power or stomach to try. Turning to Voldemort, he hesitantly spoke: ''I quite like the idea of hiding my body from the Black Cosmos… I have an invisibility cloak.''
The Dark Lord looked up, slightly disturbed. ''That is one of the few methods that I have never tested myself.''
''Part of this is about experimenting and taking risks, isn't it?'' Harry boldly replied. ''If you want me to jump into a new field of magic, I might as well try what I feel most comfortable with. You told me that is important.''
Voldemort looked at him for a few seconds, then inclined his head. ''As I assume that you do not have it with you, you can use the Portkey to go back and forth if you think that would be safe.''
Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably. They had been here for about two hours now, and he had no idea what had happened to Vance and Doge after their memory wipes. Had the stunning spells worn off by now? Were they even still in the house? What if other people had tried to visit Grimmauld place and noticed the scene of the battle and Nagini's disappearance? Not to mention the blood on the ground or Harry and Sirius' absence… He took a deep breath, calming his thoughts. No-one had planned on visiting them today, he rationalised. The Weasleys were still busy, as were most other Order members as it was in between Christmas and New Year. The meeting he had run into hadn't consisted of anyone else but the people who'd already gotten involved plus Dumbledore, who was surely doing other things as he rarely came over. Besides that, even if the Order members that Sirius had attacked in Harry's defence had managed to leave the house, they wouldn't remember much, if anything. Going back right now would be a good opportunity to clean up any evidence of the fight happening in the first place. Who knew how long they'd be gone otherwise…
With a last glance at Sirius, Harry activated his glasses again, steadying himself after landing, willing the unpleasant feeling behind his navel and the itching all over his skin to go away. It would have been much easier if Voldemort lived next door… That absurd thought made him smile even as he looked across the bloodied, empty room.
Well, first things first. With expert sneaking abilities that one could only learn as a hungry child trying not to get caught stealing from the fridge, Harry explored the house. Vance and Doge were indeed gone, something which surely would be cause for worry later, but which he could not do anything about right now. He creaked open the door to his bedroom, relieved when the portrait of Nigellus was empty. Not daring to tear his eyes away from the picture frame, the teen opened his trunk and withdrew the invisibility cloak silently, as well as another pair of clean robes as his own were soaked with blood. Even the most powerful cleaning spell in the world might have trouble getting the stains out…
Trying to hurry, Harry gathered anything else he thought he could need, packed it into a satchel and then started scrubbing the floor, alternating between Muggle methods and cleaning charms to get the floor spotless. Thankfully, the old cellar floor was made of dark grey stone, so any remaining stains blended in rather well. Lastly, Harry inspected the cage, wondering if he could somehow make it look like Nagini broke out instead of being freed. As he did not know how much exactly the others could recall about the situation they'd woken up in, he reluctantly left it as he'd found it. He tried searching the house one more time to tell Kreacher that Sirius and he were gone for a bit, but the elf wasn't anywhere to be found. Actually, Harry couldn't recall seeing the elf at all these past days. Sighing, Harry quickly fed both Hedwig and Buckbeak before activating the Portkey again.
He had to blink against the darkness once more, as Voldemort -per usual- had only created a bare minimum of light. Only when healing the corpse, the Dark Lord had cast floating balls of light so Harry could see what he was doing.
''I was starting to think you'd been captured,'' Voldemort hissed in displeasure. ''What took you so long?''
''Had to get some things,'' Harry evasively answered, holding up the satchel. ''I have no idea how long this will take still. In case you haven't noticed, my robes are soaked with blood.'' Ruby eyes pinned him down with a silent stare that told him Voldemort did not buy his excuse.
''Give me that cloak, I need to inspect the material to see if it is suitable. Unless you know what it is made of?''
Harry reluctantly shook his head. ''It's bound to be something durable,'' he provided. ''Been in my family for generations.''
