In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

60. C60 - Damage Control

Hello lovelies, thank you so much again for all of your kind comments. Also a shoutout to the people who leave comments without logging in. (looking at you, FiveFatDucks :P I love to see that you are still reviewing every chapter, thanks so much.) Although I can't answer you personally, I'm always happy to read your comments!

I'm uploading this chapter a few days early as I have my final exams coming week and won't have time for it. I hope that the weekends after, I can write enough to upload the next chapter on my regular schedule. if not, I hope that this extra long chapter makes up for it!

Enjoy

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IWS chapter sixty – Damage control

Shadows crept through the old, icy house. As soon as Harry had disappeared, Voldemort clearly had not felt it necessary anymore to keep up the spell that had scattered orbs of light throughout the room. Not that it helped. Both Sirius' Animagus form and his prolonged existence in a dark Azkaban cell had greatly enhanced his nocturnal vision. For once, he cursed that ability, for it enabled him to see far more of his enemy than he had ever wished to. The strangely serpentine man hadn't left, sitting at the desk with that monstrous snake on his lap, which appeared to be fully healed now. To think that Sirius had battled all of his life against the Dark Lord, only to sit absolutely motionless in the same room… For as much as his instincts willed him to move, for the first time since breaking out of prison, Sirius Black did not know how to cope with the situation he was in.

It had perhaps been half an hour since Voldemort had released the Body-Bind curse, yet Sirius had not moved an inch after sitting up and putting as much distance between him and the other occupant of the room as possible. Each couple of seconds, his fingers would twitch in search for a wand that wasn't there anymore. The helplessness of being unable to defend himself was horrible. In his younger years, he might have simply tried to overpower Voldemort by force. However, between the fact that Sirius' body had never fully recovered from his time in prison and on the run, and that Voldemort had a twelve-foot-long venomous snake curled up around him, he doubted that would be very successful.

As he stared at the other person who occupied the room, it truly hit him. This was Lord Voldemort. The murderer of his best friends, the murderer of so many others. The man who'd steeped the country in war, torn families apart with his visions of 'greatness' and who was said to have delved deeper into the dark arts than any other before him. He certainly looked the part. It was doubtful that much of Voldemort was human still, looking like that. Oddly, Sirius was not feeling as afraid as he'd imagined when ever having to face Voldemort from this close. Unlike most people, he'd never felt the awed fright that caused most to refuse to say his name still. Sirius' parents had spoken too often in praise of this man for Sirius to feel true fear. Instead, there was a mixture of resentment, intrigue and a healthy dose of suspicion.

Not too long ago, Sirius would have not hesitated and thrown himself at the man in order to kill him, consequences be damned. But each time that he actually thought about doing so, the image of his godson came to mind, trying to reason with him. Speaking of this monster's humanity of all things… Although Sirius didn't buy into that, he could not simply ignore those words either. For Voldemort did not act as he'd imagined.

Somehow, he'd expected his enemy to be more talkative. Gloating perhaps, or asking questions again. Even torture had been on Sirius' list of possibilities. Instead, he was being completely ignored. In fact, not for a single second had Voldemort appeared anything else but mildly peeved over Sirius' presence. There had been much shouting between Harry and Voldemort upon arriving, but he'd been too preoccupied with the overwhelming pain of having been hit by a Sectumsempra to form any coherent thoughts back then, so he had no idea what that had been about.

Silence filled the room apart from sparse moments in which soft hisses were exchanged with the serpent. It put him more on edge than a direct confrontation or interrogation would have. Voldemort had started trying to ask questions right after Sirius had woken, he vaguely recalled. He'd been in too much shock to answer back then, and been cursed soon after… Had Harry tried to stop it? If only his memories weren't so hazy at the moment. It was hard to focus: the sound of hissing in combination with the darkness and the creeping cold reminded him far too much of his cell. His eyes flickered to the half-opened door. Had he seen movement there? A shadow slightly darker than the rest? Was that really hissing still or rather the rattling breath of his jailors?

He was shocked out of his thoughts as Voldemort abruptly rose, the snake sliding to the floor. ''Your godson certainly brought us both into quite a mess, did he not?'' the man spoke cynically. Sirius refused to answer, still not even quite sure what had happened. Harry had said something about Necromancy, but that was impossible. As powerful as the Dark Arts were, bringing a dead person back to the living was far too ludicrous to be true. Death was permanent. The only exceptions were abominations like Inferi… which arguably weren't alive either.

So what had happened instead then? He'd argued with Harry, and then Snivellus had entered and gotten in the way… So much agonising pain had followed, his hands sticky with his own blood. Harry had held him, tried to heal him… The demonic red eyes of Voldemort had been the last thing he'd seen before entering what he thought to be a strange state of shock. He'd floated in a grey space that had been even colder than this room was for who knew how long. Had that been a sort of coma? Was that why Harry insisted he'd died?

''Where is Snape?'' he muttered, trying to focus on something concrete. The bastard had interfered and tried to attack, hadn't he? ''Where did he go?'' Sirius finally scrambled to his feet. Better to stand instead of cowering at the feet of his enemy like some damned Slytherin.

The other scoffed. ''Yes, surely Severus would have nothing better to do than hang out at the Order's headquarters late evening in an attempt to ambush you. Physically, your condition is as good as it can be after rotting in Azkaban for thirteen years, but mentally you're not all there, are you? It was Harry you were fighting. Your mind simply showed you a different image as you couldn't handle the truth. It is a good thing that I provided your godson with the protection that saved him from your attempt to murder him.''

The scornful words cut deeper than Sirius had expected. He knew it obviously had to be a fabricated story to confuse him, never in his life would he hurt Harry. He pushed away that Harry had tried to tell him the same thing before. His godson may have been under a spell or threatened. Vehemently, he shook his head. ''You're lying. That is all you ever do. Get under people's skin, try to make them think things that aren't real-'' he was cut off as a wand was prodded in the hollow of his throat.

''The Dementors clearly got under your skin long before I did,'' Voldemort whispered dangerously. ''Let me make one thing clear, Black. The sole reason why you are alive again is your godson. And if I did not know that you will never be able to harm a single hair on his head anymore, I would kill you a second time right here and now. If you do not even have the decency to accept your own responsibility, I will force you to recognise your actions. Legilimens.''

Sirius tried to resist as soon as he saw the spell coming, jamming up his mental barriers. It was enough to keep many people out, even Severus couldn't simply access his mind without being noticed despite claiming to be a Legilimency master. It was one of the few abilities that one could train without a wand, so he'd tried to reinforce his Occlumency shields quite a bit over the years in which he'd had nothing else to do.

Voldemort tore through his thick barriers with raw force as if they were no more than paper shields. Needles were rammer into his skull as Sirius was sucked into his own mind, held in an iron grip by the red-eyed monster. ''I will make you see,'' it said.

See he did. No sooner had they entered the deepest depths of his mind, did Voldemort throw them through a door, pushing him into the memory of that night. Harry, kneeling at the cage to help the snake. Vance and Doge, getting stunned and obliviated because they were about to attack Harry. The fight that ensued… Sirius stood rooted to the spot as he watched from the side-lines. Any moment now, he thought desperately, looking at the door. Any moment now, Snivellus would appear.

''I won't let you defile James' memory!'' memory-Sirius yelled, raising a wand at Harry again.

''No, no…'' Sirius muttered, a feel of horror settling in as he took in the scene. Where was Snape?

''Sectumsempra!''

''NO!'' Sirius yelled, throwing Voldemort out of his mind, who staggered back. He could feel sweat dripping down his forehead and temples. ''Memories can be manipulated,'' he muttered in a desperate attempt to deny what he'd witnessed, burying his head in his hands again. ''I was out for hours…'' he tried to reason.

''Correction, you were dead for hours. Your mind was in stasis and inaccessible for me to change. But I see my words are wasted on you for now… Well then, I'll concentrate on actions instead. Legilimens!''

Sirius screamed out in agony as Voldemort dove back into his mind, digging invisible claws into his brain. The first time, he'd been able to surprise the other with a sudden burst in strength, but he wasn't going to win this time. Memories whirled past in no particular order: meetings, Dumbledore, Harry, cleaning up Grimmauld, taking care of Buckbeak, Dementors, Hogwarts, Regulus… It appeared as if his entire life flashed by in front of his eyes, halting at the faces of James, Remus and Lily.

He slumped to the floor when Voldemort finally let him go, having found all information he wanted. With all the hatred he could muster, Sirius spit at the oddly clawed feet. Voldemort did not acknowledge the gesture, a shadow falling over his white face as he turned away and started pacing. Only after a few tense minutes, he stopped and faced Sirius again. ''We are in quite the predicament. You wish not to betray the Order, which conflicts with your interests in keeping your godson out of trouble. Regarding Harry, we are in agreement, yet the Order of the Phoenix are enemies of mine. Tell me, Black. Which is more important to you?''

''Couldn't fish that answer out of my head?'' Sirius spoke, baring his teeth.

''I have no time for your questions,'' the Dark Lord hissed back, eyes narrowing into slits. ''The rest of the Order may consist mainly of incompetent idiots, Dumbledore is a great danger to Harry. I realise that you do not recognise my authority, but you will help me to keep your godson safe, or I'll put you under the Imperius curse for the rest of your life!''

Sirius, who had finally gotten enough feeling back in his limbs, pushed himself up from the floor and considered it. Voldemort was making no idle threat, and at the moment he had nothing to defend himself with. As much as he despised the man in front of him, he had to consider it, for Harry.

