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.

98. C97 - Mending Bonds

Chapter 97 – Mending bonds

''Is Tom… in love with you?''

Quiet, baffled, too overwhelmed by a memory that couldn't have been longer than a minute, Harry couldn't find what else to say. His partner would likely wish for him to shift all attention on the technical details of magic instead, perhaps theorise together on how all of this had become possible. He couldn't, entire focus on Tom's brazen actions, using Harry's own body no less. Insecurity unpleasantly reared its head, for how could Voldemort still have trusted it in any capacity after that? The surfacing jealousy and desperation over seeing someone else kiss his partner made Harry suddenly understand far better why Voldemort had been gleeful about confessing to ripping enemies apart with more violence than he would have normally exhibited right after witnessing Harry kissing the Locket. To make matters worse: in that instance, he had been the one to instigate it, not the Horcrux.

Harry gazed at the swirling silver liquid in the Pensieve that was stood upon the desk, wondering if it could extract and bury the witnessed memory again in a way that would make him forget all about it.

''It doesn't appear to be so straightforward,'' Voldemort thoughtfully replied. Icy fingers found the back of Harry's neck and absent-mindedly traced patterns on the skin, a touch that sent him back to reality again, halting the plunge in despair. Tom wasn't here right now. Besides, there'd been absolutely no indication about Voldemort being interested. All the Dark Lord had responded with had been disbelief and rage, which had quickly followed concern over Harry's state of well-being.

''Isn't it?''

Red eyes pinned him down. ''I can scarcely believe that I am the one to have to point out the obvious. Perhaps Tom being a part of my soul makes it easier to understand his motivations… though his words should really have been clear enough. I imagine he has feelings for me indeed, yet only as a side-effect of his connection to you. That talk of shared magic and minds in a way so unusual – as much as anything regarding Horcruxes can be called usual. If he did not possess a mind of his own for most of your life and only recently gained the strength to untangle far enough to act separately at all, it is only logical that he echoes many of the same emotions you have. I imagine he might actually like Quidditch too.''

More than anything, the latter sentence put the whole strange scene in a more graspable perception for Harry, who couldn't help but weakly chuckle at that suggestion.

Voldemort was not done speaking, however, still sensing his unease. ''I understand him, to an extent. Much better than I would have years ago. He hinted at the way he feels being similar to how I am uncontrollably influenced by your flood of emotions. I no longer mind, am grateful for it. Tom seems to be of the same opinion, considering how he thanked me for being left with you. I was never meant to feel this much, and doing so changed me beyond recognisability. Because of that, he cannot be as nefarious as the other Horcruxes. Although his whim was surely uncomfortable, all other actions and words showed clear care for you. It is because of that, that I trust him not to cross boundaries again with either of us.''

Harry pondered on that, now finally calm enough to give a thought to the rest of the conversation as well. Right, Tom had most of all expressed how similar Harry and he were, had not reacted to Voldemort's aggression and instead advised him on love, in a way.

''Hold on, was this the reason you hounded Snape to have that potion ready in the middle of the night?''

Thin lips pressed together until no more than a pale line was visible. ''The mention of love did bring the topic to the forefront of my mind,'' he at last admitted. ''I was not exactly calm enough to realise what he truly meant. I'd originally wished to take the potion on your birthday as a gift-'' He broke off when Harry could not stop the spike of horror that shot through them both like an arrow.

They regarded each other warily.

''Do you have any further insane ideas to gain my affection I should have known about months ago?'' Harry tensely inquired.

''Nothing so elaborate,'' came the none-too-appreciated reply.

''Voldemort,'' he growled out.

It earned him only a frustrated sigh. ''Nothing concrete either, or specifically for you. Some of my schemes could have the added benefit of deepening your affection. Removing Dumbledore from this country for one so you need no longer worry about his deadly meddling, or finding roles for your friends to fill that, while necessary for the future of our world, could well have been taken up by people whose loyalty I already gained. Before you ask to insult my intelligence further, I did learn about not presenting you with corpses. In fact, the grudge I let go of during Litha was the one I still held against that Half-Vampire who stole my kill. You would have resented me, had you found out I'd done away with him.''

With audible relief, Harry declared: ''You're right, I would have.'' He'd been on edge about the Vampire's fate ever since hearing his partner had found out about the whole blood-debt debacle. It was a mixture of cowardice and careful hope that the teen hadn't brought it up again in so many words, wishing to think the best of his partner without actively searching for a way to be proven wrong. ''Thank you for being… mindful of that. Speaking of corpses, what happened to Pettigrew's?''

''An unmarked grave in the back of the garden, near where he dropped dead,'' the other uncaringly waved away.

That didn't sit well with him. ''No,'' he strongly spoke. ''I will not have Wormtail share the same burial grounds as my parents, whom he betrayed. I don't care where else you put him, but not here. Not in our home.'' He could tell this request bothered Voldemort, which he didn't much care about right now.

''The ground here is no more sacred than anywhere else. Moving him simply for the sake of sentimentalism is a waste of both time and effort. Due to a lack of preservation spells, he'll rot in no time at all.''

Another growl. Harry could feel his temper flaring up and had to hold himself back from raising his voice. ''This isn't up for debate. If you won't do it, fine. Expect to lose some quality time then though, because I'll be digging him up myself and I bet you can figure out with ease which hours I'll be using to do so.''

Irritation grew into amusement rather fast. ''So fiery again… I hadn't expected to see that look in your eyes before showing the memory of my conversation with Grindelwald.''

Harry threw him a meaningless hiss, only slightly tensing when Voldemort attempted to kiss his disgruntlement away. ''A compromise: I shall have Barty remove Wormtail,'' he promised. ''That way, it takes time from neither of us.'' Protesting that decision was useless for everyone involved, Harry knew, as Barty would be ecstatic about being allowed to fulfil any task as long as it didn't involve keeping Nagini entertained.

Caving, he huffed: ''Fine. So, about Tom… on one hand, I hope this type of possession doesn't happen again. On the other, I'm also still rather interested in reaching him. If only to tear into him for daring to kiss you. However, I couldn't find him in my mindscape…''

''His independence has continuously grown. You only saw him there once, at a point in time at which he finally managed to gain a form you could perceive him in. I imagine appearing in your mind like that was only a first step. He might have set up a mirrorscape of his own by now, only letting you find him if he wishes to. As an insubstantial being that leaves active control of the body he technically inhibits to its original owner, it'll be much easier for him to manipulate mental aspects.''

Harry scrunched up his nose. ''You make it sound as if he's a parasite.''

The man scoffed lightly at the idea. ''Horcruxes aren't parasitical to their hosts. Parasitism only occurs when third parties get involved to fuel the soul. In fact, the bond between soul and host object or person is mutualistic, as you both benefit from this bond. Not least of all by it granting you literal immortality. Nonetheless, Tom will have some different abilities than you do and has learned to separate himself more than before. Combined with the fact that his knowledge about magic is almost as vast as my own due to when he split off, I am hardly surprised that he can hide from you if not wishing to be found.''

''Maybe…'' Harry speculated, ''I could try again now he knows my reaction to his appearance?'' Had Tom been waiting to see whether Harry would resent him before they'd next come face-to-face?

''I would encourage you to do so only when I am present,'' his partner said on a tone that didn't allow for objections. ''Regardless of his harmless behaviour so far, my trust is very limited, and I would prefer if you didn't put yourself in a position in which you would be at his mercy.''

Harry stiffly nodded. ''I'd wanted to ask you for that in the first place. It's not as if it cannot wait for a better moment either. I've gone all of my life without talking to Tom. Now my main fears have been eased and we are communicating better again, it feels wiser to tackle this together.''

With a content hum, Voldemort ensured to gather all of Harry in his arms, who happily let his partner do so.

He yawned and cracked his back before melting into the embrace, still sore from the earlier exams. The Carrows hadn't been any less relentless about Herbology and Transfiguration than they'd been about the three exams on Saturday. The siblings had even come up with an evil way to test them on both subjects at once. Harry had had to cast a Herbivicus charm on a bunch of Fanged Geraniums, Chomping cabbages and Schreechsnaps, then had only been allowed to use transfigurative spells to defeat the monstrous things those turned into. To Harry's annoyance, his shields had activated once to avoid a cabbage taking a good bite out of his shoulder, leading to point deduction. Nor was he in retrospect certain whether attempting to utterly destroy the remaining plants beyond recognition looked good for the Herbology aspect of the exam. Instincts were a bitch sometimes.

''It pleases me to hear that. Now, as for tackling problems together…'' Voldemort spoke, then procured a second vial holding a liquid memory. ''We ought to have a look at this, still.''

If Harry had thought the first memory would turn his world upside down, this second one shot an Avada straight at it. The way Voldemort had danced around Grindelwald and responded with bait of his own… then still attempted to extract as much information from the captive man without making it seem obvious that he had found no clue about this mysterious wand previously… It had been a dangerous risk, especially with just how much Voldemort had still prodded about the limitations of this Deathstick.

''You played word games to extract secrets from and make a deal with the former Dark-'' A glower made him cut off those words. ''Fine fine, not a Dark Lord. Whatever, Grindelwald was still an incredibly feared figure of power.'' That was a much-preferred point to focus on than the outrageously embarrassing way in which Voldemort had basically bragged about Harry.

For the first time today, the man visibly lost his composure, a cocky laugh slipping from his lips. ''Darling, you appear to have a skewed view of reality. Yes, the general populace was terrified of him. You do understand that those same people still speak his name, whereas they quiver in their boots at the mere mention of mine in their vicinity, even years after they thought I died?''

