"Are you kidding me?" Harry threw himself onto his bed.
"No, you need to know what's happening." Voldemort said, pacing in front of him.
"Ah, yes, because it will be perfectly fine and perfectly safe for me to appear in front of a bunch of Death Eaters. You know most of them want me dead, right? Not just because of your orders." Harry complained into the sheets. Tom patted his back.
"You won't be visible - "
"How?"
Voldemort sighed. He withdrew a black cloak from his expandable pocket and a golden mask. It looked similar to a Death Eater mask, but with more swirls and dark lining around the eyes.
"I'll try it on," Harry said, extending his finger, "but if I don't like it, I'm not going."ankles
Harry, unfortunately, did like it. The cloak's hood was enchanted to cast darker shadows, to the point where he couldn't see his neck or hair. It bent down over his face more, almost cutting off his peripherals. The rest of it extended down to his ankles, and it was flowy too.
"Dammit." Harry cursed.
"Wear something nondescript underneath it, just in case." Voldemort advised, removing his mask.
"Fine. When is it anyway?" Harry removed his robe and laid it on his bed.
"Midnight. I'll collect you at 11:30. Today, after duelling, I will teach you how Death Eater meetings work." Voldemort contemplated for a moment, "Do… prepare yourself mentally for it."
Right, he was still Voldemort. Crucio-slinging Voldemort.
"Will I talk at all during the meeting?" Harry plopped back down on his bed.
"Not directly to my followers. I will cast a spell on you that will allow me to hear you."
Of course, Voldemort thought everything through. Harry huffed, but agreed.
HisWith his golden mask and cloak on, Harry was ready for the meeting. Well, ready wasn't the right word, but he was going either way. He wasn't sure he'd be prepared to see so many crucios. The second-hand pain might too to much for him.
"Here, angel." Riddle lifted his mask, a yellow vial in hand. "Calming drought, asked the elves for one."
"Thank you," Harry was about to take it, but Riddle pressed it against his lips instead. He lightly poured the potion into Harry's mouth and patted his lips dry with a handkerchief.
"Thanks," Harry muttered, quickly shutting down his mask to conceal his red face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tom, his cheeks bitten in.
A snake-faced Voldemort escorted him to a large ballroom. Instead of a vast open space, it was filled with tables and chairs across the entire room. Dread sat deep in Harry's stomach.
The Order of the Phoenix would not stand a chance if it had even half as many members.
But was his priority really the success of the Order?
They abandoned him in that hell pit and left him to rot. Cut off all his connections to his friends and the outside world. They didn't even check up on him for an entire month. On top of that, he was Voldemort's horcrux. He, Tom, and Riddle would have to die for Voldemort to be defeated.
But Hermione would be hurt by Voldemort's policies. At the very least, his followers hated muggleborns and muggles with a passion. There had been a few raids on muggle villages, and crimes against muggleborns had gone up.
A thought stirred in his mind.
Maybe he couldn't change the decades of ingrained hatred toward muggleborns. He didn't need to change them.
He needed to change Voldemort.
It might work to start from the top. He could send him some subtle (or not) signals. He already had a neutral or positive view of Hermione, so maybe he could prove that muggleborns shouldn't be hated. That they were magical, just like everyone else.
At the end of the day, if muggles were truly dangerous to their world, they were in the same pot pureblood to muggleborn.
He ruminated on his plans as Voldemort sat Harry to his left at the head table. There, they waited as Death Eaters trickled in. Harry recognised more people than he should, but he tried to keep his head straight forward and not glance around.
A wave of magic passed over him.
"If you speak now, only I will hear. Try to keep your comments short. I can choose whether to talk to you or to them, so I will be able to respond." Voldemort said, though his mouth didn't move.
"Cool spell." It seemed useful for these types of situations.
"Thank you, I invented it myself." Voldemort smirked.
Bastard.
Harry really needed to stop stroking his ego.
"I also have someone I would like you to meet afterwards. I have finally convinced her not to kill you." A ghost of a smile appeared on his snake face.