''Dumbledore will be able to recognise and counter an Imperius curse if he has even the slightest suspicion of that I am not myself,'' he warned. ''With that said, I offer the following: I'll help you for Harry sake if, and only if, you will tell me what danger Dumbledore poses to Harry.'' Voldemort was a mastermind in controlling other people and not trustworthy in the slightest, but there was something that told him that the Dark Lord really did seem to fear for Harry's safety. With Dumbledore's own theories about Harry being possessed and his opinion on dark magic and its supporters, Sirius could not entirely reject the notion that the Headmaster would never harm a hair on Harry's head. If only for his own good, he might try to limit the teen's freedom, or try to influence him with spells.

''Dumbledore wants him dead.''

Sirius blinked, for a moment unsure if he'd heard that correctly. ''Dead,'' he repeated, then scoffed and burst into laughter. ''You have to give me something more realistic than that. Kill a student? Never!''

''Not even if a single sacrifice of a teenager would lead to my demise and 'eternal peace' as he imagines it would?'' Voldemort enquired. The question hung in the air for a while as Sirius' laugh slipped from his face. Harry had admitted to being connected to Voldemort somehow… Dumbledore himself thought that the tyrant could possibly possess the boy. Harry had survived this man's killing curse and reduced him to ash, then aided in his resurrection. Of course there had to be more to it.

''It doesn't make sense,'' he countered, confused. ''If your life is dependent on Harry's, why try to kill him as a baby? Or when he was eleven?''

''I didn't know what I do now,'' the other mysteriously said. It didn't look like Sirius would get more than that. Then, he realised something.

''Dumbledore wanted to experiment on your… your pet, to see if your magic could be extracted from it…'' he whispered, more to himself than to the other. Now it was him who was pacing. ''Don't tell me that Harry… what did you do to my godson?'' he suddenly shouted, getting angry.

''Nothing intentional. At least, what Dumbledore wishes to kill him for was not intentional. After that, he participated in many a ritual that solidified the unusual connection fate bestowed upon us. The details matter not, Black. His life and sanity is in danger if Dumbledore gets enough information and the means to put his plans into actions. If you wish to protect Harry, you will need to work with me. The first part of that is to tell me some details that were difficult to distract from your chaotic brain. Starting with the wards on your family home. Dumbledore has many skills other mages are unaware of, one of which is to read the magical history of places. Most dark families of course took care of such magic being cast on their homes without permission, but I am unaware of how accurate you kept your wards.'' Although the question was reasonable, Sirius contemplated his answer. It could be a ploy to unravel the wards and attack the Headquarters from within…

Harry's safety won out in the end. ''I have been living there for quite some time now and reinforced the wards to the best of my ability, including those placed with dark magic,'' he admitted. It had been a necessary evil. As much as he despised using that kind of magic now due to his parents, it would have been impossible to tear them down and build stronger ones with light magic without risking interference. He hadn't told Dumbledore or anyone about it for that matter, pretending instead that the family wards had never waned, as a servant had still lived there. Sirius wasn't sure how many people believed it, but none had asked for clarification, so he'd left it at that. ''To protect from unwanted check-ups on dark magic from the Ministry, they naturally also put in spells as you described. Tracking the history of magic cast in my house needs my permission, and even then I could change the results.''

''I thought so, but having it confirmed is reassuring. Secondly, what kind of memory charm did you use on Vance and Doge? If they report anything back, anything unusual at all... this whole ordeal will get very thorny, very fast.''

''The usual Auror-standard memory wipe for taking in criminals,'' he unhappily commented. It was a spell he'd spent so long training to get right that a standard Obliviate was rather difficult to pull off by now. Aurors did not want their targets to recall anything, including possible rooms they might wake up in during transportation until arriving at the holding cell. Even after the stunning spell would wear off, Emmeline and Elphias would most likely be so dazed that they'd go home and not recall a thing about waking up on a bloodied floor. While that was probably good in this situation for all parties involved, he did not like admitting his ability to cast it in front of Voldemort, as it would serve as a reminder that he'd been an Auror once.

''It seems that when Harry is involved, luck does seem to be on my side,'' Voldemort spoke, lipless mouth stretching into the most awful grin that Sirius had ever seen. ''As for my last question for now, will you sign a contract of silence willingly, or do you need to be forced?''

Sirius backed away at the clear threat. ''Good luck trying to force me.''

''Stubbornness is the very core of your character, isn't it, Black?'' Voldemort softly spoke, sounding slightly disappointed. ''I hope you change your mind until I have completed writing the contract. Until then, I will need to keep you contained. There is a room on the right side near the end of the corridor. You will sleep there for now.'' Sirius did not move, bewildered by the words. Voldemort wanted him to go into another room and sleep? ''Now, Black!'' the other hissed, giving no further explanation. The door swung open completely, revealing the swallowing darkness behind it.

Taking his chance, Sirius gathered all of his remaining strength and bolted past Voldemort and out of the door. It led to a narrow corridor with more doors on each side and a staircase to the ground floor nearby. Was Voldemort really so gullible to believe that someone who'd escaped from Azkaban would just do as ordered and stay here? He had a godson in danger that he needed to look out for as soon as possible! As he didn't have a wand to use now anyways, Sirius quickly changed into a dog in order to run faster, then sprinted down the stairs.

He whined in pain mid-step before reaching even the bottom of the staircase, invisible rope choking his throat. Missing the next step, he tumbled down the remaining way, only causing it to tighten up further. While choking, he willed his limbs to move and with difficulty climbed the stairs back up again, gasping for air as the hold was released and oxygen flowed in his lungs again. Okay, bad idea. He should have thought about the other having cast more spells on him, either before waking up again or without Sirius noticing it during the time he'd been spelled deaf.

As he lay there and changed back into his human form again, the door opened and Voldemort walked past, looking down on him disdainfully.

''Come now, you did not think I would make it possible for you to get away, did you? I'd thought you slightly more intelligent than that. What would I tell Harry when he visits in the evening and I let you slip away?''

''Harry is coming over again today?'' Sirius asked hopefully despite himself. It was not deemed worthy of a response, and he shied away as Voldemort walked on and his pet snake followed, slithering past Sirius with far too little distance between them. A door on the left slammed close after Voldemort went through, and Sirius was determined to not ever enter there. The question now was what he should do. Sleeping was out, that was for certain. As if he could lay down and close his eyes while in the same house as him. His throat started hurting again and he rubbed it, grimacing. So that was how it was then? An invisible leash to steer him where he was supposed to go? Without a way to counter it and not looking forward to dying just yet, he sauntered down the corridor, going in the only room that had a bed. Right next to it was a bathroom, he saw, which was quite handy. Hopefully he'd at least be allowed to take a piss without having to hold his breath.

Disturbingly, the room looked… nice. It was clean, and the sparse furniture looked comfortable. It held a single, old window through which the light of dawn flooded. The first thing he did was approach it and take in the surroundings. There wasn't much to be seen. The house was free-standing and surrounded by a small magical garden and quite a few grassy fields beyond that. In the distance, he saw a large manor. Sirius moved the handles, getting rust on his hands. Cold wind tousled his hair as soon as the glass panes swung open, and he leaned out of the window frame. To the left, there was only an endless stretch of fields. To the right however, he could see a valley with lines of red-roofed houses. It appeared to be a rather small village. As he did not recognise it, he assumed it to be Muggle.

Tasting the fresh air was great, a whiff of salt drifting on the wind that betrayed the vicinity to the sea, even if it might be quite a way off still. He got the idea to move the only chair in the room so it would stand next to the opened window. Just as he was about to take the thing though, he faltered. What he thought to have been a pillow turned out to be a crumpled-up shirt and a pair of old jeans. Holding the shirt up, it clearly did not belong to an adult. Additionally, it was full of holes and even a few bloodstains. Sirius shuddered and flung it away, not daring to touch the chair further. Had Voldemort imprisoned Muggle children here? What had happened to them?

Now he was even more reluctant to touch anything and sat down on the floor instead, staring up at the sky, the moon still faintly visible in the rising light of the sun. It was in the first quarter, and Sirius wondered if he would get out of here in time for the next full moon to help Remus like usual. His best friend oftentimes came over to Grimmauld place to sit out the transformation with Sirius as company. Right now, Remus was probably trying to talk some sense in other estranged werewolves who didn't belong to a pack… he smiled at the thought of his friend. After everything in his life that had happened, it was a relief to have Remus back. If he made it out of this house in one piece, he'd definitely invite Moony over for dinner again.

