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Harry wasn't sure if the hour slipped by in a blur of speed as tends to happen when something that you very much dread is looming before you, or if the seconds inched by mimicking the speed of a snail as he stood there alone in his room, heart-pounding and consumed with anxiety and dread. He could not get his mind off the upcoming evening. It was one thing to deal with Voldemort directly. The wizard claimed he no longer wanted to kill him.

But his insane followers? That was a recipe for disaster, and he wasn't sure he could stomach having to interact with them daily. At least he had his wand, not that he thought it would do much good, outnumbered and under Voldemort's ever watchful scrutiny. He had never felt so alone and vulnerable. His conversation from that afternoon was still whirling in his mind, the thought that witches and wizards are born with cores that could not access all types of magic left him reeling. If that was true, was a cruel to not allow them to practice what was natural?

But dark magic was evil, it harmed innocent people. So can light magic, whispered a soft voice in the back of his mind. He knew there were plenty of ways to harm or kill someone with the classified light or neutrally gray magic he'd been learning in class. He'd seen firsthand just how vicious a child cool be with some of those spells which were meant to be light. Even a tickling charm at max power and left for hours could cause irreparable nerve damage, he remembered the lecture well from when he'd learned it in his second year. Was it possible everything he'd learned had been a lie? Propaganda from light wizards who feared an entire spectrum of magic that they could not harness themselves, powerful magic that not only rejected their cores but could cause them pain if they tried to cast it?

He frowned, unsure. He knew the unforgivable were named in such a way because they truly only caused harm, there had to be intent to control, harm or even kill to cast. And he knew intent mattered when casting. He wondered if all dark magic required dark intent? Did negative feelings, hatred and a desire to hurt fuel the power that flowed from all dark casting?

He glanced at the book which he'd discarded since Voldemort left, afraid to pick it up again and have his life views furthered changed. But he suspected the answer to his question existed in there. Or in one of the many other books Voldemort had "gifted" his new apprentice. Shaking his head, he unconsciously swept his hand through his messy hair. He still didn't know if what he read or heard could be believed. He knew the Slytherin heir was a master manipulator. All of this could be a lie to make him have these doubts, question if everything he'd been taught by his beloved leader of the light was a lie. He just didn't know and he hated how confused he was.

He dropped down listlessly on the edge of his bed, staring absently out the now repaired window, dreading each second that passed. But time did pass, and Harry found himself flinching horrible and spinning on the poor elf, wand drawn, when the loud pop pulled him from his dreaded musings.

"Tipsy is taking Master Harry to dinner now," the elf squeaked fearfully, ducking its head, ears quivering as it found itself on the receiving end of Harry's wand. She had closed her eyes, clearly ready to take the hit.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, his cheeks turning an embarrassing shade of red. "I didn't mean to point my wand at you; you scared me." Mortified that he had given the pathetic creature such a scare, harry dropped his wand quickly back to his lap. It probably was used to being horribly abused in a manor like this, where her master was a Dark Lord who harbored wanted fugitives convicted of torture and murder.

"Tipsy is so sorry, Tipsy did not mean to frighten the young master," she quivered, ringing her hands over the cotton shirt she wore, wringing the acid green S into a twisted knot. "Tipsy will punish herself."

"No!" Harry cried, scaring the elf even more. "Please don't do that. You are forgiven. It was really my fault. I was the one being dumb. I knew you were coming." He swiped a hand though his hair awkwardly, hoping he could talk the elf out of doing any damage to herself. That was the last thing he needed, the elf punishing herself because of him. Flashbacks of Dobby being a nightmare in his aunt and uncle's house flashed before him.

"Master is very kind," the small elf squeaked, finally standing up straight again. She seemed cautiously optimistic that Harry actually meant his word.

Sighing, Harry nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. "Good, please don't punish yourself. You did nothing wrong. I'm just very stressed right now."

The elf nodded again, looking at him strangely. "Master Harry is not like the other wizards here," she murmured, almost as if to herself. She seemed to realize she had spoken out loud because she ducked her head again. "But it is time Tipsy brings you to the master. He said you will eats with him."

"Yea," Harry said, letting out a resigned breath. He was not looking forward to it but doubted resisting would bring anything good. He was not eager to be punished again, between his scar and the crucio's he very much doubted he'd survive the first month here, even if Voldemort claimed to want him to. "Do you know how many will eat with Voldemort tonight?"

Tipsy cringed at the name, eyes going wide. "You's should call him master, not that. No one is allowed to speak his name," she gasped fearfully, taking a step back from him. Her eyes were so vast that they consumed her entire face.

Harry's shoulders dropped. Great, even in his own home, the psychopath had the taboo on his name. Well, just like he'd told Voldemort, he was certainly not going to call the man who killed his parents and blackmailed him into staying here master.

