Harry stared at a bloodied Bellatrix. Her hands were plated on the counter as she smiled at him. Harry glared and gripped his wand with white knuckles.
Between them was a platter of two brownies.
"Eat it," Harry commanded through gritted teeth. He could feel Tom's gaze burning holes into him from the corner of the kitchen.
"No." Bellatrix said.
"Just do it," Harry growled.
After three physical confrontations that were ramping up in seriousness, Tom forced them into the room. He spelt the door to not let them out until they could share a meal without trying to kill each other.
"Do it."
"No."
It had been three hours.
Harry's brain was aching. He hoped that Voldemort would call a meeting, find Bellatrix not there, and then take her away, but Harry knew better. He was occupied for the entire day on a secret mission.
He didn't know what game Bellatrix was playing. She hated his very presence. And it was just one brownie. Frankly, Harry was getting hungry enough just to eat his.
"Just please eat it." Harry banged his head on the table.
Bellatrix paused. "You eat half of each first."
Harry wanted to scream.
Three hours, and that was the solution.
"Tom, can I have a bread cutter?" He wouldn't allow him to have a knife.
"Yes."
After being handed the cutter, he divided the brownies in half. He picked up each half and quickly ate them. Of all the times Tom picked to shove them in a room, it was right before dinner.
Bellatrix stared at him for fifteen minutes.
She picked up the other halves and slowly ate them. Bellatrix stood up the instant she finished swallowing.
"Can I leave?" She asked Tom.
"Fine."
Tom flicked his wand, and the double doors opened. Bellatrix practically sprinted out of the room. Harry glared at Tom and crossed his arms.
"Love," Tom shook his head. "I don't ask that you like her. I ask that you don't attack her."
"She starts it." Almost every time, she mentions Sirius. Or the number of muggles she's slaughtered.
"Then find another way. Master a sleeping spell or a silencing spell. Don't hit her with a shovel next time. I've heard Narcissa's angry mutters from Bellatrix's room. And she's the only healer you'll get here. Don't make her mad. For your own sake." Tom sighed.
"Fine."
'Come to my office in the family wing at noon. -LV'
Harry brushed the note off his forehead. A small spark of joy filled him as he read the note. But he was more excited for whatever mysterious surprise was awaiting him.
Was it someone he knew, captured? Would he be adding a weapon to his arsenal? Or did Voldemort finally decide to keep him here forever?
The last idea didn't scare him as much as it should have.
Harry waited for Tom and Riddle to wake up before beginning his day. His warm cocoon was tempting to stay in all morning, but he had more wandless magic training to do before Voldemort tested him tomorrow.
He was coming dangerously close to finding out about his romantic relationship with his horcruxes. They were never to overly affectionate to him when others were around so they obviously wanted to hide it as well.
He wasn't sure what he'd do if Voldemort found those memories.
Never look him in the eye again, most likely. He'd hide and avoid him as much as possible. Tom told him Voldemort's reaction to cuddling with him was less than receptive. Harry figured that, as much as Voldemort had changed towards him, he was still a Dark Lord at the end of the day.
It pained him to pry Riddle off of him. However, Harry was hungry, and he needed breakfast. The three travelled down to the kitchen with haste.
But they were not alone in the kitchen.
Inside was a grizzled older man in his seventies, sitting at the small dining table, tall with dark brown hair. His composure was guarded, but his face rested neutrally. He sipped from a mug of coffee, a half-empty jug next to him. Harry recognised him as a strategist from the Death Eater meetings. He turned to them, and confusion lit his face.
"Tom?" The man called hesitantly. Both of the horcruxes stiffened.
"Tiberius?" Both exclaimed at the same time.
"You've aged well," Tom commented, walking towards him.
"Eh, you could use some moisturiser." Riddle joked.
Harry was more than bemused.
"Harry, come on, you have to meet Tiberius." Riddle dragged him by his sleeve.
"What?" Harry managed to ask.
Tom sat next to Tiberius. He immediately started to grill him on his life and asked question after question. Harry sat across from him, still a bit sceptical of Tiberius. If they seemed familiar with him, he assumed they wouldn't be horrible to him.
"And after that?" Tom asked.
"We got married, finally. Took ages to convince her father to accept the contract. Had to get a blood test ten generations back to prove that I was pure enough." Tiberius answered with a nostalgic chuckle.
"Harry, this is Tiberius Nott. He's a friend from my school years." Tom gestured to him. Tiberius's mouth twitched at the word "friend."