Without much fire behind it, Harry lightly hit a bony chest. ''To be arrogant about being regarded as a terror is far too typically you,'' he exasperatedly said. He pondered on the conversation itself instead, then. ''I thought you merely visited to scout the castle and see if we could lock Dumbledore up in there without Grindelwald either knowing or informing the occasional guard that might show up.''

''Not quite. During my gathering of information, it became clearer that Grindelwald has no guards at all. His food and other necessities are currently replenished by a House-elf sworn to Hogwarts, which piqued my interest. Beneath buried records, I found that it is indeed Dumbledore alone who has official access to Nurmengard, for now. Only if he were to pass or otherwise found to be unavailable, would the International Confederacy be allowed to instil other safety measures. His boon in exchange for essentially ending the war.''

''Sounds very insecure, considering their history.''

''Their involvement wasn't too well-known, certainly not during or right after Grindelwald's war. I only found out after digging into Dumbledore's personal history to get some dirt on him. The trail of friends and family acquaintances finally painted a convincing picture, but that was long after he'd already being granted these privileges. I thought I might use it against him if I ever did go into politics, but life took different turns. Of course, I didn't hesitate to inform some of my followers about it.''

''Like Barty,'' Harry said, recalling the Death Eater having mentioned it before.

''Indeed. Nonetheless, I had imagined Dumbledore's demand of being handed the only keys – figuratively speaking – in order to keep an eye on his former lover would have the goal of tormenting Grindelwald over his betrayal and ultimate defeat. The comfort I found in that cell was certainly a surprise, nor was I prepared for how affectionate the both of them clearly still are.''

''Which you instantly seized to your advantage,'' Harry noted, unsure how to feel about Voldemort's ever-present opportunistic tendencies. ''Instead of telling Grindelwald you wished to lock Dumbledore in Nurmengard too, you turned it into a bargaining chip as if you were doing him a favour in exchange for gaining information on this… Deathstick.''

The utterly unapologetic expression was unsurprising. ''Why not? I couldn't lose. Everyone apart from Dumbledore gets what they want, plus I now know not to engage the old fool in a duel. Having a cheating, all-powerful wand that reweaves fate itself to win any duel is rather the unfair advantage, don't you think?''

''I do, which is why I'm a tad sceptical about you getting your hands on it,'' Harry bluntly admitted. ''You already cheated death, isn't that enough? Would you truly give up the wand you have now, the one which served you for so long and connects you to me, to exchange it with one whose loyalty is so fickle that stealing it in the dead of night is enough to make it accept another master?''

Voldemort did not appear to be swayed by his concerns about this unreliable artefact. The reason why became slightly clearer as he said: ''My priority lies not in possessing this wand. It could be an asset, perhaps. However, despite all I could extract from Grindelwald, I still know far too little about it to my liking. Well, at least it was believable enough that I was not yet aware of its exact limits, current location and how he himself came into its possession. My main concern is ensuring Dumbledore loses ownership over it, for I cannot be absolutely certain of being able to capture him when he has such an ace literally up his sleeve. We need to adapt our original plan.''

Only slightly placated and vowing to be careful just in case Voldemort wouldn't be, Harry turned even more attentive as the Dark Lord started laying out all the revisions he'd made in the short span of time between talking to Grindelwald and now.

It was impressive yet slightly worrying where all this was heading. As the hours grew longer, Harry felt more and more like being strapped to one of Gringott's carts that was plunging into depths unknown.

---

For the third consecutive day in a row, Harry attempted to shake off the feel of being dragged down by zooming aimlessly in the skies, flying as high as the wards allowed for on the broom Viktor had insisted he borrow to keep in shape. It had taken no time at all to get used to a Nimbus 2000 again, and if Harry wouldn't have such fond memories of his Firebolt, being a gift from Sirius, he'd almost say he preferred its gentler glides.

Would he see Viktor again at the end of this week? After much of the study time spent together, it felt odd that Hermione would pack up and return to Bulgaria again upon finishing the last exam coming Sunday. He'd really love to accompany her, but visiting once had already been risky and only possible because only one of the three Krums had been home. If Viktor's parents got wind of Harry Potter casually barging in to steal their guest away, they might reconsider being so generous as to house Hermione much longer. Nonetheless, seeing the stoic Quidditch star had felt good, and much too short. Harry had always regretted how little they'd kept in touch. If only he could find a way to rekindle their friendship, maybe things with Mione would be a little less strained…

He sighed deeply, using the rush of air to practise a dangerous spiral down to the earth, pulling up at the last second: that Wronski feint he'd never gotten around to trying during an actual match. The move itself was even more exhilarating than when Voldemort had sped to the ground while pulling Harry along, as this time he was the one in control of moving. Getting a brilliantly reckless idea, he flew up to the highest point of the dome-like wards, aided by knowing Voldemort's magic like the back of his hand by now to avoid crashing into the invisible walls. Gauging the distance, Harry took off as much of his robes as possible while sitting, sent an immobilising charm at the Nimbus, then jumped right off it.

A high-pitched shriek almost distracted him enough not to manage what he'd wished to, but thankfully the transformation couldn't be stopped once it began, so a whole ten feet before Harry would have crashed and likely snapped every bone in his body, trembling wings unfolded that enabled him to shoot upwards on the wind again. Flapping lazily, he circled around the house, with his excellent sight now spotting the few figures in the backyard whom he'd not noticed before at all.

The first thing he heard when Harry turned back – being happily surprised when realising he was still wearing both his briefs and socks - was an angrily ranting Hermione.

''I thought you were trying to take your life right then and there!'' she shouted furiously. Behind her, Ron was pale and silent, looking as if he'd shared those exact thoughts also.

''Why does everyone always think I'm actively trying to off myself?'' Harry asked with mild irritation. ''I've tried my best to stay alive over the past years as I happen to very much like the life I have now. Also, I'm sure there's far more effective methods than possibly breaking my neck. Look, I can't take off directly from the ground, okay? Figured I'd skip the step of having to climb up somewhere simply by flying already.''

Only when his friends looked sufficiently guilty for instantly jumping to the worst conclusion, did he ask: ''What are you actually doing here today? Mione, I thought you wanted to prepare for Astronomy in peace without Voldemort breathing down your neck?''

She shrugged. ''Being subjected to his unnerving staring is marginally preferable to Sirius running up the walls while I'm trying to concentrate on star charts. Speaking of which, this week has already been truly hard on him, don't you think it's enough?''

Sighing deeply, Harry answered: ''I hate to do this to him, but if I give in now, Sirius will just think I'm not on board with Voldemort's decision to keep us apart for a while as punishment. Of course I miss my godfather, and I've been far less relaxed during my exams without his reassuring presence, but you guys know I can't let insults like that stand. Voldemort is both the partner I chose to spend my life with and an undeniably important figure of authority to a great many people. Sirius' constant jabs at him, especially in front of Death Eaters or other followers just can't happen again. Maybe like this he'll finally realise that presenting every offensive comment as a 'joke' won't do. I also know he very well can act responsible and mature too, he only refuses to when it comes to Voldemort. I've gotten very fed up with it multiple times, but he just won't stop.''

''He wants to protect you,'' Ron tried to defend.

''Which we've been over again and again. I don't mind being protected from actual threats, but Siri always sways back and forth. He doesn't interfere in my relationship directly, but somehow has gotten this ludicrous idea in his head that if he can show me how awful of a person Voldemort supposedly is, that'll make me change my mind. It's tiring and frankly, I'm done with it. And don't you tell me that I can do better either,'' he warned in advance.

His best friend held his hands up immediately. ''Wouldn't dream of it,'' Ron hastily said.

But Harry wasn't looking at Ron at all, instantly having raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who had taken those exact words in her mouth before. ''I learned my lesson,'' she wryly smiled. ''Had much space to think as well and although I'm not exactly a fan of your partner, I do see he's good to you, at the very least. You complement each other in the strangest ways.''

Harry let her words sink in and more than that, the quiet tone it was spoken in without any show of defiance or need to prove her previous suspicions right. ''You've been acting differently these past days,'' he noted with a frown. ''Did something happen?''

''N-No,'' she denied, nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ''W-well maybe. Didn't know it would work.''

''That what would work?''

''Burning my grudges,'' she confessed, looking uncomfortable. ''It felt so instinctual, at Litha, that I decided to for once embrace all of this. It helped to know that Viktor would be celebrating the same on that day, likely in much the same way. I thought… why not use it to try and truly let go of some of the resentment I've felt since discovering your allegiance?''

Should he be hurt by how much she'd begrudged his choices? Happy over her active attempt to overcome that? Would she have been able to, if not aided by deep magic none of them properly understood?

Did that matter?

''May I ask what exactly…?'' he reluctantly inquired.

She almost looked relieved at the question. ''That you had to lie to us for much too long. The way your partner shifted all blame of our failed mission on me. How he dug into my memories without regard for my fear. That I was essentially cast aside. I know why, I spent weeks struggling to mend it, but it was hard to overcome my own shortcomings and be more like… like Ron.'' At the mention of being regarded a positive example, Ron's face rapidly grew beet-red. ''Now, whether by wishful thinking or actual spellwork, I feel much lighter.''

Harry felt lighter too at the confession. It did not matter, he resolutely decided. Magic influenced every aspect of their lives, shaped it in unpredictable ways, and Hermione had deliberately chosen to grasp this opportunity with both hands to help them all heal. It was different from Sirius' forced acceptance that the man still seemed to internally struggle with despite refusing to acknowledge such. She wanted this, had already told Harry so when he'd picked her up from Viktor's place.