"That's reassuring." Harry said sarcastically.
The Death Eaters looked at him warily as they entered the room. Correction, looked at both of them warily. Harry huffed, but he should have known better.
"Sit up straight." Voldemort reminded him.
Harry adjusted his posture, popping a few bones in the process. It hurt a little, and these meetings could last hours. Maybe he could transfigure a back brace to keep him steady.
His nails dug into the fabric of his slacks as Bellatrix sat in front of him. He further tensed as Barty Crouch Jr. filled in beside him. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of him.
Harry had stolen his seat.
A smirk lit his face. He'd have revenge on the Death Eaters, even if it was just petty. But seeing the rest of the seating, it appeared that it mattered a lot more than he originally thought.
All of the inner circle was at the first table, with Voldemort. Then the rest stretched out, with the most apprehensive looking at the outermost tables.
There were so many Death Eaters.
Harry felt his blood roar in his ears. Nevermind the non-violence order by Voldemort - everyone here wanted to hurt him. He was sure that there wouldn't be enough for him nor Voldemort to protect him if they found out.
He stayed deathly still.
"You are tense." Voldemort commented, side-eyeing him.
"I have good reasons." Harry said through gritted teeth.
"No, you do not. I am here, you will not be hurt." Voldemort explained to him.
"That doesn't ease my subconscious." Harry would have been at better ease if he had his wand. Voldemort confiscated it for "the Death Eater's sake".
"Occlumency." Voldemort looked away from him.
Harry sighed. He rose his shields and hid away his tenseness and fear deep within the castle walls. He felt his senses dull, but his feelings were locked away. He wasn't at peace, but he wasn't shaking either.
"Better?" Voldemort asked.
"Better." Harry nodded curtly.
Barty looked at him oddly.
He watched as the last of the Death Eaters filed in. The last of the inner circle, an old man with short brown hair, sat at the farthest end of the table. At that, Voldemort raised his wand.
A red light flashed once over the room. All heads turned to them, and Harry had to push down his feelings yet again.
"Today, we gather to discuss the plans against the Order of the Phoenix and the Light's recent moves. Is there any proclamations before we begin?" Voldemort twirled his wand.
Silence.
"Severus," Voldemort addressed Snape. "Status on the Order."
"They have not found a trace of Potter. They still believe him to be kidnapped by us. They found a scrap of parchment that said, "I don't negotiate with terrorists. I am going to bed." They believe that to be the last contact with us before he was kidnapped." Snape paused.
Harry laughed. The corners of Voldemort's mouth twitched.
"The Order has made moves in Wizengamot. To get their bills passed, they are introducing them through neutral to on-paper dark people. Snape bowed his head.
"Continue with your mission. The moment anything of substance comes up, report it to me immediately. Wizengamont members, those bills should not be passing. Do your duty more thoroughly or there will be consequences." Voldemort thumbed his wand in thought.
"Yes, My Lord." They rang out from around the hall. So many people.
"Amycus, Alecto, news on magical artefacts recovered in muggle raids?" Voldemort stared down at two black-haired twins near him.
"Yes, My Lord." Amycus answered, "We recovered two time-turners, multiple potions and magical herbs, three wands, and a portait in the last three days. We have planned another one tomorrow in a larger town."
"Good work." They looked shocked. "Remember to either obliviate or kill those who see you using magic. Discard the offenders."
"Yes, My Lord." They both answered.
"Bellatrix, Barty, Rodolphus, and Rasbatin, you two will work on breaking the prisoners. We intend to apprehend at least two more ministry officials as well as other Dark defectors. You need to keep the mind intact." Voldemort pointed to them, particularly at the two twins he saw in the kitchen and Bellatrix.
Harry felt shivers down his spine at the words. Sometimes he forgot they tortured people to that extent. How native he must be. The Dark was, well, dark.