He thought of much that morning, especially Harry. It was odd that he'd only known his godson for less than two years, not counting the time as a baby. The boy had grown on him from the moment their eyes had met in Little Whinging, and even more so when they actually got to talk. To say the least, he hadn't expected the angry outburst in summer last year where he'd finally met Harry again and had received a rant against Dumbledore. In hindsight, that should have been a major red flag already. However, he'd wanted to let his godson form own opinions about the world around him. If he'd be anything like James and Lily after all, he would make the right decisions in the end. Stray along the way, sure. Prank people and even dabble in some dark arts, okay. But at the end of the day, Sirius had been convinced that Harry would lose that streak and join his place among the Order of the Phoenix. Those hopes had been dashed with each new conversation ever since finding out that Harry actively followed Voldemort. And now, after his previous conversation with the Dark Lord about Dumbledore, he was even more unsure about whether or not Harry would ever have gotten the chance to be like his parents. Something tied Harry to Voldemort, something that others would want to kill him for…

It still hurt that Harry had so easily joined Voldemort, he was not going to lie about that. To see his godson go down the same path that his younger brother had was painful. It was Regulus all over again… A person Sirius deeply cared about eventually gaining different beliefs and pulling away from him. Leaving him as they grew closer to the source of evil. Sirius swallowed heavily, reminded of all the insane talks he'd heard in Azkaban. So many of Voldemort's followers had been there, one even more nuts than the other, even from the moment they arrived. Talks of purifying the world and the might of magic. It had boggled his mind before, that the same Harry Potter who ran head-first into danger every time someone needed saving, would ever run with this crowd. Now, he thought he started to finally get a better idea as to why. If Voldemort hadn't made this all up and truly tried to protect Harry's life for reasons unknown to Sirius, it was no wonder that Harry would rather stick with the man who tried to save his life instead of end it. He was left little choice…

Was it really too late now to extract Harry from Voldemort's influence? There had to be better options, like getting out of the country and disappearing off the radar until Harry would not be stuck in the middle between two sides who both wanted something from him. Should Sirius have interfered earlier? Would Harry have confided more in him then so he could have found a better solution? He'd covered his godson against the Order, even taught him some dark magic in the hopes of Harry growing closer to James in a way by enabling him the same experiences his father had had. Had he, Sirius Black, pushed the boy even further away by doing so? That thought was unendurable.

A flash of the memory he'd been forced to see went through his mind suddenly, and he curled up. No, what was really unforgivable was the way that he'd acted yesterday. Before, he'd denied it, tried to blame Voldemort. But now that he was alone with all the time to think and analyse his own mind, Sirius was forced to realise that it had happened. He knew that he wasn't entirely stable. He'd confused Harry more often with other people, mostly James. And it indeed would not have made any sense for Snape to suddenly show up as a Death Eater and disappear instantly after. Sirius desperately clung to the thought of that he hadn't meant to do it. But he had. For one of Dumbledore's plans, he'd attacked his godson with the intent to kill. And it was Voldemort of all people who had pushed his nose on that fact with resenting words.

A whine escaped his throat as the thought was realised in his head, silently unspoken. It was as if it had eyes that silently judged him from within his head. He'd tried to kill Harry. The boy hadn't done anything apart from being his compassionate self, not even able to see an animal hurt without a reason that he could comprehend. It hadn't mattered to Harry that it had attacked people, only that it was hurt now. In a twisted way, it painfully reminded him of James, laughing away the injuries they'd sustained from Remus' claws during bad nights. A dangerous animal…

''I'm a horrible godfather,'' he whispered to where the moon had been, which had faded completely. ''And a horrible soldier.'' His only answer was the carefree sound of whistling birds that had no idea what was going on in his head.

He couldn't be both anymore. It was an impossible road to walk, Harry on one side and his friends on the other. Sirius had to choose between one or the other to not make such fatal mistakes again. Trying to balance that fine line had almost landed Harry in an early grave. Anger rose in him against Dumbledore, although it was a careful anger as he was still reluctant to trust the word of the likes of Voldemort. If it was true, then he'd been horribly deceived all this time.

That inevitably led to more questions. Sirius knew that Voldemort's side was so very, very rotten. The Dark Lord himself had slaughtered hundreds of civilians. His rise to power had spread hatred and terror like nothing else before. Neighbours hadn't dared to speak to each other, friends had stabbed each other in the back like Wormtail had done. He did not want to return to those times. And yet, Harry had painted an entirely different picture that Sirius would have never imagined when talking about Voldemort's plans. Segregation, peace, creature rights… all of those things that he had chalked up to optimistic beliefs, now came back with seeds of doubt. If it wasn't for Harry, he wouldn't even be thinking about this. But he had to think about what was best for his godson, which included at least considering that maybe, there was something more to it. His heart dropped as he realised that he might have to step on the path he'd ran away from when leaving his parental home behind. At the moment, it looked like Voldemort was Harry's best shot of staying alive. And Harry came first.

In the midst of his whirling thoughts, Sirius ended up drifting to sleep from pure exhaustion despite his determination not to. When he at long last awoke, the sky was already dark again. Unsurprising, as it was winter, plus he hadn't been able to get more than thirty minutes of sleep yesterday before being woken up by his godson's screams. The memory made him shiver, and everything from the past day rushed back. Sirius didn't move, unable to get enough will together to do so. He was still trapped and would be until Voldemort decided what to do with him. His bladder unfortunately had different plans, and he groaned in annoyance. Resigning to it, Sirius snuck out of the room and tried to grasp in the dark for the handle of the bathroom door. After he'd done his business in the old, oddly Muggle bathroom and exited it, he saw a streak of light from under a door further down the corridor. It wasn't the study that he'd been in before, rather a room adjacent to it. His heart skipped as he heard the very familiar voice of his godson.

He snuck closer silently in order to listen in on the conversation and hoped that his currently rumbling stomach wasn't so loud that it would give him away. A third voice could be heard, one that he was unfamiliar with.

''-wasn't a problem, my Lord. We were incredibly lucky. Both simply went home, recalling hardly anything. Whatever your opinion on Black, he's excellent with memory charms, it even erased their memory of waking up and going home. They apparently also did not have specific orders to start that night, nor did they have contact with Dumbledore. The Order is incredibly unorganised.''

''Black told me much the same,'' Voldemort answered. ''We were lucky for once. Evan, no troubles on your end either?''

Sirius was a bit confused when it was Harry who spoke up, and quickly made the connection with Lily. Why was Harry using an alias? Did that third person not know who he was?

''None. I was nervous that someone would show up and thought of a hundred different excuses, but not a single member checked in. Maybe I should have expected that, it's between Christmas and New Year after all. I showed myself to Nigellus' portrait so Dumbledore would see I was home and that was pretty much it. Took care of the pets, cleaned up a bit, tried to pass the time. In case you're wondering, in the end I decided that I would simply try to pretend that I would have no idea what anyone was talking about if they found out Nagini escaped. I mean, I wasn't supposed to know that she was there in the first place. Of course, who knows what tomorrow will bring as I don't actually have a clue about the meeting schedules. If Dumbledore decides to visit personally, he might be able to see through that. Knowing that the others don't remember, I can maybe try to make the cage look like she escaped by some miraculous magic. Now, could you please tell me how Sirius is? You didn't hurt him, did you?'' The concern in Harry's voice was touching, and Sirius held his breath.

''Physically, he is fine. He should be in your room at the moment.''

Harry's room? Sirius thought. Wait, so those clothes… had Voldemort not taken some random Muggle children here then?

''Although just like you,'' Voldemort continued, ''Black seems to have a tendency to ignore orders.'' The door that Sirius had been pressing his ear towards flew open, and he fell forward, cringing as he looked up and met three stares. ''If you didn't have your mother's eyes, I'd have thought Black might be your second biological parent,'' Voldemort sneered.

''Don't you mention Lily!'' Sirius growled, jumping to his feet, instantly seeing red. How dare her murderer even take Lily's name into his mouth!

''Sirius,'' Harry said, jumping up and crossing the distance between them quickly to diffuse any argument before it started. ''Glad to see you're alright, I was afraid all day that you might be tearing at each other's throats,'' he grinned sheepishly.

''The thought did occur,'' he stiffly spoke, glaring at Voldemort. ''However, I'm starting to choke if I so much step into an area I'm not supposed to.'' Instead of the look of horror that he'd expected to receive from his godson, Harry only let out a startled chuckle.

''Oh, you too huh?'' Harry asked. ''That brings back some memories.'' Those words did nothing to calm Sirius down, which Harry seemed to pick up quickly. ''Don't worry, that was still during the time that I was actively trying to kill him.'' Harry turned around to Voldemort and - to Sirius' disbelief - casually asked: ''When did you release that spell on me? I never could pinpoint the exact time.''

''After the ritual in which I gave you those shields. Actually, you tried to save my life during that, so I figured that meant you wouldn't try to run anymore. Your amusing attempts to murder me happened a while before.''

Sirius could barely believe what he was hearing. Harry had tried to save this man's life even while still a prisoner? There was definitely something wrong with that.

''Right, I forgot about that,'' Harry frowned. ''That was pretty scary. You never did tell me what went wrong back then.''

Red eyes flickered over Sirius' face, as if he was debating whether to speak about it with Sirius in the room. He answered however, so Sirius apparently wasn't enough of a threat. ''The ritual took more energy and magic than the rudimentary body I had back then was able to handle. I overestimated my own power. It is not something that can happen again now I have access to all of my magic again.''

''Good,'' Harry replied with a relieved sigh. ''That was something that I'd rather never repeat. Seeing you like that…'' he faltered. ''A-Anyway. Since I'm here now, I thought I'd offer to cook. From Sirius' rumbling stomach that I can hear from where I'm standing, I get the impression that you didn't give him any food?'' If Sirius wouldn't know better, he'd have labelled Harry's tone as scolding.

Before Voldemort could answer, the third man spoke up enthusiastically, looking genuinely excited: ''Nice! I haven't been able to eat more than a tiny sandwich the entire day either! Can I help?''

''Oh, err…'' Harry spoke. ''I was kind of hoping to talk to Sirius? I mean, he signed the contract already, right?''

True, there had been that matter of a silencing contract. With how much time had apparently passed, Sirius had half expected to have been woken up in the middle of his sleep to sign it. He may have refused his cooperation before, but a contract was a rather tame method, considering every other available option. He'd expected unbreakable vows at the very least.

