There was another minor conflict in the manor one day with Barty. Maybe not a confrontation, but definitely a conversation.
"So, Mr. Potter, how are you walking around right now? I assume My Lord would want a piece of his soul to be highly guarded." Barty said, taking a bite of the omelette Harry had made him.
"Mr. Potter?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, I still have professor instincts drilled into me." Barty's mouth twitched. "And…"
"... and I am closely guarded." Harry waved to both Tom and Riddle, who glared at Barty. "I'm more guarded than you."
"Ah, of course." Barty quickly said, glancing at the two. "Are you allowed to finish your education, or will you be schooled here?"
"I'm going back to Hogwarts for my sixth and seventh years. Voldemort said that I'd be back here until the war is over. Then I'll be the defence professor." Harry cut into his eggs as he spoke.
Barty flinched. "You speak my Lord's name so flippantly."
Harry shrugged. "Not scared of him, I guess. "There are worse things to call him."
"Could you refrain from using it?" Barty looked down. "His name evokes pain in my mark."
Harry dropped his fork but picked it back up again. "Sorry about that, I didn't know."
Had that been the case for all Death Eaters? Was that why Snape was always so aggressive toward him every time he talked about Voldemort?
Did Dumbledore know, yet still, use his name around Snape?
Barty cleared his throat, trying to derail the conversation. "That gives us two years to win the war before you're here for the foreseeable future. We've already made bigger moves now that my Lord is not distracted by you. More political than physical as well."
Harry cringed. He knew Voldemort had changed, but he didn't know if that extended to all his politics. Someone could be a close friend but a secret tyrant. And, well, Voldemort was a tyrant. The question was whether or not he was still one.
"What, specifically, about his politics?" Harry asked him
Barty smirked. "You see yourself getting into politics?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "No. Yes? I want to know if my best friend will lose rights because she's a muggleborn."
Barty looked at him, then looked away. "Y'know, even as a pureblood, I was concerned too. The Dark started to head in that direction with half-bloods born from muggleborns as well, and that was my only moment of weakness. But now it's stronger than ever."
"That didn't answer my question."
Barty sighed. "Look, we haven't made any moves against muggleborns or half-bloods, if that's what you want to know. Part of our allyship with the creatures is supporting their bills and giving them more rights. I expect the rights of muggleborns to remain unchanged. They will have restrictions with their muggle families regarding the information they're allowed to reveal."
"Like what?" Harry sipped his pumpkin juice.
"Like not telling them where Hogwarts is, not divulging where the Diagon is located; designated people would bring the students. Not allowed to bring home certain magical items. Things like that." Barty ate the last of his beans and toast. "Really, the less they know, the better."
"But - "
Harry thought back to the Dursleys. How cruel they were because they knew about the magical world! But he also thought about all the threats he made because their knowledge was limited. But didn't that only sow fear in them? That other families would not react as well to the threat?
"I mean," Harry went on, "it makes a bit of sense. It feels a little wrong, but I can understand. Muggles would be able to do so much with that information, turning it against the magical world."
Barty's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Harry stared at Barty, completely convinced he had been joking or stupid. "Muggles weaponize things."
"Like what?"
"Like what?!" Harry repeated.
"What?"
Harry banged his head against the table. Barty stared, alarmed, as Tom and Riddle rushed to his side. Was Barty honestly that stupid? That ignorant of muggle technology? Or was this just the average pureblood? "Barty," Harry grumbled. "I could go on and on about muggle atrocities. Sure, magicals have committed their fair share of atrocities, but muggles are more... lethal and inventive.
"I still don't understand." Barty cocked his head.
"Dobby." Harry called.
A pop sounded next to him. A pang of guilt ran through him as he stared at Dobby. He hadn't been keeping in contact with him recently and he knew how lonely the house elf could get.
"Master Harry Potter! Master Harry Potter is safe! Dobby be looking for Master Harry Potter all month!" Dobby threw himself at Harry's feet.
"Dobby, Dobby, I'm fine. I'm okay." Harry lifted him from the ground and set him back on his feet.
"What be Master Harry Potter asking for Dobby?" Dobby asked, shaking with excitement.
"I'm not your master, Dobby. And, er, I'm not sure if you're able to, and it's fine if you can't, but I'm looking for a few books. Can you find me some on World Wars One and Two, wars in Asia, and muggle methods of torture? I need to teach someone about muggle history." Harry clarified at the end, trying not to make himself sound like a sociopath.