Though he found himself wanting to know more about what they did. Were all of the muggle raids to recover the magical artefacts, or was that just an excuse to attack them? Muggleborns were everywhere. They would have had supplies for school or work and would have brought them back home.
But a time-turner?
That went a bit far. Hell, they were in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort even had a reaction to Hermione having one in her third year. Was there a reason for these attacks?
Maybe. But that didn't mean that they had to torture them. Kill them. They could just be oblivated.
But they'd go mad if they oblivated them to much.
Was being left insane a worse fate than death?
Harry shook the thoughts out of his head. He could talk to Tom; he was smart (although not against murder), but he could help him. He was less sure of Riddle's morals, but maybe he'd give some insight.
The rest of the meeting, Harry found fairly basic. They went over a lot more politics than he would have thought possible. Gossip from all around them. He would not have considered planning for future generations the moment a marriage proposal was made.
But it made sense at the end of the day.
He liked being there. As the meeting went on, he found himself easing into it. Listening, taking an interest in the conversation rather than just passively hearing them. It sparked a small fire within him.
At the end, most of the free Death Eaters were escorted by the inner circle out of the manor. They apparated, used the floo, and disapeared in puffs of black smoke.
The inner circle reported back to the hall after everyone else left.
"You all will be tasked with abducting two ministry officals. You may acquire more, but you will come back with at least these two. You will be taking Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish." Voldemort passed out scrolls from his robe pocket.
Harry shuffled in his seat.
"Do you know either of them?" Voldemort spoke softly to him.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt is a part of the Order of the Phoenix. I overheard him talking to the Order about Auror raids a few times. He's nice, has a wife, no kids." Harry answered honestly.
Voldemort tiled his head.
"Severus, would or would not Kingsley Shacklebolt be a part of the Order of the Phoenix?" Voldemort glared down at Snape.
Snape visibaly swallowed.
"I cannot confirm nor deny." Snape winced.
"Dumbledore made you swear an oath." Voldemort caught on to him.
"I cannot confirm nor deny."
Voldemort jabbed his wand at Snape. "Crucio."
Snape fell to the floor. He contored and twisted, a high-pitched scream eminating from his throat. He scratched at his skin, blood disapearing into his black clothes. After a few seconds, Voldemort lifted the curse.
Harry felt nothing.
It scared him. It scared him to feel nothing at all. He should - he should at least feel something about it. Feel for someone who was undergoing torture.
But nothing came.
Harry shivered, a slimy feeling covering his skin. He needed a shower.
"Shacklebolt will be dealt with like Amelia Bones." Voldemort tapped his wand against the table.
"Yes, My Lord." Chorused from them.
Voldemort led Harry through a door in the family wing which was always locked when he checked. Harry was more than nervous. Who was living with them that wanted to kill him? That it took so long to convince her not to kill him?
Inside was… not expected. It looked like a forest, with an expansion charm on the room making it look huge. Tall, thick trees surrounded him, with long grass as well. It was hot and humid, to the point where it was harder to breathe.
"Come, she should be here somewhere." Voldemort walked down a thin path that was through more trees.
Harry winded his way through the path. They winded their way until they got to an area with large, flat stones.
Atop one stone was a huge dark green snake. It was wider around than Harry and about as long as half a schoolbus. It's head raised, looking at them with black eyes.
"Food?" It hissed.
"No, no, this is who I was talking about." Voldemort grabbed Harry by the wrist, tight.
It slithered over to them, faster than Harry would have thought possible. It went straight up to him, tongue flickering out.
"Harry Potter. You killed my master." The snake hissed, rearing up to look him face-to-face.
"This is Nagini. She is also a horcrux." Voldemort inched forward.
Nagini butted her nose against Harry's scar. Her tongue flickered out, licking him.
"Hm, you would not be very tasty. To thin. Not enough fat. Not enough muscle. Though I haven't had anyone tanned yet." She contemplated. Harry could smell her rancid breath.
"He is not for eating." Voldemort sighed. It must have been a constant conversation.