''What did you think of it? Litha?'' he asked with a slight twinge of apprehension, looking at them both for answers now. For so long, he'd wished to share this aspect of his new life, hoped that it would influence their views. He hadn't spoken about Magic before, thought it too much too soon, but now they'd actually taken part in one of the rituals led by Voldemort, would they feel that same connection he had?

''Nostalgic,'' Ron spoke instantly while Hermione appeared to still mull over what to say. ''More powerful than I remember though. It was like something within compelled me to move, as if my mind didn't entirely belong to myself anymore.'' He held up a hand and flexed his fingers, looking at them thoughtfully. ''It was more impersonal too. Felt it was less about me, or even anyone there, than it was about… I don't know. The sun?''

''I agree,'' Hermione softly admitted. ''It was as if something greater than myself enveloped me. Not quite certain whether it was a good feeling… Is it supposed to be like that?''

He nodded, trying to still quell his own enthusiasm to not scare them off. ''Voldemort is a Lord of Magic,'' he explained. ''To most that sounds only like a fancy title, but it is far more than that. Magic is not just a power that we can wield. There is a… a sort of sentient source that can communicate to a chosen few, the one who gave humans access to magic in the first place according to older legends. To what degree that is true is unknown, but it's a fact that Lords of Magic can not only use their own core magic, but also draw from this source directly. It's especially powerful on these days that gained significance over the centuries. Solstices, equinoxes…'' he trailed off when Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. ''What?''

Hermione cleared her throat and awkwardly said: ''Sirius mentioned something about worship and it being… well. He didn't appear convinced about it,'' she diplomatically added.

''Sirius hasn't seen what I have,'' Harry heatedly countered. ''The only reason why he doesn't believe in magic as an entity is because his parents did. There's no other reason for his prejudice. Listen. Really listen to me, okay? I've seen it. I've felt it.'' With a fervency that he hadn't known he possessed, the teen spoke of the memory he'd witnessed when accidentally slipping into Voldemort's mind, as well as of when he'd seen source magic returning to the man at their overdue Yule celebration. ''This is one of the main reasons why I believe in his goals as strongly as I do,'' he confessed. ''He follows the wishes of Magic itself. If I wouldn't support that, why would I deserve to use the powers granted to me any longer?''

''Thought mum was always kidding when scolding me for offending Magic when I didn't behave during boring ceremonies,'' Ron mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Confused, he asked: ''I thought she didn't believe?''

His friend lightly shook his head. ''Not anymore. Not after seeing how so many people who followed the faith in Magic used it only to push anti-Muggle propaganda without consequence. That dad's whole family had been banned from any of those gathering for several generations already didn't help either I suppose. From what I heard, she only hung onto a few traditions out of habit after marriage, and even dropped those as we got older. The last time I attended any events like Litha was when I was nine, I think. I mean, even before that, my parents strongly urged my siblings and I to integrate with Muggles at elementary school as well, so these were only 'extra, secret' holidays. As they never came with gifts for us, I didn't mind losing those too much. Not that they ever felt… quite like this one did.''

''I didn't know about any of this before,'' Hermione threw in, sounding troubled. ''Viktor's family hardly mentioned religion either, even though they do pray before dinner. I figured it was similar to how my own parents said grace despite not even being avid enough believers to go to church apart from on Christmas Eve to hear the choirs. Viktor gave me a rough translation and taught me the words, but I did not realise they might actually be praying to Magic as a sort of… a sort of god. Oh no,'' she suddenly spoke up, sounding horrified. ''All those books I read about celebrations… I always figured they were speaking of honouring magic figuratively. I've committed the worst sin! Reader bias!''

''Er, what?'' Ron took the words right out of Harry's mouth. He'd started freaking out a bit as soon as Hermione's tone had changed into frantic, and when she mentioned sins, he'd thought this would go into a wholly different direction. Hermione appeared upset for other reasons however: ''I read only through the lens of my own previously formed worldview and remained oblivious to the writer's intended meaning as it was obscured by my own,'' she rattled, distraught. ''I was not able to criticallycomprehend and make an educated judgment about what I read.''

Before she could start pulling her hair in the way she usually did when school was stressing her out, Harry grasped her hands. ''Whoa, calm down. No-one is going to condemn you for considering your own opinions when reading.''

''You should,'' she frowned angrily. ''How could I be so blind?''

Ron patted her shoulder awkwardly. ''Just do better next time?'' he recommended.

''Next time…'' she repeated. ''Yes… There's always a time to learn more, isn't there?'' she asked a tad shakily, worried eyes searching confirmation.

''I'll nick some books out of Voldemort's study if you want,'' Harry grinned back. ''There's no doubt that he gathered works mentioning Lords of Magic, if only to write an extra chapter about himself.'' He was relieved when his suggestion caused her to laugh, doubts finally being cast aside again.

''So, it's us three together again, yeah?'' Ron hopefully asked, instantly slinging an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them closer with an easy-going smile that was too hard not to emulate.

Harry hugged his friends tighter. ''Us against the world,'' he promised. It was more than he'd recently dared hope to keep. Blinking back a dangerous stinging in his eyes, he cleared his throat. ''Sorry for giving you a scare with my stunt earlier. Didn't think anyone was around to witness it to be honest. Barty is out shadowing the Order at the moment and Voldemort has holed himself up in the office to scry any marginally useful place he doesn't have personal access to.''

''Are we allowed to know all that?'' Hermione asked, sceptically arching an eyebrow.

''By now I doubt there's much else I could tell you that would make it more detrimental for either of you to fall into enemy hands than what you've already seen and heard by this point. That he has a scrying mirror should hardly be surprising to someone like Dumbledore.'' Not that the Headmaster would have the opportunity to find out about this for much longer. His days were numbered. Countable by hand now, Harry realised with a strange twinge in his gut. He looked up when feeling a few drops of rain and saw the sky had clouded over rather quickly. ''Come on, let's head inside. Don't want to get soaked.''

They ended up making themselves comfortable in the kitchen, as neither of his friends fancied the idea of heading to the upstairs drawing room with Voldemort being in the adjacent study. ''Would be much better if you'd just come over to my place,'' Ron exclaimed after dragging in two extra chairs. ''Far more comfortable there.''

It was true that the house he and Sirius had taken residence in had quickly been turned into a comfy respite, decked in warm red rugs and plush sofas. Light, cluttered and homey, it came a lot closer to Harry's ideal living space than Riddle House. However… ''Would not be much of a punishment for Sirius if I instead visited there. We could of course head over to my room in Malfoy manor-'' Ron's scowl binned that idea immediately. ''Or not. Hey, at least I can make us some snacks here if we get hungry. We've still got half a day left before the sky is dark enough to take our Astronomy exam. You know, I was kind of relieved to see that both Astronomy and Divination only have one exam each. I could swear Professor Sinistra mentioned those being separate.''

''Astronomy should have had a separate theoretical and practical exam,'' Hermione instantly said. ''Perhaps the Carrows are not well-versed enough in that subject to teach us on the weekend? Or they had no possibility of staying well into the late evening? As for Divination, there's hardly a way to separate practise and theory there. If one needs to interpret omens, the context of when it is predicted or whom it is predicted for is supposedly important.'' Going by the cynical undertone, Hermione had clearly not burned her grudge about Divination. ''It would thus make little sense to give a list of random omens to interpret in theory only, or to question you about hand lines without having an actual hand as reference to apply this theory to.''

''I just said I'm not complaining. Less for me to worry about this week. We also have Fridays free, right?''

''You don't have an exam on Friday. I have Arithmancy still,'' she huffed. ''Which is the most complicated subject Hogwarts has to offer, so in all honesty, I really cannot sit around and dawdle here much longer.''

Ron snorted quietly. ''Self-imposed misery, you could have dropped that instead of Muggle Studies, which you would have aced with three minutes of study time,'' he muttered, expertly ignoring Hermione's venomous glare.

Harry tried to avoid this escalating into one of their famous arguments by loudly dropping the Astronomy textbook on the table. ''Time to study then,'' he proposed. They quickly fell into a good rhythm, Hermione and Harry now and then exchanging notes or asking questions – mostly on Harry's side, as this was one of the subjects Voldemort had not focused on at all during their tutoring sessions – while Ron started another chapter on Warding and on his side also asked Hermione for advice. Ever since she'd demonstrated her ability in it, Ron had attempted to drag every single tip out of her that she was willing to give so he'd improve faster and not annoy Barty so much with his slow progress.

Although neither of his best mates would probably ever be comfortable around Voldemort, it was already a positive sign that Ron had taken a shining to Barty being his new teacher. They weren't exactly friends yet, but friendly was a good step in Harry's opinion. Once again, he felt very content about the worlds he'd so carefully attempted to separate before colliding now.

That feeling didn't fade even when having to leave Ron behind to walk the halls of Malfoy manor instead, as his friend waved them off with a grin. ''I'll have much more fun than you two I'm sure,'' Ron said. ''My evening plans involve getting more in contact with my core and improving a sacrificial ward once Sir Crouch is finished reporting to You-Know-Who. Any minute now, I imagine,'' he ended with another cheerful smile.

Not a sentence Harry would ever have imagined his friend to say. Funny how quickly life could change.