''No,'' Voldemort spoke sourly. ''It is taking longer than I hoped. A few things came in between, I will have it finished by tomorrow afternoon. I'll grant him permission to access the kitchen and the dining room for the next two hours so you can talk some sense into him. As much as you can talk sense into anyone. And Bartemius will check on you now and then,'' Voldemort added

''I regularly talk some sense into you,'' Harry answered with a brilliant smile. ''Come on Sirius, let's go!'' Before Sirius knew what was happening, he was being dragged down the same stairs that he hadn't been able to get past by himself before. ''He's taking your presence a lot better than I had imagined after yesterday's shouting match,'' the teen cheerfully spoke as they entered the kitchen and Harry started digging through cupboards as if he'd done so a hundred times before. ''Urgh, of course there are barely any fresh vegetables left again. Bloody hell, do I need to take care of everything here? Hmm… I suppose I can salvage these onions for onion soup… what do you say to onion soup?''

Sirius sank down at a simple wooden chair and stared at his godson, trying to process every little piece of new information he had received in the short span of a few minutes. Going by the name, the third man must be Bartemius Crouch, which made sense as that was the Death Eater who had impersonated Moody before and pretended to attack Harry. Not only did his godson consider Crouch to be a friend of sorts, the teen was also entirely relaxed around Voldemort. He'd heard tales of how cruel the man was even to followers, so it didn't make much sense for Harry to act so easy-going. Maybe it was just that, an act to make Sirius drop his guard? The entire situation felt so unreal… He had so many burning questions and considered telling Harry about the Legilimency he'd had to endure and the talk he had about Dumbledore, then decided that they should get some other things out of the way first. The first memory he'd relived when Voldemort had dug through his brain was still heavy on his mind.

''I really tried to kill you,'' he rasped after a moment of silence in which Harry stared at him expectantly. ''I tried to kill you and died, didn't I?''

Harry's forced smile faded quickly, and he sombrely stared at the other. ''Are you sure you are ready to talk about that?''

''I have to. My head feels like it's going to implode otherwise.''

''With you, I think it is more likely to explode,'' Harry retorted. ''You're not going without causing a ruckus.'' Then, he sighed and absentmindedly ruffled his hair in a way that was all too familiar. ''Alright, we can talk, as soon as you tell me whether or not I can start making soup.''

''Soup's fine,'' he mumbled. Critically, he watched as Harry opened a different cabinet that seemed to have been spelled to act as a refrigerator. ''You look like you've been in here more often,'' he commented.

Harry simply shrugged and procured a chopping block from a drawer. ''I've been here two summers. At the start, I was alone and tried to get Voldemort back on his feet, as I've told you before. Of course I needed to cook then. And afterwards… let's just say that both Barty and Voldemort are horrid cooks. Voldemort's a bit better to be honest, but his strength is definitely baking instead of cooking.''

''Baking,'' he repeated in disbelief. ''Voldemort bakes.''

''Mostly for feasts, but yes he does,'' Harry chuckled. ''About cooking though, it was a relief to find out that he's bad at something. I'm surprised he's a decent potioneer. Then again, I'm horrible at potions so I suppose that potions and cooking do not have too much in common besides throwing ingredients in water,'' he rambled. Clearly, the teen was incredibly nervous and just trying to find anything to say. He continued working as Sirius tried to sort out his thoughts.

''So… Necromancy,'' he spoke. By not directly asking about either their fight or his death, he hoped that Harry would somehow find a good point to start talking. ''You… you mentioned that it was not magic you would have been willing to practise otherwise?''

''Right,'' the teen spoke glumly. ''It's complicated. A couple of months ago, Voldemort and I had a conversation about magic. He asked me, if I could choose any spell in the world, to do anything… what I would like to learn. Having lost my parents, I asked him for a way to bring the dead back to life. It wasn't that I didn't think it through, but it was a wish that I voiced in the assumption of that it wasn't possible. I'd been told often enough that nothing on earth could bring back the dead. Dumbledore himself had said that to me. Still, I couldn't help but wish to see my parents, even for a brief moment. Voldemort once told me that he could show me my parents again, and I wanted to know if that had been a lie. No matter the extent of it, or how real it would be, I wanted to have something more than the few photos I had of them. ''

He stopped chopping the onions and stared at the wall, seemingly lost in thoughts. ''And I got that. In a display of magic that I will never forget, Voldemort resurrected my parents for a few minutes. He admitted afterwards that it had been a unique phenomenon, only made possible by extraordinary circumstances. Their corpses were still intact as they were buried like typical mages, their souls were to be found in the Cosmos, using my offered blood which was tied to them, and a portion of their mind could be restored by a connection that my wand has with Voldemort's, the wand that killed them. It was only right after they left again that I fully realised that I had truly spoken to my parents.''

Sirius was speechless, not having expected his question to cause such a weight to be dropped on him. ''They were here?'' he whispered. ''How can you know that it was them? What if Voldemort merely pretended-''

''My mum performed magic, something which the dead aren't supposed to be able to do. Voldemort actually said that he did not wish to give me any illusions about them having been my real parents until I told him about that. Her connection to her magical core being restored was proof that she was absolutely alive again, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. They… they held me Siri. They hugged me and I-'' Harry broke off, leaning heavily on the counter, his tears having nothing to do with onions anymore. Silently, Sirius rose and hugged his crying godson. ''I could only watch them die again,'' he sniffled. ''I couldn't part from their bodies anymore either and buried them here in the garden.'' Angrily, Harry wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. ''Something happened during the ritual, I was sucked into the realm of the dead somehow and witnessed part of what Voldemort did there. After that whole experience, I felt so torn that I did not want to explore Necromancy further, but Voldemort kept insisting that he thought I could be a natural at it. That made me even less keen on trying it again, for I didn't want yet another weird skill that would make me stand out. However, he was quite… persistent. I thought he'd dropped the subject, but recently he performed Necromancy on me and-''

''He what?'' Sirius exclaimed in shock. ''You died?''

''No, not like that. I've told you about Umbridge's punishments right? She purposefully healed my hand incorrectly. I don't know if she meant to or not, but it caused the bloodquill curse to fester under my skin. My arm was slowly dying and when I finally got it checked out, it was far too late to save it. Madame Pomfrey thought it might still last a couple of years before I would need to have it amputated and replaced by a wooden part like some mages get. Not knowing what else to do, I let Voldemort have a look at it too. He concluded that it was dying much faster than anticipated and that it would stop functioning within mere months. However…'' Harry spoke, pushing back his right sleeve to show a healthy arm. ''He used Necromancy on a centaur bone we'd been given in order to replace my arm with a fully functioning one.''

Now that he looked closer, Sirius saw that it didn't entirely match the left one. It was hard to notice, but when pointed out, he saw that the nails on Harry's right hand were shaped strangely. It also might be longer if that wasn't a trick of the light. ''I didn't even know that was possible,'' he spoke in slight awe, wondering where the hell Harry had been able to find a centaur bone.

''Voldemort can do a lot of impossible things, I've found,'' Harry spoke, smiling again. ''It's why I went to him in the first place. During that ritual, I ended up seeing the Cosmos again. And the centaur that gave us the bones also mentioned something that could have referred to my fate being tied to Necromancy. That doesn't mean that I suddenly wanted more to do with it, and Voldemort knew that very well. He could have resurrected you himself and instead made me do it.'' The tone was full of bitterness. ''Not that I can put too much blame on him. In my panic I did promise him everything again,'' he sighed. ''I never think these things through. Of course he'd grasp that opportunity, he's been dying to teach me the Arts ever since that first ritual.''

''That doesn't mean it was right,'' Sirius frowned.

''No… I suppose not,'' Harry muttered, crestfallen. ''In moments like these, I really wonder why I'd follow that self-absorbed arse to the end of the world.''

Sirius looked at his godson in shock before letting out a barking laugh. ''Did you just… did you really just call him that? I'm not dreaming, am I?''

Harry joined his laughter for a wonderful, light moment. ''He really can be impossible and very narcissistic.'' Then, Harry's grin died down again. ''Don't ever tell him I said that. Talking to him sometimes feels like walking across a field with buried landmines. It's so odd… some days he'll answer each and every question I have, but when he's in a foul mood… and I suspect he'll not be very happy to talk to me for quite a while still after I messed up so badly…''

''Because of me?''

''Partially,'' Harry shrugged. ''But not only that. I revealed some info to Dumbledore that I shouldn't have, and I also pried into parts of Voldemort's personal life that really weren't my business in hindsight. I can't really get myself to regret it since I learned so much about him, but that probably just makes it worse. Also, I kind of screamed in his face.''

''And he didn't punish you for that?''

Harry snorted in a way that didn't bode well. ''I always thought that he'd used the Cruciatus curse on me before. Now, I am not so sure anymore. Nothing compared to what I felt yesterday,'' Harry spoke, shivering. ''But that's the way it is, right?''

Sirius stared at his godson's back, wondering where to even begin. ''No-one has a right to torture anyone over something like that!'' he spoke in disbelief. ''Maybe if you'd murdered someone he was close to, or committed other gruesome sins… but Harry, you just told me that he cast the worst pain-inflicting curse on you known to man because you yelled at him and knew a bit too much? That is… that is so wrong!''

''His other followers seem to take it in stride too…''

''Because they're terrified that he'll kill them otherwise! Harry, look at me, please.'' Reluctantly, Harry turned around. ''This is not normal. Lord of Magic or whatever you believe him to be aside, no-one has the power to dole out punishment on their personal whims. You don't have to take that!''

''But I finally found a place where I feel that I truly belong,'' Harry whispered, turning to give him a desperate look. ''If that means that I have to do things that I normally wouldn't want to, then-''

''No,'' Sirius firmly said. ''It is exactly this attitude that drags great people down. You need to set borders for yourself Harry, and if anyone does not respect those, you don't have to shrug it off.''

