"Oh no, my hands are tied! My wand is in my pocket. Spare me, kiddo." The man was still chuckling.
Harry took the aforementioned wand, hiding it in his own holster, something that was spelled to allow only the holder to withdraw the wand from it to prevent any funny business.
He still pointed his Holly wand at the man, who didn't look like Sirius Black at all. But it could be anyone under disguise.
Darting his eyes from Harry's face to the tip of the wand back and forth, the man licked his lips in a nervous gesture.
"Well? Who are you and why are you following me?" Harry demanded.
"Hey, I'm not following anyone," the man placated, eyes shifting from side to side. "Was I just passing by? How devastating it is to be apprehended by a kid out of nowhere…"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I might be a kid but I'm not dumb. Now tell me, what do you want?"
The man sighed in an overly dramatic defeat. "Alright. Well, actually that's perfect. That's exactly what I wanted." He perked up, nodding a few times.
"Being caught by a kid?"
"I mean, I had to talk to you. But wanted to find the right time and place." He looked around the dark alley. "So this could actually work, yep."
"Start talking then." Harry pushed his wand at the man's chest.
"Okay, okay." His eyes widened. "Um, you know Nagini, right?"
Now Harry's eyes widened as well. It wasn't at all what he expected. He nodded in confirmation.
"So, how about we take a short trip to see her? She won't be alone though."
Harry understood the implication full well. So finally Voldemort decided to grace him with the knowledge of his return.
"What will happen if I agree?"
The man's eyes shone with uncontrolled glee, curiosity, and amusement.
"Why, I'll take you to them. Like, right now. And then I'll take you back here if you so wish."
Harry couldn't possibly pass on such an offer. Well, there was a possibility to say no, the man in front of him wasn't forcing him and his wand was still in Harry's hands, but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to resist.
If Tom was with him right now, Harry might have hesitated. Because the diary was a horcrux, and Nagini could easily sense those. Maybe Voldemort, too, Harry wasn't sure if the man was able to feel his own soul in the same way. Regardless, Nagini wouldn't keep it quiet even if Harry asked her; Voldemort's word outweighed his by default.
While it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing for the diary to get discovered by Voldemort—Tom wanted to be reunited with the main soul—Harry wasn't ready in the slightest to let go of Tom yet.
So since Tom wasn't here, it left only a few other concerns. Like, apparating away with a stranger, who could very well be lying. But the wrong people wouldn't randomly bring up Nagini in a conversation with him, or even know to do so.
Which meant, it must be the truth. The only concern that remained was Voldemort's intention. They formed a contract not to kill each other, but torture was still left as an option. Harry didn't recall them parting on a bad note though, it was quite the opposite. He also wanted to see Nagini and was intrigued about the Dark Lord.
If it turned out he shouldn't have trusted this confusing man, well, Harry was ready to face the consequences.
He lowered his wand and released the binds. "Fine, let's do this."
The man cheered, swooping Harry's arm. Only halfway through the swirl of apparition Harry realised that he was still holding onto the man's wand.
"See, Master? What did I tell you?" Harry heard the familiar hiss as soon as they landed. "He is here."
"What are you doing, Harry?" Another familiar voice greeted him. "Apparating away with a stranger. Are you a Gryffindor?"
"Don't say it like an insult," Harry parried, momentarily forgetting it wasn't Tom he was talking to. Although, technically…
Harry gave the approaching man a careful look. It was without a doubt Tom Riddle, tall and handsome, only much older, with an air of maturity about him and decades behind those intense eyes, still scarlet like Harry saw before, whenever Voldemort talked through Quirrell. At the same time, he looked young, newly reborn, with decades of life ahead. His dark robes bellowed on the floor as he moved, and while appearing relaxed, he emanated power and a hidden threat. He was the Dark Lord.
Nagini was quicker to approach, as she slithered towards Harry and her large body curled around all over him in a tight embrace.
"Good to see you again, hatchling."
"Yes, hello, Nagini." Harry managed to hiss back, gently pushing the snake a bit from his chest to allow himself to breathe. He gave her a little squeeze in return, stroking the beautiful scales.
Voldemort stopped just a step before Harry, putting his hand on Nagini's head, rubbing it affectionately. "I hope Barty here hasn't startled you too much."
Harry glanced at the man who brought him here. Barty raised his hands in defence, the generic disguise already fell off of him, revealing sandy short hair and frantic hazel eyes.
"Who? Me? Didn't even get a chance."
Voldemort tilted his head. "How so?
