Harry fidgeted with his cloak. Voldemort caught his hand and placed it back at his side.
"You'll be fine." He reassured.
"You don't know that." Harry muttered.
"I've trained you. If anything happens, just find me." Voldemort squeezed his hand, then released it.
"It's still…scary." Harry complained, the hair on his neck on end.
"Aren't you a Gryffindor?"
Voldemort was right. He was a Gryffindor. A lion in a snake's nest. He could do this. He has pretended before, and he can pretend again. He psyched himself up for it.
"Do you like your mask?" Voldemort detoured the conversation.
"Yeah." It was a fanciful masquerade mask, with added glitter (courtesy of Tom).
"It's rather distinctive. I do hope they realise you are not someone to toy with." Voldemort straightened his dark green robes.
"Gold, opposite of silver; it stands out. And I will fight your Death Eaters. Until you come to save me, of course." Harry smiled wide, staring up at Voldemort.
"Of course," Voldemort replied with a similar smile. It was a bit unnerving with his snake-face appearance.
They walked into the ballroom together, slipping through without anyone noticing them.
The hall itself was impressive. Huge, with limestone walls and dark wooden floors. The ceiling was carved with designs and swirls, with a large crystal chandelier in the middle. Other crystals littered the air and walls, with light emanating from them.
The room was packed. The Death Eaters filled the hall, decked out in their finest robes. No masks graced their faces.
Harry's eyes grew larger as he was able to see more people. He'd wager that most of the members of Wizengamont were there, along with a lot of ministry officials and even more normal citizens. Many faces were similar to those he saw at Hogwarts.
The Order stood no chance.
There was more there than in the meetings. His numbers had only grown in the short time he was there, and Tiberius had said that in the last two months, they had gone up by 20%.
"Have you heard? The Dark Lord had stopped his hunting of Harry Potter." One Death Eater whispered to another.
"I thought that was just a rumor," Another replied. Three more Death Eaters joined their gossip circle, Harry listening in.
"Has he really?"
"Yes, he has! I'm glad to have more focus on the important matters." The other shook his wine glass.
Harry left the conversation. Right now, he wanted the vast buffet that lay on one side of the hall. It was decked out in every sweet or snack he could imagine. Even some more obscure wizard delicacies were there.
Harry took his plate and snacked on a layered chocolate cake. He grabbed some odd blue drink that tasted sweet and sipped on it next to the table.
People created a barrier around him, with traffic flowing directly around him. Harry would have been almost amused if it hadn't been for his urge to interact with them. What was the average Death Eater like? Ones who weren't in the meetings.
He observed a group in particular. One was an Auror, two were Wizengamont members, and the other three he couldn't place. The group seemed to notice his intense stare, with their gazes constantly returning to him.
Harry merely stared more intensely.
One of the braver ones approached him. She was an Auror, stout and confident in her stride. She had a crest displayed on her chest and a long yellow cloak trailing behind her.
"Hello, who may you be?" She asked boldly.
Harry smiled. "You may call me Ignis."
"And your position? I am in the middle circle, second degree." She extended a hand.
Harry blinked. He knew what the middle circle was, but the second degree? "It's… complicated. I'm not a Death Eater. "If it helps, I stay in the Lord's family wing with the inner circle members.
Her face paled. Tiberius had told him about pureblood manners. You never, ever, extended a greeting first if the person had a higher rank than you.
Harry cleared his throat and shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you…"
"Rachel Savage. Most people just call me Savage." She withdrew quickly.
"Okay, Savage. Have you found the party okay?" He meandered toward the group, Savage following behind him.
"Oh, yes, very nice." She answered, not meeting his eyes.
The circle of people adjusted to the new addition. They regarded him with suspicion, analyzing his every move and appearance like vultures. To see if he was something to eat or something to fear.
"This is Ignis," Savage said as he introduced him to the group, "and this... person is much higher ranked than I."
Harry blinked. He forgot about the voice distortion spell. If her reactions were anything to go by, his voice was most likely androgenous. It made him giggle inside. How different would their reactions be?
They shifted uncomfortably.
"Nice to meet you," The chorused.
"The pleasure is mine."
They chatted on about the current state of the world. The others were great insights on Wizengamont. Tiberius informed him of some things about it, but he was otherwise blind when it came to the current workings and bills.
It infuriated him.
The bills they were submitting were less aggressive than the previous proposed ones he had heard of, but they were still regressive. Some were still outrageous. Taking muggleborns as soon as their names appeared on the Hogwarts roster?