Only when the Portkey took them to the usual sitting room and Narcissa awaited them instead of Lucius, who'd supervised most of the theoretical exams so far, did he get slightly nervous. Without his godfather here as a bit of a buffer, he hoped nothing would go amiss. The sudden inhospitality Hermione had been treated with last week was still fresh on his mind, even if Narcissa had whispered at Litha that she 'understood and wanted to talk later,' whatever that had meant.

It appeared that later was still not now, for she only gave them a nod and gestured to follow her. Hermione did her best to look utterly unaffected, but the tense way in which she held her head up high more forcefully than usual was telling enough. He took her hand and squeezed it lightly, receiving a grateful look back for the reminder of that they were together again. He'd stood up for her before and would be damned before refusing to do so now.

Not that it turned out to be necessary, for a long and silent walk of winding staircases later, they stood in a beautiful room Lucius had not shown before in the initial house-tour Harry had received. Perhaps because its magnificence could only truly be appreciated in full by night: they entered a large dome of bent metal beams and large glass panes so crystal-clear that it seemed as if they stood outside. Beyond, the starry sky that he otherwise had only seen in its full splendour in the north of Scotland stretched out overhead. That certainly answered the earlier question of why the Malfoys had decided to have the practical Astronomy exam here as well. There was likely no other reachable building so well-equipped for this.

''Aren't we close to a large city?'' Hermione asked in confusion. ''Why is there no light pollution?''

''Why would we let the folly of Muggles affect our space?'' Narcissa asked, sounding more baffled than offended. ''The dome is enchanted to filter all of that out, naturally. Now, Draco has already set up three telescopes, so once you take a seat and prepare your writing space, you'll be all set.''

Due to staring up, Harry had entirely missed his brother, who sat at one of the three provided desks already, looking bored. They hadn't spoken an awful lot in the past days, too focused on the workload they all were saddled with. Apart from a short thank you and reassuring that the gift Draco had created on his request had been received well, there'd been hardly more than a few words exchanged. Now too, was not the moment for in-depth talks, even if he'd like to get his brother's opinion on the events stirring on the horizon. Not that Draco would be participating in any of it, but it couldn't hurt to have another opinion. ''Good luck,'' he thus only told the others once Narcissa took her place behind a desk in front of them, hawk-like gaze activating to ensure none of them would cheat.

''As you can see, there's two parts to this exam,'' Narcissa explained. ''On the left sheet, you will need to write an essay on the properties of Jupiter's fourteen most important moons. Pay most attention to the Galilean four and how they interact. You'll have one-and-a-half hour for this and may not use your telescope to observe the moons themselves. On the right sheet, you'll find an empty star chart to fill out for the second part of your exam, for which you will have another hour.''

He'd always been mediocre in this subject, but the quiet room did wonders for his concentration. Observing the stars under this dome was a great improvement to freezing his hands off on top of the Astronomy tower or needing to prevent his parchment from being blown away by the occasional strong gusts of winds that so often blew through the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Actually seeing the stars twinkle above also put him in a much better headspace to come up with facts about the individual moons of Jupiter. Essay-writing wasn't exactly his strong point however, so Harry was glad when he could move onto filling out the chart instead.

It was one of the harder exams, he found, partially because he'd neglected the subject in favour of those Voldemort thought worth focusing on. It didn't help that Harry had never been particularly interested in the skies either. The wonders of the universe far out there did not compare to all that was happening on earth right in front of him. That the planets and their movements were strongly linked to Divination was a hurdle rather than a comfort as well. Even if Firenze had thankfully debunked most of Trelawney's theories about Astrology as petty superstitions, the Centaur's words of the night's tapestry showing an upcoming war in which both Harry and Voldemort would be central was a premonition he'd rather push to the back of his mind. It wasn't useful information when the what and how – or even when - were all shrouded in mystery.

Pressing his eye to the telescope even though he'd already finished the chart, Harry looked at Mars and wondered if it truly was brighter than it was supposed to be. He felt nothing but slight discomfort when seeing the red planet up close, discomfort he knew to only rear its head at all due to the planet's marginal visual similarity to Ruin. Could Centaurs be wrong about these kinds of things? Or was Harry blind to something so obvious to others? He suspected that asking Voldemort about it would only end in having to deal with a disgruntled Dark Lord, as he'd been as dismissive of this as of all prophecy-talk.

''Time is up,'' Narcissa at last announced, at which Harry reluctantly sat back to not appear as if he were making desperate last-minute touches. ''Now, I know it is late, but I suggest we still all take some tea together. I had Silky prepare some refreshments.''

Predictably, Hermione didn't go along so easily. ''I'd rather head straight home, Mrs Malfoy,'' she crisply stated. ''It's nearing midnight, and our History O.W.L. is at ten 'o clock in the morning, is it not? To have any time at all to revise the subject beforehand…'' she trailed off, likely at her limit of politeness already. Hermione usually wasn't one to mince words , and in Harry's eyes, she had already displayed tremendous restraint simply by keeping quiet instead of bursting into another discussion. Probably for the better, then, if she wasn't forced to sit down and have polite conversation over tea. Certainly not tea that had been prepared by a House-Elf who was unfortunately treated only marginally better than Dobby had been, one point about the Malfoys that still rubbed Harry the wrong way .

''We shall be chatting in the library,'' Narcissa mentioned. ''Even if you are uninterested in discussing the future of the relations between those of different blood statuses, you may certainly use the time to borrow tomes on History of Magic.''

The dangerous flashing in Hermione's eyes was a tell-tale sign of how much she was getting ready to deal out a punch.

''Half an hour,'' Harry interrupted, knowing very well that him voicing a timeframe of exactly thirty minutes indicated they were staying purely out of courtesy with the intention to up and leave at the earliest possible convenience. All things considered, he felt that to be the wisest course of action. He could hardly send Hermione back to Riddle House on her own, and he did hope to hear Narcissa out. With limited time, there'd hopefully be less dancing around the topic.

His guardian pursed her lips. ''Acceptable,'' she agreed. ''Draco, lead the way.''

Harry's brother threw him an annoyed glare in passing. ''You know how to make life difficult, don't you?'' he muttered.

''My speciality,'' he shot back. ''Come on 'Mione. Their library is fantastic.''

Whether or not she fully understood his attempt to both shield her and not make Narcissa lose too much face at the same time, Hermione did at least raise no more protest at being led towards the library.

Rows and rows of bookshelves that formed the labyrinthine room glowed in the soft light of enchanted crystal chandeliers. His friend audibly gasped at the impressive sight. Harry had had the same reaction when seeing the library in its full evening splendour, but now concentrated on following Draco towards the middle, in which several large tables and armchairs stood for the purpose of reading in peace and comfort. The tables were laden with hors d'oeuvres instead of books now, making Harry's stomach rumble at the appetising sight even this late at night.

''Father!'' Draco exclaimed in surprise, as Lucius was reclining in one of the chairs, speaking softly with an unexpected guest Harry had only seen once before: Auror Odell.

He faltered and raised his eyebrows at Narcissa, silently questioning.

Hermione wasn't so subtle. ''What is the meaning of this?'' she demanded to know.

Odell showed no indication of surprise as she got up. ''We did not exactly get to introduce ourselves last time,'' she spoke, and although neither her outstretched hand nor her voice wavered, Harry noted that she looked no more comfortable than Hermione was.

''Last time,'' his friend echoed. ''When you were tied up and had a dark mark burned into your arm as the price for wishing to save a loved one? When your superior was killed?''

Odell faltered and swallowed heavily. ''Yes, it hardly left room for pleasantries.''

To clear up the confusing situation as quickly as possible – after throwing a quick glance at Draco to affirm his brother was just as curious as he was – Harry asked: ''What is the purpose of your visit? And why tonight? Voldemort-'' Hermione was the only one who did not flinch at the name being unexpectedly thrown into the room. He ignored the reactions, only filing away that he may indeed have been slightly ridiculous when worrying about his partner's safety just a few days ago, when this was the usual way even those loyal to him acted in response to dropping his mere name, ''-told me that it would be difficult for you to interact with other Death Eaters.''

The Auror responded with an awkward smile that reminded him of Tonks a bit. ''A valid point, considering I can only show up here in the middle of the night, don't you think? I'm here at Lucius' request. We've been colleagues of sorts for years, with him being an advisor in the Ministry and me climbing my way up the ranks in the Auror department. I was quite shocked to find him present during the one meeting of the Dark Lord's followers that I could actually attend since being marked. I made the connection to you quickly then, Harry Potter. And through that…'' she turned to Hermione. ''To you.''

''I… do not entirely understand,'' the bushy-haired teen responded.

''One of my good friends at work mentioned a Hermione Granger a few times. Supposedly, I reminded her of you. Both Muggle-borns stumbling into this wild place with the urge to prove and protect. I believe her exact words were 'impressively defiant and ready to throw hands'.''

''This friend of yours,'' Harry spoke up. ''Doesn't happen to favour the colour bubble-gum pink?''

Odell blinked, then shot him another familiar grin. ''Sure does. You know Tonks, too?'' At the name, Narcissa tensed up. Ah yes, the complicated family dynamics of Pure-bloods... Magical Britain was very small indeed. A village pretending to be a nation.

''Not well,'' he admitted, getting relaxed enough to stop his lingering in favour of claiming a chair directly opposite the Auror and Lucius. ''But we've talked a few times. I met her before Hermione did. She's cool.''