"If anything, I was the one startled." He then turned to Harry and said with an exaggerated accusation, "And I would like to have my wand back, thank you very much."
Harry freed his hands from the slithering coils, and gave Barty his wand back with a sharp look. "You still apparated without it just fine."
Barty took the wand gingerly and placed it behind his ear. "Ah, but I'm linked to the Dark Lord for that."
He walked closer to Harry, lifting his sleeve. "See?" He showed off his left arm looking very proud about it. "See?"
There, in all its glory, Harry saw the Dark Mark. He could also see why this man was presumably the only follower Voldemort called as of yet.
Barty eyed Harry with apparent giddiness. "The apparition with this gets very-very easy."
Voldemort looked at them with a mix of amusement and a silent question. Turning to him, Barty lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Well, funny thing, my Lord," Barty explained. "The kid knew I was following him."
"You should try to be more subtle next time," Harry commented helpfully.
"Wait," Nagini uncoiled herself to fix them with a stare. "Is this still Barty we are talking about?"
Voldemort seemed to be sharing the same disbelief, sending Harry, dare he say, an impressed look?
Harry shrugged, stepping a bit away from Nagini and Voldemort, to get some room and have another proper look at the man. Of course he knew Voldemort was much older, but Harry wouldn't give him more than forty, the age really didn't diminish his good looks, only making his features more refined. No harsh ageing lines marred his face, and the hair was still wavy and black, with only a few thin silver strands.
"What took you so long to contact me?" Harry asked.
"There were important issues I had to oversee," Voldemort answered, still scratching Nagini's scales, who slithered around his tall figure, although not as tight when she greeted Harry.
"What issues?" Harry was certain that he wouldn't get any real answer.
"I'd rather not say."
Voldemort held Harry under his intense gaze and the moment expanded but also collapsed on the two of them.
"Is there something on my face?" Harry eventually broke the silence.
"Yes."
Crimson eyes trailed not so subtly to Harry's forehead and Harry felt a tug in his scar. It wasn't painful, but not easily ignored either.
"You left it there."
"And I'm not taking it back."
The brief exchange seemed to have an underlying meaning to it, Harry was almost positive that Voldemort knew about the horcrux inside the scar.
Harry averted his eyes, not sure if he wanted to breach that subject yet. He wasn't even supposed to know, and he wouldn't be able to withstand Voldemort's Legilimency attack, if the man decided to do so.
There was no telling what the man would do if he discovered Harry had this much knowledge about him. It was another concern Harry didn't think of earlier. What would Tom do?
Harry held his mental shields on high alert, strengthening them further, even though they could do very little against Voldemort. Harry was convinced, if Voldemort tried, Harry's defence wouldn't hold. But he hasn't tried, that was the thing. Harry caught Voldemort's eyes again, the long look of dark crimson, yet there was still no attempt to read his mind. If that were to happen, Harry would notice.
This time it was Voldemort who broke eye contact, turning to his Familiar.
"Nagini, dear, play with Barty for a bit," he hissed. "I would like to speak with Harry alone."
She hissed back in agreement, briefly glancing at Harry in what he could interpret as an encouraging look.
Harry followed after Voldemort through dark corridors. The house looked old and fancy, but not quite in pureblood style. Harry couldn't grasp many details before he was shown inside a room, that was a typical study.
Typical for Tom anyway; Harry could imagine him getting comfortable in a place like this. Right across the door there was a large desk with a large window behind, now dark with barely any light coming through, even though there was still supposed to be sun outside. The bookshelves took up the rest of the wall, a sizable selection of books neatly ordered in a system only Tom would understand the pattern to.
A dimmed fireplace crackled softly at the opposite corner, with a comfortable looking armchair nearby. Beside another wall a similar couch stood and a small coffee table. The hardwood floor emanated warmth, probably spelled this way with Nagini in mind.
The colours were mostly dark greens, or greys, or that of wood. Harry found himself relaxing at the familiarity of the colour scheme. It wasn't exactly the same as the Slytherin common room, where everything was slightly brighter and less organised, but somewhat softer and even more pleasing to the eye.
Voldemort sat behind his large desk, motioning for Harry to sit in an armchair before him.
They watched each other silently for some time, before Harry observed.
"You aren't mad at me anymore."
In fact, Voldemort didn't look mad at all.
"As I already told you, I consider the contract between us a good thing, now that I don't have any reason to kill you anymore."
"You had a reason, then. Before?" Harry already knew what it was, but he wanted to hear what Voldemort would say.
