It's All Just Temporary with a Bit of Necromancy

by TC.Hand

Harry gets his magical inheritance as a Necromancer, the first in centuries. Unsure of his future or even who to trust after the Light shuns him, Harry turns to the Dark, the only other side that can assist him in seeking his revenge. However, it's all just temporary. It's just an alliance until his goals are met and then that's it. Just temporary...right?

27. Chapter Twenty-Seven: You're Here

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!

Ok, so there is a lot of emotion in this chapter. Like a lot. This first bit admittedly I feel kind of 'eh' about but the last bit gets pretty heavy. Let me know if the emotion came on too heavy and too much though.

There is progressive development between Harry and Marvolo, they finally touch each other. Oh, Merlin! I know right. It's only been twenty-seven chapters for them to do more than shake hands once. Also, I apologize in advance for the hate I might receive for the admittedly cheesy and dirty trick of the disrupting door knock.

I had so many reviews about people wanting to know what Marvolo said to make Harry laugh in the last chapter. Admittedly I hadn't planned to include it, just leave it up for interpretation. But so many wanted to know, so I have Harry mention it but offhand and still slightly vague so you can still interpret the comment how you as the reader wish.

Anyway, again, reviews are always wanted and appreciated. Especially given the content of this chapter. I'd really appreciate feedback.

---

You're Here

"Come on, another lap!"

"Another lap!" Harry snickered at the incredulous tone. Marvolo was only a pace or two behind him and so Harry tossed a breathless 'Ha' over his shoulder. "If you are so insistent, let's make it interesting," the man continued drawing even with Harry. His even-paced speech disrupted by the harsh panting. "A race."

"You're on," Harry said. Grin stretching his face while his breath became more ragged, putting on an extra burst of energy.

Harry had woken up full of restless energy and already his morning run was longer than it had ever been but he could still feel the restlessness eating at his limbs. Hopefully, a race would dispense all of that energy for good. He had a Wizengamot session in a few hours and he didn't want to be distracted.

The two fell into silence as they raced the last lap around Marvolo's extensive fields. Harry loved mornings when Marvolo joined him for a run, which recently had been more often than not. It made it far more interesting than just running in circles on his own and together they became far too competitive for their own good. Harry loved it.

Drawing closer to the invisible finish line they had used in the past, Harry grunted and pushed harder. He'd won each time — except for when Marvolo cheated — and he wasn't going to lose that streak now. With a pained grunt, he crossed the line and threw his hands in the air in a breathless cheer.

"I allowed you the victory," Marvolo protested, chest heaving and attempting to look dignified.

Unlike Harry, who dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and a loose running shirt, Marvolo wore clothes that could easily pass as a business suit. Loose, straight-legged pants and a slim fit long sleeve shirt both of which could have been made with muggle athletic material or some posh wizard fabric that Harry had never heard of. Harry always felt highly underdressed for a morning run.

"Sure you did. Just like you've allowed it these past few months? Careful Marvolo, some might think you're going soft all of this 'allowing me to win' nonsense."

"I've won in the past."

"When you cheated."

"When I utilized my resources," the man countered. "As I could have done this morning."

Harry rolled his eyes but let the matter drop. He had a stitch in his side and bantering hindered his progress of catching his breath. Another reason Harry loved the morning runs when Marvolo joined him was the man himself. Running did not allow for a person to look pristine. At the end of the run, Marvolo always had sweat dampened, messy hair and reddened cheeks. Sadly Marvolo didn't drip with sweat like Harry did, instead, the man practically glistened with it. Harry enjoyed the disrupted image of the Dark Lord. He liked that he was the only person who got to see Marvolo this way too.

Slowly they began their walk back to the house. "Are you ready for the Wizengamot?"

Harry sighed. "Do I really have a choice? I mean I only just did the conference the other day, there has only been a day for people to process it all. It's still fresh in their minds."

"The papers yesterday and today only printed favorable reviews," Marvolo pointed out. "They claim your oath enhanced your youthful and honest image. Most talk is in relation to your school."

"Which is good and that was my whole goal with everything. I know you didn't like my oath plan."

"It was a risky move that could have backfired spectacularly," Marvolo agreed without pause. He'd argued admittedly against the idea for most of the day and up until Harry actually left for the conference.

"Yes, but it enhances the Golden Boy image, the Gryffindor nobility and all that, unafraid of the truth."

"It was a risk but it worked well in the end. I advise not relying on such bold moves in the future."

Harry just nodded. "Yeah, but eventually people will forget all of that positive stuff and revert back to remembering how I admitted that I'm Dark."

"Just keep astounding them with other things and they won't have the chance to remember," Marvolo said.

"I hope you're right. I guess I'll get a better sense of the mood today." They were in the manor now and ascending the stairs to shower before breakfast. "When is your next minion meeting?"

"I planned on holding a quick gathering this coming weekend. Will you attend?"

Harry grimaced. He still vividly remembered the meeting the other night right after the Press Conference. He doubted he'd forget for as long as he lived. The anger he'd felt building all day hit its peak that night. The power high he'd felt after Claiming Travers in Death's Name was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Harry understood why some Necromancers swayed from Deaths' path. The feeling of complete invincibility clung to his skin throughout the night. Harry woke up the next day still feeling drunk on it. The feeling hadn't dissipated until Harry had meditated and unleashed his magic on Marvolo's garden, unfortunately destroying it once again.

"It would be wise to do so. After the impression you made, you need to keep that momentum by remaining visible."

"You sure? I distinctly remember you pouting about how I stole your limelight."

"I did no such thing."

"Oh really? Then what was that comment about keeping them on their toes and you needing to up the standard now."

Harry distinctly recalled that moment. It had been directly after he had Claimed Travers. Marvolo had commented so dryly and in a tone as close to pouting as Harry believed Marvolo could get. Still high on his own magic, Harry remembered laughing. Remembered the light-hearted feeling counteracting the heavy weight of intoxication his magic brought. Remembered how Marvolo had centered and grounded him with that comment. Silently, Harry worried what he might have done next if Marvolo hadn't spoken; hadn't broken his immediate concentration, loosening his grasp on that powerful feeling.

"Brat," Marvolo muttered before entering his rooms. Marvolo's private wing in Slytherin Manor was quite small, surprisingly. It was a hallway consisting of six doorways. At one end of the hallway, stood Marvolo's door with its snake handle in polished gold. On the direct opposite end stood Harry's door. His handle wasn't as ornate or snake shaped but it was silver with emeralds inlaid into it, though he didn't remember seeing the emeralds present when he first arrived at the house. The other four doors, two on each side of the hallway, with the open arch for the connecting hallway splitting the whole wing evenly in half, Harry had no idea what lay behind them. Marvolo trusted him to be in his private wing and Harry didn't want to tarnish that trust by poking behind closed doors. Originally he hadn't wanted to snoop for fear of stumbling across some horrid Dark Magic artifact and cursing himself. Now he did it out of respect, he trusted that Marvolo would show him in time.