''Cool doesn't begin to cover it,'' Odell fondly spoke, then cleared her throat. ''But this is only marginally about Tonks and far more about what she told me. Being on this side due to circumstance allowed me to have much more information and a better perspective than I had before. I don't regret it,'' she stammered when Harry wasn't very good at hiding that he took offence at the way she'd spoken of Voldemort's side and reiterated that she'd had little choice. ''However, there's precious few who share my background, for lack of a better word. I've wanted to find a kindred soul ever since I got entangled in all of this and well… when Lucius approached me during my lunch break a few days ago, looking for a way to improve the communication between Muggle-borns and mages born into this world, I was on board fast. Even better when he affirmed being able to arrange a visit with you,'' he spoke, once again turning to Hermione.

''Of course, I didn't recognise you during our first unfortunate meeting in the Ministry. Umbridge had only mentioned Harry Potter 'and friends' being there, but when you became wanted and I saw a photo of you, I could have slapped myself. Even more so when it even literally became my job to hunt you down. Anyhow, long story short…'' she took a deep breath. ''It appears that several Pure-bloods are loosening up to the idea of helping rather than vilifying Muggle-borns and their families this time around. Still, there are precious few of us who have connections to the Dark Lord. With your history of activism despite your young age – Tonks mentioned you researching Hippogriff rights and even being the Founder of an organisation meant to help Elves – I thought… who better to discuss ideas with?''

Hermione looked just as stunned as Harry felt. It did come rather out of the blue. Pure-bloods loosening up on Muggle-born involvement? Including their Muggle families? Since when? Just last week, Narcissa had been adamant that the responsibility to adapt fell on those with 'lesser blood'. He hadn't thought any part of his arguments had reached the woman and certainly not expected Lucius to go along with playing nice to Muggles. The Malfoys may have taken Harry in, even treated him like a son, but Harry had remained very carefully conscious of their flawed views and history of cruelty. He did not interfere in the conversation anymore though, aware that it wasn't his place to speak for his friend.

''It sounds like a project I want to grasp with both hands and instantly get to working on,'' Hermione said. Odell's eyes lit up, but the other quickly shook her head. ''However, I've plunged myself into similar ones before without much regard for the consequences. My research to save that Hippogriff brought us nothing as the law is cast aside when one has gold and connections. I had to break the law to ensure it survived. My efforts to liberate elves have been met with contempt even by close friends as well. So far, I met only a single Elf who was actually slightly on board with being liberated, having led me to completely rethink my strategies multiple times and right now being at a loss of how to best put the donations I received to use. I do want to help, truly, I think we want the exact same. I only don't want to tackle it the wrong way again for two years before realising my method is useless. It sounds as if you want to put our heads together and brainstorm ideas by ourselves. I'm not sure that will be effective.''

Admittedly, Harry hadn't imagined his friend to be this level-headed when presented with such an opportunity. Hermione had been adamant about wanting to see change, and regardless of all her knowledge, often barrelled into solving problems with much force and little planning besides loose ideas. Much like he himself did. Trying to read the room, he subtly checked for the reactions of his family, inwardly cursing when even Draco was wearing his 'unreadable Slytherin face'.

''What do you suggest?'' Odell asked, sounding slightly frustrated at her proposed allyship not being met with more enthusiasm. ''Someone has to stand up for our families if the world is truly going to change as much as the Dark Lord wants!''

''Exactly, there lies the crux: what he wants,'' Hermione unwillingly spoke. ''I doubt that any of you informed him of this meeting. I've seen what being a Death Eater entails: unwavering loyalty and unquestioning agreement, whether you were blackmailed into becoming one or volunteered. I've had very recent discussions that showed me just how much work still must be done. Nothing here can happen without his approval, and I am rather low on his list of likeable people.''

At this, Harry felt the need to speak up: ''That isn't true. If only for me-''

''Right,'' Hermione interjected, ''-only for you does he tolerate me, Harry.''

''He was angry at you for a while, but that doesn't mean he doesn't see your value. Your wits. Back when I let slip that I practised advanced magic spell with a friend at Hogwarts, his instant guess was 'the clever one,'. He's literally agreed already to listen to your ideas for Muggles as well, didn't he?''

''Once I prove myself, in some unknown way,'' she replied with a hint of desperation. ''Who knows how many years that will take. Being on the run and constantly out of the loop doesn't help either.''

Disgruntled, Harry leaned back, then looked to the side at Narcissa, who seemed perfectly content to pick out her favourite tiny dishes while listening to the back-and-forth bickering. ''You set up this meeting. Why? What did you hope to gain from this?''

All eyes turned to the matriarch of the family, who carefully placed half a piece of toast with smoked salmon down on a floating saucer of white ceramics. ''For the same reason our Lord tolerates Ms Granger and her… ideas,'' she candidly answered. ''A goal that very much aligns with all of ours, if I am not mistaken, which is why He also allowed this meeting, of which we self-evidently informed him in detail after seeking His council on last week's matter.''

Harry struggled to refrain from pinching his nose and releasing a suffering sigh. Of course they had arranged all of this with Voldemort in secret. There were some positives to focus on at least. No need to worry about an angry Dark Lord finding out two of his sworn followers were scheming behind his back with Hermione to improve Muggle rights. Them having what sounded like an enlightening talk about the topic also explained why both Lucius and Narcissa were even going along with any of this. It was slightly annoying that all of Harry's words only seemed to have reached them as an indirect echo through his partner. Only partially no less, for if he interpreted her semi-cryptic words correctly, the decisive factor in setting up this meeting was not any sense of the responsibility he wanted them to take, but instead their wish to appease Harry.

''Using someone else's troubles as a bargaining chip to win me back is not fair,'' he ground out, even if he couldn't find the anger that should have been appropriate.

''The world isn't fair,'' Lucius spoke up, lifting his chin. ''Everyone takes what they can get.''

Rising to his feet slowly, Harry crossed the distance between them and ensured to look straight into the ice grey of his guardians' eyes. Lucius didn't back down, staring back in challenge. With force, the teen spoke clearly: ''We're mages. The world is exactly what we put into it. I will make it fair. I'll convince Voldemort to make it fair if his opinion is truly the only one that can sway you.'' He whipped around to face his friend. ''Use this to the fullest, 'Mione. If you can only gain ground for progressive ideas by holding my approval up as bait, fucking use it.''

Without waiting for her response, he turned to the slightly stunned Auror who clearly hadn't expected where any of this had headed. ''I apologise that you were dragged into this because of me. Nonetheless, I'm glad to see someone who shares Hermione's zeal in finding solutions and has the drive to see them through. Some advice that may be useful to not make this an uphill battle: Voldemort already has a couple of ideas on how to handle the problematic aspect of Muggle-borns possibly being cut off from their families once we get to the point of separating ourselves. As hard-headed and unreachable as he can sometimes be, you should really run any improvements by him if you want to get anywhere, considering your status as his follower. Or at least request to hear his current plans, because I know him well enough to say with confidence that he will dismiss anything that directly opposes his own ideas. It's much better to find compromises.''

''Who are you?'' Odell only asked in bewilderment. Considering her reaction to him before in the Ministry, he understood the Auror wasn't asking for his name.

Nonetheless, he smirked back and said: ''Just Harry. Yep… just Harry…. Although next time you have to kiss Voldemort's feet or something at one of those Death Eater meetings, be sure to check out the nice ankle bracelet he wears for me. I put a lot of thought into that gift.''

''Sorry?'' she asked, still in that same baffled tone.

Feeling a whole lot more cheerful all of a sudden despite the tiredness that came with it being past midnight, he spoke up: ''Time to go, Mione. We already spent more than thirty minutes here and I'm sure you can figure out a way to contact each other regarding brainstorming in the next couple of days. Auror Odell, it was good to meet you under better circumstances than last time. Wish I could ask to give my greeting to Tonks, but letting her know you've spoken to me would be rather problematic. Maybe-'' he suddenly pondered. ''Maybe warn her to take on some work outside of Britain for the remainder of this week and the next if at all possible. Yeah, that would be brilliant. Kingsley too.''

Odell obviously knew better than to ask more questions, nodding seriously. ''No promises that they'll follow my advice, but I'll see what I can do.''

Here was to hoping that Voldemort's rage over Harry sending some of their enemies to safety would be soothed by two of Dumbledore's most powerful allies not being present to support the Headmaster for a while.

''Thanks, that eases my conscience a bit,'' he said. Before heading to Hermione so they could Portkey away, he still gave Narcissa a tense smile. ''Intentions aside, you did speed up something that might otherwise truly have taken years so… thank you as well. I won't miss dinner again.''

''Saturday. Make sure you are appropriately dressed,'' she coolly replied, but before he could respectfully step away, she went in for an out of the blue, quick hug, pressing him against her chest. ''Silly child,'' she whispered, and he wasn't entirely sure whether he should have heard that. Once she'd regained her composure, Narcissa only sternly said: ''We'll still have a talk about discretion next time as well. One does not brag about gifting jewellery, young man.'' She then lowered her voice and quickly hissed: ''Nor give anyone but one's official fiancé kisses in public, no matter how chaste.''

''Public?'' he protested loudly. ''My own garden isn't public!"

Her prim glare dismissed that and any further unspoken arguments. Fighting hard against rolling his eyes, Harry only gave Draco and Lucius a vague wave before taking his friend's hand to whisk the both of them away.