"Yes! Would there be anything else Harry Potter needs?" Dobby snapped his fingers, revealing a list in his hands.
"Just don't tell anyone where I am. And if you succeed, I'll give you a Gryffindor scarf to go with your Ravenclaw one." Harry lightly tapped on Dobby's blue and bronze scarf.
Dobby gasped. "Harry Potter is too kind for Dobby!"
He burst with joy until he popped away. Barty looked at him oddly.
"I wish I still had my Winky." Barty shook his head. "She was very kind to me."
"Really?"
Harry hadn't expected Barty to care about his house elf. Most purebloods look at them like dirt under their feet, only useful if they are following the orders of their masters. Even Wixen at large, bar Hermione, thought of them like insects.
"Of course. She practically raised me. Took care of me while my father had me under the imperious. Even took my fall after I cast the dark mark at the Quidditch World Cup." Barty shook his head.
"She is employed at Hogwarts now." Harry said after a pause.
"She is?" Barty had a small smile on his face. "I'm glad she's looked after. Father always threatened to free her whenever she didn't do something perfectly."
Barty scowled after he finished. Harry couldn't blame him. Winky seemed to be everything to him. He wondered if she followed him as he worked for Voldemort. Was she more loyal to Barty or his father? He wanted to ask, but it felt too personal.
A pop stirred him from his thoughts. Dobby sat there with a large stack of books in his hands. The house elf was beaming.
"Dobby has retrieved books for the Great Harry Potter." Dobby held out his arms.
"Thank you, Dobby." Harry raised his wand. "Accio, Gryffindor scarf."
A red and gold scarf wedged itself under the door. Harry snatched it from the air and presented it to Dobby.
"Harry Potter is too kind to Dobby!" Dobby exclaimed. He wrapped the scarf on top of his Ravenclaw one, pulling at them until they both showed.
"You did an amazing job," Harry praised as he flicked through the book. These versions of books were more advanced than he thought, at least at the university level.
"Dobby did an amazing job!" Dobby repeated, doing a little dance. "Does Harry Potter need Dobby?"
Harry smiled down at him. "No, not right now."
"It has been a great honour to serve Harry Potter. Dobby will see him again!"
With a pop, Dobby disappeared.
Harry slid the books over to Barty. His eyes grew at the size of them. A challenge gleamed in his grin.
"This is a list of some of the muggle methods of inhumanity. This isn't all, and this doesn't represent every muggle, but it represents enough. Read them. Ask me questions. I'll answer to the best of my abilities." He tapped the books with his index finger.
"All right," Barty said, flicking through the stack and settling on Inquisitional Torture Methods, Volume 1.
Barty would continue reading, occasionally asking Harry what a word meant or where something was located, until Harry had to do heir lessons with Tiberius. When Harry glanced over in their session, the man was pale with a green tinge to his face.
Harry's back was straight as Voldemort seated himself in front of him. Voldemort's gaze swept over him critically.
"You're too stiff. Relax your shoulders; it gives you confidence. Stop crossing your legs; your pants are too baggy, and the creases draw too much attention to them. Focus on your face. Traditionally, you'd wear a neutral expression; however, I scowl, so do as you wish."
Voldemort mimed his actions as he spoke. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, forcing them down, lightly touching his knee to uncoil his legs, and gesturing to his face.
"Got it." Harry tried to get himself into the more natural state that was described while still being somewhat proper.
Voldemort contemplated for a moment. "Let us start with what some subtle body languages and simple phrases mean. Knowing the subtext is just as important as what they are saying at face value."
"Got it." Harry needed a notepad or something.
"Firstly, do you have the biscuits?" Voldemort asked as he waved his hand.
Porcealin tea set on a silver platter levitated over to them. They sat down with a tink. Voldemort looked at him expectantly as he poured both of them a cup of tea.
"Yeah." Harry reached behind him and brought out the bag of freshly baked biscuits.
"Excellent. Now, we can start." Voldemort had a small smile on his face as he swiped a biscuit.
Voldemort paced as he waited for the youngest horcrux—Tom, as they call him—to arrive. He needed to talk to him before anything happened. Before anything bad happened,
The boy entered the room with a pitiful expression on his face. Voldemort tched. He always looked that way when he pulled the horcruxes away from Potter. They were so emotional when it came to him.
"What did you call me in for?" Tom snapped at him.
Voldemort wanted to rip his hair out. His own soul hated him, as did he. What had he done to him to encourage this amount of wrath?