Barbaric.
Some of the bills he did favour. Dark creatures, like werewolves, able to work in Diagon Alley? Good. People like Remus would be able to make a living.
Remus.
Had he been compliant with the Order's disregard for him? He didn't know him too well, but Sirius adored him, so he must be someone who would vouch for him. Then again, he did fold to Sirius multiple times, and he ran under enough pressure.
Would he defend him if he knew about his ties to Voldemort?
"Are you Ignis?" Called someone from behind him.
"Tiberius!" Harry bounded to him, the group abandoned.
"How are you faring?" Tiberius asked, offering his arm, a bit bemused.
"Brilliant." Harry swiped a cupcake from the table, "Food is good."
Tiberius chuckled, his voice gravelly. "Glad you enjoy it. The Dark Lord asked me to collect you; he wants you to interact with our allies."
"Sound good." Harry banished the wrapper with a flick of his hand. Joy filled him as it succeeded. He'd have to tell Riddle that his lessons paid off.
Tiberius smiled as he looked over at him. He whispered with an almost inaudible voice. "Have you finally managed a wordless, wandless spell, Harry?"
Harry grinned. Of course, Tiberius would figure it out first. "Yeah! Riddle said that I should try banishment first because I tend to throw away things that displease me." They were subject to his angry tearing of paper when his ink drawings didn't turn out how he wanted them to.
"It sounds accurate." Tiberius shook his head, a chuckle low in his voice.
They slowly swept through the large hall. The crowd parted before them. Again, those untrustworthy yet curious glances followed their steps. Harry was more than used to it—the debacle with the Triwizard Tournament was enough for him—but Tiberius felt tense.
On the other side of the hall, Voldemort was talking with three people. Well, they looked close enough to people.
The first man was bulky, with long black hair flowing down his back with sunset coloured eyes. Another man was lean and dark-skinned, with pointed ears and a pointed face. The tall woman was exceptionally hairy, with fluffy bark-brown hair and yellow eyes.
They approached, with Tiberius growing tenser. But his face showed nothing but neutrality. Harry tried to maintain a moderate smile—after all, he didn't know enough to fear these people.
Voldemort nodded as he saw the pair.
"Come, Ignis, Tiberius; I wish for you to meet our allies." Voldemort beckoned them closer. Harry was about to object to "our," but he figured it was smarter to hold his tongue.
"Dimitry, president of the Northern Vampire Coven," The man with the sunset eyes extended his hand, sharp claws at the ends of his hands.
"Ignis. I don't quite have a title yet." Harry shook his hand, finding it colder than ice.
Dimitry looked him up and down, then smiled, sharp fangs poking at the corners of his mouth.
"Aquilian," The dark-skinned man said, swirling a goblet of blue liquid, "Prince of the United Fae Alliance in Europe."
Harry's eyes widened. In all of Europe? All of the Fae? How many people did he command? Why was he agreeing to meet with Voldemort, someone who lost the last war? And for someone who looked so young, Fae did age differently…
"Nice to meet you," Harry shook his hand, trying not to be intimidated.
"Wulstride." The fluffy woman purred, curtly nodding. "Monarch of the non-wolf Were-pack of the British Isles."
"Pleasure to have your acquaintance."
Her hand was absurdly hot.
Harry's heart was beating through his chest. These were all very important people, and Voldemort wanted him to meet them? Why?
"Tiberius, may you watch Amycus and Alecto? They appear to have drank too much wine." Voldemort waved to the other pair of twins, who were trying to conceal their stumbling.
"Of course, my Lord. I will make sure they do not get into trouble." Tiberius bowed and disappeared into the crowd.
The nearby Death Eaters who were overhearing the conversation quickly fled the area. Their once-mild barrier around them turned into a huge gap. Harry wished he could call on Tom or Riddle in times like this. Or both
Aquillian didn't waste time interrogating him. "So, Ignis, what purpose do you serve for the Dark Lord's cause?" He sipped his drink.
Harry looked at Voldemort, panic blaring in his eyes.
"Hm," Voldemort mused. "Ignis provides highly sensitive information on the other side. He serves personal purposes as well."
"Personal purposes?" Dimitry repeated lowly, glancing at Wulstride.
Voldemort either didn't hear him or ignored him.
"He has given me insight that has redirected my plans. This new direction has increased my numbers and people's trust in my cause." Voldemort continued smoothly.