---

Dressed in his finest Wizengamot robes, Harry strode out of the Floo at the Ministry. The black Acromantula silk felt heavenly on his skin and the gold embroidered crests shined when they caught the light, instilling him with a strange sense of pride. Taking a deep breath, Harry strode forward. He was the Lord of three Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses, he was a Necromancer, he shouldn't worry himself about what others thought. With or without the help of the public and the Wizengamot, his goals would succeed whether through legal or illegal means.

Still, his heart raced as he strode through the lobby, every single person stopping to stare at him. No one approached him, not like the first session when he'd been surrounded by a crowd. Harry swallowed but kept his head high. The papers this morning and yesterday had been favorable after all but had something else been released? Was he about to be caught unawares once again?

"Lord Potter!" His pulse spiked but he stopped to turn around. It was Amelia with Fudge right beside her. Neither of them looked angry nor did they have a swarm of Aurors around them so he hoped that meant he wasn't about to be dragged off somewhere.

"Amelia, Minister," Harry greeted, trying to work moisture back into his dry throat.

"So good to see you, Lord Potter," Fudge bolstered and once both the Minister and Amelia reached him they continued walking, slowing slightly for him to catch up. Surprised, Harry joined in with only a few seconds of pause. "I must say I listened to your little press conference," the Minister continued. "Though I'd be hard-pressed to find a witch or wizard who didn't. You certainly know how to unite the populace."

"I do my best," Harry replied lamely.

"Yes, most impressive. And a Truth Oath, rather brave of you." Harry just nodded. This was good, if Fudge was still on his side then most of the public probably was too. The Minister might be a fool and an idiot but he did have a large sway with the papers and if Fudge remained friendly then the papers would too. Of course, the Truth Oath had been a risky move just as Marvolo said and there were moments when Harry thought his shaky nerves would be easily spotted.

Using a facade of truth and bravery to enhance a manipulative and cunning maneuver had been far too stressful to attempt again anytime soon but with a stroke of his insane Potter luck, it seemed to be in his favor as a stroke of genius.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, I only wanted to be as upfront about everything as possible."

"A true testament of your character to be sure," Fudge agreed. "I've always said you're mature beyond your years."

Harry tried observing Amelia out of the corner of his eye but her face gave no indication of her thoughts. He'd worked to keep her name out of everything because even if things were done legally, he didn't want to drag her reputation down along with his. She caught his eye and gave a quick wink before looking forward again.

"Now, about this primary school of yours," Fudge continued as they reached the lift. "I'd quite like to know more. I think this is something that my Administration could readily support."

Harry grinned. "I would be very grateful to any and all support. It's still at a very basic idea but I hope to work with the coalition I've formed to have a draft to present during the next Wizengamot session."

"Marvelous, I look forward to reading it. It'll actually be one of the ones I fully read," the Minister chortled and gave Harry a secretive wink. Harry grimaced and hoped it passed as a smile of some kind.

Leaving the lift, the three of them entered the Wizengamot Hall and once again the audience seats were packed. Most of the Wizengamot members were already in attendance, standing in smaller groups chatting and they all stopped when Harry walked in. The silence didn't last long because soon people returned to chatting and more approached him. Again, most of them from the Dark Faction, and not all of them were Marvolo's followers.

"Lord Potter-Black-Peverell," a woman said. Her brown hair piled on top of her head so high Harry felt she probably needed spells to keep it in place. Her hand was outstretched and so Harry shook it for lack of knowing what else to do. "I wish to say that your press conference the other day when you announced your magical affinity and openly accepted it. It was admirable for a man of your young years."

"Oh, thank you," Harry said with an astonished smile. "Lady —?"

"Priscilla Pyrites of the Ancient and Noble House Pyrites, a Dark Faction member."

"Lady Pyrites, your praise is most gracious."

"Not more than you deserve, you did well for those of Dark affinities that night," another unknown man said, standing just behind Lady Pyrites. "Lord Gibbon, Lord Potter-Black-Peverell."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said. Augusta and Slyvia and his Faction members stood nearby but all seemed content to just listen to those approaching Harry. "Please, Lord Potter will suffice."

"Now, Lord Potter then, I must ask. For the upcoming Yule season, will you be hosting an event?" Lady Pyrites asked.

"Um...what?"

Lady Pyrites smiled but it reminded Harry more of a viper about to strike. "As a Faction Leader and so new to the Wizengamot, it would do you well to host a Yule Ball. Possibly at one of your illustrious Manors. It could help garner support for that quaint little school idea."

"Right. I'll definitely consider it."

"If you need assistance I'll gladly help you plan it," she continued, stepping closer to him and Harry had to forcibly remind himself not to take a step back. "Do you know, my niece? She is quite the up and coming party planner herself."

"Right. Thanks. It's been a pleasure, Lady Pyrites, but it looks like I'm being called away. So sorry," Harry said briskly before quickly turning away.

He reached his Faction members and close allies and nodded to them all, his nod a bit shorter towards Madeline Brocklehurst but such a public setting wasn't the place for inner-party disparities. "How is everyone?" he asked, searching their faces to see if their opinions of him had shifted after the press conference.

"Quite well, the excitement you stir up is entertaining," Seth grinned, clapping him on the back and Harry chuckled.

"It's not my intention but glad I can provide such a service."

"Dumbledore has been here for over an hour," Tiberius said quietly, looking towards one of the far corners of the room. "Been trying to convince people that the whole press conference was a sham."

Harry sighed and looked at the far corner as well. He saw the old wizard in such bright blue robes that Harry felt a bit ridiculous for not noticing him sooner.

"Only some of the Light Faction families seem to be listening to him at all," Amelia said, watching the Chief Warlock as well. "And even then it's just those who really owe him."

"Still have a lot of work to do to prove I'm not what he says I am," Harry sighed.

"You're certainly on the right track," Evangeline commented, her face just as stern as usual. Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised at the apparent support she showed him. She caught the look and tsked. "You are my Faction Leader, support for you means support for all of us. I may not agree with the power gifted to one of so young an age or your handling of matters, but I'm not against your idealistic endeavors."

"Thanks," Harry said. Merlin, he hated politics. He found himself yearning to hide away at Slytherin Manor either in the Dueling Room or the library or in the gardens, preferably with Marvolo there.

Dumbledore turned just then and locked eyes with Harry. There was a beat of silence that stretched between them. And Harry felt a small piece of him break. Just last year he had been desperate for the Headmaster to acknowledge him, to speak to him, to look at him like he was the favorite grandchild again. Now, it was all wrong. Dumbledore was actively working to discredit and tarnish everything Harry wanted to accomplish. Dumbledore had instigated Harry's torture. The man was finally looking at him but it was out of disappointment and anger and disgust. It hurt, the small inner child that still lingered within was crying out at the tragedy. But Harry couldn't dwell on what was or what should have been. Dumbledore had made his decision and Harry had no choice but react in direct opposition to it.