"Yes," Voldemort admitted simply. "Not a very good one."
"I won't judge," Harry reassured not unkindly, making Voldemort flash his eyes at him.
But he still gave an answer, "Before you were born, there was a Prophecy…"
Harry tensed, not expecting Voldemort to actually bring this up so soon.
Seeing that he had Harry's attention, he continued, "A Prophecy that pointed to you becoming a demise of mine."
"And you believed it?"
"I did take it as a threat and threats are meant to be eliminated. The sooner, the better. A child is nothing before it grows into power. Or so I thought."
There was silence as Voldemort seemed to choose his next words very carefully. "You must understand, Harry, my mental state at the time wasn't in its best condition. Which isn't an excuse, since I brought it upon myself, but if I had a capacity to think it over with more clarity, I wouldn't have acted so hastily. Not at least until I learned the full wording of the Prophecy."
"You went on an escapade to kill me after hearing only a part of it?"
Voldemort gave Harry another sharp look, but Harry promised not to judge, and Voldemort seemed to recognise there was no judgement in his voice or expression.
"Yes, that's what I did," he said.
"Do you know the full Prophecy now?" Harry wondered, genuinely curious, because it could still change everything if Voldemort knew. The part where neither survives was the one that made the least sense to him and Tom, and it could still sound threatening to Voldemort.
"I do, actually. That's one of the first things I did after regaining my body."
Harry wanted to ask, he so wanted to ask. He sensed Voldemort's soul having more presence, so he must have absorbed at least one horcrux, which would explain the lack of madness in his eyes, too. But Harry didn't want to reveal his knowledge yet. So he mentally put it on hold and asked instead, "What do you think about the Prophecy now?"
Voldemort's eyes now held a curious glint to them. "Don't you wonder what the Prophecy says?"
Harry shrugged, relaxing his posture. There wasn't any point keeping that a secret. "Dumbledore already told me about it."
"Did he really?"
"I'm slipping from his hands at such a speed, he's wondering if he ever even had a hold over me." Harry let his lips spread into a smirk, and Voldemort scoffed.
"A misconception we all had to face at one point. A little snake like you would never be in anyone's hands."
Harry blinked, not sure, was it a compliment from the Dark Lord?
He didn't know how to take it, so he pretended not to give it much importance.
"So, the Prophecy?"
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
Voldemort recited the Prophecy word for word, proving not only that he had a perfect memory still, but that he was aware of its entirety, since those were all the same words Harry heard himself in Dumbledore's memory and the Hall of Prophecy.
Harry didn't say anything for a while, waiting for Voldemort to offer a clue on what he actually thought. The man seemed to be of the same opinion watching Harry expectedly.
After another long minute, Harry gave in. "We can forget about it, can't we?"
"Can we?" Voldemort tapped at his chin thoughtfully, as if he didn't give it enough thought already. Harry easily caught that he was doing this only to get Harry into talking more about his reasoning.
"I don't believe in fate or destiny. Our own actions define the future. I wouldn't hold any Prophecy in high regard at all." Harry offered truthfully not appreciating beating around the bush.
Voldemort hummed, he seemed to genuinely consider Harry's words. "Indeed. My own actions gave credibility to the Prophecy, and it came true because of it."
"Did it?" Now it was Harry's turn to question.
"Yes. I do believe the Prophecy to be already fulfilled."
"What about, either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives?"
"You focus on the wrong part, Harry. It says either must die, but it's not definitive. It doesn't say either will die. What we can or cannot do isn't set in stone, but an explanation to the preceding portion, as to why it has to be at the hand of the other. Even then, when I lifted my hand at you, neither of us died."
"I lived, and you survived."
Voldemort nodded. "It seems contradictory. But the Prophecies are normally vague and shouldn't be taken at face value. Especially worded like this. The only things that were prophesied to happen for certain was that you will be born with the power I know not at the end of July, and that I will mark you as my equal. And all of that already happened. End of story."
Harry marvelled at all the mental gymnastics going on there, but couldn't actually find a flaw in that logic. The power to vanquish the Dark Lord he was born with, but nothing said he had to use it. Or, will use it. Besides, Voldemort already was vanquished, even though he survived through it.
Of course, Voldemort wasn't telling him everything. It was clear as day that it was all about the horcrux in Harry, the real reason he didn't want to kill him anymore, or why he could even remotely consider that marking Harry as his equal already happened. As far as he was aware, Voldemort had no equals, and Harry wasn't arrogant enough to assume such a thing about himself. Not yet, at least.