It had?
Harry tried to think back on everything he told Voldemort. Was it the prophecy? What information do you have about the Order of the Phoenix? His amusing school-related stories?
It was probably the prophecy.
The prophecy seemed to consume Voldemort. With that out of the way, it opened his attention to other matters. Like increasing his numbers or planning better raids. That, combined with the tidbits of information, would lead him to move leaps and bounds further than he would have, had he continued on the prophecy crusade.
"So I've heard," Dimirty replied.
Wulstride cleared her throat. "Have you passed the bills, as promised?"
Voldemort withdrew a long scroll from his inner pocket. "Yes. Over 70% agreeance, with the only opposition some members of the dark and most of the New-Age party. New-Age would be most of the Light side."
New-Age. Tiberius explained the three parties to him. The light is the New Age, the neutral is the Preservation, and the dark is the Regress. Though not concrete in their lines (there were about four Light members who were Regress), the divide was sufficient to call it what it is.
"I see. I would like to talk privately about the effects this bill could have and what it could mean for our future alliance." Wulstride nodded toward one of the balconies.
"That is reasonable. Ignis, stay here. Please refrain from treating our guests like Bellatrix." Voldemort and Wulstride slide out of the group.
The instant they were out of earshot, Aquillian and Dimirty turned to him, their eyes cold. Harry felt his palms grow sweaty and his heart jumped to his throat.
"So, Ignis." Dimirty began, "What can you tell us about Voldemort?"
Harry's mouth moved before he could say, "He's quite the asshole, but he has his moments of compassion."
Aquillian snorted, his drink spilling from his nose. He coughed hard and frantically moved his hands to cover his mouth.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry reached to his breast pocket and grabbed his green handkerchief. "Here, have this."
Aquillian took his handkerchief and blotted at his face. He opened his mouth to talk, but Harry moved first.
"I can get you a new drink, if you wish?" Harry offered.
Aquillian nodded, still coughing into the handkerchief. Harry rushed to grab more of the drink apologising and a few napkins as well.
"Are you okay? I can summon a healer if necessary." Harry gave Aquillian the new drink.
"No, no," Aquillian reassured, "You just said something I did not expect."
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that." Harry didn't know if he should be, but he was anyway.
"My apologies about your handkerchief, it's rather soaked." Aquillian held up the dripping fabric.
"No problem; I can vanish it." Harry waved his hand, and it disappeared.
Aquillian looked at him oddly. "You are capable of wandless magic?"
"Yeah. I've been in training for the past two weeks, and I've been improving on my magic." It was a place of pride for him. Tom and Riddle said he was progressing well, but he was just now believing it.
"You learned wandless magic in two weeks?" Dimitry asked and was impressed.
"Well… For the time being, I can only vanish things and perform a featherlight charm. He said it's because I discard things that displease me and because I want to ease the weight of my burdens." He felt a blush on his cheeks, thankful that his mask would mostly cover it.
"Is that why he told you not to treat us like Bellatrix?" Aquillian asked, hesitantly sipping his drink.
"What? No, it's because I like to hit her with a shovel."
Aquillian snorted again, spilling some of his drink on the floor and inhaling more of it.
"I - " Aquillian coughed again, "should not drink around you."
"Sorry!" Harry blushed hard.
"Here, Aquillian," Dimirty offered his handkerchief.
"I'm an embarrassment to the Fae," Aquillian muttered, glaring at the few people who looked at him.
The tension between the three had subsided. Aquillian kept his promise of not drinking around Harry, which was a brilliant choice as Harry kept on making him snort even if he didn't intend to. Dimitry similarly chuckled at him.
"Voldemort," Aquillian laughed his name, holding his sides. "Ignis has made quite the impression on us."
"Indeed," Dimitry agreed.
"You have got a good man here," Aquillian slowly regained his composure.
"I do." Voldemort nodded curtly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry's face went on fire again.
Voldemort didn't give praise often, but Harry knew that when he did, it was when he did something extraordinary. He just hoped he gave them the correct impression. That it would help Voldemort.
Since when did he care if Voldemort succeeded?
Harry pushed those thoughts away.
Dimirty cleared his throat and said, "He gave us insight on you as a person. I will admit, I did not hold your morals in the highest of places. It is a main falter to your cause. But I've found those views challenged as I hear more about you."
Aquillian nodded, "Yes, especially after the story about a "mandatory shopping trip" in the muggle world. Where no one was harmed."