''What if the alternative is worse? If I don't behave at least slightly like he wishes me to, he could just as easily decide to not want anything to do with me anymore.''

The conversation he had with Voldemort came to mind, and Sirius muttered: ''I doubt that.'' Harry raised his eyebrows. ''I had a… talk, with him. About you and about… Dumbledore. I'm not sure how much to believe of what he claimed, but it looks like he is adamant about protecting you.''

''Well, I wasn't talking about him killing me or anything,'' Harry clarified. ''I know that with the information he has, nothing on earth would make him do that. What I meant was that he would not allow me back here. Leave me at the Dursleys' next summer again, cut contact, those sort of things. It's not about protection.''

Loud footsteps came running down the hall and a brightly smiling Crouch popped his head around the doorframe. ''All good here? Ohhh, is that onion and cheese?'' Sirius tensed up as the Death Eater came in and gave Harry a quick hug, which did not seem to be unwelcome. ''Long time no see by the way. One quick mirror conversation since Samhain didn't really cut it. You should be in contact more often.''

''Our last talk didn't end very well,'' Harry spoke neutrally, throwing the diced onions in a pot of boiling water. ''I wasn't sure where to start. Or if you even wanted to chat again. I haven't changed my opinion.''

Crouch grimaced and pulled back, summoning a chair from the other room to sit on, looking completely unperturbed by Sirius' presence. ''I thought about what you said. I don't agree but.. I do understand, I suppose. Even so, I wouldn't forgive you.''

''Figured that. Let's hope it doesn't come to it.''

''You're the most stubborn kid I know,'' Crouch sighed dramatically.

''Gryffindor and proud of it, remember?'' Harry answered, chuckling lightly.

Lost as to what they were talking about, Sirius tried to make his presence known. ''Didn't think I'd ever see you again,'' he told Crouch.

''You mean since your visit at Hogwarts?'' Crouch asked. It took a while before Sirius realised that he meant the time where Crouch had still impersonated Moody and caught Sirius.

''I was referring to Azkaban, actually. I wasn't aware of who you really were at Hogwarts. Played your part well,'' he grimly responded.

The blond frowned in confusion. ''We weren't even on the same floor. I never saw you there.''

''I saw you, once. More than a decade ago, when they brought you in, all pale as you were flanked by Dementors. Hardly recognised you now.'' Crouch visibly flinched at the word 'Dementor'. He must not have had the luxuries Sirius had had to withdraw from the creatures' influence. No Animagus form, Occlumency, or even the knowledge of innocence. ''Good thing that the Ministry doesn't fully believe that you breaking out isn't simply a fabrication of Dumbledore's mind. I would lose my title of being the first to escape Azkaban.''

Crouch laughed at that. ''Surely more people were able to flee over the years. It was simply hushed up after the poor bastards got caught again.''

''Shouldn't have become criminals then,'' Sirius insisted.

It was Harry who replied with: ''You yourself are proof enough that not only criminals go to Azkaban. I recently learnt that an old house-elf who was tricked into believing that she had accidentally poisoned her Mistress, landed behind the same bars as the worst of serial killers. The system is flawed, incredibly so.''

Crouch chimed in with: ''Also, even if you are innocent of what you were framed for, prison break itself is a crime no matter the circumstances. By your logic, that alone should be enough to rightfully lock you up again. Don't see you walking into the Auror office with your hands in the air.''

Sirius growled lowly and fell silent. Those were arguments he'd heard before, and which he couldn't bring any arguments that would not further fuel those he was discussing with. Instead, he watched Crouch with suspicion, who turned his attention to Harry again.

''So, how has my favourite Gryffindor been otherwise?''

Harry only threw Crouch a withered glare. Rightfully so, in Sirius' opinion. His godson had been to hell and back between visions, trying to save people and being dragged into darker magic than ever before by the murderer of Harry's parents. ''Shite. How much do you know of what happened in the past days?''

The other shrugged. ''I've been busy running His job as He went mad in a search for Nagini. I only heard you turned up with her and a bloodied Black in tow. That's as much info as I got before I was ordered to take care of Vance and Doge.''

Unable to stay quiet, Sirius accused: ''Killed them, didn't you?''

He was answered by raised eyebrows. ''Although they will suffer for what they've done, it would be incredibly suspicious if two Order members suddenly didn't show up anymore. Especially Vance, who works in the Ministry. Dumbledore would surely start an investigation. No, they're under the Imperius curse for now. We'll see for how long until they can be disposed of.''

Sirius balled his fists, getting ready to punch Crouch in the face. ''They're good people.''

''The Dark Lord sees that differently.''

''Oh yes, his judgement in who is good or not surely is incredibly accurate.'' Sirius spat.

''Better than Dumbledore's,'' Crouch snapped back.

''If you're just going to argue like three-year-olds, could you get out of my kitchen?'' Harry tiredly said. Sirius and Crouch glared at each other, neither of them moving to get up. ''Where did my therapist go?'' Harry jokingly asked Crouch.

The man blew a lock of hair out of his face and grimaced. ''He died from the work pressure you put on him with teenage drama. Kidding, kidding,'' he hastily added as Harry looked over his shoulder and gave a very-well acted sad look. ''What do you need advice on? Love life again?''

''Barty!'' Harry hissed, turning back to the stove. Curiosity piqued, Sirius leaned in closer. Harry, who constantly got in trouble and had people left and right out for his life, still had time left for a love life? ''It's about our Lord'' the teen added quietly. It was unsettling to hear Harry call Voldemort 'my Lord' so casually, and Sirius hoped that it was only for show in front of Crouch. His godson had called the man simply Voldemort before… and an arse. Harry stirred a bit in the pot and then left it alone, sitting down on the floor. He threw an uncomfortable look at Sirius. ''As I never know how good his hearing is, this might not be the best place and time for a discussion though.''

''Easily fixed,'' Crouch answered, drawing his wand and putting a silencing barrier around them. The Death Eater too, threw a look at Sirius then, at which he glared back. ''We won't have much time otherwise, I am out of the country starting tomorrow, probably for the next couple of weeks. I'll have to leave the mirror here too in case you need to contact the Dark Lord.''

''Damn,'' Harry sighed, rubbing his face wearily. ''I'd hoped we'd have more time than that. I also really don't want to leave Sirius alone when our Lord is still pissed off.''

Crouch hummed at that. ''We don't have to go into specifics. Simply tell what's bothering you. You already know my opinion on certain matters aren't going to change.''

''No, but I thought mine had.'' Crouch made an unhappy sound that Sirius couldn't completely understand. He felt rather out of place. ''And now I'm not so sure anymore. I feel conflicted,'' the teen continued.

Crouch got off his chair and sat on the floor too, taking Harry's hands in his. ''What happened?''

''Sirius wasn't wounded, he died. I was given the choice between leaving him dead or becoming a Necromancer myself to bring him back.''

''Ah… you said you didn't want to become a Necromancer… he took it as a challenge, didn't he?''

''Yeah…'' Harry said, clearly distraught. ''I feel that Voldemort manipulated me into it, given the circumstances.''

''What do I keep telling you about his name,'' Crouch growled in obvious annoyance. Sirius silently cheered.

''That you'll hex me if I continue to use it. So, do it then. Respect is deserved.''

''You could handle it. You did. Black's alive, isn't he?'' the other replied, throwing another wary look at Sirius, who suddenly felt uncomfortable as the attention was pulled towards him. It was rare for him to shun attention, but he really did not want to focus on his own… resurrection. He kept wondering if there were side-effects to it, on either his or Harry's side. He'd hoped to still carefully ask Harry about that, but it looked like Crouch was planning on staying and he really did not want to discuss dark magic with a fanatic follower. Thus, he stood and made a motion to the doorway.

''If you don't mind, kiddo, I'll lay down for a bit again,'' he said with a painfully forced smile. ''Tell me when food is ready?'' Harry didn't seem to hear what he'd said, giving Crouch an upset look. Sirius cleared his throat and offered: ''Unless of course, you want me to throw this guy out instead?''

Harry gave a short chuckle and finally looked at him. ''I'll be okay, Siri. Go rest, I'm sure you had a hell of a day.''

Slightly disappointed by the inability to kick Crouch out of the kitchen, but also really feeling as if he needed some more alone time, Sirius snuck back upstairs, careful to be as silent as possible so that Voldemort wouldn't notice. If he could avoid a run-in with the Dark Lord, that was just fine by him.

XxX

''So, where were we,'' Harry sighed. Starting another argument with Barty was not exactly how he'd imagined his evening to go. Sirius and he hadn't even addressed their fight that had the man killed… Harry had wanted to assure his godfather that he didn't hold a grudge for the attack, and had hoped that they could at least start building up something now that Sirius had the opportunity to meet Voldemort personally. Yet now something else had come up again..

''Your love life,'' Barty grinned, at which Harry shot him a look.

''This isn't funny.''

''Listen kid, I'm going to tell you how I see things from my perspective, okay? You asked our Lord to show you magic to bring back the dead. As he is wont to do, our Lord wishes to share more of that after that first ritual when you show potential. Then, although you vocally say that you don't wish to continue with it, you aren't refusing Necromancy either when it is convenient. Whether to not risk losing a limb or to save a loved one, you ask Him to aid you.''

''He only said blood magic would be involved when replacing my arm,'' Harry disagreed. ''He very purposefully avoided the word Necromancy until we were in the middle of the ritual.''

