Everything is J.K. Rowlings. I only claim the plot. Everything else is hers, all the characters and the magic, all of it. Please let me know what you think though, I encourage feedback of all kinds, just be nice about it!

So, the next chapter, a little treat for the weekend. I hope you guys enjoy it and I'm still open for ideas on what to do about Severus Snape. Again this is a dark Grey Harry story with the high possibility of it ending as a Harry/Voldemort pairing.

"No Matter What You Choose"

There had been three more torture sessions since Ron and Hermione had visited him. The last one ending a couple of hours ago. So Harry guessed it had only really been a day since the visit. Harry still wasn't sure what to think of that meeting. They had seemed sincere and horrified at what they had discovered. Hermione had finally told him what the mark on his chest meant which was apparently the reason for all of this. He was a Necromancer and so was assumed Dark. His best friends had sworn to stand by him, they had explained how they tried to contact him over the summer but how Dumbledore had thwarted their attempts. They had promised to help free him.

Harry just hoped he could trust them. He desperately wanted to. If Ron and Hermione ended up betraying him like Dumbledore, Harry didn't think he'd be able to handle it. He was sure that would be his breaking point. Now, he just had to wait for them to come through.

He coughed and felt it wrack his chest, causing his muscles to clench in pain. Harry didn't know how much longer he'd be able to withstand this treatment. He was sure he already had a cold on top of everything else from being in a dank, cold dungeon in just his boxers for who knows how long.

Some way to kick off being sixteen, he thought miserably. He heard the door creak open and light footsteps patter down. So it wasn't an adult. Harry had already started memorizing the footsteps of his torturers. He felt a flicker of hope rise within his chest which only flared higher when a Lumos was cast and he saw Hermione and Ron.

"We don't have much time," Hermione hissed, pulling out her wand. "Ginny is guarding the door and the twins are ready to apparate you out of here. Ready?"

Harry could only give a jerk of his head, Hermione seemed to take that as a yes and began casting some spells. Harry wasn't sure what the spells were since he couldn't hear her murmured words but he could see their effects. The ropes holding him to the chair fell away and two of the bars broke off and clattered to the ground but there was no noise when the bars hit the stone. Ron rushed forward and gathered Harry in his arms, scooping him up like a bride. Harry felt like he should protest but given how he doubted he could stand and his voice protested words, he allowed it to happen. Hermione led the way up the stairs with Ron following. Ginny opened the door for them, holding a bag full of something that Harry didn't know and was too exhausted to care. The youngest Weasley gasped at his appearance in her brothers' arms but beside her eyes widening, she said nothing.

"Harry, the twins are going to take you with them. This bag is full of potions and some spare clothes," Hermione explained as Ginny handed the bag to a twin while Ron passed Harry into the other twins arms. Ron and Hermione then passed their borrowed wands to the appropriate twin.

Harry hoarsely protested the treatment but they all ignored him. "Stay safe, Harry. We are with you. No matter what you choose," Ron said, staring into Harry's eyes with an odd sense of solemnity that sent a shiver up his spine. He felt like he was missing something very important but was too exhausted to figure out what. Instead, he just gave a small nod, that seemed to satisfy Ron because he stepped back and let his brothers step out the door. Harry felt the breath of a summers night breeze brush across his skin and felt himself relax slightly before the twin holding him disapparated and the squeezing sensation of being sucked through a vacuum disrupted the breath.

If he had eaten at all in the past few days, Harry was sure he would have thrown up when they arrived where ever they were. As it was, he had nothing to throw up and was barely conscious as he felt the twin holding him gently lower him onto something soft. Harry was fairly certain it was a bed.

"Alright, mate, take some of these. Hermione's orders. They will help, promise," one of the twins whispered, holding a vial to his lips and a hand on the back of his head to hold it up. Harry couldn't even protest and dutifully drank the potions pressed to his lips. He counted four before he was lowered down again and left to slip into sleep.