Voldemort, who had taken the cloak, paused his movements and gave Harry another long look. ''Generations, you say?'' he asked in a tone which Harry couldn't really decipher. Trying to reach out through the bond to get a clearer idea, he was met with astonishment and disbelief. Was it such an uncommon thing? The silvery, almost liquid material slid silently through the Dark Lord's pale fingers as the man observed it. ''It is almost… non-existent itself,'' he muttered, then sniffed the material. ''It is not Demiguise hair either. At least, not entirely… and these spells woven through…'' After a minute or two, he withdrew and handed it back to Harry, who, despite everything, grew a bit warm at the thought of covering himself under the cloak now that Voldemort had held and sniffed it. ''I have never seen such a cloak,'' the man spoke thoughtfully. ''My theory is that this was manufactured by a Necromancer for this exact purpose.''
That news surprised Harry, who had usually just used the cloak to sneak away from other people, nothing else. ''It doesn't grant perfect invisibility though,'' he spoke doubtfully. ''Dementors can still sense me under it, as can animals who rely on smell instead of sight. And Barty could see through it somehow with Moody's magical eye.''
''If I am correct in that this Cloak of Invisibility was designed more to hide from death rather than the living, it is not surprising that it would have a few flaws like that. You may use this as your veil. If, by any chance, it goes awry, I shall concentrate on trying to resurrect you instead of Black.''
Harry was unsure whether that was honestly meant to reassure him or not. The whole reason he was doing this was to get his godfather back. Having to be saved himself instead without reaching his goal would be horrible. He didn't have much time to think about it however, as Voldemort went on to instruct him on what to do after being safely under the cloak. It seemed to involve much meditation and chanting. ''Didn't you use fire?'' Harry nervously asked, not really looking forward to that part.
''Yes, imitating the cremation of my own body is the ritualistic way in which I thin the Shroud to pass through. To use this without actually burning yourself however, you would need to completely master elemental magic first. I wish you to first try to force your way through as is by focusing on how you felt last time, while using the spell I just taught you. You seem to have an exceptional connection to the Black Cosmos already as you were dragged through with me merely by close proximity.''
It still made Harry rather uncomfortable to know that he apparently had such a close connection to the realm of the dead. Was it because of the Horcrux? Or the fact that he'd survived a Killing curse and would by all accounts have died fourteen years ago if it hadn't been for his mother's sacrifice?
Not willing to wait longer as each minute counted, Harry finally kneeled beside his godfather's head, made a thin slice across his palm with a Diffindo and placed the bloodied palm on the newly-healed corpse. Letting go of all troubles was a challenge considering everything that was on his mind right now, but he tried his best, focusing mostly on the feel of the Dark Lord's magic. It was a soothing, heavy cloud that wrapped itself around him in much the same way as the invisibility cloak he'd now draped over himself. The little remaining light in the room was extinguished, leaving Harry in pitch-black darkness. From the side, he heard Voldemort's light breathing, and with all sight cut off, the magic in the room felt much more intense than before. Bringing his other hand to his own chest, feeling the pulsing heartbeat beneath, Harry concentrated on bringing his own magic to the surface. It felt as if he got lost in time itself as he concentrated on nothing but darkness, breathing, magic and the feel of the contrast between Sirius' cold chest and his own heartbeat. ''Brandeum,'' he whispered. ''Brandeum, dona mihi initus'' He kept repeating the request to be granted entry through the Shroud, then grabbed his wand and raised it as well as he could beneath the invisibility cloak once being tuned into the feel of cold chills running across his skin.
Harry had expected having to wait, having to try over and over again before getting results. As soon as he lifted his holly wand into the air though, the sound of waves rushed into his ears, filling his head. Without being able to recall opening his eyes, Harry noticed a familiar glow. Shivering in fear and excitement, now floating in vast space, he turned to face the giant moons in the sky. It felt more real than when he'd seen it through Voldemort's eyes, not having had control over any of the man's actions. This time, he not only saw and heard the Black Cosmos, he felt it as well, an ominous something pulling at his floating body from all sides. It was as if each moon held a strong gravitational field, trying to pull him towards them.
You only have one chance, Evan he heard Voldemort say from somewhere he could not pinpoint. So they were still connected for the moment… Your first steps into the Cosmos will decide all of your future attempts. Keep a level head. You know the right decision.