"Nice to meet you." Harry offered his hand across the table. Tiberius shook it, his hands rough.
"He's great, amazing at Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Wards." Riddle went on to explain.
"You flatter me," Tiebrius said flatly.
"Are any of the others alive?" Tom's voice had some hope in it.
"Not of the orginals. Malfoy from Dragon Pox, Greengrass from heart failure, and Crabbe offed himself. The rest died in raids or in Azkaban. Then again, he killed Black about twenty years ago." Tiberius sipped his coffee.
"Oh." Tom stated.
"Wait, we killed Black?" Riddle exclaimed, with a horrified expression on his face. "But he was a Knight!"
Tiberius scoffed, spoke harshly, and gravely. "You made so many horcruxes. Made you mad. Lost your touch. People bowed out of fear more than loyalty."
Tom and Riddle shivered.
"He's gotten a lot better over the last two months. Don't know what he's done, but it's working." Tiberius hummed.
Harry, Tom, and Riddle all looked at each other.
A house elf popped up and gave them their breakfast. Harry ate while listening to them go back and forth with stories and other tangents. Tiberius seemed to be more level-headed than the other Death Eaters, never getting angry as he broke the news of just how many people were tortured, had died, or went insane because of Voldemort.
Harry wondered if this was what Death Eaters were supposed to be. He referred to himself and others as Knights, so he assumed they were the original inner circle. That it was how the dark used to be before Voldemort turned so cruel.
"But yes. I had to miss the birth of my grandson." Tiberius sighed sadly.
Tom and Riddle ranted, outraged.
"Theodore?" Harry muttered after he connected the dots.
"Yes," Tiberius answered, "Do you know him?"
Harry thought back to everything he knew about Theodore Nott. All those times in potions class where he'd steal coveted glances. Then all the rest of the classes he'd share were flying, astronomy, divination, and a few others.
"He's great at potions; he's in the NEWT level course. He was pretty good at flying, was a chaser, and was a star student in astronomy. Terrible at divination though. Though, most of us were terrible." Harry tried to remember more. "Plenty of people find him attractive; he has lots of proposed marriage contracts."
People often thought Harry wasn't listening. He always was.
Tiberus let out a hearty laugh while Tom snickered. Riddle just smiled.
"Do you have any marriage contracts?" Tiberius asked, straight-faced.
Harry choked on his bacon.
"Uh," He coughed, "I haven't accepted any. Most of them came when I was eleven. I've lost a lot of popularity since then. Still get the odd few every year."
"You should accept one soon. You're an heir to a Most Ancient and Noble House. Most people of your calibre sign contracts at your age. Married by twenty-five, at most." Tiberius almost seemed to chastise him.
"Well, I don't know what it means to be an heir, so I don't really care." Harry shrugged.
Tiberius actually gasped, his hand over his heart. Tom had a similar reaction, with his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Riddle just smacked his forehead and muttered under his breath.
"What?" Harry asked.
"All right, let's begin with a simple question. How many Wizengamont seats do you have?" Tiberius folded his hands on the table.
Harry was familiar with Wizengamont. It was their government, with the most pure-bloods on the voting seats. He knew you could earn a seat through a ministry job if you were the head of a department. But that question…
"Don't know. Normally they have, what, three?" Harry furrowed his brow.
Tiberius dropped his head and sighed. "You have six seats, as all Most Ancient and Noble houses do."
"Harry," Tom admonished him.
"Tom," Harry repeated in the same tone.
Tiberius rubbed his temples. "Would you like me to teach you about your duties as an heir? I know a little bit about the Potters specifically. Henry and I were civil."
"I'd like that. Voldemort's tutoring me, so are Tom and Riddle," He gestured to each one, "so I may have to learn at odd times."
Tiberius seemed to take a bit to process it, but nodded.
"Could you get me a list of times? I can work around almost anything; it's not like I have much to do outside of planning raids. We'll have to work differently than I would like to. I'd bring you to Gringotts myself to find your family grimore and heir-training books if I wasn't a wanted escapee."
"I have a family grimore?" Harry knew grimores—books of self-created spells. Draco bragged all the time about his. Was that one a family one?
"Yes, every family should have one. I know the Potters do." Tiberius nodded.
"I'm meeting with Voldemort at noon; can you tell me some basic stuff until then?"
"Sure. Firstly, let's go over how Wizengamont runs. The seats, the voting..."
Harry's brain was hurting by the end of it. He should really invest in some migraine potions.
"Are you sure you don't want us to come with?" Tom paced as he asked.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm sure."