Harry woke up disoriented. He was starting to really hate waking up not knowing what was happening or what had happened. It was becoming a far too regular occurrence for his liking. He looked around, he was in a bed with dark purple sheets and a bookshelf and soft wood-paneled walls. Where was he? Another thing he was starting to hate having to ask. He cast his mind back, trying to piece together the turn of events. He remembered Ron and Hermione returning to him. He had been rescued! That was it. His friends had saved him and the twins had taken him somewhere and filled him with potions.

He tried sitting up and noticed he could with only a little bit of pain. He spotted a glass of water on the bedside table next to about three other potions and a note.

Harry,

Be sure to take these when you wake up. The water should help wash them down. The bathroom is just past the door with the Arrows poster. Get freshened up, there should be some clothes in the rucksack near the bed. Come out when you are done and we will try to fill you in on what's happening.

-Forge and Gred

Not seeing a reason to argue with the note and its advice, Harry downed all three potions as quickly as he could before draining the water. Rolling out of the bed, Harry cautiously put his feet on the floor and attempted to stand. His legs were shaky but could hold him. Stiffly he walked the few feet towards the bathroom door and turned on the shower. He was really starting to hate being in situations that caused him to go days without showering.

Harry steadfastly refused to look in the mirror, afraid of what he might see. Instead, he put all of his focus on watching the water heat up and eagerly hopped in and sighed as the hot water splashed across his skin. Grabbing the soap, Harry began to lather and scrub at his skin trying to scrub the memories of the whole bloody summer out of his skin.

Finally deciding to give his skin a break since it was a raw red color, Harry washed his hair and stepped out. Drying off with an orange towel, Harry finally decided to brave the mirror. He looked terrible but probably not his worst. The potions he had been given were definitely helping because his eyes didn't look as sunk in and his skin was starting to gain color again. His arms, legs, and torso were scarred but healing though he would probably always have marks from the worst of them. His ribs were showing but given the fact that he had hardly eaten all summer given his feverish state before his birthday and then the torture after it that was to be expected. But he could smell food drifting into the bathroom and he hoped the sight of his ribs would fade again.

Before stepping away from the mirror, Harry glanced at the mark on his chest once more. The symbol tattooed into his chest marking him as a Necromancer. Harry still didn't know what he thought about that. How was he a Necromancer? No one had said anything about the Potters being connected to them and apparently, they had died out. So why now? Why him? Harry frowned at the mark through the mirror, before sighing. It was just another thing that made him different. He could do nothing yet until he had more information. Stepping back into the room, he spotted the rucksack and pulled out some jeans and a t-shirt. Pretty simple and probably Rons, but Harry wasn't too bothered. Anything was better than just his boxers.

Finally, he opened the other door that he assumed led to the rest of the house and he was right. He spotted a large sitting room with a small kitchen and bar area. And at the bar were two redheaded men that looked up as Harry stepped into the room.

"Harrikins!"

"You've finally decided-"

"To grace us-"

"With your presence." Harry couldn't stop the chuckle escape his lips.

"Hey, guys. Mind filling me in on what all has happened?"

The twins' faces of happiness morphed into one of sympathetic understanding and seriousness. One, Harry was pretty sure it was George, patted the stool next to him while the other, Fred he guessed, began piling a plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast.

Nervously, Harry took the seat and accepted the food. The twins exchanged glances, having some silent conversation while Harry took his first bite of food. It was good, not Molly Weasley good but the twins were doing well.

"Alright, well first things first," George started, turning in the stool to face him better. "This is our apartment, it's right above our store. We bought it with the money you gave us after the Tournament." Harry nodded to show he was following, inwardly glad that the twins had actually been able to buy their shop.

"You've been asleep for a little over a day now," Fred continued. "We've been monitoring you and putting salve on your wounds so we are pretty sure you will heal up just fine." Harry noticed they weren't doing their 'twin speak' and he was grateful for the courtesy given the serious topic but knew it wouldn't last.