''Be that as it may, you could have still broken it off or talked about it afterwards. Did you?'' Harry clamped his mouth shut as he had not, in fact, done so. He didn't want to give Barty ammunition by trying to argue that point. ''Right,'' the Death Eater spoke with a slight bit of triumph. ''So you thank him and leave, not giving any indication that you had an aversion to it, then show up only a few months later with one of his worst enemies in your arms and plead for Black's life. Now, I don't know what he died from, but I can imagine it didn't matter. You asked him to use Necromancy again, did you not?''

''He mentioned the option after Sirius was already dead. I didn't ask, he simply said that my godfather could still be brought back, but that the price was that I had to do it.''

''And was that unfair? He didn't want to see Black live again. If you desire a result, why would you not be the one to get your hands dirty to achieve it?''

Harry sighed deeply, knowing that he'd created this mess as well. Yesterday – or technically today as it had been past midnight - he'd been so focused on getting Sirius back that he hadn't protested at all, simply taking it in stride that there would be a price to pay. The more time he'd spent alone today however, the more time he'd had to think about it. Voldemort had been all high and mighty about never asking more than he knew Harry could give, then turned around and completely used Harry's distress and grief to cross boundaries that he'd voiced clearly before.

At his silence, Barty still added: ''That he was willing to teach you is an opportunity that many would give some of their fingers for!'' The Death Eater wiggled his own silver fingers, which he'd received after sacrificing his own at the resurrection ritual.

Harry didn't see the humour in it at the moment. ''I was a mess! Someone I loved just died in front of my eyes, because of me. Voldemort knew very well that I was in shock. A minute prior, he had me under the Cruciatus curse. Had I been in a sane state of mind, I don't even know if I would have taken the option or not to bring him back to life! And yet before I could recover from everything prior, he dangled the possibility to put it all right in front my eyes. Of course I took it! And of course I regret it! I feel like I have been dragged into something that I can now never escape from again, because he manipulated me into accepting this offer like some bloody devil's pact. And don't tell me that I am lucky for getting this opportunity. Necromancers are shunned, hunted, killed. If they don't die from rituals gone wrong first. I do not have the first idea about the repercussions this will have. My very being was torn apart in the world of the dead!''

''You want both too much and too little,'' Barty concluded at long last. ''You are being eaten up inside, not because of him or because of any magic in this world. It's only because of your own conscience.''

''That is not the case,'' Harry determinedly said, getting up on wobbly knees. ''Sirius was right in one thing. This… the way he treats people, it's not normal. I want too much and too little? Me? Have you given him that advice too?''

''What are you-''

''He wants me to speak my mind, then punishes me if I do. He wants to own me, then shuns from accepting any feelings he might have except for jealousy! He wants my respect, then manipulates me into doing things I have explicitly told him I don't want to! He… he offered me a safe haven to return to, yet now I see that it only ever comes with a price. What am I supposed to do with all of that? Forgive and forget because he's Magic's chosen?'' Harry bitterly laughed. ''His task of balancing magic should have nothing to do with how he treats other people. I'm human, and I think I deserve not being seen as lesser than any other human, including himself.''

~You aren't less than I.~

Harry froze instantly, looking up in shock at the entrance. ''When…'' he choked out as he took in the Dark Lord's form, which filled the door opening.

''Silencing charms break when someone walks through, did you forget that?'' Voldemort calmly asked. ''Black failed miserably to sneak past me, and when I heard voices that became ever louder…'' Then, he sniffed. ''Also, in the heat of your argument, you may have forgotten whatever broth you were trying to prepare on the stove.''

Whipping around, Harry looked at his pot, seeing his cooking had been reduced to an inedible sludge that stuck to the bottom of the pot. ''Oh no,'' he groaned miserably, for some reason feeling far worse about that than anything else. Why did everything seem to go so wrong? He hadn't even noticed the burning smell that came from it. Resigning to not being able to salvage it, he turned to face Voldemort. How much had the man heard? He tried to pick up any feelings but didn't get a thing. Voldemort was completely suppressing any hint of his own magic. Resolutely, Harry made a decision that took all of his courage. ''Barty, sorry to ask this of you, but could you find something edible that needs no cooking and take some of it to my godfather? He's bound to be starving and he's already spent far too many days of his life in that state. Voldemort… I want to talk.''

''I had been about to suggest the same thing,'' the man muttered quietly. ''Do as he says, Bartemius. Evan and I shall be having a word. You are not to interrupt even if Dumbledore himself would come knocking at the door.''

With a mixture of relief and anxious anticipation, the Gryffindor followed Voldemort out of the kitchen. Had he gone too far? They didn't head upstairs as he had expected. Instead, Voldemort went to the back of the house and opened the orangery. It wasn't very warm in winter, but the earthy smell was still unmistakably there and instantly comforted Harry even as Voldemort gestured for him to sit down. Although Harry recognised it as an attempt to make him put his guard down, he still appreciated that the Dark Lord had picked up on his preference for this place. Wrapping his arms around his knees, the teen carefully watched as Voldemort lit a few floating candles that reminded very much of the Great Hall, especially as they reflected endlessly in the glass panes all around. Once he was done, the man sat opposite of him, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the candles, the fire making his red eyes glow.

''I wasn't entirely truthful earlier,'' Voldemort spoke up before Harry could decide on what to start with. ''When I told you that me overestimating my own power could not happen again. I don't always have access to all of my magic. In the past few days, it started waning.''

Unsure where this was leading to, Harry cautiously asked: ''Why?''

''I neglected my duties. I am favoured by Magic, but I do have to pay the necessary prices to her too. As soon as Nagini did not return, I spent every hour of the following days trying to find her. As a result, I missed the Yule celebration. I imagine She is displeased with me for that and taking away part of my magic as punishment.''

''It's hard to imagine anyone punishing you for a change.'' Harry commented.

''When I noticed, I was angry. Was it my fault, after all, that I did not do exactly what was expected of me in this extraordinary situation? I'm still angry over it. After hearing your conversation with Barty, it struck me that you might feel the same.'' Harry was thrown a pointed look, and he pondered on what to say.

''Magic is magic though, I can't imagine that you can have a conversation about it with her.''

''No, I imagine not,'' the Dark Lord sombrely spoke. ''Which is also incredibly frustrating. I can't explain my reasoning after all, I have no chance to explain my motivations to a force of nature. However, we can talk, and I would indeed like to give you the opportunity to do so. If you are displeased with me, it will be solved faster if you take that up with me directly than trying to ask others for advice… especially as both other people you can ask are heavily biased in different directions.''

It was a breath of fresh air that the Dark Lord appeared to be on the same line of thought with Harry regarding this. However… ''Do you even know why I'm mad?'' Harry sighed. ''Barty couldn't understand.'' And if even the often so understanding man couldn't, why would someone who shunned every possibility of exploring his own empathy?

''I have some inklings… I am not sure if it is enough.''

Harry contemplatively gazed at Voldemort for a while. ''When I said that we need to talk, I meant doing so openly. I don't want to have to be afraid to offend you,'' he decided. ''Promise me that no matter what I say, or whether I get angry or emotional, you won't punish me for it. This is not going to work if I have to tread around your pride with every sentence I say.''

Voldemort blinked in surprise, as if it was something he had not considered at all. It took a while before he answered: ''I shall promise so, if in turn you won't walk out before we're finished. You have a habit of leaving and hiding when you get fed up with a discussion. It's extremely irritating.''

Harry grinned wryly. ''A bad habit I picked up at the Dursleys, I suppose. Where do I sign?'' he half-jokingly asked.

''No need for blood or contracts this time,'' the Dark Lord replied in all seriousness. ''I'll take your word on it. A sign of good faith.'' They sat in silence for a bit, Harry feeling slightly awkward, trying to find something to start with… Should he simply spill out his frustration? Was there truly any good point to begin with?

Figuring that maybe he should try to continue from where Voldemort had first started and caught him off guard, Harry said: ''Since when do you not think I'm less than you? I thought you considered everyone beneath you.''

''Most are,'' Voldemort readily agreed. It was a struggle not to make a scathing reply at that, but Harry was proud to say he held his tongue in check. ''I have to admit that with you, there are some… extraordinary circumstances to consider. With my soul connected to-''

''No,'' Harry interrupted strongly. ''I know that you said before that I am important because I am you in a way, but it's obvious that anyone would find themselves equal to... well, themselves. I haven't even ever talked to that part of your soul. Or is that really all there is to it?''

''Not quite,'' Voldemort spoke in a clipped tone that betrayed how unhappy he was about the previous interruption. That he was staying civil was close to a miracle ''Although I cannot simply ignore it. My willingness to accept you as being able to be on an even level is partially due to the reverse conclusion that can be drawn from the fact that you are a vessel to my soul. I know better than most that Magic has a plan. The situations that shape the course of history aren't merely left to a whim. The prophecy foretold of your coming and how intertwined our fates would be. Everything that happened after confirmed your importance. You have the power to vanquish me, instead chose not to and even keep my soul safe. Our wand cores are linked, our minds… That cannot all be ascribed to my Horcrux. The power and fame you reject is still written across time and reflected in all that you happen to be a part of. I have seen it each time we perform heavy magic together, each time I teach you. And even when leaving magic out of it for a moment, I have met few people headstrong enough to face me at eleven years old, see through my words and call me a liar,'' he spoke with a wry grin. ''Perhaps I should have realised it then instead of branding you a nuisance.''

Harry couldn't deny how flattered he felt, face growing hot as the Dark Lord sang his praises so openly. It wasn't enough to push away his broken trust. ''Yet you treat me much the same as any other follower,'' he spoke in confusion. ''Yes, you answer my questions, which you wouldn't with a lot of other people, but you do that also with Barty.''