Harry knew indeed what Voldemort wanted him to do. Three moons hung close to him, present and demanding his attention. Technically, he mused, he could completely screw over the Dark Lord's plans for him right this moment. He only needed to revive Sirius' body… he could succumb to the moon Ruin, which would grant him power over Corpus, then draw back enough life to fill Sirius' body with. After all, he did not need to guide the man's soul or mind back. He stared into the red moon with fascination, watching its surface move as if it were a sun rather than a moon. How could Voldemort be sure that this was not his fate? The Centaurs had spoken multiple times about Harry's fate being connected to another red object in space: Mars. He felt Ruin calling to him and subconsciously drifted closer, fascinated by the thrumming that appeared to originate from it, a thrumming that filled his entire being.
Voldemort would never forgive him, Harry realised with a shock. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away before getting too close. The man would be livid if Harry returned, having purposefully tried to become a lesser Necromancer. With difficulty, he willed his form to float through the endless space, which felt much like dreaming. There, half-hidden behind thin green ribbons of light emitted by Fear, was the moon he'd been searching for. Glory. As soon as he came closer, it also felt right, a triumphant feeling of victory filling his chest pleasantly. The small, seemingly weak moon did not look like much compared to the others, but Harry could feel its power as he approached it.
''I call upon you, Glory'' he spoke, reaching out mentally and physically. Voldemort had not prepared him for this moment, merely having said 'you will know what to do'. Infuriatingly, the man had been right as he so often was. Harry basked in the light that grew stronger and embraced him. Beams of light shot through him painfully, filling him with a strange power and knowledge that Harry knew he would no longer be able to access in the physical realm. With a wave of excruciating agony, his mind disconnected from his soul, pulled from it by the strange forces at work here. For one perfect moment after, he simply existed, holding all knowledge of life and death without the urge to do anything with that.
He cried out when he fell back into himself, holding on tightly to the strings of light so his newfound power would not leave just yet. ''Life,'' he choked, filled with a sudden fear of being flung back into the physical realm without fulfilling his actual goal. ''I call upon you, Glory, to gift me life to restore the destruction I unwittingly left in my wake,'' he pleaded. He stumbled over the words, unable to recall if this was what he'd been supposed to say or not. His hands sizzled painfully, and Harry started falling, the moons quickly becoming smaller until they were out of sight…
Harry's eyes flew open and he scrambled to his feet, panting hard. The invisibility cloak slid off, pooling at his feet. The teen looked down in astonishment at his hands, which held what looked like drops of pure light.
''Stop standing there,'' Voldemort sharply said, ''connect it to the body!''
Falling to his knees again, Harry carefully placed one of his glowing hands on Sirius' chest and one on the forehead, mentally praying that this would work and that he hadn't messed up healing the corpse previously. Sirius spasmed in much the same way as Lily and James had done when Voldemort had resurrected them. It gave him hope.
''You reached Glory, yes?'' Voldemort asked, sizzling magic revealing the agitation underneath the neutral tone of voice.
Harry nodded, still concentrating on Sirius' face. The Dark Lord knelt down at the side and placed his cold hands over Harry's. No incantation was uttered, but Harry had a hard time staying still as he was swept away once again in a delirious rush of magic that made it hard to breathe. He felt something shatter beneath his palm, then warmth spread. The corpse moved again, although this time, it was no longer a corpse.
Sirius coughed, and Voldemort rose and took a step back to allow the previously dead man to sit up. Harry could not move, simply too overwhelmed to do anything apart from staring at his godfather, who was frantically touching his own body where the wounds had been. Harry could feel rather than see the movements, as all light had vanished again as soon as the life he'd held in his hands had been transferred into Sirius.
''I... what… how…'' the man muttered. Harry couldn't help himself anymore, hugging his godfather from behind and burying his face into the man's torn and bloodied robes to let out a good cry. Completely bewildered, Sirius turned around and gathered Harry in his arms. ''James?'' he asked, sounding small. Harry raised his head and shook it, wiping away his tears with a patch of robes that wasn't entirely soaked through. He cast a quick Lumos to pierce through the darkness. ''Harry,'' the man muttered, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as the light hit Harry's face. The hug strengthened.