He did imprison him for fifty years. But it wasn't like he knew that.
Or was it Potter?
Did he truly care for him that much that the feelings transferred? Potter didn't seem to hold it against him; why would his horcrux? It wasn't like he did the same things to him as he did to Potter.
He scowled as he could see a light blush quickly fading on Tom's cheeks.
"I wanted to check again." Voldemort averted his gaze.
He could hardly look at his horcruxes anymore. Their faces were almost always ignited with emotion, often with enchanted, gleeful expressions. Each of them acted like any air they breathed around Potter was a pleasure to have.
It sickened him.
"Yes." Tom shook his head. "I am almost sure."
"Almost?" Voldemort inquired.
"This is a test." Tom looked to the ceiling. "If he reacts positively, we can move on in our training. If he doesn't, then we take a step back."
Voldemort shook his head. "And the end goal?"
"To unlock his potential." Tom strode over to Voldemort's desk and inspected the grain of the wood. "He's been contained for far too long."
"And if this isn't his potential? If he reacts negatively?" Voldemort demanded to know the answer.
"Then we stop. He doesn't have to like his gift." Tom stated. "You almost act protective over him."
Voldemort drew back. "You are asking a child to engage in a group torture session."
"I am the same age as that 'child'." Tom pointed out. "Though I guess I didn't turn out fine after all."
"Why are you gifting her to him?" Voldemort evaded. Nothing the two did ever made any sense.
Tom laughed lowly. "He deserves to have a birthday gift, even if it is late. You gave him one, why shouldn't I?"
Voldemort ground his teeth. The gift was a moment of weakness.
"Why her, specifically? She was a nasty woman in his memories, but this seems more… personal." He didn't know a better word for it.
Tom's jaw clenched. "She hurt him. She hurt everyone. She turned Hogwarts into a place of fear and pain."
Voldemort hummed. "Very well. She is ready; you just need to work out the timing."
"I will."
Tom, Riddle, and Harry were sitting in a circle. In the middle, there was a wooden sphere and a flower. Harry focused on the flower first.
"So, we're working on combustion first. The size and content of water both matter. Size more than water. Try to set fire to the flower, then the wood." Tom gestured to the two.
His focus intensified on the flower. He raised his hand and held it over the flower. Fingers curled in and smoke rose from the petals. But it didn't combust.
Next was the sphere. Try as he might, he couldn't even make smoke. There was a small black smudge but no other evidence. He groaned in frustration.
"See how the size made it harder, even if there was less water? That's why it is incredibly hard to make a wandless explosion. In the olde days, when mages focused on one area of magic, fire control was one of the hardest to master. You need control, focus, power, and the right conditions." Riddle continued.
Harry nodded.
"Let's try something intermediate - "
A loud THUMP followed the door creaking open. They whipped around to see Nagini falling from the door handle and slithering towards them. Harry's instincts were on high alert. Voldemort was not present to prevent her from devouring him.
"Whose that?" Tom asked, offering the back of his hand for the snake to smell.
"I am Nagini. I am like that one." Nagini rolled her eyes at Harry. "You smell like Master."
"Like that one?" Riddle repeated. "Oh, like a living horcrux? I'm a horcrux, and so is Tom."
"Tom? But you're Tom?" Nagini slithered next to Riddle and crawled across his lap.
"We call each other different names to avoid confusion. I am Tom, he is Riddle, and the other is Voldemort." Tom explained it to her.
Nagini came to crawl over Harry's lap. Harry tensed as she reared up to face him. She butted her head against his glasses.
"You still don't look tasty yet." Nagini hissed. "Make yourself tastier."
"What does she mean?" Tom inquired as Nagini completed the circle by slithering over his lap as well.
"She wants to eat me." There wasn't a simpler way to say it.
"You are not special. I want to eat everyone but Master. You killed Master. I want to eat you more." Nagini explained.
"Well, sometimes we can forgive a little murder. I did." Tom smiled down at her and scratched her scales.
"I do not forget." Nagini practically purred under his scratches. "Make yourself useful and give me warmth."
Tom quirked his lips. He looked at Harry. "Let's try to make a small fire out of straw."
They summoned a stack of straw for him. Harry hovered his hand above the straw and forced all of his magic into the spell. The straw smoked, and he could see the beginning forms of embers. Sweat beaded on his brow and flowed down his face.
A small fire started.