Voldemort arched his brow, well, where his brow would be. Harry smiled back. He may have embellished the story a bit.
"Yes, there has been one. I have been planning another one in the magical world. Under glamours, of course." Voldemort answered earnestly.
Harry smirked. Another shopping trip!
Aquillian nodded. "If you need a place to shop, you are welcome in the Western-Willwood markets. I do not need to fear you attacking any civilians anymore."
Voldemort blinked, but he was able to slip back into a neutral mask quickly. "Ah, we may fulfill that offer. "I'm not sure when we'll have time because Ignis will be busy gathering intelligence for the next few months."
Smart.
Voldemort wasn't willing to tell them that he was a Hogwarts student. Which Harry hadn't mentioned, but it was something worth noting. It made sense. Voldemort's secret, masked person, a student? Preposterous.
"Big mission, eh?" Wulstride growled, but it didn't seem malicious.
"Yes, it will occupy me for at least until Yule, at most until June." Harry knew how to slip away from Hogwarts. He could show his golden face to avoid suspicion.
"The school year?" Dimitry asked. His gaze turned suspicious.
Harry agreed with a hum. "Yes, Dumbledore has many tasks during the school year, and it is easier for him to slip up during that time. His actions are delayed as well, which gives us more time to take our own actions. It is the most opportune moment to make a move against the Light as a whole. Dumbledore may be safe in Hogwarts, but that is all he gains."
Voldemort looked surprised at his words. Frankly, Harry was as well. They flowed out of him like water into a river.
"A tacticion as well," Aquillian stroked his chin, "A packaged deal, Voldemort."
"I have stumbled upon someone great, Aquillian. I do not plan on letting him go anytime." There wasn't even a soon tacked on. Anytime.
Aquillian and Dimirty laughed. "Neither would I."
At that moment, Harry saw a man meandering towards them, holding a tray of wine glasses. He approached them confidently, much moreso than he should have.
"Wine, my Lord?" The man's voice was somewhat slurred, his face missing the usual pureblood mask.
"Red, Macnair."
Macnair handed him a glass of red wine. He then swayed his way to Harry.
"And for my Lord's consort?"
The room grew deathly silent.
Harry looked at the tray, trying not to let the silence disturb him. He wasn't sure what a consort was, but he knew it was directed towards him.
"Hm, white." Harry was handed a glass of white wine.
Voldemort sent him a murderous look out of the corner of his eye. A headache brewed in his head. Didn't he say Harry was able to drink? If he backtracked on the promise, Harry wasn't going to abide. A promise was a promise.
He sipped his glass, a smile stretching itself across his face. It was more tart than he would have thought. Overall, he enjoyed the taste.
The five chatted for a while. Voldemort remained tense but hid it well. People slowly trickled out, and Harry enjoyed another glass of wine—red this time. By the time the conversation died down, there were only a couple dozen people milling about, mostly at the snack table.
"I'm headed to bed." Harry yawned. Today had been a long day.
He turned on his heel to move, but the bottom of his cloak caught on his heels, making him almost fall to the floor. Voldemort's arm shot out and caught him. He narrowed his eyes.
"You're drunk." He accused.
"I'm not drunk, I'm clumsy." Harry tried to remove Voldemort's arm from him, but the arm only stayed fixed.
"I'll escort you to your room." Voldemort glanced at the three allies and said, "Pardon me."
"Ah, we all must take care of our consort at one point or another." Wulstride chuckled. "We'll see ourselves out; do not worry."
Again, the murderous look was directed Harry's way.
"I'm not drunk." Harry insisted as Voldemort took his arm.
They reached the set of doors, and Harry stumbled on the entranceway, his cloak catching on a wood splinter. This time, Voldemort caught him almost instantly.
"Sure, you aren't drunk." Voldemort turned to him.
"I'm nOT - " Harry's voice got louder as Voldemort scooped him up.
"It is not safe for you to walk back on your own." Voldemort insisted, adjusting his grip.
A bigger headache gripped Harry's head. "Let me down, asshole. I can walk." Harry pounded on Voldemort's chest.
"Sure you can. We will talk in the morning."
There was tension in Harry's shoulders. Voldemort was angry, and he could feel it in his scar. It didn't burn like it normally did, but it gave him a splitting migraine instead. Like ice instead of fire. He didn't know which was worse. He curled up on the sofa and buried his face in Tom's stomach. Riddle rubbed circles into his back.