''As touching as this is,'' Voldemort cut in, ''I will need to run some medical checks to see if anything was damaged in the process.''
Before even finishing, Sirius was on his feet and spread his arms out to shield Harry, while at the same time trying to put as much distance between them and Voldemort. Harry placed a hand on his godfather's right arm in an attempt to calm him down. He was practically squashed against the wall now with his godfather protectively in front. ''It's okay,'' he said. ''Really.'' The man silently shook his head and did not move an inch, glaring at Voldemort, who continued speaking after a moment of silence as if nothing was wrong.
''Do you have any pains in your body? Are you feeling light-headed or dissociated?''
Harry ducked under his godfather's arm and placed himself between the two men, trying to get Sirius to focus on him. ''It's really important that we know you're doing alright,'' Harry insisted. ''I know that you might be confused right now, but I'll tell you everything once you've been checked.''
He received no answer apart from a terrified stare. Great handling, Harry thought sarcastically to himself. He'd let Sirius wake up in a room with the person present he'd spent a full life fighting, who had been a large part of the reason why the man had been put in Azkaban and who'd killed his best friend. Of course he couldn't expect Sirius to just be fine. He met wild and stormy grey eyes, much like the first time Harry had faced him in the Shrieking Shack.
''What happened to me?'' the man whispered desperately. ''It was so cold. So strange.'' He clawed at his chest, looking down in horror at the torn robes. ''My heart- it was… it was-''
The Dark Lord clearly was not impressed by the stuttering and hissed impatiently. ''Your status, Black. Headaches? Joint pain? I wish to get this over with as soon as possible as well, I can assure you.''
But Sirius either did not want to or couldn't reply. There was nothing left of the confident Auror he once must have been. His knees were trembling so much that Harry feared they would give out, and he quickly summoned the only chair in the room with a flick of his wand so the traumatised man could sit down. Even though he was still as far away from Voldemort as possible, he clearly couldn't tear his eyes away and kept flexing his fingers as if to grab a wand that wasn't there. Harry wasn't entirely sure what had happened to it, presumably Voldemort had removed it for safety measures.
''Maybe he'll talk if it's just us?'' Harry suggested.
The Dark Lord hissed in displeasure. ''If you think that I will let the both of you alone, you are gravely mistaken. I aided you in bringing him back before getting answers out of practicality. Before you tell me every little detail about what brought him and Nagini here in this state, I shall not leave this room.'' Having heard her name, Nagini finally came slithering out from under the desk again and curled herself around Voldemort's feet. Sirius released a strangled sound as the light of Harry's wand reflected on her scales.
''Can we at least make it a bit more… hospitable here?'' the teen now pleaded. ''He's clearly in shock!''
''Black's feelings are none of my concern.''
~And mine?~ Harry hissed. Next to him, Sirius winced, and Harry reminded himself to speak as little Parsel as possible. His words received an angry glare, ruby eyes boring into his until Harry relented and looked away.
To his immense surprise, soft balls of light started glowing everywhere around the room, illuminating the space more. With a few spells that Voldemort did not even bother pulling his wand for, the mess of blood disappeared entirely, a trill of magic going around the room at the same time. ''Thank you,'' Harry muttered, feeling so very exhausted at the moment. After everything he'd been through today, from finding Nagini to watching his godfather die and then being thrown into what was basically the realm of the dead, it was the little things that counted. For all of Voldemort's faults and cranky attitude, Harry was glad that the Dark Lord was still showing he could be reasonable.
''Everything was true then…'' Sirius whispered, hugging himself while staring. Finally, he dared a quick glance at Harry instead of the Dark Lord. ''What was the price for healing me, Harry? And don't tell me there wasn't any.''