"That took you more than I would have thought, but you still did well." Tom patted his shoulder.
Riddle threw small sticks into the fire and did something to stop it from smoking. The floor seemed to be flame-retardant enough, so they continued to grow the fire.
"Why are you not using all of you magic?" Nagini asked him.
"I am?" Harry replied, confused.
"But you aren't using the last part of your core." She yawned, displaying her fangs. "Unless you're already using it on something else."
Harry was still confused but decided to think about other things. He averted his focus to try to keep the fire under control. The tips of his fingers were burned at one point, but nothing Harry couldn't fix.
"Feed me." Nagini turned to Harry. Harry began to sweat again.
"What do you want to eat?" Tom asked, "Not Harry."
Nagini released something similar to a whine. "People, then."
Harry was hesitant to enact her wishes.
"Where's Voldemort?" Riddle asked with a sigh.
"Mission."
Tom groaned. "Does anyone else know who you're allowed to eat?"
"Inner circle." Nagini answered, rolling on her back and displaying her belly. "I am simply starved."
Nagini didn't look starved.
"All right," Harry sighed, "the inner circle is usually in the kitchen or the lounge."
The four walked to the lougue. Inside, an older man was talking to Tiberius while Amycus and Alecto Carrow ate food at the table. The four men froze when they saw them enter. Harry, even if he was a little unnerved, broke the pause.
"Does anyone know which people Nagini is allowed to eat?" Harry asked the group. Their faces turned white.
Tiberius shook his head. "Nagini isn't allowed to eat people unless she is making an example for the rest of the Death Eaters."
They raised an eyebrow at Nagini.
"The man lies." She hissed.
"She says you're lying." Harry translated for Tiberius. He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Did you - Did you understand the snake?" One of the Carrow twins asked. Harry didn't know which one they were, but there weren't any distinguishing features between the two.
"Yeah? I'm a parseltongue? Has something to do with why Vol—your Lord is keeping me alive." Harry rolled his eyes.
"You - you can - what else do you relate to my Lord?" The other twin asked.
Harry shrugged. "I'm an asshole."
The man next to Tiberius sputtered and whipped around. "You - " He just looked flabbergasted.
"Look," Harry sighed, "if you're going to be shocked every time I disrespect your Lord, you're in for a rough summer and the foreseeable future."
The door opened again.
Harry scowled.
"Lucius. Whatever the fuck your middle name is. Malfoy." Harry stated, crossing his arms.
"Harry James Potter." Lucius growled. "How odd it is to see you here. Perfectly well. For now."
Tom stepped in between them while Riddle picked Harry up by the waist.
"Both of you, stop. I have no want to pry a shovel from Harry's hands right now." Tom rubbed his temples.
"Nagini," Harry hissed, "are you allowed to eat him?"
Nagini nodded, "Yes, yes. Of course. Of course. I will eat him."
The snake slithered treacherously toward Lucius. Lucius jumped back in alarm, tripping himself and crawling back to the door.
"Nagini!" Riddle hissed. "Eat someone else. Voldemort, " All of the Death Eaters sucked in a breath and clenched their forearms in pain, "will be angry at you."
Nagini hissed violently and rolled onto her back, spasming like she was throwing a tantrum.
"And you! Stop telling Nagini she can eat people!" Tom chastised.
Lucius crossed his legs, and the smell of ammonia permeated the room. Harry was confused for a moment, then he started to giggle. Then laugh. Then cackle.
"You—you pissed yourself?" Harry wheezed.
The other Death Eaters sighed and looked away from Lucius. The man grabbed his wand and pointed it to his crotch, spelling himself clear of piss. Harry, meanwhile, still cackled.
Lucius lurched forward and rolled as the door behind him opened. The blond's face grew white as he stared up at Voldemort. He scrambled to his feet and bowed.
"Lucius." Voldemort curtly nodded, scanning the room.
"Hey, Snake-Face." Harry waved from the safety of Riddle's arms.
The room went deadly silent.
Voldemort's jaw tightened, but Harry could feel the amusement bleeding through their connection. He glared at Harry, his eyes betraying his lack of hatred.
"You." He pointed at Harry with a clawed hand. "I have arrived early. Your duelling training starts in five minutes."
"Cool, cool. Nagini is hungry, and she needs people she can eat." Harry pointed to the snake, who was still eyeing Lucius with a hungry glance.
"Nagini," Voldemort sighed, "You're only allowed one person a week."