"What day is it?" he finally asked after finishing off his bacon.

"August seventh," George answered.

Harry just nodded. So he had been sixteen a week already. That must have meant he had been in that dungeon for about five days. "Thank you, for helping me," he finally said.

"Of course!"

"You're our brother-"

"We couldn't-"

"Just leave you-"

"Down there."

Harry felt a warmth fill his chest at their declaration and smiled gratefully. "So what do you two think of all this?"

"What you being a Necromancer?"

"Or Dumbledore and Moody trying to torture it out of you?"

"Both?" Harry shrugged, draining the pumpkin juice George had poured for him.

"We don't care much about you being a Necromancer-"

"Not much is known about that lot anyway-"

"You're still our secret investor-"

"And our honorary brother-"

"Nothing changes that-"

"Now you just have a cool tattoo."

"As for Dumbledore-"

"Well, our thoughts-"

"Aren't for innocent ears."

Harry rolled his eyes at that. He was hardly innocent. But Harry had to hold back a shudder at the disgusted sneers that were twisting the twins faces. He had never seen the twins look so angry and villainous, it was the only word he could think to describe the change in their countenance at the mention of the Headmasters name.

"So now what happens?" He questioned instead.

"That's kind of up to you," George replied.

"Unfortunately, we are only going to be able to hide you here for so long before Dumbledore comes to investigate. So we are going to have to find you a new place," Fred sighed, looking completely devastated at the thought.

Harry felt a twinge of sadness and bitterness but pushed it aside. He understood. The twins were pretty powerful but they were no match against the Headmaster and Harry admittedly didn't want to put his friends at risk like that. So he did need a place to stay and hide.

"And then there is another issue," George continued.

"I need training," Harry finished for the man. The twins gave him resigned nods. "When do you suspect Dumbledore to arrive and search you?"

"Soon," Fred answered.

"We are actually pretty surprised he hasn't turned up yet," George continued.

Harry gave a nod and stood up, his plate empty. He had a lot to do then. "There is one more thing. Ron said something, right before we left Grimmauld. That you'd stand with me, no matter what I chose. Did you mean that?"

"Every word," the twins said together. Harry just gave another nod before disappearing into the bedroom he had woken up in.

Almost in a trance, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed. So much had happened and he was still in a slight state of shock to fully process it all. So he decided to make a list of the things he knew and the things that needed to happen.

First things first, he was a Necromancer. He, Harry James Potter, was a Necromancer. This came with information, responsibilities, and abilities that he had no knowledge of. Which led to the second thing. He needed information and training in Necromancy. All he knew was it dealt with the dead. He needed more than that. The third thing he needed was his wand, it was probably still at the Dursleys along with the rest of his stuff. Hopefully, his relatives hadn't trashed it all. And what about Hedwig? So his wand, owl and supplies, he needed those. The fourth thing was he needed a safe place to learn all of this stuff because the twins were right, it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore showed up.

Dumbledore. Harry felt hatred flare up at the thought of the Headmaster. The man whom he had trusted and the man who had betrayed him, who had tried to kill him. For the Greater Good, of course, Harry sneered. Just because of a magical inheritance that he couldn't control, Dumbledore had turned his back on him.

That was fine. He had just dug his own grave though because Harry was going to make him rue the day he ever turned his back on him. Loyalty, trust, and honesty were probably the most important things to Harry, and Dumbledore had set fire to them all.

Harry would have his revenge, of that he was sure.

And it wasn't just trying to kill him over being a Necromancer, though that was pretty high up there. It was also refusing to tell him the blasted prophecy that resulted in Sirius dying, not helping him with his Occlumency which also resulted in Sirius dying, forcing him to live at the Dursleys despite the evidence of abuse and begging to go anywhere else, constantly withholding information from him, treating him like a child...no there was a long list that Harry had against Dumbledore, but this was just the thing that finally set it off. Dumbledore had claimed him Dark, well the old man would see just how Dark he could be, Harry thought bitterly.