The door to the room slammed open. Harry abruptly turned back, but wished he hadn't. The furious expression made him want to squirm. He drew back. Tom rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, Riddle on his hip.
"Sit up." Voldemort hissed.
Harry did as he was told. The light made his headache worse, but he figured that he shouldn't complain. He hadn't seen Voldemort this pissed off yet.
"Why," Voldemort spat, "did you ever answer to the title of 'Dark Lord's consort'?"
"I don't know what consort means." Harry admitted.
Voldemort sighed, beginning to pace. Tom let out a cackle and clenched his chest.
"You—pfff—you answered to consort?" He laughed.
"This is a serious matter!" Voldemort hissed.
"Consort," Riddle lightly patted Harry on the back. "Basically, means spouse. When they called you 'Dark Lord's consort', they called you Voldemort's spouse."
Oh.
Harry laughed hysterically. His face was red, and tears pooled in his eyes. He wasn't sure whether to cry or continue laughing. It was equal parts embarrassing and hilarious. He wasn't sure which one to choose.
"You're laughing? You're laughing? I've been interrogated on my consort all day! My inner circle is asking many questions about my consort, as are my allies. Do you know what it's like to have to lie about a fake love life?" Voldemort screeched.
Harry tried to breathe.
"This is not a joke!" Voldemort growled, stepping aggressively towards him.
Tom and Riddle both flicked out their wands. Voldemort eyed them but held his ground.
"We'll have to add manner training and other trainings as well. If you claim to be my consort, act like it." He hissed.
That only sent Harry into another fit of hysterics. The two horcruxes similarly giggled. Voldemort looked like he was going to blow a gasket. It sent another headache to Harry, who finally gave into the feeling.
He gasped, gripping his forehead. Harry curled in on himself and panted, trying to focus on anything other than the splitting in his head. But his thoughts were muddled by aching.
Hands encircled him and drew him into a chest. They rubbed circles into his shoulder and back, holding him tight. There was yelling, but his brain couldn't process what was being said. He could feel his mouth moving, with nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving it.
The fall was just as abrupt as the rise. The pain filtered away, but the ache still stayed in his brain. A thumb stroked his scar. Hands patted his thigh. Wait - to many hands -
Harry's eyes creaked open.
Red eyes stared back, full of regret.
Voldemort's hand didn't leave his face. He continued to lightly brush over his scar, even as Harry stared back. Voldemort dug in his pockets and offered Harry a potion vial. Harry hesitantly took it and drank it.
His headache disappeared the moment he finished swallowing. He stayed leaning into Tom's chest and didn't move as Riddle continued to stroke his thigh. It was comforting, and the blatant display of affection sparked joy within Harry.
Riddle glared at Voldemort.
Voldemort withdrew from Harry with a conflicted look on his face. Riddle and Voldemort locked eyes again. Their expressions spoke louder than words.
"I'm," Voldemort glanced back at Riddle, then back at him, "sorry. I should not have gotten so angry."
Harry blinked. An apology, from Voldemort?
Harry sighed, sinking further into Tom's embrace. "It's fine. You're fine. I shouldn't have taken a title without knowing what it meant."
Voldemort curtly nodded.
"We will have—let's call it 'Consort training'—before occlumency. We'll move occlumency back by half an hour to better account for my schedule." Voldemort rose to his feet.
"Training me to be a consort? Count me in." Harry joked.
A tremor of anger slipped through the connection, but only for a second.
Voldemort cracked a smile. "Be prepared. I don't expect your personality to change, but I do expect you to know the rules before you stomp over them."
Harry nodded, and Voldemort left the room, glancing back once before closing the door. Tom loosened his grip. His legs were yanked out of their scrunched position, and he sat down.
Riddle rested his head on Harry's thighs, a tired smirk on his face.
"I'm sleepy; do you mind being my pillow?" He asked, summoning a blanket for himself.
"I don't mind." Riddle hadn't let him finish before snuggling up in his fluffy blanket.
Harry carded his hands through Riddle's hair as he slept. He simply adored seeing the cockiness leave his features and turn to peaceful tranquility.
Harry: (says anything)
Aquillian: (sputters, inhales drink, laughs)
Harry: The word consort won't stop me from taking a drink.
Voldemort: (internal screeching)
Voldemort: If you call yourself my consort, act like it
Harry, Tom, Riddle: (rib-aching laughter)