"Hm…" Nagini lowered herself to the floor. "Join me on the sunning rock. Good for soul."
Voldemort nodded to Harry. They all sat themselves on the big rocks, Harry trying his best to avoid Nagini, but she insisted on placing her head on his lap.
"Scratch me, morsel." She commanded.
Voldemort gave him an encouraging look.
He lightly scratched her scales until she let him go.
Harry was sandwiched between Tom and Riddle. He enjoyed their little tangle of limbs and the warmth that came from it. Both the inner warmth and the physical.
But Harry's thoughts, for once, are not peaceful. They were stuck at the same question over and over again, circling back no matter what.
Was it wrong to not feel anything when someone was hurt?
He knew it was wrong to feel enjoyment. He was not going to fall into the likes of Bellatrix. But nothing, was no reaction bad? Inaction was an action in itself.
"Is it wrong to not feel anything when someone gets hurt?" Harry asked aloud.
Tom raised his head and stared down at him. He laid back down and breathed out hard.
"Depends." Tom answered.
"No." Riddle replied.
"Depends on what?" Harry bit his lip.
"Who, I'd say. An enemy, no. An ally, most likely." Tom wrapped his arms tighter around his chest, almost suffocating.
"He wasn't an ally." Snape was, and will always be, his enemy. "Far from it."
"You should rejoice over the downfall of your enemies." Riddle said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. Harry leaned into his touch.
"But he didn't have a downfall, he just was tortured." Even Harry cringed at his words. It sounded so unsympathetic.
Riddle chuckled lowly. "Then plan his downfall, angel."
Harry considered it for a moment, then cleared his thoughts.
"You're rubbing off on me." Harry complained.
Both of them laughed.
"I'm afraid you are as well." Riddle said, snuggled into his neck.
Voldemort paced in his study.
What was he to do with his corporeal horcruxes?
He couldn't force them back into their containers, it would make Potter angry and it would royally piss off his horcruxes.
They obviously had some type of affection towards Potter that Voldemort did not want to think more about. The mere act of physical affection disgusted him.
They did seem rather protective of him as well. Bellatrix got a rough stupifey to the chest for entering the same room as him. They never left his side, even though he gave them permission to wander the halls with the same restrictions as Potter.
The library should have tempted them.
But they only went when Potter would borrow the occasional book on Defence Against the Dark Arts or Transfiguration. Voldemort needed to fix that, he needed Potter to have a balanced education.
No thanks to him.
Voldemort shook his head. Horcruxes. What to do with them?
Was there anything to do with them? They weren't particularly bothering anyone. They just existed in the same space as Potter.
Their inaction was Voldemort's problem.
They are the younger versions of himself. Ambitious, smart, and cunning. They had all the spare time in the world and they wasted it cuddled up to Potter. He needed to task them with something.
Smart…
He had always wanted to be a teacher. They could indulge in their need for physical affection as they tutored him. This would also help with his protection.
But they needed wands.
Voldemort knew more than his fairfare share of second-hand wand shops. He had owned several in the past; he'd just have to find them again and give them to his horcruxes. At least one of them will fit well enough.
Yes, he'd give them this task.
He was reading an ancient-looking book. The words weren't quite processing for him, but he knew he was searching for something. The rest of the world was duller to him, as if the book were the only thing that was important.
That's when he picked up on a re-occuring word. Horcrux. Every fibre of his being wanted to throw the book, but he continued to read.
Eventually, he found what he wanted.
'A horcrux has never been studied in more than one pairing. It is unknown if making more than one horcux is possible; however, it is ill-advised to create more. A person could transform into a shell of their former self. Even with re-aborbtion of the horcux, the person is forever changed.'
He chuckled lowly and shut the book.
Alone.
Harry hadn't been alone since he came to the manor. But as he sat in the training room, he was left to his own devices. Voldemort had been pulling Tom or Riddle out every now and then, but today he pulled both of them away.
He missed their presence. When they weren't there, he felt like a gaping hole was left in his chest.