Harry debated striding over there and actually speaking directly to the old wizard using the crowd as an assurance of no surprise attacks. He never got to make the choice though because soon the Minister was calling the court to start and Harry turned from the Headmaster to claim his seat on the top row in the Neutral Faction. Dumbledore soon sat in his high backed chair next to the Minister and Court Scribe, the mousy woman from the last session that Harry couldn't remember the name of. Shooting a blast from his wand to demand silence from the audience and the members, Dumbledore observed everyone settle themselves.

"Welcome, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. There are only a few things on the agenda to vote upon today, so let us get started," Dumbledore began.

Admittedly, Harry zoned out a couple of times during the debate and voting process. His Faction had already determined how they wished to vote during their meeting and so Harry relied on that instead of listening. Honestly, how could people debate about cauldron thickness for an entire hour? It was insanity and Harry was mind-numbingly bored.

But the votes were finally cast and Harry forced himself to focus now in case anything new came up. Dumbledore made a quick review of the upcoming events, mentioning the Trial for Kingsley and Moody next month and then the reminder that the Yule Ball sponsors needed to step forward by the next session for proper notification.

"Now that official business has concluded, the floor is open. Are there any who wish to address the Court?"

Harry withheld the sigh of relief after two hours of listening to mindless prattle he could finally be done. He looked forward to a quick lunch with his Faction and then going home. He gripped his chair arms in preparation to push himself up.

"Yes, Chief Warlock, I wish to speak."

Harry and the rest of the Wizengamot members whipped their heads around in astonishment as a Light Faction member stood. Harry didn't recognize the man though. He frowned slightly, from what Avery and Malfoy had instructed and from what his own Faction members had commented on, no one really took the open floor offer. It was just a formality.

"Lord Brown of the Noble House Brown, the floor is yours," Dumbledore said with a gracious nod. Brown? Was he related to Lavender? From Hermione's reports, Lavender was siding with him. His old housemate was one of the first to swear the oath Hermione created for secrecy and support. If she was related to this man, was her family just aware of her decision? Harry watched the man make his way to the Speaker Platform that Harry had stood on just last session to claim his seats. Lord Brown was solidly built with thick curly brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock," the man gave a respectful nod to Dumbledore before turning to address the Wizengamot members. "I wish to call into question the actions of Lord Potter-Black-Peverell," the man declared and Harry stiffened. What was going on? He felt the eyes of many of the members shift to him but Harry kept his eyes trained on Lord Brown. The silence stretched a bit too long, everyone looking at him expectantly. Harry took the risk to glance around and met Tiberius' eyes who made a quick hand movement to go down to the platform and say something.

Slowly, Harry stood and walked slowly down from his seat down to the platform, passing the other three rows. He walked slowly in an attempt to assess the situation and to make sure he didn't trip on anything, that would be embarrassing. He tried to keep the confusion off his face but he probably wasn't fully successful.

"Lord Brown...um...what actions are you calling into question?" he asked once he stood next to the man on the Platform.

Lord Brown was a few inches taller than him but Harry made sure to stand a few paces away so that he didn't have to tilt his head to look the man in the eye. Harry felt very off-balance and unprepared about this whole affair. He didn't know the protocol for something like this. Would they need to duel? Would Harry need to testify again like during the press conference? He stared hard at Lord Brown, keeping Dumbledore in his peripherals.

"Your claims that while Dark you do not follow He Who Must Not Be Named."

Oh was that all, Harry wanted to roll his eyes. He could play this off, but he didn't want to relax just yet. "Being Dark does not automatically register you as a Death Eater, last I checked."

"No, but as a Necromancer, it is the logical alignment, is it not?" Lord Brown asked, looking very smug, looking around at the rest of the court and guests as though attempting to draw support for his obvious logic.

"Not at all, no. How does my Inheritance determine an alignment to Voldemort?" The collective wince of the court both annoyed him and gave him a vicious satisfaction.

Lord Brown glanced briefly at Dumbledore before continuing. Harry wondered what Dumbledore had on the man to convince him to speak up like this. "Necromancers are the Darkest of the Dark, You Know Who is a Dark Lord. A partnership is inevitable."

"I've already admitted to being Dark," Harry sighed, keeping his tone light and just a bit bored. "And I've sworn an oath just a few days ago saying that I do not follow Voldemort. Want me to do it again?" Just a bit of teenage sass might have slipped through with that statement but Harry felt justified. "And Lord Brown, I must ask specifically what you are accusing me of. First, you accuse me of being a follower because I am Dark, rather simple-minded and prejudiced of you by the way, and then you accuse me of being Voldemort's partner because I'm a Necromancer," Harry scoffed. "Please, choose what exactly you are accusing me of before spouting off on a whim. Am I a follower or a partner?" He tried to force his tone into a balance of jovial and scathing, trying to discredit the mere idea through implication alone. His palms were sweating but he strove to keep his face calm. Lord Brown looked flustered and glanced more prominently at Dumbledore and Harry spoke again. "Lord Brown, I am asking you this question, not the Chief Warlock. You are the one with the problem, are you not? Surely you can answer a question without the Chief Warlock guiding you to the answer."

Red in the face now, Lord Brown straightened and glared at Harry. "Perfectly capable," the man sneered. "My accusation is that of a follower. It is well known that He Who Must Not Be Named would never share power, something his Death Eaters never understood or accepted. Ambition hungry fools as they are. Your ability might be seen as a mere asset now, but you are a follower, a tool, nothing more." The man swept his gaze over many in the Dark Faction. Harry bristled at the slight in defense of the Dark Faction. He may not like many of the Death Eaters and he may have been narrow-minded before his Inheritance but even then, Harry still didn't like such generalized accusations. But the time to jump in as a hero wasn't now, he had to talk himself out of the hot water first.

"Well then Lord Brown, I can assure you I do not follow Voldemort. Would you like me to swear another oath testifying this? Perhaps you didn't listen to the broadcast the other night when I literally swore to this exact same statement."

"If you do not follow You Know Who then how can you justify your lack of action."

"My lack of action in regards to what?"

"In defeating him," Lord Brown huffed.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, mainly as an effort to stall while he tried to decide how to dodge this before deciding that righteous indignation couldn't hurt. "I'm sixteen years old and I've had quite a lot put on my plate in the past few months. Why must I be the one to defeat him?"

"You're the Boy Who Lived, it is your duty."