Tom and Riddle looked reluctant to let him leave. But as the clock ran out at 12, Riddle let him leave the safety of his lap. Tom pulled him back by his shirt and kissed him on the cheek before he left.
Harry sauntered down the hall. Surprises were nice, but Tom and Riddle's caution made him think twice. The note was as vague as can be, but that didn't mean that it was something bad. It could be something good, or at least neutral.
But he found himself hesitant to knock on Voldemort's door.
An inner flame of Gryffindor courage lit within him. He knocked on the door, harder than necessary. It opened instantly, and he hadn't even lowered his hand.
Inside with a behimouth of a man. Just as tall as Voldemort, but wide with a mixture of fat and large muscles. He had a black bushy beard that matched his long, fluffy hair. And he was only wearing a leather jacket and cargo shorts, no shirt.
"Potter, sit." Voldemort gestured to a chair in front of his mahogany desk.
Harry sat stiff in his seat. The man looked down at him, as if sizing up Harry's small frame. Finally, he nodded, then glanced at Voldemort.
"Potter, this is Fenrir Greyback. He'll be the person I will send you to if I am not available to watch you. You'll most likely have to go with him at least once before I finish the war." He gestured to the man.
Harry felt ice in his veins.
"I smell fear, a bit of anger." Fenrir stated.
"Remus Lupin." Harry thought that was enough explanation.
"Ah, him," Fenrir said as he stroked his beard. "How is he? I've been trying to catch him for a few years but he's sneaky. He needs a pack."
"He's awful every full moon. He looks like a corpse." Harry bristled.
Fenrir hummed in thought. "That's why he needs a pack. Packs help each other during the moon, and the non-werewolves always make sure they are rested. Isolation isn't good either."
"Maybe he just shouldn't have been bitten." Harry hissed.
Fenrir growled.
"Both of you, be civil." Voldemort chastised Harry as he looked at him.
Fenrir and Harry glared at each other. But Fenrir looked away and back to Voldemort.
"Potter, this is the time to add add anything to the list of things you do not want to see or do under Fenrir's care. We have already started one that I assumed, but I want you to add anything else." Voldemort passed him a long scroll and a self-inking quill.
The list had basically everything that Harry could think of, from "Becoming a werewolf" to "Seeing a murder". Harry jotted down a few more things, mostly small but possible events, and handed it back to Voldemort.
Both him and Fenrir looked over it.
"Ha!" Fenrir roared with laughter. "Marriage?"
"Tiberius said most people sign marriage contracts around my age, and I don't want to sign one." Harry defended himself.
Voldemort sighed.
"Okay," Fenrir wheezed, "No marriage contracts, no marriage in general. Got it."
Voldemort copied the scroll and rolled both of them up. He handed one to Fenrir and stashed the other one in his desk drawer.
"One more thing to clear up before I let you leave. You need a name for when you're in the golden mask and cloak." Voldemort slid a parchment in front of him.
"I will not anagram your name as you are a well-known figure. But here are Latin words and their meanings for you to choose from." He pointed down the long list.
Harry skimmed through the list. Getting a name means that he'd be appearing in more than the weekly meeting.
Viridis: green
Deminutivum: diminutive
Celeritas: speed, swiftness
Harry raised his eyebrows as he scrolled down the list, most of it referring to his physical attributes. But then he got closer to the bottom and liked the words more. They were broader and spoke more to his personality.
Ignis: fire, light
He thought back to what Tom called him. Bright light. Harry wasn't sure he agreed with that assessment, but he did feel a connection to fire. It described him well.
"This. Ignis." He pointed to the name.
Voldemort's brow creased, and he muttered something about a bastard.
"Very well. You will be Ignis while you wear the mask. I will be charming your mask to give you an ambivalent voice. This week, there will be a party to celebrate our current success - don't look at me like that. I would like you to attend so you can recognise the outer circle easier." Voldemort took the parchment and circled Ignis.
"Deal. Will there be food?" Harry was practically bouncing with excitement. A party!
"Yes. I will alter your mask to be a half mask. You can eat and drink some alcohol. You should not get drunk because I will not tolerate you making a fool of yourself."
Harry grinned wide.
"Begone." Voldemort rubbed his temples. "Go take your energy somewhere else."
He slid a daily prophet paper over to him as he said it. Excitement flooded his veins; as much as he could read the prophet, Voldemort almost never gave him the paper directly. It must be an important one. He scooped up the paper.
Harry happily skipped out of the office.
"I'm alive!" Harry exclaimed as he entered their room.