Was he really that dependent on them? It only got worse when Riddle joined them. He never wanted them to leave his side again.
Harry flipped a page in his book. Voldemort had practically thrown it at him and told him to learn it by heart. It was a handwritten book on the theory of spellcasting. Something he learned a bit of during his first year but had tapered off as the years progressed.
It was boring.
Why know why the spell works when he can just make it work?
He groaned. He lost his place and would have to re-read the page again. The long page had neat, small writing. It was hard to understand, like he was missing part of a train of thought. Like an inside joke, but with education.
He rearranged himself on the sofa, tilting upside down with his feet in the air. He felt much better, as if the blood to his head was making him smarter. It was probably false, but he'd like to believe it anyway.
An hour later, the door finally creaked open.
Harry bolted upright and then immediately fell down. His head was dizzy, and his face was flushed. He stood on jelly legs that threatened to buckle underneath him.
Arms hooked under him. He squeaked as he was steadied, his vision still blurred.
"Do you feel okay, love?" Tom asked, helping Riddle haul him to the sofa.
"Just a bit dizzy." Harry squeaked as Riddle pulled him into his lap. Hands wrapped securely around his waist.
Tom put the back of his hand on Harry's forehead and paused. "You aren't feverish."
Harry didn't want to admit he had done this to himself.
"So, what were you talking about with Voldemort?" He redirected the conversation.
Tom and Riddle glanced at each other.
Riddle spoke first. "He was complaining about your lack of academic prowess."
"And your lack of drive to further your education." Tom continued.
"So we all came to the conclusion that we would tutor you in your subjects that you aren't an expert in." Riddle rested his head on Harry's shoulder.
"Oh."
He let go of the weight he didn't know he was holding. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but a part of him was worried for them. Harry was glad to spend more time with them, even if it was just tutoring.
"And we got second-hand wands for teaching you." Tom waved a light-coloured wooden wand. Riddle flicked out his from his holster on his forearm, a darker-coloured one.
"What would you like to learn first, love?" Tom leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek.
Harry blushed.
"Charms?"
Riddle hummed. "Perhaps we can throw in wandless magic as well."
Five ministry officials sat in dingy cells. The cell-block was special, small, with copious amounts of enchantments on the doors. Only the inner circle was allowed to pass, though.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt." Rodolphus leaned against the wrought-iron bars. "Miss me?"
"You will always be a lowlife." Kingsley spat at him.
"Tch. Rude." Rasbatin rolled his eyes and meandered to the centre of the room, where a table with muggle and magical surgical instruments stood, with a chair next to it.
Bellatrix, meanwhile, was on top of a man, yanking chunks out of his hair and screaming.
"Ittle John is a fickle man. John can't do it right, can't he? Can't defend himself, can't defend his wife, and can't defend his children. Dying, dead, dead." She cackled directly into his ear.
Rodolphus sighed.
"Barty?" Rodolphus asked, nodding to a man in another cell.
"I'll handle him." Barty said, picking up a long scalpel.
Barty meandered to the cell. He used his wand to put up a barricade behind him as he entered the man's personal space.
"Dorian Fungbury," Barty laughed his name, "How lucky we are to have got you. The Dark Lord will be very pleased with this. Though, you aren't a gift to him, no, that pleasure goes to your large pink friend over there,"
"I am undersecretary Dolorus Umbridge, and you will free me at once!" The pink woman yelled at him from the adjacent cell.
"Dolorus, shut your fucking mouth." Amelia Bones rasped out.
"It's a party in here, yes!" Bellatrix screamed.
"The Dark Lord wanted you, Dolorus. For a gift, yes. I should be jealous; he said that at least four people, including himself, will have a go at you. You must have done something to royally piss him off." Rabastan chuckled slowly.
"I have done nothing of the sort!" She shouted.
Bellatrix screeched, throwing John across the cell with strength she shouldn't have possessed. "I would have a go at you, you fickle lard, but we are under orders not to."