"So I'm the Boy Who Lived when you want something from me and a shady Necromancer when I don't do what you want. Is that it?" Lord Brown flushed and Harry saw a few people in the Court also look uncomfortable. "You are all adults, surely if you want him defeated as badly as you say, you could figure something out. I mean I already did it for you once when I was a toddler." Harry glared at the rest of the Wizengamot members. "Again, I am a teenager trying to balance three Lordships, learning a previously extinct Inheritance, and studying for my N.E.W.T.s. I think I'm a bit busy at the minute to deal with Dark Lords." Again, he tried balancing his scathing words with scoffing incredulity.

"So you will let him continue running rampant among the populace," Lord Brown floundered. "Your lack of action speaks just as loudly as support."

"Running rampant?" Harry repeated with a mockingly curious head tilt. "You must have more information than I do, Lord Brown. Because I haven't heard of any attacks in recent months. Are they just not being covered in the paper anymore? Was there a whole new publication was created just to talk about all the attacks not occurring? I guess I missed out on that subscription."

"The attacks stopped when you got your Inheritance, Potter," Lord Brown spat. "That can't be a coincidence."

Harry shrugged and hoped his hands weren't shaking, he crossed his arms in an attempt to hide the nerves and to further his hopefully relaxed stance. "Who can say how a Dark Lord's mind works? And it's Lord Potter-Black-Peverell, Lord Brown. You might be using the open floor of the Wizengamot as your own personal circus arena spouting nonsense claims, but do uphold the bare minimum of respect expected of a man of your station please."

Lord Brown again turned red in the face, opening and closing his mouth rapidly, glancing once again at Dumbledore. Harry's heart beat faster. How much longer would this last? He could only stall and take the mickey for so long before he'd be trapped into having to do something drastic. He really didn't think he could get wiggle around the wording in a Truth Oath again. "If you really have no allegiance to He Who Must Not Be Named, then how do you explain your lack of action regarding Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry opened his mouth to retort only to let out a breath, honestly stumped and confused at the statement. "What?"

Looking ridiculously pleased with himself, Lord Brown pressed on, now addressing the other Wizengamot members. "Bellatrix Lestrange, an escaped Azkaban convict and known loyalist to You Know Who."

"Yes, what of her?" Harry asked, he could not see how Lord Brown could pin Bellatrix on him. Aside from the meeting the other night, Harry had purposefully avoided the woman.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is formerly Bellatrix Black, a member of one of your Houses, is that not right, Lord Potter-Black-Peverell."

"Yes?" Harry didn't like not knowing where the man was trying to lead this conversation. "She's part of the Lestrange family now though, hence the changed last name. She got married, you know."

"Yes, we are aware." Lord Brown rolled his eyes at Harry's apparent stupidity. "However, as Lord of her birth House you still hold influence over her. Why have you not shown your disfavor at her actions and allegiance and disowned her from her ancestral House? If you were truly against You Know Who, why haven't you sought to strip him of one of his most loyal followers." Lord Brown looked like if he puffed up any more he would start floating like a balloon.

Harry blinked in surprise, letting the genuine expression show completely on his features. "I didn't know I could do that."

"How could you not know? Don't lie, Lord Potter-Black-Peverell, it is unbecoming of men of our station," Lord Brown sneered.

Harry glared but didn't respond to that. "Again, I've had a lot on my plate and I'm still learning the duties of being Lord of a House. Bellatrix married out of the family, I assumed I had no further control of her. But if you are saying I can still disown her, well I'd be happy to."

"What?" Lord Brown deflated slightly.

"Of course, I hate the woman," Harry said, perfectly sincere. "Now that I know I can disown her, bloody hell I'd do it right now if I knew how."

"It's actually pretty simple, Lord Potter," Madeline Brocklehurst said quietly from the lowest row in the Neutral Faction, her voice easily heard by all in the court. "You just hold your wand and declare it, much like when you swear a magical oath."

"Oh," was all Harry could say. Why were some magical things so simplistic and yet others required hours of preparation.

"Well, Lord Potter-Black-Peverell, care to back up your declaration?" Lord Brown taunted.

Glaring, Harry pulled out his wand. The plain brown and nondescript wand that wasn't really his and resisted the urge to look at Dumbledore who no doubt had his wand hidden away right at that very moment. "I, Harry James Potter-Black-Peverell, Lord to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House Potter, Lord to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House Black, and Lord to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House Peverell, do hereby disown Bellatrix Lestrange formerly Black of any and all association to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House Black. Connection of any kind, be it magical, financial, mental, physical, emotional, or political, is hereby terminated." There was a brief flash emanating from his wand and then nothing. "Did that suffice, Lord Brown?" Harry asked, smirking, tucking his wand away again. "Are there any other actions of mine that you find displeasing or questionable?"

"No further statements," Lord Brown said stiffly and scurried to his seat. The very embodiment of a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

"Chief Warlock," Harry said, turning to face Dumbledore who looked enraged but attempting to look calm. "Do you have anything you wish to say or do you wish to rely on others to speak for you?"

Dumbledore gave a tight smile. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, Lord Potter-Black-Peverell. I simply opened the floor and Lord Brown wished to speak."

"Of course," Harry replied with an equally tight smile. "Well, if there are no other matters, can we be done for the day?"

Dumbledore gave a weary chuckle. "Oh, the impatience of youth." It took all of Harry's willpower to not hex Dumbledore right then. Claiming Dumbledore's Life in Death's name would be amazingly sweet. "So concludes this session of the esteemed Wizengamot. Have a good day, Lords and Ladies." Dumbledore shot off a few bangs from his wand and stood. Harry's limbs trembled with relief as he stepped off the Platform.

Knowing he wasn't done yet though, because his Faction would meet for lunch, Harry mingled and spoke with a few of the other Wizengamot members trying to steer the conversation towards his school, hoping to gain interest and support. He saw a few of the Death Eaters observing him and he caught their eyes only briefly before giving a slight nod. He wasn't entirely sure what he was giving them permission to do but they accepted the nod and were soon sweeping out of the room, their cloaks billowing behind them.

Harry finally reached the main lobby and aimed for the Floo so he could reach the Lotus Flower restaurant where his Faction had already apparated to. He had gotten stuck with Lady Pyrites once again and Amelia, unable to save him, had just told him to meet them at the restaurant. The focused rush of Ministry workers made it difficult to maneuver around but Harry could see the Floo Stations now and he lengthened his stride.

"Hem, hem."

Harry froze at the sugary, grating sound and slowly turned to look at the source. Just as horrendously pink and toad faced as he remembered, he stared. The crowd moved seamlessly around them, leaving them in an untouched bubble.

"Harry dear, it is so good to see you again," the woman simpered, holding out her stubby hand with pink coated fingernails for him to shake.

"Dolores," Harry ground out, ignoring her hand. "It's Lord Potter-Black-Peverell now. You'd do well to remember."