Dark...Harry mused. Despite accepting that he was a Necromancer and knowing that he had killed two people because of it, he still didn't think of himself as Dark. He definitely wasn't Light, but was he really Dark? He wasn't sure, so, for now, he would withhold judgment on the whole concept.

However, Necromancy was considered amongst the Darkest of Arts, he knew that much, and he needed information and training. Harry stopped himself mid-thought. Was he really considering what he thought he was considering? Could he really stand before that man and ask for help? The thought made him want to throw up but he needed training or he would constantly be a danger to those around him. What if his emotions got away from him and Ron or Hermione or the twins or Ginny or Luna or Neville paid the price? Harry felt sick at the thought. No he needed training and information so that those close to him would never be in danger of him. Plus, he wanted revenge against Dumbledore. Who else would be better suited to help him with revenge?

Could he put aside their past, in order to accomplish his revenge? After all, at the moment, Harry hated Dumbledore far more than Voldemort. Could he handle the lesser of two evils to satisfy his desires to protect his friends? Harry wasn't sure. But thinking of Voldemort caused him to think of the prophecy, which was pretty ludicrous in his opinion. But he supposed it did hold some truth, especially with this whole Necromancy business brought to light.

However, the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that there were only three reasons that he hated Voldemort. The death of his parents, the death of Cedric and the death of Sirius, though Sirius hadn't happened by the Dark wizard's hand he had played a role that led up to it. That list compared to Dumbledore's was eye-opening.

He was getting off track though. He needed to decide on a course of action and the one that was forming was one that made him queasy. He didn't have much time to dwell on it though when he heard a muffled knock on the door. Fred and George suddenly burst into the room, their eyes and motions slightly frantic, both wearing purple striped suits.

"Dumbledore is here. Harry, you need to get out, quickly there is a back entrance. We are the only ones that know of it," Fred grabbed his arm and started shoving him out the door and towards a wall that separated the two bedrooms.

"Quickly," George hissed. "Remember, Harry, we are with you. No matter what." Before Harry could say anything in response, Fred had pushed him through the wall and he was suddenly sliding.

It took a lot of willpower to not shout because he didn't want to alert anyone to his position. The whole slide was dusty from lack of use and he was sure he was getting filthy again. He stumbled when the slide ended and he was suddenly stepping through another wall and into an alley. Harry blinked, gaining his bearings once more. He could see crowds of people milling about that looked like wizards and witches and so Harry guessed he was in an alley off of Diagon, probably behind the twins shop. Nodding to himself, he crept closer trying to take stock of his position. He saw Fortescue's and Madam Malkins across the street. Good, he knew where he was.

Unfortunately, he still didn't have a plan and he still didn't have a wand. Feeling a wave of panic sweep over him, Harry shoved it down. Panic wouldn't help him now. His eyes darted over the crowds of people, trying to figure out what to do before Dumbledore or Moody inevitably looked in the alley behind the twins shop.

Chewing on his lower lip, Harry saw a flash of platinum blonde in the sunlight and started. 'We are with you. No matter what.' The words floated into his mind as he stared at the signature blonde hair.

They had known! His friends had known from the start what would need to happen and had been trying to tell him they would still stand with him without forcing his choice. He really had no other choice. He needed help. He needed training. Bloody hell, he needed protection from the Light. No better place than with the Dark, he thought humorously.

Throwing himself into the decision and not giving himself a chance to overthink it, Harry bolted into the street. Keeping his head down so as not to be noticed, he plowed through the people trying to get to Malfoy. As he got closer, Harry realized that Malfoy wasn't alone, he was with the other Slytherins in their year. Harry recognized Zabini, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Greengrass, and Davis.