The teen looked back and forth between his godfather and Voldemort. The Dark Lord did not look willing to help Harry at the moment. Figured. Reaching out hesitantly towards Voldemort's emotions, he was only met with pride. The man seemed to be ecstatic about Harry's success even if it did not show on his face. No, he was definitely not going to present Harry with an excuse to give Sirius.
Taking a deep breath, Harry decided to own up to what he'd done. He'd wished to break it gently to his godfather that he'd been brought back from the dead, but if asked like this… The teen didn't want to let his already suspicious and terrified godfather get the idea that Harry was lying to him now. ''I did not only heal you,'' he thus stated, tensing up in preparation for the rejection he would surely face. ''We got into a fight, you thought I was a Death Eater out to attack you and you… I don't know what spell you used, but it was a lethal one. Thankfully for me, I have good protection in place that fired it back at you instead. Before you could be healed you were already gone. You died Sirius. I became a Necromancer to get you back. That was the price.''
Sirius stared at him, opened and closed his mouth a few times, then buried his head in his hands, plucking at strands of hair. ''I need a drink,'' he rasped.
''I'm not wasting my alcohol on you,'' Voldemort snapped.
Harry gave his godfather a half-shrug. ''I would ignore that and skip down to the kitchen to get you something, but then I'd have to leave you alone with him so…''
''Evan,'' Voldemort hissed, unmistakably displeased by the tone in which he'd spoken.
Tiredly, the teen turned to face the Dark Lord and stepped closer to him, ignoring Sirius' warning grunt. ''I've just travelled to the realm of the dead and back,'' Harry spoke between clenched teeth. ''I've been thrown in a lot of emotional distress today and finally managed to fix my mistake after performing magic that you know I would never have been willing to perform in any other situation. I'm sorry if I am not the perfect picture of an obedient follower right now. I do… thank you for all of your help. I know it must not have been easy, given your words before. But I-''
He was cut off as a pair of cold arms embraced him and Harry's heart sped up tenfold as he was pressed into Voldemort's chest. ~I am proud of your accomplishment,~ the Dark Lord hissed softly. ~And I can feel what you do, don't forget that this link goes both ways. Right now, however, I have too little information, and one of my worst enemies sitting in my office chair.~
~You won't like what I'm going to say,~ Harry hesitantly admitted, practically trembling with nerves. Voldemort released him and their eyes met. He wasn't the only person who was absolutely drained, Harry noticed.
''Yes, I figured that would be the case,'' the other replied with a sarcastic chuckle. ''As Black does not seem to cooperate…Petrificus Totalus.'' Sirius froze and clattered to the ground, stiff as a board, fearfully looking up as Voldemort swooped down on him and started casting what looked like healing scans. ''Start talking,'' the man ordered. ''I'll decide what to do after that.'' He cast a critical look at his 'patient', then spoke ''Exsurdo.'' It was a spell intended to deafen a person temporarily, which Harry had come across during his search for interesting study material for the D.A., yet hadn't gotten around to practising yet.
Having no other choice, Harry recounted the past days as well as he could, leaving out no more details. Voldemort had a right to know. And after everything, Harry absolutely did trust the man. He spoke of the vision he'd had, of Mr Weasley and Bill and of Dumbledore's likely conclusion about Nagini being a Horcrux. Finally, it ended with Sirius' and Harry's fight over Nagini's release. Only here did the teen try to downplay Sirius' role in keeping Nagini captive to harm her. There was no proof that Sirius himself had cast spells on her, and he said as much in hopes to ease an inkling of the Dark Lord's wrath.
Oddly enough, no wrath came. As soon as Voldemort was done checking up on Sirius, he reclaimed his chair and listened attentively to Harry's tale, leaving the other man on the floor. Harry wrestled with his wish to get Sirius to a more comfortable position and not pissing off Voldemort. When he cast a glance at the Dark Lord though, the man looked far more contemplative than angry.
''So to summarise,'' he spoke when Harry fell silent. ''Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley in self-defence and was captured by Bill Weasley, who brought her to the Order. You witnessed this event through a mental connection and informed Dumbledore. The old fool in turn found out about Nagini being a Horcrux. It made him keep Nagini alive, but harmed her in order to 'remove my magic'?''