''You chose to act as a follower,'' Voldemort pointed out. ''I told you that you had the option to stay out of my task, to keep away from the conflict between me and Dumbledore, as well as distance yourself from politics. You could have lived a regular life as an average Hogwarts student, settle down in an office job and ignore your potential. Instead, you wished to follow me and help me in achieving my task anyway you could. I even diminished that role further than I did for anyone else… Or do you think that Lucius or Severus can barge in here and demand answers from me? I have gone to great lengths to accommodate you, Evan. To sate your curiosity, to show you the depths of our world, to protect you any way I can… Even Barty does not have the freedom to oppose me as I granted you. I have never once punished you for your words, have I? Your opinion was always something you could state without consequence. Only if your actions displeased me, did I retaliate.''

''I recall you choking me after I apparently 'belittled you' and did not show the same courtesy to you that all of your followers should,'' Harry pointed out.

''In a dream,'' the other shot back. ''Hardly anything that could harm you. Besides, I had not expected you to recall much of that. You always complained that you had trouble recalling our nightly rendezvouses.''

The choice of words gave Harry images of very different meetings than what had actually transpired. ''Since I learned Occlumency and actually can remember those dreams, bits and pieces of previous ones also cleared up. That doesn't answer my question. If you thought me equal on any level, why try to remind me how I am beneath you?''

Voldemort finally tore his eyes away from the candles' flames and stared directly into Harry's eyes. ''That was almost a year ago. My opinion of you was not as favourable until you managed to win the Triwizard Tournament. Although you decided to follow me before that and aided me, I was convinced for quite a while that luck and bravery were your most noteworthy skills. You wore your heart on your sleeve and were far too trusting. Certainly, I saw potential, but thought that you had a long way to go still, relying on the guidance of people who were older and better than you for many more years until your power would show. After the Tournament, I realised just how much effort you put into improving your knowledge, your skills, and found out how insightful and inventive you could be. I had underestimated you. Which is also why, when you spent time here again in July, I pushed you further than I did before. While obviously still teaching you as I hold far more experience and knowledge of magic, I tried to treat you otherwise as I would have treated a younger version of myself. You could take part in celebrations and rituals the way you wanted to, had a certain level of command over my other followers, and had discussions with me about many a topic.''

That was somehow not at all how Harry recalled it. ''You ordered Barty to drag me out of my room when I was grieving my parents; you choked me when I entered your bedroom; you attacked me because you'd thought I'd kept the Locket from you longer than I should have…'' he listed from the top of his head. ''And above all, you're still of the opinion that you have a right to punish me whenever it pleases you.''

''None of which I wouldn't do to myself,'' Voldemort countered. ''I punished the Horcrux in that very Locket when it revealed its plans to undermine my authority.'' He sighed. ''I think I am starting to understand where the true problem lies… you have a fundamentally incorrect view on how I deal with people. From the moment I came to Hogwarts, I joined a community where you were either on top or fodder. The one who could flaunt most power and could thus use magic as they pleased on others, were the ones to run the House. I very quickly established myself as the top. With most of my followers also growing up in that same environment, it was easy to keep that dynamic of establishing a hierarchy. To rule through fear. You think that I do not respect you because I punish you? If one of my other followers would dare to question my judgement in doling out punishment when I am displeased and fights back, they might as well be my enemies. In cases of repetitive rebellion or betrayal, I would kill them as I cannot risk being overthrown. With you, on the other hand, I would only ever kill you if you actively threatened my continued existence. The same would go for my other Horcruxes, Nagini, and Barty.''

It was telling and highly disturbing that Voldemort's small group of people whom he'd only kill in the direst situations consisted nearly exclusively of himself somehow. ''Errr, yeah, cause you'd kill part of yourself in most of those cases… right?''

''I could make a new Horcrux. I wish to have seven pieces of soul, so if one would be destroyed, I'd have to make a new one. An arduous process, yet not impossible. In that way, I suppose it was favourable that the diary was destroyed, otherwise I would have had a Horcrux too many. But say that hypothetically, you would not be a Horcrux anymore due to a fluke of fate. I would still extent you the same courtesy. If your actions cause me to wish to punish you, you may retaliate if you find it unfair without fear of dying.''

Slowly, Harry shook his head. If anyone else would try to explain that their regular way of dealing with conflict was to kill others, he'd have called the Aurors instantly. Why did Voldemort have to be so difficult? ''That this is the way you want to treat people and some apparently agree to that, does not mean that anyone else has to accept that. Merlin, if I acted like this with my other friends, I wouldn't have any left. Differences can be… can be forgiven, or talked through, without the need to get back at or even hurt each other.''

''It's clear that you were never a Slytherin,'' Voldemort said, raising a nearly non-existent eyebrow.

If this was the way being a Slytherin worked, Harry was incredibly glad for Draco's horrid attitude and Ron's amazing influence that had made him wish to go to Gryffindor instead. Now he thought about it, it made sense. He'd always wondered why other people in Slytherin put up so much with Draco commanding them around… but Malfoy did have money and wasn't bad academically either, especially compared to most other Slytherins in their year. Before, he'd half-assumed that Slytherin worked like that because of the whole Death Eater business as most children of former and current Death Eaters seemed to have a higher status. That assumption turned out to be incorrect if even Voldemort had had to fight for his place.

''Listen, I… I don't think I can do this anymore,'' he quietly spoke. ''To one day have deep talks as if we're just regular people, and the next having to worry that you'll hex my head off if I breathe wrong. I never know what to do and worry about it even when you're not there. I don't think it's healthy how… how scared I am of you at times.'' Harry had never expected to ask the Dark Lord such a thing so openly, but he was glad that he did now that he'd gained a confidence boost over the whole 'equal' business. ''What I'm trying to say is, that I like helping you and I will continue to do so, but I'm not cut out to be a follower in this system that you have created. I don't expect you to try the Gryffindor way of crying things out on shoulders,'' he quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood, ''But can we find a compromise? Please?''

''What would be in it for me?''

Harry released a frustrated groan. ''Is there not a single thing that you would ever do without gaining anything in return?''

Voldemort hummed and leaned forward. ''It would be a first.''

''If it makes it any better, I'd certainly be more inclined to actually go along with things you request if I knew there was no possibility of torture or coercion if I refuse.''

''You want me to be… amicable,'' the man concluded with astonishment.

''That would help. It's working out now, isn't it?''

Voldemort let out a short chuckle and gave him a look that made Harry feel like he was an alien from some distant planet. ''Let me think on it for a while. Changing my entire behavioural pattern takes a lot more effort than you seem to think.''

''Fine,'' Harry said, trying not to feel too disappointed. He bit his tongue to not remind Voldemort of how easily the man had been able to slip into roles before like with Hepzibah Smith. Being reminded of another one of Voldemort's murder plots wasn't helpful right now.

''In the meantime, I would like to ask you something still.'' The other waited until Harry gave a curt nod, then continued: ''Would you really not have brought Black back to the living if you'd had the ability to choose in different circumstances?''

Having expected the question to actually be about the previous topic and not a sudden shot into the heart of the problem, Harry wasn't sure what to do so quickly. It was a loaded question, and Harry was careful to not immediately say the choice words that shot through his head the instant it was asked. Being amicable would go two ways, maybe he should start by setting a good example. It felt weird, having to set an example for someone over thrice his age.

''Maybe I would have done so after all,'' Harry truthfully said. ''He is my godfather after all, and I would have been devastated if he would be gone. Becoming a Necromancer… I can imagine that even after careful thinking, I'd come to the conclusion that it would have been worth it.''

''Then why are you angry about it now? You did not seem to mind last night. In fact, you were admirably level-headed before, during and after the ritual.''

''I didn't react so strongly then because I hadn't had time to process it and needed to spring into action instead. And I'm angry now because I finally realised how much you set me up!'' he retorted exasperatedly. ''Because you've clearly been thinking about ways to force me to use the Art since I told you that I saw into the Cosmos. This wasn't about it being Sirius as you claimed. Even if I'd dragged in a wounded cat instead, you would have asked this price. I told you clearly that I did not want to personally use Necromancy, and yet you persistently tried to get me into contact with it. To ensure that I agreed, you did not calmly sit me down or ask me. No, you let him die in front of my eyes while I felt responsible for his death, before suddenly revealing that there's still a way to save him if only I am willing to give you what you want. Not only that, you made me pay this price, called it a reward, and tried to make me forget the literal torture you inflicted upon me shortly before that! Or is any of what I just said wrong?!''

''I didn't think you would catch that,'' Voldemort merely replied. ''The bit about rewarding you after the punishment to make you forget. Not many people catch that.'' He actually sounded impressed.

Harry could only stare. ''Is manipulation a game to you?'' he asked, honestly wanting to know.

''Ah, no. It was… merely an observation. It's something I learnt was effective when I first started gathering followers. It's no more than a force of habit now.'' Voldemort shifted, and he started absentmindedly rapping his nails on the stone tiles. ''I admit that I wanted to find a way to make you practise Necromancy. Though you are missing some details in this.''

''Such as?'' As irritated as Harry still was with Voldemort, he'd also started having hope that somehow he was mistaken. That what he'd mulled over the past day was all in his head. Was it bad that he wanted to find reasons to forgive the Dark Lord? Harry felt like he'd already started doing so after finding out that he wasn't merely seen as some lowly pawn.