"End of story," Harry repeated in agreement.
He expected Voldemort to nod and seal the agreement and move on, to discuss something else. But his face still was contemplative. He folded his hands on the desk and Harry could see a slight twitch to his fingers. Was that a sign of nervousness?
Harry stared, curiosity piqued. He barely ever saw Tom to be nervous. What was that suddenly about?
Voldemort didn't speak for a long while, and Harry didn't rush him. Tom always said things to Harry in his own time when he was ready. And the longer Harry looked at Voldemort, the more he could see Tom in front of him. He said what Harry could see Tom saying, sometimes what Tom already told him. They were one and the same, weren't they?
With his head turned to the side, Voldemort didn't look at Harry, his eyes reflected the flames of the fireplace, giving them an eerie burning look. Yet, there was no anger, they seemed unseeing, focused on his own inner thoughts.
"Harry, for my murderous intent towards you…" he said eventually, still not looking at him, the voice calm but firm. "I do hope you can forgive me."
Harry wasn't sure he understood correctly. Voldemort was asking his forgiveness, for attempting to kill him? It was the last thing Harry expected to hear.
Voldemort glanced at him then, and the burn of that stare gave Harry chills. He was serious, and he wasn't going to repeat himself.
Harry didn't know what to say.
He always accepted that things happened how they happened. Nagini told so many things about her Master even before he met the man. They then formed a sort of truce, and Harry got to know Tom through the diary. And Harry never really held it against him, having an understanding that Voldemort as the Dark Lord did this for his own reasons and the fact Harry somehow managed not to die was enough.
Harry didn't feel resentment or anger towards Voldemort, nor did he have a desire for revenge or the need for apology. If he was completely honest, ever since he learned about Voldemort he was intrigued.
Nagini was certainly biased in her stories and hearing about Voldemort through her eyes definitely played its part. Nagini made it easier to accept the man behind a murderer who had a hand in ruining his childhood. Maybe for Voldemort, it was the same; quite possibly he had to listen to Nagini's tales about Harry.
And Harry wanted to see the person behind the Dark Lord, to know him. He was drawn to Voldemort. He respected, no, admired him; even more so after he got a chance to personally speak with Tom and actually know what he was like. Or, to know the part of him at least.
Their history was complicated, but they didn't have to kill each other, they both agreed on that. And it was already more than enough. Harry never considered forgiving Voldemort as an option. Because, he never thought there was anything left to forgive him for?
But seeing Voldemort now who clearly had difficulty asking for it, who admitted that he shouldn't have listened to the Prophecy in the first place, that even his insanity wasn't an excuse, for it was a consequence of his choices. Voldemort took full responsibility for what he did to Harry.
Harry was still staring into those burning eyes that watched Harry steadily, waiting patiently for him to reply.
"I can," Harry replied, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I do. Forgive you, that is."
The reaction was immediate. Crimson eyes brightened, fluttering and staying half lidded, pleased. Voldemort's hands relaxed, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile.
"Thank you, Harry."
Harry let out a long breath, and shifted in his seat, having no idea how to take this particular show on Voldemort's face. He decided that it was as good a time as any to bring another matter up.
"What about my parents?"
"What about them?"
"You killed them."
"Ah." Voldemort leaned back in his seat watching Harry now with a sort of wonder.
Harry wasn't expecting Voldemort to apologise for that either. He simply wanted the truth.
"I didn't kill your parents."
Harry's eyes didn't leave Voldemort, he already believed him because the seed of suspicion was already planted with that failed ancestral ritual. And Voldemort didn't look like he was lying but Harry still tried to find any crack in his face that would explain.
"I did not kill your parents." Voldemort then repeated in Parseltongue, confirming that it wasn't a lie.
"Why?"
Voldemort smiled somewhat viciously. "Do not get me wrong, Harry. I had every intention to kill anyone who stood in my path."
"Then why did you not?"
"That is the thing, Harry. They were not standing in my path. They were not there at all."
Like a flurry of butterflies released from a cage only to die right after, Harry was crushed with a single memory that he never could understand or come to terms with.
The dream that haunted him ever since early childhood, where he saw the green light. Where he was always alone. Abandoned.
He suspected such truth, yes. But to have it confirmed, that it actually was true. Harry looked at Voldemort with wide eyes, his hand going up to grip at the front of his robe where he kept the photograph and the two names, suddenly feeling so empty.
And then Harry laughed, the sound coming out cold, even to his own ears.