The sight that greeted them at home was not exactly the dark and silent house Harry had expected to find. Typically, the only person up this late was Voldemort, who happened to prefer for anyone but Harry and Barty to have fucked off by midnight, ever since he'd provided alternative housing. Tonight though, the lights in the dining room were as bright as day, old electrical bulbs that needed to be replaced every couple of days after being used because they kept breaking for obvious reasons. Harry suspected Voldemort only didn't bother finding an alternative because he personally never used light. Perhaps Harry ought search for some home improvements then… Cold fire couldn't be out of his partner's reach, or permanently floating candles like Hogwarts had, with fireproof charms covering all that could burn. Harry's personal favourite idea was installing the same illuminated crystals found all over Malfoy manor, even if they didn't provide a whole lot of light and were meant to be pretty first and foremost.

During those musings about lights – his brain was probably a little stuck on the first detail he noticed when all it wanted to actually do was shut off in blissful sleep, Barty had loudly greeted them, while a haggard Ron let himself fall into one of the dining chairs with a groan.

''Here I thought we'd be tired after our exam,'' Hermione spoke up. ''You okay?''

Ron gave a thumbs up and yawned. ''It got a bit later than I'd hoped, but there's no way I'd give up on practising this ward until finally getting it down. It'll probably be a few hours still, going by my progress…'' he groaned, sounding dissatisfied.

''Chin up,'' Barty exclaimed after having given Harry an enthusiastic hug and a far more reserved nod to Hermione. ''You perfected it half an hour ago with your own wand. You can't expect it to instantly work with another.''

From the corners of his eyes, Harry noticed how Hermione's eyebrows rose. ''It's for after you leave,'' he mentioned before she could fire off any burning questions.

She closed her mouth again, now looking more uncomfortable than anything. Awkwardness descended over the four of them. It wasn't that Harry had wanted to exclude her from their plans for Dumbledore, but they'd all agreed – Hermione included - that it would be safer if anyone not present for the old Headmaster's attempt to 'rescue' them wouldn't be privy to the details on how they'd handle it. She wasn't the only one left out of the loop either: neither Harry's godfather nor his guardians knew more than she did. Hermione now nonetheless looked like regretting to agree to staying out of it, which Harry couldn't exactly fault her for.

''I'll just head to bed then,'' she broke the silence with a strained smile. ''There'll be few hours left before tomorrow's O. W. L. and I wish to go through my notes one more time. I should get up early to get the most out of my remaining time. Good luck.''

Before Harry could formulate a proper goodbye that wasn't wholly clumsy, she'd already activated the stationary Portkey leading to what Sirius and Ron had dubbed 'The Nest,' as a nod to the Burrow. He cleared his throat just a second too late.

''Do you mind if we still continue practising for a bit?'' Ron asked, apparently not having read the atmosphere after all. ''We have silencing barriers up, so it shouldn't disturb your sleep. There might only be a few days left and I don't want anything to go wrong because of me.''

''Just for the record, I still don't agree to you playing any part in this,'' Harry reminded. ''Dumbledore isn't your enemy.''

''Of course he is!'' Ron loudly disagreed. ''If you expect me to sit around idly when he shows up here, intent on involving you in some suspicious quest that leads to your doom, you shouldn't have stuck by me for the past years. You really think that Dumbledore planning to kill my best friend doesn't affect me? That I'll ask him to show up at my next birthday party and shrug off political differences? Don't be daft. I gladly volunteered to play bait. Thankfully your boyfriend has a bit more sense than you do, mate.'' Harry wasn't the only one present who pulled a face at Ron's favourite way of referring to the Dark Lord. Barty looked like he'd have a heart attack any moment now.

Joy over Ron having his back so unconditionally battled with a myriad of insecurities though. Of course he was grateful for his best friend's attitude, but how would Ron react in case his parents or siblings showed up at the Headmaster's side? Most of them had just as valid reasons for wishing death upon Voldemort as Harry had for wanting Dumbledore out of the picture. The Dark Lord being an objectively better choice for leading their society than the current mess of a government could not and did not wipe away personal loathing. It did not erase that two of Mrs Weasley's brothers had been killed, nor that a Horcrux had attempted to murder Ginny in exchange for power. That Harry had found forgiveness for the murders that concerned himself didn't mean he could expect the same from anyone else.

Ron huffed when Harry didn't respond and picked up the wand he'd been practising with. Barty's wand. ''Feeling guilty for my choices is kind of degrading. I know what you want to say Harry. 'It's my battle', 'you shouldn't involve yourself'. You said the same year after year and then was grateful that Mione and I helped you. So let me help without repeating all of that, yeah? What You-Know-Who wants to do with Dumbledore is something I can get behind: take the power he uses to manipulate others away and lock him up in a place he can do no harm It's not as if there'll be gruesome slaughter. You have a good influence here, limiting some of the killing and all that.'' Ron quickly glanced to Barty, whose sudden explosions when it came to insinuating Voldemort wasn't absolutely perfect had become famous in the house, but the man only watched them with mild interest.

He'd have laughed it off and thanked Ron, if not for one little fact: ''I killed someone for him last weekend,'' he blurted out.

Ron's smile slipped away, the usually so friendly and bright blue eyes staring in disbelief. ''That- why-'' he stammered. ''In self-defence? In some sort of battle? A freak accident?'' he listed off frantically, clearly attempting to come up with justifiable excuses.

''Because he wanted to see you cast a Killing Curse?'' Barty calmly asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robe and slowly approaching Harry.

''Yeah,'' he breathed, searching Barty's face for something other than utter neutrality. He swallowed hard. ''Because he wanted to feel kindship in every regard and I couldn't deny him that wish. He was so… It made him so happy that he managed to cast a Patronus charm with the memory of it.'' Still not much of a reaction, although the teen was careful not to look at Ron.

Gently, Barty wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulder to pull him close. ''So that's why Pettigrew's corpse was buried in our garden,'' he muttered. ''Already wondered how that came to be. My Lord was rather tight-lipped about it.''

''Scabbers?'' Ron loudly inquired. ''That creepy bastard who pretended to be my rat for years? Wait- I thought you turned him in… wasn't he half-dead already? Had his soul sucked out or something?''

''Something like that,'' Harry tiredly replied, leaning heavily on Barty. ''Nonetheless, I delivered the final blow and by doing so ripped my soul. Haven't properly talked about it with anyone but Voldemort since. However, I'm sure that I would do it all over again if given the chance.''

''Good,'' Barty firmly spoke, stepping away again so he could better look at Harry's face. His silver mark gleamed in the harsh light, the skull and snake intertwined in a dazzling display. ''Death is a tool we wield with pride to fulfil our purpose. Shying away from it for some noble goal of purity is a mistake we cannot afford. You did a beautiful thing in helping our Lord, Evan.'' A calloused hand landed on his frozen face. Why had he wished to speak to Barty about this again? To have one more confirmation that his thoughts and actions were normal?

He forced himself to turn his head to look at Ron instead, who'd gone pale. ''You once said I might be the softest dark wizard ever. I don't want you to have some idolised image of me, so I thought you should know this before aiding me in a way that would go against your family. Before you choose to protect me.''

''Why would you do it again?'' Ron asked, louder than usual. ''You were the one who insisted he'd be handed to the Dementors the first time.'' The wand in his hand trembled, as if he were debating what to do with it.

Harry frowned, trying to formulate a proper answer. ''Back then, I did not fully grasp what Dementors did. It would arguably have been a worse fate. Also, I only prevented his death that time as I didn't want Sirius and Remus to become murderers. Looking back on it, I'm sure that was a sound decision, neither of them would have been able to live with offing a former friend in the end. Whereas I….'' he took a deep breath, at last ready to vocalise his reasonings. ''This murder allowed me to give my partner what he desired so much, it ensured that Sirius wouldn't hunt down the rat in my stead if he'd have found out that Wormtail was still alive, and it gave me a smidge of the revenge I've been craving. Nothing justified the way Peter pretended to be my parents' friend and then wedged a knife in their backs. I lied to you and Hermione too about my allegiances, but I could never, ever have turned around and cowardly betrayed you to someone I knew would end your lives. So to me, all his death gave weighed heavier than his life, a life prolonged by others out of a sense of duty alone.''

Ron shot back: ''You also forgave You-Know-Who, who actually committed that murder… And you did so a whole year before hearing your parent's opinion about the matter. What about his justification?''

Rubbing his face, Harry sat down and held a hand up to Barty, who was nervously swaying back and forth, gauging whether stepping in was necessary. ''It's a valid question. With Voldemort…. I feel there was a much larger picture to consider than with Pettigrew. My parents fought against all he stood for, rejected his offer to join him thrice and then turned out to be the people literally standing between him and the kid prophesized to be his downfall. That it wasn't a personal murder, and one out of a twisted form of self-defence to boot, made it slightly easier on me. Piled on top of that were admittedly selfish reasons: feeling appreciated, liking the new vision he had for our country, my problems with Dumbledore and the Ministry flaring up when realising how much had been hidden from me and how much Voldemort was willing to reveal… Most of all-'' Harry hesitated. ''Although I had a hard time pushing away that inner voice telling me not to forgive him, I could silence it most easily after he'd given me an out. I rejected the offer back then, but the sheer fact that he'd have assured I live a simple life somewhere if only I'd wished to leave this entire mess behind was comforting. In my eyes, it redeemed some of the hurt he caused me over the years.''

Barty coughed dryly. ''It probably also helped that you fell over your own feet whenever you saw him.''

Harry narrowed his eyes. ''If you're claiming that I only forgave Voldemort because I wanted to snog him-''

''Am I wrong?'' the other teased, breaking most of the tension that had gathered in the air.