Tom gave him a hug and ruffled his hair. Riddle snatched Harry as he passed by and pulled him into his lap.
"Unfortunately, I get Fenrir Greyback as my babysitter when Voldemort is too occupied." Harry hmphed, "But…"
He paused for dramatic effect.
"I get to go to a Death Eater party in disguise, and I get to drink a little bit! There's food too." Harry wiggled, too enthused to contain himself.
"That's good. What will they call you?" Tom asked, leaning back on the sofa and crossing his legs.
"Ignis. It means fire and light." Harry answered. Riddle wrapped his arms around Harry's waist to try to control the wiggling.
Tom smiled like he knew something Harry didn't. "Oh, that's nice."
MISSING: Harry James Potter
You read that right, dear readers. Harry James Potter was reported missing by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore on August 19th at 3:15 AM. The censored report is as follows:
Harry J. Potter was last seen on July 29th at 10:15 AM. On August 6th, at 6:00 PM, Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore treated the disappearance as a runaway case. The evidence collected by the [REDACTED] wards, on the other hand, would indicate that another magical being entered the [REDACTED] wards.
Albus P.W.B. Dumbldedore personally investigated the [REDACTED] disappearance case and the runaway kidnapping on August 12th. Upon finding no evidence as to where Harry J. Potter went, he was reported missing.
Why, dear readers, was someone reported missing 22 days after his last appearance? Must I remind and educate you that there is no time limitation for reporting someone as missing. The first 48 hours are crucial to finding the missing person.
This case is a question of why. Why didn't Albus Dumbledore report Harry Potter missing as soon as he found out? What types of wards are around Harry Potter's residence?
Where is Harry Potter?
Follow more at the Daily Prophet, for stories every day for the everyday person.
Rita Skeeter
Head of the Daily Prophet Press Department
August 19th
Harry stared.
Voldemort stared back.
"What is your name?" He asked.
An itch—no, a stab—was in the back of his brain.
"Neville Longbottom." Harry answered without missing a beat.
"And your occupation?" Another stab, sharper this time.
"Potions apprentice." Harry's nails dug into his trousers. He'd do his palms, but they were already slick with blood from his puncture marks.
"Your mother?" This one was excruciating. It was like a bunch of needles were poking around in his skull, puncturing his brain.
"A-Amelia Bones." Harry bit his lip. Warm blood flooded his mouth.
"Stop." Voldemort broke eye contact.
Harry panted as his head dropped to the table. Everything in his brain hurt, and frankly, he felt scrambled. Just a mush of ground beef in his skull.
"I have a potion for you." Voldemort offered.
Harry stayed down on the table. The world was too overwhelming for him. The window light was too bright, the birds' chirping too loud, and the blood in his mouth was iron-y. He didn't care if Voldemort got angry. It was just another headache to add.
"Potter," He heard footsteps creeping toward him.
The collar of his shirt was pulled up. Harry's head dangled as Voldemort sat him upright. Harry's eyes squeezed. Too bright.
A hand gently cupped under his chin and raised his head. There was a sigh, a curse, and then stillness.
"Open your mouth." Voldemort commanded.
Harry was too tired to fight him. A cold vial pressed against his lips, and a potion that tasted like peppermint pooled in his mouth. Harry weakly swallowed.
"Hm, next session should be shorter. You're getting better at lying. I'll have Narcissa attack you to see how you hold up. You should fare okay." His hand tried to leave Harry, but when Harry couldn't lift his head, it returned.
"Shit!" Voldemort cursed again. "Back to your room. I'll visit before lunch to see how you feel."
Voldemort curled Harry up in his chair and lifted him up. He cradled Harry's head against his chest and began to walk.
Harry's entire body was buzzing and aching. His lids were heavy, and he felt himself drifting.
He was standing in a shack. Everything was covered in grime, from the shattered windows to the rotten floorboards. He kicked aside a snake skin and continued into the house. His polished shoes were kicking up dust with every step.
A crash sounded from the back room. A skeletal man stumbled out, crooked wand in hand. It took him almost a full minute to realise Harry was there. He waved it at him, hollering nonsensical words. Harry's mouth twisted in disgust.
"Are you Morfin Gaunt?" He asked, shifting away from a pidgin that was perched on what used to be a kitchen counter.
"Out! Muggle! Out!" He slurred.
"I am not a muggle. I am Merope's son." He spoke evenly, though his jaw was quite clenched.