Harry laughed and laughed, and laughed. There was nothing funny about it, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sad, or angry, or anything, so he laughed until his lungs hurt. Eventually he fled the room, unable to bear seeing Voldemort's face, so calm and curious, like Harry was a particularly interesting specimen. He roamed the corridors mindlessly.
Nagini found him soon after in a little room he wandered to. He sat on the soft carpet, when she slithered towards him.
"Hatchling?"
Harry turned to her, readily accepting the coiling embrace, pressing his face to the cool scales.
"What did he do?" She asked sharply, as if fully prepared to go and scold the Dark Lord.
"More like what he did not do." Harry sighed. "Did you know that he did not kill my parents?"
Nagini stared at him blankly.
"Well, now I know. I only ever heard about it, and had no reason to assume otherwise."
Harry chuckled humourlessly. "And he never even tried to dispute the wrong information spreading about him?"
"We do not usually talk about our kills. One more, one less. What is there to the Dark Lord?"
Harry stayed silent, and Nagini wondered, "Does it change anything, hatchling?"
"Not really." He glanced at the photograph of his parents, trying to reach within himself for any emotion, whether positive or negative, but grasped only at emptiness. "But it means my parents abandoned me."
Nagini loosened her hold over him.
"Look at me, hatchling," she said and Harry peered into the yellow gleaming eyes. "Those humans are foul creatures for abandoning such an extraordinary snake like you. They are not your parents anymore. I picked you up, you are mine now. You understand, hatchling?"
Harry smiled, connecting his forehead to Nagini's triangular head.
"Yes, mother." He found himself saying, and it didn't sound wrong. Out of anyone Nagini was the closest who could fill in on this role.
She hissed affectionately at that, squeezing his torso in reassurance, and he brushed her scales absent-mindedly.
"Master is calling for me," Nagini said after a while.
"Of course," Harry helped her to untangle herself, and watched how she slithered away.
He stood up, stretching himself, the mood much better now. There wasn't really any reason to lose himself like that. Looking over the room, Harry realised he probably also got himself lost in this house. Now that the matter of his parents wasn't disturbing his mind anymore, he decided to explore, paying more attention to the place where Voldemort lived.
Harry wandered through the manor, wooden floorboards creaking under his feet at some spots. It was really old, but well maintained mostly through magic, intricately woven all throughout, with a constant feel of strong wards surrounding the house, which in itself was even more impressive than any interior. If Harry didn't know better he would assume it was a muggle household, one that might belong to a wealthier kind. There was not a single magical portrait, which was understandable for security reasons, and the decorations weren't all pompous in a pureblood way, which could be just a preference.
On his next turn he spotted large and heavy double doors, which led to the vast hall. Harry's eyes zeroed in on an imposing throne in the middle of it.
Harry approached it, looking over the details. It was quite simple yet still spoke of power, anyone sitting there would feel elevated. There was a pedestal making it a step higher and Harry sat on the throne to check just that. It was an interesting point of view, above all and everyone. Although, he couldn't say it was overly comfortable.
Voldemort entered the room a few minutes later and paused upon seeing Harry, his face unreadable, before slowly making his way towards him.
"Can't believe you made yourself an actual throne," Harry observed casually.
"Aren't you a bit too small for it?"
"Nah, it's you who is ridiculously tall." Harry crossed his legs on the throne to make himself more comfortable. Voldemort got closer and raised an eyebrow, he was so tall that this way, despite the height of the pedestal, they were actually on the same eye level.
"What's next," Harry continued, not disturbed. "Going to make Death Eaters lick your shoes?"
"Now, that's a thought," Voldemort's lips curled into a menacing smile. "Alas, I wasn't considering wearing any shoes to the meetings with them."
"Any particular reason for that?"
"So that they could kiss my bare feet, of course."
Harry blinked once, twice. Was he joking? Voldemort's expression was so serious it was actually hard to tell. But no. There. It wasn't as noticeable in the crimson of his eyes, but there was this familiar mischievous glint.
Harry huffed, climbing off the throne. He fed his curiosity and was done with the room. Voldemort didn't attempt to sit on the throne, showing no need to reclaim it after Harry so gracelessly sat there. The throne always belonged to Voldemort and it always will, they both knew it and nothing could change that.
Instead, he fell into step with Harry essentially taking the lead soon after, guiding him back to his study.
"I'm not letting everyone know of my return yet, only the most trusted," Voldemort was explaining once they settled in his study. "And they are all in this room."