"Anyways, Dorian, tell me about what's going on in the Statue of Secrecy department, and I won't cut out your eye. Okay? Deal?" Barty smiled down at him maliciously, with no hint of mercy in his eyes.
Dorian spat in Barty's face. "Never."
"Dori, bad decision. You know what? I'm feeling nice. Today, I'll do something different. You only have two eyes, after all. I should take something else."
Screams of men echoed through the block in harmony with shrill cackles and maniacal laughter.
The Death Eaters never minded these days of work.
Music drifted softly from the lounge. Inside, Riddle was trying to coax Harry off the couch. Tom tried to help, but found that he couldn't pry Harry's hands off of him. Harry clung to him like a newborn kowala.
"I'm not." Harry objected again.
Riddle once again pulled on his shoulders.
"Come on, it's not that hard." He insisted.
"For you!" Harry buried his face into Tom's chest.
"Just try it once? You'll be following; it's different. Come on." Riddle snaked his arms around his waist and pulled. Harry didn't budge.
"Just once?" Harry asked, his hold on Tom slowly breaking away.
"Just once. One song." Riddle pleaded with him.
Harry let go.
Riddle stumbled back, having still been pulling, but managed to steady both of them without falling. Recovering quickly, he dragged Harry into the clear space by the phonograph.
Hands gripped at Harry's waist, another one catching his hand. Harry hesitantly placed a hand on Riddle's shoulder, a bit unsure of where to go from there. Behind them, Tom flicked his wand, and the record switched out for another one.
"Okay, we'll go simple. You move two steps forward, then one to the right. We'll go in a circle, eventually. Remember, wait for me to start my step before following." Riddle explained.
Harry fumbled on the first step, waiting a bit too long and having to almost be dragged to the second step. He knew it was pointless.
"Again," Riddle said as they moved right, this time in sync.
"One," Riddle pulled him along, a bit cleaner.
"Two," He stepped on Riddle's foot.
"Three." He managed to only lag behind a little bit.
They repeated it four more times until Harry was only stumbling and not stepping or butting into Riddle. But Riddle never grew frustrated; he only repeated the steps to him and gave a few encouraging words.
Riddle paused after they finished a step. Harry took a moment too late to react and slammed into his chest.
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
"Perhaps… try not to fight me. You're following; it is up to me to set the pace. Let's go slower this time." Riddle once again started to pull him along.
Harry let him.
He let his feet fall in line, not thinking at all about the steps and just about following Riddle.
"Good," Riddle said, already starting again.
He was a bit early on the transition step but fell back in line. They swept across the room, carefully turning to avoid furniture and walls. The music was teetering out, signalling the ending of the song.
Riddle stepped back again, then quickly released his hand. He stepped forward, and Harry stepped away, leaning backward. Riddle pushed him back, and when Harry was sure he was going to fall, he was caught.
"It's called a dip." Riddle said with a smirk.
"Could have told me." Harry snapped back, trying to stop his racing heart.
"What's life without a bit of surprise?" Riddle still kept him in the dip, but leaned closer. "Could I give you another surprise?"
"Yes." Harry wasn't sure where he was going, but he was excited nonetheless.
Riddle placed a chaste kiss on Harry's lips. It was soft and quick, but filled with longing. Electricity waved through him. Harry let out a small laugh and kept a dumb smile on his face as Riddle stood him back up.
The music came to a stop.
"Would you like to go again? I know I said just once, but..." Riddle trailed off, keeping his hand on Harry's waist.
Harry bit his lip. "I mean, I don't mind."
"Good. Let's add two more steps and a dip. Then you can switch us out." Riddle nodded to Tom, who nodded back.
Harry smiled.
Nagini: Can I eat him?
Voldemort, after telling her for the hundredth time: "No."
Harry: Honestly, they have a bit of a point
Tom: Torturing is okay if they're bad
Riddle: Torturing is always okay
Riddle: Dance with me, kisses
Harry: Again.