Her simpering smile remained but took on a hard quality that he remembered from his countless classes and detentions.

"It's Madam Undersecretary if you wish to throw out titles."

"No. It's Dolores, if not something far worse. Titles dictate respect given and respect is earned."

"You think you earned those titles?" she scoffed and stepped closer. They stood only a foot apart, he took great satisfaction from looking down at her shorter height. "You have earned nothing, you are still an attention-seeking brat."

Harry resisted the urge to back away. He wasn't a schoolboy any longer, she had no power over him, he reminded himself. "I've earned my titles through my bloodlines. What have your bloodlines earned you? By the way, how'd you enjoy those centaurs?"

Her toadlike face went puce and then red so rapidly, her stubby fingers clutched at her wand. "Those half-breeds," she hissed. "You best be careful, boy. The Minister might wish for your favor now, but he won't always. I'll get him to see reason soon enough." Her eyes looked a little crazy before taking on a smug gleam. She glanced quickly at his scarred hand. "I'm so pleased to see my time as your educator managed to see at least one lesson sink in though."

"What lesson?" Harry glared, his scarred hand clenched tightly.

She blinked innocently at him. "Why the lesson of not telling lies," she cooed. "I listened to your press conference. I must say, I can understand why people choose to pursue the academic route if they enjoy the same pride in their students as I did when I heard you swearing a truth oath."

"I'm not a liar," Harry seethed. "I never was. You didn't do anything."

"Of course, child. Of course. We don't always like to see the efforts of our mentors and educators in our actions but rest assured those influences never really leave us. Do they?" Lashing out, she grabbed hold of his clenched fist and brought it up to examine. The scarred words in his own scratchy penmanship stood white against his darker skin. "I know my influence will remain on you forever after all." With a girlish giggle, the Toad gave his hand ― his scars ― a small pat as if he were a small child who had pleased her, and disappeared into the crowd still moving around them.

---

Stumbling through the Floo, Harry collapsed on the couch in Marvolo's office and groaned, pulling at his hair. His head resting on the couch arm and his legs half on the couch and half on the floor. The lunch dragged on and his meeting with Umbridge had left him gutted for longer than he cared to admit. It had taken him almost ten minutes to calm down enough to actually speak to his Faction members.

"I heard that you had an eventful Wizengamot session," Marvolo commented, leaning back in his chair to observe Harry sprawled out on his office loveseat.

"You could say that," Harry muttered. "I trust your minions filled you in on all that happened."

"Oh yes, they were near brimming with all the juicy details."

Harry snorted. "Any comments?"

"I enjoyed viewing the event in their memories. You certainly are a masterpiece to behold when you perfectly decimate someone with just words."

Harry smirked and tilted his head back on the armrest enough to look at Marvolo upside down. "I'm glad I can provide you with entertainment. I mean since my ability is only a mere asset to you, I need to work on keeping my nonexistent place here somehow."

"Human idiocy is astounding," Marvolo remarked, shaking his head slightly at the marvel of it all.

"Did you know I could disown Bellatrix?" Harry asked, twisting so he no longer had to stare at Marvolo upside down, propping his chin on the armrest instead.

"I was aware disownment was a right of a Lord," Marvolo replied. "I was unaware of how far of a stretch a Lord could make in regards to those considered under his House."

"Do you think she'll challenge me to a duel now?" Harry wondered out loud. He kind of hoped she would.

"It would be to her detriment if she did."

Harry smirked. "I might be Claiming another in honor of Death soon then." His eyes fell on his hand and he clenched his fist at the sight of the scars. "Hopefully, two people."

"Who would the second be?" Marvolo asked, his brow furrowed. "I thought it was just Bellatrix and Dumbledore that Death named."

"Dolores Umbridge."

"Who?"

Harry snorted. "Let's just say, last year, I hated her about the same as I hated you. Sometimes I hated her more."

Marvolo shifted forward in his seat, forearms pressed into his desktop now. "What did she do?"

Glancing up from his hand, Harry looked at Marvolo. He noted the obvious curiosity and detected notes of concern? Maybe even jealousy that someone else could have surpassed him on the list of Harry's Most Hated. "Let's see, calling me a liar at every opportunity? Banning me from Quidditch? Actively suppressing any attempts at learning? Oh, or maybe, it was the countless hours of detention I served where I was forced to write lines with a Blood Quill? Hm...you know it's a toss-up really."

Marvolo stared at Harry hard, as if seeking a lie but unable to use Legilimency. "She did what?"

"Banned me from Quidditch. For life," Harry said in mock indignation. "I mean the nerve of that woman. The absolute―"

"Enough," Marvolo snapped. "None of that idiotic deflection. Now, again, what is it she did to you during detentions?"

"I mean technically, I did it all to myself. That is the whole concept of a Blood Quill after all. Pretty sadistic, huh?" Harry might be taking his jovial attitude a bit too far given the subject matter, but it helped him keep his temper in check. Just thinking about that woman made his blood and magic boil.

"Let me see."

"See what?" Harry asked, playing dumb. Though he couldn't stop the natural reaction of hiding his hand behind his back.

"Your hand," Marvolo gritted out. His eyes looked feverish and intense and just looking at them made Harry lightheaded and breathless.

"No," Harry said, albeit a little childishly.

"Harry," Marvolo all but growled. Harry shivered.

"It's nothing," Harry stood up swiftly, hand still behind his back and he backed towards the door. For whatever reason, he didn't want Marvolo to see his hand. Harry didn't want to feel the humiliation of Marvolo witnessing the display of his own weakness carved into his own skin. "The woman was a vicious bitch and Death said I could kill her for it. That's all."

"Harry."

That was the only warning he got. Suddenly Marvolo stood behind him, grabbing the wrist that Harry had hidden behind his back. Spinning around to face Marvolo who now stood between him and the door, Harry gaped.

"How did you move so fast?"

"Apparition. You have heard of it haven't you?" Marvolo quipped before pulling Harry's hand up, long slender fingers encircling his wrist.

Harry swallowed as he watched Marvolo stare at his hand. Silence. His heart raced and he could feel his face heating up. The shame and embarrassment burned hot and Harry wanted to turn away, to hide, but Marvolo still held his wrist, surprisingly gentle despite the strong grip. Plus, Harry felt it important to watch for the moment when Marvolo realized how foolish and idiotic he was, for the moment when Marvolo decided he could no longer have a partner so weak. Maybe he was a masochist but Harry felt witnessing the look of disgust would be the proper culmination of the horrendous and humiliating torture Umbridge had inflicted on him all year.

But the look never came.

Marvolo's grip tightened on Harry's wrist while his thumb moved across the scars etched into his hand. Harry stared in shock. Marvolo's hand was cold and dry, almost snake-like but far smoother. Marvolo didn't look away from Harry's hand, he seemed transfixed at the sight. Harry stared at his hand in Marvolo's. The alabaster, milky whiteness devoid of any scars contrasting his own darker, rough, scarred, and calloused, hand.