Harry looked around, where apart from him, only Barty sat in another armchair that appeared before Voldemort's desk. Nagini curled around Barty's lap, who looked quite relaxed around the snake for not being a Parselmouth.
"Not even Severus?" Harry wondered, the man waited so anxiously, after all.
Voldemort looked amused. "I have no need for his assistance yet."
"Not any of your other Death Eaters?"
It was quite interesting; from what Snape told him, Dumbledore was convinced that Voldemort would want to announce his return to most of them immediately and suspected that it was Severus who wasn't trusted. Which, ironically, actually played in his favour to gain more trust from Dumbledore
"For now, Barty's enough."
Barty beamed like a mid-summer sunshine at the statement, which earned him a look of rare fondness from Voldemort.
"How did you learn of the Prophecy then?" Harry regretted the question as soon as he asked, because of course the most go-to person in the Ministry would be Lucius, and Lucius knew about the diary, and Harry was not ready…
"I was working on creating a new persona myself." Voldemort didn't follow up on Harry's train of thought, and wasn't it a small mercy that he wasn't casting Legilimency on him. "Marvolo Gaunt, Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic," Voldemort introduced, pointing at himself.
So, he decided to go through that route, using the Ministry as a stepping stone.
"That's not suspicious at all," Harry observed sarcastically.
"Oh, it is suspicious. I'm sure Dumbledore will get jitters no matter what position I take, looking like this." Voldemort gestured to his face. "He'll be convinced of who I am regardless. And the name will only send him into further despair, but he won't be able to prove anything."
"Gaunt?" Harry recognised this name, it was Tom's family name by mother's line.
"It is a family name from my mother's line." Voldemort confirmed. "I reclaimed it, which I didn't do before."
Harry didn't know that, Tom didn't know that yet. At the point when he created the diary he only learned of who his parents were, but didn't yet do anything with that information.
"Why reclaim it now?"
"Because through this I can also claim my Slytherin heritage, which comes with a seat in Wizengamot, which before I had neither resources nor the need for, choosing a different approach."
"You also didn't want any association with that kind of family, my lord," Barty added.
Voldemort smirked sharply. "True. But it's been years really, I'd be a fool to still feel so strongly about that. After all, it's nothing more than an alias with a perk."
"Is that where this fancy manor comes from?"
"No." Voldemort laughed. "Gaunts were dirt poor, they sold every last bit of property generations ago and lived in a shack not too far from here," he spat with contempt. If that wasn't feeling strongly, Harry didn't want to imagine how he felt when years didn't pass. "The only things I could count as inheritance were the Family ring and a frozen Wizengamot seat. This manor belonged to my father."
"Your father." Harry blinked. Tom's father was a muggle. So his hunch was correct after all. A muggle house which Voldemort was absolutely content about. There was of course a thick layer of magic, and it was probably warded better than any ancient and noble pureblood house. Harry wouldn't expect anything less from Voldemort.
"Yes." Voldemort nodded, narrowing his eyes slightly. "As you can see, it was originally a muggle household at some point." What a way to admit to having a muggle father without outright admitting it. "Which I don't feel strongly about either. He was the worst muggle I knew."
Tom hasn't encountered his father yet but Harry could make an educated guess.
"You killed him of course."
"Of course."
Barty chuckled like this was the funniest joke.
"I killed my father too," he shared with Harry. "He wasn't a muggle, but he was the worst."
Harry shook his head, wondering if he was going to join that club anytime soon. Currently, James Potter wasn't really the worst to him. He was nothing.
"Is it okay though?" Harry decided to enquire further about the practicality of it, recalling what Tom told him before. "I mean, aren't muggle buildings lacking compared to ancient pureblood homes?"
"Indeed. Which makes it unthinkable that Gaunts just sold theirs out for a coin. This house is old enough and near the wizarding village, with the residue magic reaching as far as here. So it's not the worst choice of location. And my own magic is enough to make it flourish, bringing any noble house to shame."
So just as Harry thought then.
They discussed future plans some more over tea that was delivered by Barty's house elf, Winky. Harry learned Barty was from the Crouch family, which meant the father he killed was Bartemius Crouch Sr, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, who was announced dead about a year ago, just before the position was taken over by Amelia Bones.
As promised, Barty later returned Harry to the same alley. It was already dark outside and well past curfew.
"See you, kiddo." Barty waved at him before disappearing in a whirl of apparition.
Harry put on the Invisibility Cloak as a precaution and took out his Time-Turner, making exactly five turns of the hourglass. The scenery ran before his eyes, changing fast, Harry could catch only a few details of what was happening around in these hours, before everything stopped. It wasn't dark anymore, and Tempus confirmed this was some minutes after he left with Barty earlier that day.