Bloody hell he really was diving into the snake pit. Uncertain of how to approach the situation and knowing he was running out of time before Dumbledore spotted him, Harry put on an extra burst of speed to reach his classmates. His panic was bubbling in his stomach and he felt sweat trickling down his neck and forehead, probably smearing the dust and dirt that he had picked up on the slide.

"Malfoy!" He gasped out when he finally reached the group. Thankfully they were standing on the opposite side of the street as the twins shop, a little apart from the moving crowd near a shaded alcove.

"Potter!" Malfoy cried out, too startled to put the usual sneer in his voice.

"Shhhh!" Harry hissed out, frantically looking around to make sure no one in the crowd had heard the shout.

Harry glanced back at the Slytherins who were all eyeing him like he was a caged lion about to attack, which probably wasn't too far off.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Potter?" Malfoy asked, finally recovering from his shock. "I guess the Prophet was right about you being lost in the head."

"Shut up. Now is not the time," Harry gasped out, glancing back over his shoulder. "I need your help." He gritted out, his eyes meeting Malfoys'. The group was in shock, all of their Slytherin masks faltering at his statement.

"Why should we help you?" Parkinson sneered, one of the first to recover. "Your Harry bloody-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Harry cut her off. These people really loved shouting his name about, don't they?

"How dare you-" Parkinson bolstered.

"I need your help. Now. Please. And stop saying my bloody name!" Harry was sure he was probably looking pretty deranged right now but he was tense and he knew any minute now Dumbledore would step into the Alley and see him.

"Potter, are you alright?" Zabini questioned slowly.

"No. I'm far from alright. Listen, I need you to take me to Him."

The entire group flinched and gaped at him.

"What! I don't know what you-"

"Oh stop it," Harry cut Nott off. "I know your parents all work for him. And I need to go to him. Now!" Dumbledore had exited the twins shop and was scanning the Alley, Harry was practically vibrating with panic. "Look I don't have a wand, I can't attack him. Please, take me to him. If anything just think of how much favor you'll get for being the ones to bring me in. I promise you though he is going to want to talk to me."

"Why?" Greengrass asked shrewdly. They weren't hostile towards him anymore but still incredibly suspicious. This was all taking too much time though.

"HARRY POTTER!" Harry flinched at the sound of his name and knew that Dumbledore had spotted him. The elder wizard was starting to storm through the sea of people who were luckily making it difficult by getting in the way, so frightened they were by seeing the typically grandfatherly Headmaster angry, while also now on the lookout to spot their famous savior.

Harry looked back at the group of Slytherins who were staring at him as though expecting him to sprout wings while also eyeing the enraged Headmaster. Quickly, he pulled the collar of the shirt he was wearing down, bearing the mark on his chest. He was desperately hoping that being from the families they were they would at least recognize the mark.

It seemed he was right. Recognition dawned on all of their faces at the sight. They looked back at him with renewed interest and dawning understanding. "Please, take me to him. Please. I'll owe you a favor. Please," Harry begged, beyond caring about pride. If Dumbledore caught him he would be dead anyway, so what did pride matter?

"Meet us there," Malfoy ordered the others, who all nodded and pulled out what turned out to be portkeys. "Grab on, Potter," the blonde ordered holding out his arm. Harry grabbed it without hesitation. Dumbledore was drawing near in about ten more seconds he'd be close enough to grab him.

Malfoy activated the portkey and they disappeared. Landing, Harry fell to the floor and took the moment to look around him. It was a large ballroom type of room with a raised dais at the far wall with a throne on top with black cloaked people, maybe fifteen or twenty, facing it but none of them wore the signature masks. Malfoy's portkey had brought them to the front of the crowd and in front of the dais.

"My lord," Malfoy said swiftly, kneeling. It was then that Harry realized Voldemort was in the room and his scar wasn't hurting. He would think on that later though because he needed all of his thoughts on the present. Standing quickly, Harry spun around to face the man, who until quite recently, had been his nemesis.

Voldemort. No turning back now.