"She did this to you, little lion?" Marvolo's voice was just barely above a whisper and Harry felt the need to lean in closer to hear it.

Unable to speak, Harry nodded, feeling strangely timid and uncertain. Why wasn't Marvolo acting disgusted? Why wasn't he turning Harry away?

"You will Claim her Life. However, I will see to it that she suffers for long hours before you do."

Marvolo looked away from his hand but didn't drop it as he now stared at Harry. The crimson burning hot with fury and so many other things that Harry couldn't name. His gaze was intense and Harry felt exposed.

He swallowed. Why was his mouth so dry? "You're not going to turn me away?" Harry asked, his voice sounded so foreign to his own ears; hesitant and trembling.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm weak," Harry blurted out. His eyes stung and his throat burned, the admittance heightened the humiliation and Harry tried to tug his hand away but Marvolo refused to release it. "I let her torture me for hours every night all year. I couldn't stop her."

His face was sure to catch fire if it burned any hotter and Harry wanted to curse. Why was he acting like this? He was sixteen years old, not six. He was a Necromancer. He moonlighted as a muggle serial killer. He was a Lord of three Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses. He shouldn't feel so uncertain and so unsure. He was not a small child wishing for approval, wishing for acceptance from any possible source. Not anymore. He was not weak! So why did he feel so helpless right now?

"Harry," Marvolo breathed. "Just because you did not speak out immediately and exact immediate justice does not make you weak. Your suffering under her care will only make the revenge much sweeter." There was a moment's pause and Harry felt like he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn't name. "And do not fear being turned away," Marvolo continued, his voice low and hypnotic. "I told you before, I wish you to stay. I'm not a man who enjoys repeating himself. So remember me saying it now. I have grown accustomed to your presence. I do not desire to return to how I lived before."

Harry's heart fluttered a sporadic rhythm that made it hard to breathe. When had Marvolo's face gotten so close? Did Marvolo have a freckle? Yes, right next to the crease in his eyelid, so small it was easily missed. His thoughts spun but he couldn't catch a single coherent one. All he could focus on was the cool grip on his wrist and the small freckle adding to the perfection of Marvolo's face.

The knock on the door sounded like it came from underwater. Harry blinked. The knock sounded again, louder and more clear. Not underwater then. Marvolo dropped his hand like it burned and turned to fling open the door. Harry stood slightly dazed, his head felt stuffy and his legs like jelly. What had just happened?

"Do forgive us, My Lord. You requested our presence at this time." The voice sounded familiar but Harry couldn't place it.

"Get in," Marvolo snapped and held the door open, stepping back. Harry still dumbly stood rooted to the spot, forcing the Death Eaters to walk around him awkwardly as they entered the office. It was Avery, the Lestrange brothers, Malfoy, and Snape. All Inner Circle and some of the only ones allowed in Marvolo's office which also made them some of the only ones who had seen Marvolo in his natural, human form. Each one glanced at Harry but said nothing.

Marvolo made to shut the door but Harry spoke up. "Wait, I -uh- I should be leaving anyway," he managed to say. Marvolo didn't look at him but he looked furious, his grip on the door tight and staring at his followers like he wished to burn them all. "Right -er- I'll see you later then?" he tried not to make it sound like a question but he knew it did. Marvolo glanced at him and gave him a brief nod before focusing on the Death Eaters again.

Flushing red, Harry quickly left the room and the office door slammed shut behind him. Seconds later, Harry heard screaming and all but ran back to his room. Heart pounding and completely confused at what had just happened and wondering why he wished whatever happened hadn't been interrupted. But why? What was going on? What did he wish was about to happen? His thoughts refused to land on anything concrete. Harry wished he had someone to talk to. Hermione would know what was going on, Ginny too. But all of his friends were at Hogwarts. And he couldn't talk to his guard because they were loyal to Marvolo and Harry sure as hell wasn't going to ask the Weasley Twins. Groaning, Harry flopped down on his bed and pulled at his hair.

---

Harry's stomach twisted tighter as he stared at the Ritual Room door. It was October 26. Tonight he would speak with his parents and Sirius. For the past few weeks, when he wasn't doing schoolwork or meeting with Augusta, Sylvia, Amelia, Tiberius, Nott, and Avery to work out the first draft of his school proposition, he was studying everything he could about the process to call on the dead. He reread each of the accounts on the experience in the journals and he had all but memorized the guidebook dictating the process.

Speaking with loved ones was a great honor and one of the first steps of fully becoming a real and true Necromancer. But it was also a test. A test to determine whether he was actually worthy of the Blessing Death granted. Speaking with the dead thinned the veil between Life and Death and if he proved too weak to ignore the yearning call to join his loved ones he would fail the test. The consequence of failure would result in either insanity or death. Harry had to prove that he could ignore the calling from his own loved ones in order to prove that he would be an acceptable conduit for others wishing to speak with the dead. Helping others commune with the dead meant Harry acting as a filter to the sweet calling from beyond the veil.

Could he resist the temptation of staying with his parents? Could he ignore the yearning that would spring forth to succumb to Death?

Harry really wasn't sure and that terrified him. He felt that he should be able to stride into the Ritual Room and start the process full of certainty and confidence that he could resist. But he just didn't know.

Marvolo stood behind him just as he had the other two times. "I will await you here when you finish," he said suddenly.

Harry turned. The other two times Marvolo had remained silent and simply watched him enter. He hadn't told Marvolo much about this ritual and so Harry wondered what the man thought was going to happen. Harry didn't ask though. He couldn't force himself to voice the question. Just like he hadn't been able to ask about that afternoon in Marvolo's office after the Wizengamot session. Harry felt that breaching those topics would force them to cross some unspoken void. And if he crossed it, Harry really wasn't sure what would happen. The uncertainty scared him and so for now he was fine with remaining firmly where everything made sense. Harry had expected awkwardness during dinner after the Death Eaters left but none had arisen, it seemed Marvolo was of the same mindset: Ignore it until he knew for certain what would happen after breaching the void.

"I appreciate it. You don't have to though. I don't...I don't know how long it will take." 'I don't know if I'll be alive after' hovered at the tip of his tongue but Harry couldn't say that, he couldn't voice his own insecurities and hesitations about his own abilities.

Marvolo just tilted his head in a nod and Harry faced the door again. His stomach growled breaking the silence. He had needed to fast once again today. Apparently the hunger would keep him grounded in the mortal world. Taking a breath, Harry opened the door and stepped into the white room. He had drawn up the markings earlier that day in charcoal, different from the one he normally used when talking to Death. He still drew the large triangle with the line and circle inside it but then he had drawn four circles positioned so that if he connected them with lines it would form a large square with the triangle directly in the center. A single candle sat within each circle center, just as each tip of the triangle held a candle. One large and continuous circle encompassed everything else. Harry had been nervous about drawing such a large circle, the edges about a foot away from the walls, without making mistakes. Drawing circles were hard already but for a ritual like this, it was nerve-wracking and life-impacting if he messed up.