Nagini tantrumed again, curling up like she was dying.
"Fine. You can have one more." Voldemort gave in easily.
Nagini stopped rolling and happily slithered to Voldemort's feet. She wore a satisfied smirk on her face and wiggled in joy. More amusement bled through.
"I will give her food. You - three - go to the training room. Occlumencey will follow. Today, you need improvement." Voldemort waved them off and left the room, with Nagini at his heels.
Riddle threw Harry over his shoulder.
"I can walk, asshole." Harry used the side of his fist to lightly pound Riddle's back.
"I know."
Severus hated Order meetings. It was insufferable to him in every way possible. The way they glared at him like he had committed an offence. The way he was demanded to reveal information that would later get him tortured.
"Today, we will be discussing Voldemort's current moves on the political spectrum."
Severus winced. Another reason to hate it. Albus insisted on saying the Dark Lord's name, even if it caused him pain. Something about not fearing a name. Bullshit.
At least this time he could report on something big without it involving the plans of the Death Eaters.
"Severus, do you have anything to report?" Albus asked as Severus sat down in a wooden chair that was just a bit too small for a grown man.
It wasn't like he didn't want to tell them. He was just a bit hesitant about telling them about this obviously important person. Don't tell them, be admonished for it, and possibly lose his immunity. Tell them, possibly be tortured for revealing the information.
It was a double-edged sword.
"I do."
Severus took a breath. Everyone's eyes were on him. Some in anger, most in indifference.
"There has been another person added to the inner circle. One I am not privy to the identity of." Severus spoke with bated breath.
The seconds passed as he waited for the information to sink in.
"Do you know the name of this person?" Albus asked. Next to him, Alastor jotted down notes.
"The Dark Lord has pulled us aside for another meeting. Whoever this person is, his name is Ignis. We have not been disclosed an age." Severus tried to be as even as possible. "He even sat in the Dark Lord's right-hand seat, replacing Barty."
This information stuck with them. Whispers broke out amongst the group. Severus was inclined to agree with some of them. It was worrying that another important person was added around the time that Potter went missing.
Did Ignis kidnap Potter?
Albus seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Look out for any information that Ignis was involved in the kidnapping of Harry Potter. Is there anything else you know about this person?"
Severus swallowed.
"It has been… rumoured that this person is the Dark Lord's consort." Severus swallowed hard.
He didn't want to admit it. The Dark Lord was not someone who was capable of love. If he needed someone to host his heir - he would have picked a woman. Or he would have found a ritual that would allow him to have an heir without copulation.
Even if he had physical urges, he wouldn't need to have someone consistent. He would just pay or pull whoever he needed to fulfil them. There was no reason for him to be permanently attached to him.
There was no logical reason for the Dark Lord to take on a consort.
"A consort?" Albus stroked his beard. "Are you sure he's not a concubine?"
Severus shook his head. "I've heard he answered to highly, consort. I cannot confirm. The Dark Lord has instructed us to treat Ignis highly, but not to take orders from him without checking first. He has a higher rank than any of us."
"A consort? Preposterous! You-Know-Who is a cruel creature who cannot love." Alastor muttered under his breath.
"Rumours." Severus clarified.
"Could this Ignis have asked for the position by virtue of kidnapping Harry Potter?" Albus hummed. "Voldemort does reward his most loyal."
They were all whispering to one another.
"Perhaps."
Severus completely disagreed. Bellatrix had repeatedly demonstrated her loyalty. She hadn't even been awarded the position of concubine. In fact, she often complained about the lack of sexual reciprocation on his part.
"What does Ignis look like?" Alastor asked after a pause.
Severus consulted his memories. "Small, short, in a white cloak and a golden mask. There's an enchantment that conceals his hair, but he has a medium skin tone."
"Watch out for any signs. And all of you, look for any signs of him anywhere." Albus sighed. "We need every bit of information we can have."
"Yes, Albus." Echoed through the room.
Severus went on to hate the rest of the meeting. It was hard to see how useless their meetings had become. With the increase of the people to the dark -
They would never stand a chance.
Harry: Muggles, amirite?
Barty: what
Voldemort: The most important part of Consort Training is biscuits.
Tom and Voldemort: (being shady)
Nagini: (Hungry)
Harry: Please don't eat me
Lucius: (pisses himself)
Voldemort: Fine you can have one person. As a treat.
Severus: So yeah he has a consort.
Everyone: (Gasping, throwing up, denial)