He was about to remove his Cloak, when a big shaggy dog, not unlike Grim, turned the corner, entering the alley. It sniffed the ground and Harry waited for it to go along on its way, yet it stopped right before him, growling and barking, its tail swinging from side to side. Harry felt the dog's head hit his knees, and in the next moment the Cloak was getting pulled from Harry, firmly held by the teeth, like the dog knew exactly what it was doing.
Harry's reaction was instant. He jumped to the side, sending the dog flying with a Parselmagic levitation charm. It hit the wall, letting go of the Invisibility Cloak, with a low whine. Harry picked the cloak up, hiding it in his secure pocket, and sent the binds over the dog.
When he was sure that the threat was avoided now, Harry took a moment to catch his breath, giving the dog a better look. It was large but thin, like any stray would, with tangled black fur. But the dark grey eyes looked at Harry with a mix of emotions, too intelligent and pointed.
"Who are you?" Harry pointed his wand at the dog, having a bit of a déjà vu. It was the second time he had to ask this question today.
The dog barked, and then growled solemnly, as if resigned. Its contours morphed and in its place now lay a man. Like the fur, his hair was long and black, he had a short untamed beard and his grey eyes stared with the same mix of emotions.
It was, undoubtedly, Sirius Black.
Harry crouched before the man, pointing his wand at his chest.
"Sirius Black?" Harry asked curtly.
"Hello, Harry." The man grinned happily.
It baffled Harry, so he narrowed his eyes. "I see now how you were able to go around freely. Animagus, huh?"
Black barked out a laugh. "I can see why you are a Slytherin. Cunning, huh?"
"Anyone with a bit of brain would notice. So, what do you want?"
"To kill that traitorous rat that betrayed your parents, that filthy, two-faced bastard-" There was a loud rumble from his stomach and Black finished with less ferocity, "Well, maybe some food first."
Harry sighed.
It didn't seem like Black was referring to Harry in that rant, and who betrayed his parents? Wasn't it Black? Once again he was reminded how newspapers could easily lie about anything.
He held Black by the arms, helping him to sit upright. "Wait here."
Harry exited the alley before glancing back to see that Black changed into his Animagus form again.
A quick walk to the Hog's Head—he wasn't about to get distracted by Draco and others—Harry soon returned to the alley with some sandwiches and water. It was a lacklustre meal, but Sirius Black devoured it like a man starved. Apparently, he was one.
He gulped the water from a flask, practically choking, but his overall mood seemed elevated. While Harry deemed it safe to release the man from the binds, it wasn't safe for them to stay here much longer. There was no telling who else might be passing by.
When he voiced that concern, Sirius Black nodded in understanding. "Follow me, Harry."
Once again as a dog he went ahead, expecting Harry to follow. Harry hesitated only for a bit. His intuition didn't scream danger at him, and the matter of Peter Pettigrew was still unresolved, so he followed.
Black led him to the Shrieking Shack, which was an abandoned house not so far off.
Once inside, as soon as he changed back to human Black suddenly rounded on him. Harry immediately tensed but it wasn't an attack. Instead, he found himself in a crushing hug.
"I'm so happy to see you, Harry." Black sniffled into Harry's shoulder. Harry held his breath, waiting it out, not used to people hugging him like this. Narcissa was always gentle and usually brief, and Nagini wasn't a human.
When the man finally let go, Harry took a few steps back, sending him a confused look.
Sirius chuckled without much happiness to it. He sat on the floor, supporting his back against the wall. Harry followed suit, taking a seat in front of him.
"I'm your godfather, you know, Harry?"
"Yes, I know."
"James was my best friend, and I was supposed to be a secret keeper for your parents."
"Weren't you?"
Black shook his head. "Peter Pettigrew was. Stupid, so bloody stupid. It was my idea to change it around. So it wouldn't be so suspicious… and then Peter betrayed them."
"A traitorous rat?"
The man scowled. "He's hiding in Hogwarts. Pretending to be a pet. You see, we were all Animagi, your dad, and Peter."
Harry noted he didn't mention Lupin. Wouldn't he be an Animagus too, or wasn't he that close of a friend?
"He's literally a rat," Black continued. "I recognised him in the photograph, he's with the Weasleys."
"Weasleys?"
"There was an article about them travelling to Egypt or something. That's why I escaped from Azkaban. To catch and kill that bastard."