''We were talking about Pettigrew,'' Harry sternly reminded, never having figured out at which point in time he'd actually fallen in love with his partner and not ready to talk about it now.

''No,'' Ron disagreed. ''You were attempting to discourage me from taking action, as you claim I might regret it. That you willingly killed someone is…'' he trailed off, looking doubtful for a moment before steeling himself. ''I'm sure Sir Crouch has a couple murders under his belt too. I'm still here instead of cowering in a corner, refusing to speak to him, okay? I mean, you're together with one of the most notorious killers of our age, who happened to create this plan I agreed to with. I'm not saying it's all fine and dandy,'' he added before Harry could get his hopes up. ''I absolutely need time to process this, but if you think it'll change my mind and have me run away screaming, you've got another thing coming. Merlin, you might need even more protection now… from yourself in addition to everything else that wants to harm you.''

At a loss for words, Harry only stared. Barty wasn't so silent, giving an appreciative whistle. ''You picked a good spot on the train,'' he joked. ''Running into this one.''

Ron ignored the words. He ignored everything else in fact, viciously slashing his wand through the air with a grim expression, shreds of shimmering blue layering atop each other to form wispy walls. Hesitantly, Harry turned to the Death Eater once more, without knowing what kind of advice he was searching for.

Barty only shrugged one shoulder. ''Go to bed kid, this'll take a while still. But if anyone can do it…'' he nodded to the back of Ron's head. ''That one sure can.''

---

The night was warm, a strange dense heat packed in the air that was uncomfortable even for Voldemort. Pensively, he peered at the blinking village lights below, difficult to see through the smudged glass that made up all remaining windows of the house he'd let fall into ruin. Without any spells being used to patch it up or illusions to gloss over the damage, the structure had deteriorated again quickly. Plants had found their persistent way through every crack; bugs had infested the walls and a pile of ashes in the hallway was proof of Muggle children breaking in at some point to start a small campfire. He hadn't paid attention to it beyond their safe and sturdy walls, this shell of a house as dead to him as the rest of the world he regarded as no more than a malign tumour to cut off. Everything not touched by magic could rot. He would siphon it all off to hide in a safe haven where Muggles could not discover it, could not trample or dissect it. The same haven in which he'd hidden Harry, away from any dangers that wished to catch him.

One of which he could not wait to wipe off the board with a decisive sweep, anticipation rising with each passing hour.

~It's too silent~ Nagini hissed, having finished her inspection of the creaking house. Dry leaves that had fallen through fissures in the ceiling crackled under her heavy sliding body as she sought him out.

~A storm is coming~ he remarked. ~I expect it to arrive at our doorstep soon.~

The past week had been too peaceful, especially after the turbulent weekend it had followed. Apart from some insignificant bumps, all was going far too smoothly. No rebellions, no betrayals, no stagnated progress. Weasley had at last mastered the one ward he needed to and Voldemort had even followed Grindelwald's clues back to stumble across Gregorovitch' hidden old diary.

It came as no surprise that the wandmaker had studied the Deathstick in detail and noted its properties, as well as named some of its known or possible previous owners. Gregorovitch himself had gained possession of it by getting the bragging former owner drunk and slitting the man's throat once he'd fallen asleep, fully convinced that the wand could pass hands through death alone. An erroneous belief if Grindelwald's tale was trustworthy, making the name Deathstick less appealing than the other ones Gregorovitch had found when digging into the wand's past, such as something that translated into the 'Wand of Destiny' in English. The Dark Lord had filed all information regarding it away for now, as he'd been truthful in wishing to remove it from Dumbledore more than calling it his own.

Not that the idea wasn't pleasing to entertain now and then. He likely would have been able to shape the upcoming days in such a way that the old fool would be tricked into handing it to him personally, but keeping his main objective in mind, it was far likelier for Dumbledore to fall into their trap if Voldemort did not attempt to instantly gain possession of the Wand of Destiny. If Grindelwald thought he knew of it, Dumbledore might hold those same suspicions after all.

Nagini could feel his anticipation, for his familiar remained unusually calm, not pestering about food, a more pleasant temperature or anything else she usually demanded. She snuck closer still to rub her snout against his robes. ~You'll weather it. You always do.~

~Of course I will, there is no other option. And so will you, for this storm will certainly bring you vengeance.~

She perked up. ~Oh?~

He crouched down to be on eye-height, slowly stroking beneath her chin. ~Your enemy, the second one on borrowed time. I've made it nestle in the enemy's lair for months now, but its time is up.~

Nagini coiled up at the mention of Vance, tense. ~It'll come here?~

~So I have planned it, yes.~

~Harrison did not seem happy when I spoke of eating humans before.~

~I'm surprised he isn't a herbivore by now.~ He furrowed his brow, having meant to say 'vegetarian', but serpents did not appear to have a word for those who voluntarily refused meat, only for other animals who had no other choice but to chew grass. ~What you do with your prey is up to you alone, Nagini. Neither Evan nor I have a say in it.~

Affectionately, she piled herself upon his lap as he sat down. Razorlike nails left paper-thin diagonal cuts across both index fingers before Voldemort placed his bloodied hands on the dusty and leaf-littered attic floor. Heavy magic flowed from his hands like strings of oil, dripping through each crevice into the rooms below. Threads meant to confuse the senses and dull the sharpness of one's wit if the necessary precautions weren't taken. Dumbledore presuming to have the upper hand of surprise when appearing on their doorstep would be naught but one more folly to add to his tally of missteps.

His own mind cleared upon reaching a meditative state, able to concentrate on more than merely the spellwork he was crafting now the flow had started. Voldemort instinctively attempted to mentally reach out, crabby when grasping into emptiness. He would have to find a method to shift the dimensional folds he'd created in such a way to allow his connection to Harry to remain intact. It was only bearable when distance separated them. Being so physically close yet unable to feel was maddening. One of his hands stopped their task in favour of touching the charms he'd received. He at first chalked the calming effect up to the runes themselves, before the theory struck that the mere association to his partner may be powerful enough to mentally and physically affect him.

It was liberating to allow such a thought without the incessant urge to cast it aside with a mixture of discomfort and shame. He felt whole. Full of life, full of Harry. In such a way that it did not take away anything from himself, adding purpose to his power instead, a mighty combination that opened up new abilities. A peculiar state of being he could not imagine sharing with anyone else.

He used the sudden vigour to draw every particle of floating magic into himself, getting lost in the drowning as energy was converted to a mouldable version stored in his veins, dormant until sparked into action. Voldemort's chin hit his chest as he simply existed, one with the force he'd dedicated his endlessness to. Behind the swirls of stars was a feel of approval that he stretched his hand out towards-

A cold tongue flicked across his cheek, and he awoke with a start, realising his meditation must have gone on for much longer than initially planned, for the light had shifted in a way that told him it was almost evening. Small crusts covered his stinging fingers, whereas the palms were stained black with the remnants of his spell. ~Are you done?~ Nagini asked. ~You need to eat. Harrison told me humans need to eat every single day!~

~I'm not fully human,~ he explained to dismiss her concerns as he cleaned and healed himself.

She obviously didn't buy that excuse, regardless of its truthfulness. He ate mainly out of habit and appetite, not hunger. His body did not process food regularly ever since it relied more on magic than sustenance. What little energy he did need to take in the usual way could be filled with a few bites. Nevertheless, the thought of Harry's prepared meals made his mouth water enough to get up at another one of Nagini's persistent hisses. His partner should have had the time for elaborate cooking again today, it being the only day free of any exams since the O. W. L. s had started. After one last walk through the carcass of a house on this side of the wards, he felt it was sufficiently enchanted again for their purposes. Any more and Dumbledore might get suspicious before walking in.

The day of reckoning was so close now that he could almost taste blood. Their leader might be too valuable to kill, not everyone in the Order of Phoenix was as safe from getting their dues. He inhaled deeply to supress the wish to inflict pain. It had been a while since he'd personally ended a life. That would likely change as soon as the storm hit, which he'd content himself with for now.

''Voldemort!'' Harry enthusiastically called out once he stepped through the front door of which the paint hadn't been scratched off by decades of salty breezes. ''Took you long enough, I was starting to worry.''

''This is hardly the longest time I've spent on a single spell,'' he scoffed. ''Why, when dispelling a curse ward in Meroë I spent five full days-''

''You can tell me all about that during dinner,'' his love smiled. ''It's just the two of us today.''

Pleased to hear it, he hummed in approval, entering the dining room to indeed see a table decked for only the both of them, an array of foreign dishes with fish and vegetables spread out. Voldemort wasted no time trying a bite of everything while telling Harry exactly how he'd conquered the self-renewing wards laid on the 2000-year-old tombs by invoking five different spirits across five days, after which his throat had been so raw from loudly chanting that he'd had to walk around with a wrap filled with healing paste around his neck for over a week to undo the damage his vocal cords had suffered.

''Was it at least worth it?'' Harry asked, ever curious.

''In a way. The tomb was empty and the wards had likely been placed there once more to cover that up, but I did learn how to invoke five spirits,'' he dryly stated. Harry's bright laughter at his expense disgruntled him only marginally. ''One cannot always have luck when searching for treasures. At times, the knowledge learned on the way in hopes of getting them are its own reward,'' he spoke sagely. ''Which of course doesn't mean that I did not break into the Boston Museum of Fine Arts out of spite several times to cover my expenses by stealing what had already been stolen and selling it off once again.''

''Why steal from a museum all the way across the pond? Were you in the States so often?''