Harry took a deep breath. And then another. He tried to steady his racing heart but it didn't work. Finally, he gave up. He had to start soon or he never would and when had Harry ever been completely calm when facing a potentially life-ending threat?

Closing his eyes, Harry summoned his magic that responded far too eagerly to his call, his heightened nerves regarding tonight had it already hovering beneath the surface. Focusing, he lit each candle wordlessly and wandlessly and then began the chant. The words rolling off his tongue with ease. It was like when he had spoken Parseltongue at first, not knowing he had done so because it felt and sounded so natural to him. The Necromancer Tongue responded just as easily, if not more so. The language was written into his very blood and soul.

He chanted the call three times without pause and after completing the third recitation he stopped. Harry held his breath, his eyes squeezed shut. He held this pose until his chest burned in response and instinct pressed on him to draw a breath.

"Sweetheart, open your eyes." Harry's breath stuttered at the voice. Did it work? Was he about to see his parents? His eyes scrunched tighter, hardly daring to believe and scared to witness. "Please, sweetheart."

Unable to resist that request, Harry opened his eyes. His chest ached as he breathed in the sight. His mother sat in the circle to his right, his father to his left and Sirius sat in the back left circle. Sat was a generous term though. The three of them hovered above the candles, the pillars of white fire formed from the triangle tips showcasing how translucent they actually were despite the vivid colors.

His mother's hair was such a vibrant red and her eyes, just like his. So much like his that Harry doubted he'd ever be able to look in the mirror again and not feel the hollow ache in his chest. His father's hair was just as wild as all the stories said, just as wild as his own hair. They stared at him drinking in the sight, much like he was doing. And Sirius, Harry twisted to properly stare at his godfather. Looking so much healthier than in all the time Harry had known him; more alive now than when he had been living.

"Hey pup," Sirius said, his smile sad and fond.

Harry opened his mouth but couldn't form words past the lump in his throat. He blinked but they remained as they were, hovering and so, so vibrant that it hurt. If he focused too hard on any of them then he would start to see the charcoal circle line he had drawn to encompass the entire room through their stomachs and arms, highlighting the fact that they weren't actually alive. They were very much simply colorful ghosts. So Harry tried not to focus too hard, he simply drank in the sight of them all without scrutinizing them too closely. They all smiled at him, their eyes so full of love that his eyes grew wet.

"You're here," was all he finally said, his voice thick.

"Of course," his father grinned. "You called us."

"But we've always been there," his mother said. Her voice sounded like honey, thick and sweet. It dripped and washed over him, sticking to his skin. He wanted more. "You might not see us, but we're there."

"You're a Necromancer now, prongslet. You understand how closely the dead intertwine with the living better than anyone," his father said.

"Congrats pup," Sirius said and Harry shifted to face him properly because he couldn't turn his back on his parents. So, Harry leaned as far back as he could to remain in his triangle but keep them all in his peripherals. "The first Necromancer in centuries and the best one of them all. That's my godson, the best of them all."

Harry grinned and his lips trembled as he did. "I don't know if everyone would agree."

"So make them agree," his father laughed and waved a hand. The hand grew less visible the closer it got to the pillar of light at the tip of the triangle. "You're our son and you're bringing the Wizarding World into a much needed new age. Son, you don't understand how proud we are of everything that you are doing, have done, and will do."

"Your father is right, sweetheart," Lily said.

"Ha, can we get that on record," James crowed. And Harry laughed wetly, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. Lily rolled her eyes at the actions of her husband. It was so domestic and homey and comforting and Harry craved it.

"So don't you fear what anyone else says," she continued. "We support you, Harry. We support everything you are doing." Lily was smiling. It was the same smile that Mrs. Weasley gave her own children when they accomplished something, the same smile he had witnessed Petunia give Dudley all through childhood. Harry felt a sharp pain in his heart.

"Even―even my decision to side with Marvolo? I'm Dark, I'm Voldemort's ally. He killed you. How can you support me?"

"Well we certainly don't expect you to side with Dumbleshorts," Sirius scoffed. "He's certainly shown his true colors hasn't he? He might have been alright back during the First War but old age is definitely warping his mind. And pup, I'm Dark. Being a Black, it's almost impossible not to be. So I definitely don't care if you are."

"You're our son, Harry," James said, his voice so full of fatherly affection that Harry wanted to fall into his open arms. "We love you, no matter what. We always have. No matter your choices, you always have our support. And yeah, Voldemort killed us but we fought against him. It was war, we knew the risks. But Marvolo isn't the same man he was when he went after us or when he slaughtered hundreds. You're changing him, prongslet. You're a good influence on him and I think he's a good influence on you too."

Harry must have looked skeptical because both his parents and Sirius laughed. Harry wished he could pause that moment forever. The sound of his parents' laughter, something he'd never before heard, swirled around him and clouded his senses. He felt like he could fly as their laughter rang in his ears; a deep snickering and snorting laugh and a laugh so bright and clear that it sounded like bells. Sirius' barking laughter rattled his bones and Harry thought he would give anything to always hear it.

"We approve of Marvolo, if that's what you're worried about," his mother finally said.

"So you're okay with me being his partner?"

"In every sense of the word," Lily replied looking deeply amused. Her green eyes twinkling and Harry wondered if his eyes had ever looked so joyous.

"We can't stay for much longer though," Sirius said somberly.

"What? Why?"

"You'll exhaust yourself if you keep the connection for too long," James explained. "Magical exhaustion isn't so detrimental to most wizards, but you're a Necromancer. You can't survive without at least a small sliver of your magic. It keeps you tethered to your sanity and the Living." This was news to Harry but he shoved the thought away for the moment, that wasn't what was important. "And we might be dead, but you're still our son and we won't allow you to kill yourself just to chat with us."

"But I want to. I don't want to lose you again. I can't." Harry's voice cracked and he leaned forward, pressing his palms into the cold white floor. His nose inches from the triangle barrier.

"I told you, sweetheart, we're never really gone. You can speak to us again," Lily said gently.

"But-but, what if-what if I don't want to wait?"

"Pup, we love you and we will accept whichever choice you wish," Sirius said slowly. "I mean, it's not so bad on this side. No pain and no suffering. But it's not your time."

"How do you know!" Harry cried, slamming his fist petulantly. "This is the first time seeing you two and Sirius — Sirius I miss you so much. I feel so lost all the time. I just want you with me."