"Wouldn't that make you an actual criminal?"
"I don't fucking care. I want justice served!" Black barked angrily.
"There are other ways to do so. To clear your name. Don't you want that?"
"I don't give a damn about that, as long as I get my revenge."
Gryffindor, right? Harry thought dejectedly.
"That won't do, Sirius." Harry decided it wouldn't hurt to be on a friendly side with Sirius Black. Narcissa would be thrilled to finally have the House of Black regain its Head. "You are my godfather, and we only just reunited. You wouldn't want to go back to prison, would you?"
Sirius gave Harry a look of a kicked puppy. "No, Harry, of course not. But what else am I to do? No one's going to help me."
"I will help you."
"You believe me, Harry?"
"Why, yes. I have a reason to believe you, since I saw Peter Pettigrew myself. Not in person, but…"
Harry considered whether he should disclose the Marauder's Map to Sirius or not, but he already decided to trust the man, so he took the seemingly blank parchment out.
Before he could open it or explain what it was, Sirius' eyes lit up with recognition. He shuffled closer, carefully taking it from Harry's hands.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Sirius said wistfully and grinned when it opened, slowly revealing the map of Hogwarts. "So you have it now." He beamed, appearing happy about that fact.
"How do you know what it is?"
Sirius laughed. "Oh, you don't know? Look, Padfoot is me, Prongs is James, Wormtail is Peter, and Moony is Remus. We were the Marauders! And made this map together in Hogwarts."
Harry stared. This was quite an ingenious piece of artefact, and they did this while still in Hogwarts, not to mention they were also Animagi. Harry couldn't help but be impressed. There was also confirmation that Remus Lupin was among this friends' group, after all.
Harry didn't comment, but Sirius saw Harry's impressed look anyway because he beamed, now proudly. Harry went around to sit beside Black so they could both see the map upright. He pointed at the Gryffindor tower, quickly finding Pettigrew's name in a nearby corridor.
"See? I thought it was weird for a dead man to be there. And no one seems to notice."
"Because he's a rat."
Harry nodded, this explained the oddity.
"I can capture him and bring it to the Law Enforcement. The fact he's an Animagus, an unregistered one I presume, is a reason alone to doubt his innocence. He'll be put through trial, and you'll get official freedom."
"I was never put through trial." Sirius grimaced.
"But why?"
Harry frowned, shouldn't it be in the protocol? Really, if he was put through the trial, Sirius wouldn't be in Azkaban in the first place. Proving he was not guilty could be as easy as getting a drop of Veritaserum.
"A lot of Death Eaters were caught at the time. Crouch was adamant to put as many behind bars as possible. He didn't care who and why. He even sent his own son out there."
No wonder Barty despised him so.
"Crouch is dead now," Harry informed matter-of-factly. "Amelia Bones wouldn't be as blind. We also have a Professor, who's an investigator of the Law Enforcement. I can bring the matter to her. She won't ignore it, I'm sure. It's better than doing anything reckless like breaking into Gryffindor Tower."
Harry gave Sirius a pointed look, who stared at Harry in wonder.
"I think I'm glad you are a Slytherin, after all."
"Weren't too happy about it before?"
Sirius guffawed, ruffling Harry's hair. "After twelve years in Azkaban, who would really care about Hogwarts houses?" His eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. "I'm happy to see my godson is old enough to go to Hogwarts at all, but also sad… and devastated that I missed so much. That I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry was hit with another sense of déjà vu. He shrugged. "None of it is your fault, Sirius."
"Oh, but… I was reckless. If I hadn't run after Peter that day when your parents got murdered. If instead I went to pick you up…"
"What happened has happened. No need to dwell on the past." Harry got uncomfortable with the topic, especially knowing that his parents weren't, in fact, murdered.
He eyed Sirius speculatively. So the man was convinced they were dead, too, even though he was somewhere around there on that day.
Sirius shed a few tears, embracing Harry by the shoulders. After a minute or so, Harry pushed him away. "You stink," he said, standing up.
That made Sirius laugh again.
"Try not to get caught until proven innocent." Harry gathered the Marauder's Map, hiding it inside his robe. "I shall bring you some food and a change of clothes. Do you have a wand?"
Sirius shook his head. "No."
"I'll think of something."
Maybe the Room of Requirement had a few wands among the lost items.
He bid Sirius goodbye and returned to the castle through a secret passageway connected to the Whomping Willow. His classmates could wait for him in the Three Broomsticks all they wanted, Harry had no time for this anymore.