''Hardly, which means no-one knew me. As international apparition is generally impossible for the average wizard, I was never considered as a likely suspect, even once my name became more renowned.''

''Infamous, rather,'' the other retorted with a cheeky grin.

''Careful now. An upstanding Gryffindor such as yourself would surely never take dinner with a man off ill repute?'' he asked, leaning threateningly towards Harry, whose smile was finally wiped off his face when unable to hold back from giving Voldemort a lightning-quick kiss to his cheek.

''You're absolutely right, I'll disinvite Snape from having dinner here on Sunday then,'' Harry stated with a waft of satisfaction as he leaned back again.

Voldemort considered it with a sly grin, approving of his partner's quick wit, then shook his head. ''He'll be here all day. First for the potion exam, then to be taught flying, which could take a significant amount of time. Finally, I wish him to head straight to Dumbledore late evening, so the fool will be as tired and unprepared as possible when having to make a decision about when he will 'strike'. I doubt he'll be wise after waiting in anticipation for so many weeks, all the while being hounded by Ronald's parents to act.''

''Maybe… but the truth is that his actions are also oft unpredictable,'' Harry reminded. ''What if things go awry? Not even regarding him seeing through the illusions he's spun for himself, but if he is not captured so easily as we think?''

''Evan, I do believe that you were quite adamant multiple times at being an impressive improviser. You've sufficiently proven by now that those were not mere empty words. If not for your ability to think on your feet, I for example wouldn't have been able to extract the last time-turners from the government using that handy list you gave me.''

Harry wrinkled his nose, not seeming pleased with the praise he received. ''While true, that day also reminded me that improvisation can get out of hand occasionally and requires more than one mind. We only found that room because Draco spotted it, and only got rescued because Hermione had had the sense to bring some useful items just in case – even if she took the wrong mirror, which she couldn't have known about. If not for any of that, I might have sat in a cell for the past two months instead of spending all that time here with you.'' He cocked his head when feeling Voldemort's surprise. ''What is it?''

''I may have avoided the Dementors for their demands and current uselessness to me, but they would be subdued quickly. Surely, you would not have spent longer than a few days in prison, had you been caught.''

A lovely hint of embarrassment flickered to life. ''You left your followers in there so far, who served you for years,'' his partner protested.

''And likely grew both insane and vengeful due to their prolonged exposure to the Dementors' presence.'' They had had a similar conversation before, he starkly recalled, during the very first summer Harry had spent in this house. Of both understanding and regretting the way his followers had been punished, of his inability to act until able to free them through legal means. It would be useless to break into Azkaban and deal with a horde of starving, unstable people with a thirst for blood. One day, he would be able to reward their efforts with freedom, when they'd need not hide in dark alleyways in the aftermath. It was a world of difference from bargaining with the Dementors to let a single prisoner leave who'd been held there for mere days. A Necromancer no less, whom they'd not touch in the first place. ''You would have not been so ill-effected,'' he reasoned. ''If you'd have been in Azkaban for a decade…'' he faltered, fighting with the sudden wave of emotions that welled up as the imagine of his partner, thin and dirty, came to mind. Barely controllable fury sprang from a hidden well that was only put a lid on when a firm hand landed on his. Through ground teeth, Voldemort admitted to the both of them: ''I'd still drag you out of there no matter the cost.''

''I know that now,'' Harry breathed, and then said no more as the remainder of dinner was cast aside in favour of devouring each other. Plates clattered, teeth clashed, and Voldemort only came to his senses once Harry's back heavily hit the table's surface and his own clawed hand had torn the simple robe his partner wore clean open.

They stilled their movements at the same time, staring in the same way, a pining echoing between them that Voldemort fully admitted to being responsible for. Harry looked more delectable than any of the food that had managed to remain on the table: splayed out fully, arms having landed above his head, green eyes opened wide in anticipation. To get the sharp edge off the ache, he brushed the shreds of clothing aside and leaned over to press carefully restrained kisses on every inch of Harry's heaving chest, to the quick pulse of his throat, to the breastbone above his hammering heart. Thin fingers ghosted over the temptation of hardened buds to either side of it.

~Voldemort~

How could one word sound so wistful and exasperated both?

He cupped that perfect, frustrated face in both hands and stared down at it, revelling in the yearning he found. Any further words, hissed or not, were effectively silenced as the Dark Lord rightfully claimed his love's lips.

It had been terribly rude of Harry not to serve dessert, after all. He did crave something sweet.

---

Old bones creaked when walking up the familiar staircase of the castle he'd been exiled from. Weathered fingers lovingly patted ancient stone as the floor rose to carry Albus upwards. He'd observed Hogwarts from afar yesterday, restless as all had felt too calm for the past couple of days, a silent prelude to trouble. The ominous feel did not surprise him in the least: Tom always had had a penchant for ruining the end of the schoolyear somehow. Today however, all he felt was gratitude for being able to return undisturbed, the building dark and empty since the start of the summer holidays. There was no-one present to disturb him. Or stop him.

Even the members of staff who usually stayed over summer had left this first weekend, as was tradition, to enjoy some hard-earned time off. It bought a small window of time to waltz into the office he'd locked when leaving. With fondness, Albus opened the heavy doors and looked around, finding all to be as he'd left it. He worried not about the portraits – they could warn Severus all they wanted out of a sense of obligation if they so pleased – and walked straight to whom he needed to speak to so direly.

''Why, good evening,'' he greeted in a chipper tone as he regarded the crumpled old hat resting on one of the top shelves. ''How far along is next year's song?''

A seam split open wide. ''I've been breaking my hat over what rhymes with 'orange' for weeks,'' he grinned.

''There's a mountain in Wales called Blorenge,'' Albus suggested after thinking about it for a second. ''Does that lend itself?''

''Perhaps. However, you surely did not return after that spectacular exit to discuss sonnets?''

''Not only that,'' he affirmed, humour fading. ''I am in need of the weapon you safeguard. It is of vital importance to ward off the dark times ahead.'' He needed say no more, the Hat an old friend who only had his best interests in mind. It would likely surprise a great amount of people how many intelligent conversations one could have with a piece of enchanted clothing. Albus suspected Godric to have poured some memories into it before leaving this earth.

An hour and some more necessary trips around the castle later, the silver, venomous blade weighed heavy in his hands when purposefully striding down the straight path to the gates that led out of Hogwarts. Not long anymore now before he'd be able to walk here in broad daylight again instead of feeling like a thief in the night.

Just as he'd made himself comfortable in the secure sitting room of Grimmauld Place and distracted himself with Muggle knitting magazines and lemongrass tea, the trouble he'd waited for in anticipation came knocking. Or screaming rather, in the form of Walburga Black's portrait when the front door was slammed open none too silently.

''Albus,'' Severus brusquely greeted when stalking inside, looking as frazzled as a man who'd made stoicism into an art form possibly could. ''I imagined you wished to hear the news as soon as possible: I was at last invited into the Dark Lord's home today. I know where he resides… and can say with certainty that he keeps at least Potter and Weasley right by his side.''

Feeling younger than he had in years as an inner fire flared to life, Albus rose from his seat in an instant. At last, a chance to redeem the series of unfortunate events that had led to this dreadful outcome. He was as prepared as could be after weeks of gathering his wits, after having found the Locket and a way to destroy the wayward pieces of broken soul. ''I shall call our allies,'' he calmly announced. ''We shall set this right once and for all tomorrow.''

''Tomorrow?'' Severus hissed. ''Albus, my vow. I have to act. Waiting is not an option now I know where Potter is and that I have the power to protect him! You knew this when asking me to look for the boy, did you not?''

Albus faltered, refusing to admit he had not thought of Severus' wellbeing first and foremost when pleading the boy to search for Tom's hide-out and the location of his prisoners. Unwilling to lie about it, he expertly avoided the accusing question, striding through the room to gather all he needed.

Once the Locket – wrapped in cloth to ensure it could not affect him-, the sword of Gryffindor and the Elder wand were all on his person, he firmly spoke: ''You are right, Severus. Forgive my hasty words. I shall send out Patroni in hopes of reaching as many of our friends as we can on such short notice. For you, for Harry, for Mr Weasley and Ms Granger… we must surprise them tonight.''

---

AN: alright, I know this suddenly went fast, so next chapter will backtrack a little bit and at least show part of the Saturday and Sunday from Harry's (or someone else's) perspective still, I just felt like a Dumbledore POV fit well as the end scene here.
It's also finally time for The Confrontation in the next chapter (although honestly all I can think of when writing that is Les Miserables with Voldemort and Dumbledore singing to each other).

Some additional notes: in canon, the theoretical Astronomy O. W. L. apparently includes naming all of Jupiter's moons. As there are 80 of them that have been discovered so far, of which a bunch don't even have official names as of now, I figured that would be a bit much, so I changed the exam somewhat. (To be fair to Rowling, not all of those had been discovered by the point in time she wrote OotP and if she could look into the future she might have had the sense to stay off twitter, but I certainly hope that literal wizards and witches studying the skies with magical telescopes were able to observe those moons that Muggles didn't yet know of far earlier, or that at least the Centaurs held this knowledge already)
Also, I could find no info on whether Mars was actually visible late evening on 25th of June 1996 and I'm not well-versed enough at math to calculate any of this based on rotation times around the sun etc. so I just made wild assumptions for the purpose of plot convenience. There, I admitted it XD

Also, I originally tried to write the Voldemort POV from Nagini's POV as I got comments asking for one, but it didn't really work out, sorry. I hope Nagini at least having some screentime was okay ^^''