"Harry." James stretched out a hand as if he were about to ruffle Harry's hair or grip his shoulder but his transparent arm met the small circle barrier and dissolved momentarily only to reform next to his body. Harry felt like a knife stabbed into his heart. "We are with you. I swear it, Marauders Honor. We are with you in everything you do. This isn't goodbye."

"I love you, pup. Stay strong. I'm rooting for you to utterly destroy Dumbledork, you here? I've got money on it. Sprinkle a little Marauder Mayhem onto those blasted lemon drops before you off him, eh? Oh, have a chat with Remus for me, the man needs a pack," Sirius said, his voice fading as his form became more and more translucent until there was nothing but the light of the candle and the darkness of the room.

"Sirius!" Harry screamed. "No!"

"Son, it's time. We love you. Remember that. You're doing your old man proud and when the time comes that it's time for you to join us. We'll be there to greet you. But you still have more trouble to cause. I love you, Harry."

"Dad!" Harry felt hot and cold in equal measures as he watched his father's figure disappear. It felt like an old scab the size of his entire body being ripped off. "Don't leave me. Please," Harry pleaded. He tasted salt on his lips and distantly realized that he must be crying. "Mum," he said, his voice choked and broken, as he stared at his mother. She looked more translucent but she still hovered above the candle. She hadn't left him. Yet.

"Oh sweetheart," her voice sounded just as broken as his own, her eyes blinking rapidly. "My darling, I love you. So much."

"I love you too, mum," Harry whispered. His throat was too raw to speak louder.

"It's time for your decision. Stay or come with us. We can't make that choice for you but I urge you to remain."

"Why? Don't you want me?"

"More than anything, my darling. Never doubt, never question, my love for you. But I'm not the only one to love you. What of your friends, the ones who swore their loyalty to you to lead them into the new age? What of your friends on the Dark who look to you to lead them into a world of acceptance?"

"But what about me?" Harry asked, his mother's image blurred through the pouring of his tears and he hastily wiped them away. "I just want my parents. It's all I've ever wanted."

Lily's smile wavered and she reached out her hand, stopping just before the circle barrier. Her transparent appearance dimming and brightening in waves. "I know, sweetheart. But you have so much to live for now. So much to change and make better. And what of that man standing just outside the door? What happens to him if you leave this world?"

"Marvolo?" Harry croaked. What did Marvolo matter? This was his parents, his mother. What could surpass that?

"Yes. He needs you, Harry. Whether he admits it or not. And you need him. You will miss us yes, but remember we are always with you. Don't forsake an entire future of love and happiness for the sorrow you currently feel."

"It's not current," Harry retorted, horrified that his mother thought he didn't constantly feel her absence. "I always miss you."

"And you always will," Lily agreed. "Sorrow reminds you that you are alive, no matter how strongly it hurts. And it makes the moments of love so much stronger. Now, sweetheart, there is not much time. You must choose."

Numbness crept through his limbs as he stared at the flickering image of his mother. His mother and father and Sirius didn't want him to join them just yet. But Harry wanted to. Oh, he wanted to. He had never wished for anything as desperately. It was all he had ever hoped for as a child, to be with his parents. The Mirror of Erised had broadcasted his desire and weakness when he was eleven. He had been helpless against the pull then. Would he remain helpless now? He stared at his mother, his acceptance of selfish weakness on the tip of his tongue.

Unwillingly, his thoughts shifted to Ron and Hermione, their loyalty and love for him so strong that they were willing to forsake all of their original ideals just to support him. He thought of Ginny and Luna and Neville, they'd only just grown close in the last year and already they were willing to turn against everything on his word alone. Could he really just abandon them so callously? His mothers' image flickered and he pushed the guilt aside. They would understand. Luna and Neville would understand most of all. Harry opened his mouth, the words building just behind his lips.

What about Marvolo? The thought tickled at his spine. Was he really still waiting just behind the door? What would happen if Harry didn't return? Would Marvolo descend into madness again? Harry shut his mouth as the thoughts turned in his head. If Harry left did that mean others would suffer under Marvolo's cruelty again? If staying meant saving others then he should stay, shouldn't he?

"Stay for you, my darling. Not for how your actions will impact others." Could his mother read his thoughts? Lily smiled. "A mother knows her son."

Well, if he wasn't supposed to think of how the Death Eaters and others would be affected then there was really nothing else holding him back. Was there? Harry opened his mouth. But, was Marvolo really still waiting outside? Waiting for Harry? Had Harry ever had someone devote hours just to wait for him? Memories of spending hours after dinner in the library flickered in his mind, the feeling of peace and happiness flooded him. He thought of how Marvolo allowed him to see things no one else got to witness. Something warm fluttered in his stomach. Lily smiled a knowing smile that only a mother could give, her image blurring.

"I love you mum," Harry breathed.

Lily stared at him, her green eyes shining and barely visible now as she faded. She pushed her hands against the barrier, trying to reach out to him even as the barrier began to dissolve her hands. "I love you too, sweetheart."

And then she was gone.

Harry's heart shattered. He stayed there in that charcoal triangle on his hands and knees, hovering inches from the line for many minutes, maybe hours. A cold chill creeping into him the longer he stayed. But he couldn't move. He had spoken to his parents. He had laughed with his parents. His parents had told him how much they loved and supported him. But he hadn't chosen them in the end. He hadn't chosen to stay with them.

Somehow, he opened the Ritual Room door and saw Marvolo directly across the hall. Leaning lightly against the wall, staring intently at the door Harry just opened.

"Harry," Marvolo breathed. He seemed shocked, surprised, and relieved at seeing him. Harry stared. Marvolo really had waited for him that whole time. Marvolo had waited.

The dam broke. Harry cried out, falling to his knees, his legs no longer able to support him. But he didn't reach the ground. Arms surrounded him, stopping his descent. Harry clutched at the silken robes and cried. He couldn't form words but apparently, he didn't need to. Marvolo held him, gripped him tightly, as Harry sobbed into his chest. At some point, Marvolo sank to the floor, maybe unable to continue bearing Harry's limp weight or simply because it was easier. But Marvolo kneeled on the floor outside the Ritual Room, letting Harry cling to him and soak his robes. Marvolo didn't protest or offer words of sympathy or encouragement, looking back Harry doubted he would have heard any words spoken over his own pain-filled cries. Marvolo simply held Harry. His chin resting on top of Harry's head, grounding him and centering him. He wasn't warm but Harry felt too hot already and was grateful for the coolness pressed against him.

He had passed the test. He'd chosen Life. He hadn't submitted to the promise of peace with his parents and godfather. He'd chosen the chance of a future that might just be everything he'd ever hoped for as a child and more. He'd chosen. And as he lay curled up and sobbing on the floor in Marvolo's arms, Harry couldn't say if it had been the right choice. Maybe he would never know if he had chosen correctly. But he would have years to find out; years to make his choice worth it.