''Basically. Oh, I forgot to mention that Dumbledore apparently told the other Order members that you might have possessed me. I'm not sure if that was only his excuse to not tell them I am a Horcrux or if he truly believes that you can control your Horcruxes through possession. In either case, he now refuses to lookme in the eye and tries to find an excuse to have Aurors accompany me whenever I go out, presumably to ensure you do not take over and cause havoc.''
''He would have found out regardless in this situation, wouldn't he have?'' Voldemort muttered quietly.
''Found out what? Who?''
''Dumbledore would have found out that Nagini is a Horcrux. Your decision to inform him about the vision did not influence her capture. Even though she has added protection - not in the least because of the piece of soul she holds – it would only have served to bring him closer to the truth if conventional methods would not have killed her. Moreover, he has had the opportunity to study the diary and knows very well of some methods that would have been lethal to her.''
''So…'' Harry said, wondering where the other was going with this. Every now and then during the conversation, he checked on Sirius' stiff form, hoping he was allowed to move his godfather soon.
''I am merely trying to sort my thoughts to see how much you have to repay me,'' Voldemort spoke. ''You paid the price for your godfather's life, I gave you your punishment for involving yourself with my past affair, and I conclude that you do not owe me for Nagini. You saving her and returning her to me make up plenty for Dumbledore finding this information a few days earlier than he otherwise would have.''
Harry perked up, having expected much worse. ''Are you saying that we're quit?''
Voldemort's ironic laugh in answer to that did not bode well. ''I recall you mentioning leaving behind a mess, with two stunned and obliviated members vanishing from the Order's Headquarters. Even if they cannot recall the fight or Nagini's escape, they woke up in a room with bloodstains on the floor and a cage that was sliced open by magic with neither Black nor you present even in the middle of the night. Your failure to mention this to me sooner so I could have disposed of them is frankly a blunder that I cannot overlook. Two enemies Evan, you knew where two of my enemies were, harmless and stunned. Now, they might have informed Dumbledore about their confused state and Nagini's escape. He might have sent people to the Order's headquarters already and found you and Black missing. I cannot exactly send Black back there either to suss them before I have drafted up a magically binding contract to ensure his silence. Which will be difficult, he is a person known for creativity and a tendency to find loopholes in any rule or law laid out. You may be able to command him to a certain degree now you have resurrected him, but before we can test the limitations of that, I cannot simply send him back home.''
''My ability to do what?'' Harry sharply asked.
''Naturally, Necromancers would not practice the Art if we could not control the resurrected in some form. Called spirits are bound to share information, Inferi are directly linked to their creator and obey every wish of their master. The extent of that control differs quite a bit across various forms of the Art and also depends on the strength of the caster. With Black, it is a tad more complicated as only his body was resurrected, with neither his mind nor soul leaving. Still, the life you brought back from the Black Cosmos went through you and is tied to your magic. That should give you a certain amount of liberty. I suspect that he will not be able to withstand direct commands, and it is questionable whether he can cause you harm anymore. For lack of a better comparison, it is similar to the magical ties with House-Elves, even if to a much lesser extent. In short, it is too unreliable a method to not also bind Black in different ways.''
''Can I get him off the floor now?'' Harry suddenly asked, still concerned about the uncomfortable position that Sirius was in.
''In a moment, I'm not done talking yet.''
Of course you aren't, Harry thought in annoyance. Usually he loved listening to Voldemort's monologues as the man's voice was so pleasant, but his patience was running thin right now.