"Merope?" His voice was almost clear, but there was an angered twinkle in his eyes. "Merope… son…"
He straightened, staring straight at Harry. Harry gestured to his bone-white wand. The man looked at him, the wand, and his wand.
"Filithly Half-Blood!" He screached. "Muggle on the hill! Look like muggle on hill!"
Morfin started to tear at the walls, screaming as he ripped off the boards on the wall and threw broken pieces of vases to the floor. A table flipped, breaking with ease. Morfin threw his wand at Harry. Harry caught it in the air. He used it to cast a cutting curse Morfin's direction, his blood streaking across the room. The man simply got back up and threw a bigger tantrum.
Harry turned his heel and walked out, thumbing the wood of the wand. It was less grimy than the rest of the house; only a few dirt specs were on him. The wand was hesitant to accept him, but he forced it to comply with his magic.
Muggle on the hill...
He was at the bottom of a hill. Harry meandered to the top, where he found a huge white-brick manor with extensive gardens. He raised his eyebrows, impressed, but anger burned within him.
His heart was beating fast as he knocked on a double-wide door. He could hear footsteps approaching the door. Blood roared in his ears.
The man who answered the door looked almost exactly like an older Tom. Bar the eyes, which were blue. He froze.
The man's face turned into a snarl. Harry incarcerated him with Morfin's wand before he could say anything. Harry opened the door further to be met with an opulent interior that rivalled the Malfoys. He stepped over the man and shut the door.
"Would you be Tom Riddle?" He inquired, crouched beside him.
"Fuck you." The man spat at him. Harry wiped the spit off of his cheek.
"No, that won't do." Harry muttered a few words under his breath, and the man's eyes widened.
"Let's try again. Would you be Tom Riddle?" Harry twirled Morfin's wand.
"Yes." Tom squirmed, trying to undo the bindings of rope that covered him.
"Would you have known Merope Gaunt?"
At that, his face twisted again. Regret, anger, disgust—a flurry of emotions that he couldn't quite place.
"A she-devil. An ugly witch who could never amount to nothing." He spat.
Harry dug Morfin's wand into Tom's throat.
"Yet you got with her." He growled, brows furrowed.
"I didn't want to!" Tom glared at him. "Evil woman. Gave me her witchy drinks that forced me to think I cared about her. The moment she stopped, I ran. And it looks like I left a bastard in my wake."
Harry's hand froze. His wandhand trembled. Something inside of him broke. He looked down at Tom. Nothing but hatred blared in his eyes.
He stood. Just as he was about to turn around, he heard footsteps.
An old version of Tom and an older woman that shared his hair stepped out from the staircase. The old man held a shotgun pointed straight at him.
"You!" The woman screamed.
"Get away from my son, you hellspawn. Go back to whatever satanic pit you crawled out of. Your kind has already caused enough damage to my family." The gun was trained on him throughout his speech, not even trembling.
"Get rid of the spawn." The woman spoke. "He's a stain on our family. What will Anne say when she finds out? We'll be ruined! One of those things, an heir to our estate?"
Harry didn't give them a second longer. A beam of green light extended from the tip of Morfin's wand and made contact with the man a split second before he pulled the trigger. The man dropped to the floor, lifeless.
"What have you done?" Tom thrashed in his binds. "Just leave us! Don't you ever come around here again! We don't want you!"
Another part of Harry broke.
This time, he was calm as he raised Morfin's wand again. Another beam of green light. Lifeless.
Harry loomed over Tom. He tilted his head.
"What was Merope like?" He asked softly.
"Terrible. That filthy little - "
Green light. Lifeless.
Harry walked back to the shack at the bottom of the hill. He entered the house, and saw a passed-out Morfin on the floor, surrounded by even more broken pieces of junk.
He noticed a shiny ring on his finger. Harry transfigured a cloth and used it to pick up Morfin's hand. It was an eight-sided black gem captured by a golden band, a triangle with a circle and a line running through it on one of the sides.
As many cleaning spells as he knew were cast on the ring. Once satisfied, he looked at Morfin. He muttered a few memory-alteration spells and placed his wand next to him. He began to recite a chant.
Magic swirled around him, and he used his wand to slash a cut in his arm, bleeding on the ring. More magic. A scream clawed its way out of his throat as pain coursed through his veins. Everything was on fire.
He collapsed to his knees after he finished chanting. Then everything went dark.
Harry: eat it
Bellatrix: no u
Harry: idk what that means so not important.
Tiberius: wut
Harry: hehe new name
Voldemort: ...
Tom: (shit-eating grin)