''I did not have any particular time span in which I planned to teach you the Arts, merely waiting for situations I could use to pressure you into it. It was a mere coincidence that those presented themselves in such a short period of time. I had not expected so. Furthermore, while you say that I used your state of mind, I was not at the height of my sanity either. Since Nagini disappeared, I hadn't slept, pushing through by using potions. I could hardly focus on anything that was going on around me. You turning up with both Nagini and the near-corpse of a man I hated with a passion, was not a good combination, Evan. Surely, you must have realised that.''

Harry hugged his knees tighter, not wanting to have the tables turned so much that he'd feel sympathy for Voldemort instead. It would be far too easy to slip back into the role of a supporter if he gave into that, which he was just trying to actively combat. Voldemort continued: ''So I was in a situation in which you were asking me something I did not wish to do, at a time where I wanted to focus on healing my familiar instead. However, I also could not entirely ignore your plea. I soon knew he was already beyond healing, and that there was only a single possibility to reverse his death. Making you resurrect Black felt like the perfect compromise to me. I did not need to spare energy and magic on my enemy, you would have your godfather back. I would have set you on the path of Necromancy as I wished to, and you would not bear a grudge against me for staying silent about this chance. For there really was no possibility for me to win there. You speak of manipulation, yet fail to see that you were employing the same tactics.''

''That's not true!''

''Isn't it? What choices did you give me then? I already knew healing was not going to work, so was left with the following options: one, I don't tell you he can still be saved and let him die permanently. This would surely lead you to resent me if you would ever find out he could have lived. Two, I offer to resurrect him myself. This would have greatly displeased me as I hate his guts, possibly ruined the ritual due to my lack of will and state of mind, and led to Black either remaining dead or being tied to me personally if it would have been successful. Three, I actually take you up on your offer of paying a price and make you resurrect him, which I did. As I said before: a perfect compromise.''

Harry opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with anything to say against it. He'd felt so justified in his anger before… now, he wasn't so certain anymore, his arguments did not sound so solid when being broken down. He hadn't at all considered that he may have been the insensitive one.

''Lastly, when faced with those choices, I did not have the time to calmly ask you and let you decide. Corpses may only start to physically decay after some hours, but the braincells start breaking apart quite soon after the person dies, a process called autolysis. It's another reason why full resurrections are usually impossible. The mind still needs something to work with. Had I given you however long you may have needed to make a thoughtful decision, it could have been too late to bring him back sane.''

''My parents…''

Voldemort gave him a stern look. ''We connected a piece of their minds which had been locked inside my wand for years, pieces that were even sentient without a form at all. They didn't have to use their brains, another reason why it lasted no more than minutes before the connection fell apart. They used their entire bodies as channelers. It was something unique, nothing at all like re-connecting a still living mind and soul back to a resurrected body. Admittedly, I did not give you as much time as you could have had either, as my priorities were to ensure Nagini's health and at least being somewhat informed about what had happened, before starting to heal his body and keep it in a state where it would not deteriorate further.''

It sounded so logical, yet a feeling of unease still nagged at Harry. Had Voldemort really done what he thought to be in Harry's best interest? That sounded very unlikely, but he also could not find much fault in the man's argumentation. ''So what now?'' he asked, wanting to focus on trying to prevent things like this happening in the future. If he wasn't careful, he would end up being the one apologising, and that was absolutely not going to happen. ''You got your wish, I'm a Necromancer now.''

''You are.'' Voldemort hummed in a pleased tone. ''And I hope that you will hone this talent of yours. It is magnificent magic which is far more versatile as you may yet realise. Of course, there is still no hurry. Now that you have been chosen by Glory and know how to safely reach the Cosmos, it will be up to you to explore. Naturally, if you have questions or need books…'' the Dark Lord said, excitement seeping into his tone.

Harry merely gave him a tired look. ''I'll see,'' he said. ''I have… a lot to think about again, given what you just told me. Does being chosen by a moon have any consequences for me? Did I give up my soul or something?''

Voldemort chuckled. ''Of course not. The only side effects are that you are more in tune with the Black Cosmos now. You may start hearing whispers of the dead or seeing things that don't belong in the world of the living, but you will learn to blend them out soon enough whenever you do not need it. Oh, and Dementors should not give you much trouble anymore. They'll be able to notice you have crossed the Shroud and could potentially bring back souls to feed them if you so wished. As such, they're not as likely to prey on your soul as they are opportunistic creatures.''

''That is... interesting,'' Harry only commented, glad that the whole ordeal hadn't suddenly changed who he was or had grave consequences. He still was in two minds about forgiving Voldemort or not, but at least it worked in the other's favour that he wasn't bound to anything now. If he could opt not to use it when he didn't want to from now on, that would be ideal. He supposed that he would make it dependent on Voldemort's answer about acting more like a friend and less like an almighty Lord. Wishing for the topic to be dropped for now, he instead asked about something else that had been bothering him since they'd started their talk: ''All this time, you've been blocking our link… may I ask why?''

Voldemort's mouth tightened as it was pointed out. ''You accused me of manipulating you. Which I admitted to doing. Given how you react to my magic, I thought you might be influenced again if I let you have contact with it now. I wanted you to speak your mind, free of that influence. Not only that… through this bond, you can feel my magic more clearly, but also…'' he trailed off, seeming to be in thought. ''Your feelings influence mine. All those pesky emotions. Strange, isn't it? When I was born, I lacked all of these. I read and analysed other people in the hope to imitate the complexity that I missed. Yet from the moment we shared our blood and I could feel yours, emotions have begun to be part of my everyday life in ways that I never imagined. Without control, in such intensity that I almost believe they might be real,'' the man whispered, sounding disturbed by the very thought. ''Learning something to understand it and actually being influenced by it, unable to stop it, are two very different things. It has made me… unstable.''

''You're afraid I'll make it worse?'' Harry asked.

Slowly, Voldemort shook his head. ''It does not work like that. It far more seems to depend on how long our link has been established and whether you are near. No, it is far more that…'' he grunted, breaking off and looking away. Harry tried to patiently wait, even though he was insanely curious what the man had wanted to say.

When he didn't continue at all, Harry carefully spoke: ''As long as you don't use it against me, I'd prefer feeling you. Without, it kind of feels like a dream instead,'' Harry spoke after some consideration. Maybe if he would have more clues as to Voldemort's emotions, he'd be able to discern the man's reactions more clearly. He released a shaky breath as an invisible barrier opened up and the familiar weight of Voldemort's magic filled the room. Along with it, he could make out the unmistakable feel of sadness. ''What are you thinking about right now?'' he inquired.

''So many things at once…'' Voldemort muttered in a non-answer.

''Tell me?'' he asked gently. The other gave him a slightly suspicious look that resonated through their link. Harry didn't back down, becoming so bold to move closer. It was so rare that Voldemort showed any sort of openness that the teen wished to treasure this moment before they might fall back into the roles of Lord and follower as usual if Voldemort was unwilling to change it. Harry had truly expected the man to be furious with him, not have a heart-to-heart talk.

''I am at a loss of what to do. I failed at one of the simplest tasks Magic has put on me, and yet I can't find a solution as worldly matters are on my mind instead. I am trying to cope with the new insight I gained on Regulus, I'm worried about Nagini's health and then…'' the words halted, but the whirling magic that connected them did not. It was as if a claw reached inside of Harry's chest and scratched at his heart, an unpleasant darkness spreading through that made his limbs heavy. Desperation, frustration. Unable to hold himself back, Harry rubbed his chest, uncomfortable. With everything else going on, he doubted he'd have the strength to start a conversation about the palpable feelings between the both of them.

''Maybe things will be put right if you first remedy neglecting to honour Magic during Yule,'' Harry suggested. ''I know, I know, the correct time and moon phase and such may not fit, but maybe it's the thought that counts too? It's worth a try.''

A wave of disbelief from Voldemort hit him. ''Are you proposing that I should perform the Yule ritual now?''

''Not necessarily now, maybe another significant date. New Year is in a few days, doesn't that have any magical connotation?''

''As a matter of fact, it does not. December 31 as New Year was made significant by Muggles according to their calendars, which we happened to take over out of convenience during Roman times already. Magic is far older than any human-made concepts of time, and her power is ruled by the changing of the seasons, the passage of time and the waxing and waning of the moon,'' Voldemort corrected him. ''Yule celebrates the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, which will obviously not happen for another year. The next days with any magical significance are the Full Moon at the January 5 or First Quarter… which is today, and as it is nearing midnight, there wouldn't be much time left.''

''Right,'' Harry said, processing that, an idea forming. ''But Barty and I are both here, and even Sirius might be interested in celebrating and seeing a true Lord of Magic at work if you'd allow it. So, what do we need?'' For a moment, Harry allowed himself to bask in the astonishment and gratitude he received, then set to work as he followed Voldemort's quick instructions on what to set up.

---

Sooo, as promised, they talked through some difficulties, although it might take a few more chapters till everything has been addressed in more detail, from Regulus to Harry's vision of Nagini. (Srsly, there is just so much stuff they have to talk about and it's hard getting it all in one conversation, sorry. I rewrote several of the conversations in this chapter like 3 times and have about 3000 words in outtakes now for maybe future use..)

Before anyone asks, next chapter will of course have a detailed Yule ritual and there will also be some fluff ^^
Also, Sirius will definitely become more frequent from this point onwards hehe.
I do hope to speed things up a bit after the next couple of chapters so we can go back to Hogwarts and hopefully crush Umbridge.

I hope that you will all stay safe and healthy! Please read and review, I'm of course also always happy to answer any questions.
xx GeMerope