''Side-effects of the resurrection aside, there is both the matter of what you owe me for potentially alerting the Order that something is amiss and the fact that I need to decide on what to do further. Purely by what you have told me of the current situation, it is very tempting to order you to quit Hogwarts for now so you can remain here, safely out of reach. It would get you out of Dumbledore's grasp, and your disappearance would cause a chaos that I could use. However, it has the possibility of being a backfiring wand in case Dumbledore would somehow manage to use a vanishing act on your behalf to convince Fudge or members of the Wizengamot that I truly have returned and have captured you.'' Harry released a short, relieved sigh at that. He loved the summers at Riddle House, but suddenly disappearing in the middle of a school year, worrying his friends, abandoning the D.A. and other running projects, would completely throw his own plans in disarray. ''That leaves the alternative of damage-control. Return to Headquarters with Black while I try to find out as much information as possible about how much those other members… - Vance and Doge, correct? – how much they can recall. If you are extremely lucky, Black had the sense to either modify their memories or make the Obliviate so strong that their own mind will try to combat cognitive dissonance by filling in any gaps with logical conclusions that explain the blanks away.''
''Confirmation bias,'' Harry muttered, recalling Barty's explanation. ''I thought that needs to be reinforced by spells?''
''If you obliviate someone over large periods of time, yes. With a singular event it can happen by itself. People do not deal well with suddenly having memory gaps. As they attacked Nagini late evening, they might instead convince themselves that they just stayed home and fell asleep instead of instantly carrying out Dumbledore's orders. With enough luck, their minds were still so hazy by the time they woke up that they tried to return home without recognising what was going on around them.''
''Wouldn't that solve our problems?''
''Only until Nagini's absence is discovered and they start questioning themselves. And that is only in the best-case scenario. I don't like to rely on luck, Evan, neither should you. With that, we come to your payment… you shall leave Black behind here with me and return to the Order's Headquarters. While I create a contract, you shall clean up, keep watch and try to come up with convincing excuses as to why both Nagini and Black are missing in case anyone asks. In the meantime, I shall have some people track down Vance and Doge in hopes that they were not in contact with anyone else yet…''
His tone did not encourage protesting, but Harry did it anyways. ''I didn't come here for more people to die-'' he started, then gulped as Voldemort instantly raised his wand to Harry's throat.
~They hurt Nagini,~ the man hissed. ~They are dead. You had better leave before Black will die for a second time this evening as well. I will contact you when you can collect him.~
The clear threat did not leave any room for more objections. Harry sincerely wished that he didn't need to go, he did not want to part like this, before giving Sirius any answers. Voldemort was still in a foul mood, Harry hadn't been able to calm Sirius down and he himself was feeling very shaky too. He knew how much was at stake though, and that time was running out. ''Can I come back in between?'' he asked hesitantly. ''There is still… so much that I want to talk to you about. The vision I had, the Order's reaction to me…'' he felt hopelessly lost still and he was not going to lie to himself by pretending that being sent back to face the Order's questions without even Sirius being there wasn't scary.
''During the evenings,'' Voldemort agreed. ''I will most likely sleep during the morning and early afternoon in the coming days as dawn is nearing already now. When you are certain that there will be no more guests letting themselves into the house, you can use your Portkey to come here. Should anything happen before that, contact me through the mirror, I will keep it close. If all luck is against you and Dumbledore or the rest of the Order does not believe whatever fabrication you will come up with to explain Nagini's or Black's absence in case it is discovered, Portkey straight here. I'd rather risk the chance of Dumbledore trying to uncover my presence than you being captured, brainwashed or worse. If that scenario happens, I fully expect you to stay in this house for the unforeseeable future, understand?''
Harry nodded, hoping that it wouldn't come to that, although he could not get the distrustful glances and whispers of many order members out of his head that he'd noticed after hearing about the possession theory.
A few seconds before leaving, he still dared to approach Sirius and looked at the man's scared expression. He knew that his godfather couldn't hear anything right now, but he still whispered ''I'm sorry,'' and hoped that the man would be able to lip read it. ''I'll see you soon.'' He spoke, both to Sirius and to Voldemort, before activating the Portkey again that would whisk him back to Grimmauld Place Number twelve.
Welll that could have gone worse. Also could have gone better. Congrats on those of you who figured that Harry would have to become a Necromancer.
I apparently managed to make my beta wish these two would not get together anymore because of this chapter woops. They'll definitely have to work on the manipulations / punishment / mutual respect a bit..
Next chapter involves... lots of necessary talks.
Please read and review!
xx GeMerope