"All right, all right," he murmured, already exhausted from dealing with the timid creature, "I'm sorry," he apologized again. The elf's ears popped up, clearly surprised at being apologized to twice to in one night. "But can you tell me how many plan to dine with him?" He pressed hopefully.

Tipsy bit her lip, glancing around fearfully as if it were a trap.

"I mean, you're about to take me to them, right?" He tried to reason. "I'm just don't want to be surprised again like I was with you, and accidentally make them angry. It's so that I can please your master," he promised, hoping he came across much sincerer than the false words sounded in his brain.

"Oh, okay," Tipsy nodded cautiously, "I is not knowing who will be there, but it is set for six Master Harry. One, of course, being you's."

"Six," he repeated thoughtfully. Who would Voldemort value enough to let them eat with him? He had to assume dining with the Dark Lord himself was some sort of an award for anyone who was not Harry Potter. One was obviously Voldemort, so that left four sets. Perhaps the Malfoys? He almost pitied Draco if he was stuck spinning his summer with the Dark Lord and his cronies. Not that his summer was shaping up any better.

At least it would not be a whole lot of Death Eaters. Perhaps four he could deal with, if it had been all of them Harry wasn't sure how he could endure such a evening. He hoped it wasn't meant to be some cruel celebration from their attack on the Order. If he heard a single story about them attacking his friends, he knew he would not be able to maintain good behavior.

"We is needing to go," the elf squeaked, dancing back and forth from one foot to the next. She was clearly becoming anxious at their delay.

Seeing zero benefit in fighting something as silly as dinner, especially since he knew the consequences would be no food and then being tortured, Harry nodded and followed the elf to the door. He glanced around curiously as he was led into the hallway. It had not changed since Draco had led him out. They took the same passageways for the first few turns before he quickly found himself in a part of the manor he was not familiar with. He was finding himself increasingly shocked with the size of it. He had seen Voldemort's throne room and the dungeons and now it seemed like they were in an entirely new wing as they moved to wherever they would be dining for the night.

They had just finished walking down a long silent hallway lined with armor when the elf paused before two large wooden double doors that each had magical torches floating next to them. The elf glanced from him to the door and nodded. "In here," she whispered, nodding her head. He understood why she whispered. It felt wrong not to in such a sizeable, quiet alcove, like they would be disturbing the manor if they spoke louder.

He swallowed once, taking a breath then pushed the door open. He walked in head high and as confident as could muster. Sweeping his eyes over the room, he had to admit he was impressed with the size. Eight marble columns spaced evenly throughout the massive room held up a high beige ceiling. The center had been cleared out, save a large cherry wood dining table that could comfortably seat twenty. Only the spaces at the far end were set. The space was elegantly decorated but mostly bare, giving greater appreciation to the quality of the columns and the artwork that lined the walls.

His gaze immediately met the red stare that had locked on him the second he entered. "Ah, my favored guest has arrived," Voldemort all but purred, his gaze drinking him he. He felt the eyes briefly roam over his clothes, taking in the simple black pants and collared silver wizard's shirt he had adorn. There, of course, had been snake green and even some red shirts, but Harry had opted for what he hoped was simplest, to not draw attention. His high-quality black cloak hung limply on his shoulders, clasped at his neck with a simple silver snake jewel. All of the cloaks had them, so there would be no escaping the snake décor, and he wanted to wear the cloak to hide his wand better, not knowing what he would be facing this evening.

"Come in, Harry, we won't bite," Voldemort beckoned. A high-pitched cackle drew his attention to the women on Voldemort's right. Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman who had killed his godfather. He stopped, his back stiffening as he stared at the hideously striking form of Voldemort's most loyal and utterly insane servant.

She was in all black, her hair in some sort of complex updo that had as many stray chunks of dark brown jutting out as beautify in the curls and waves cascading down her back. Her blood-red painted lips tipped into a hungry sneer as she stared at him. "Baby Potter has come to stay with us!" She laughed madly, jutting her jaw out as she stared down at him from shadowed eyelids.

Harry's fists tightened, he didn't immediately go for his wand, but it was close. He glanced from her to Voldemort. It was beyond cruel to force him in the same room as the woman who had killed the closest thing he had ever had to a father. He would be dining with the murder of both his parents and his godfather. And he knew he was expected to take is gracefully, to attack either of them. He could feel his heart beating fast with each pound; it pushed against his chest tightly as he once again wondered how his world could have flipped on itself so completely in the spam of a week.

Next to her was a man he had never met but recognized from many photos. Fenrir Greyback. The wolf that had turned Rumus. A man who was known to savagely seek out children and force them to turn and claim them for his own pack. He was as bloodthirsty, if not more so, than Bellatrix. He met the amber eyes that studied him just as intently as his own stare. Where Remus' were filled with humanity and kindness, these were feral. There was a wild hunger mixed with striking intelligence that reflected towards him.

The spot to Voldemort's left was open and set to eat; he was forced to assume that was where he was expected to sit. Next to his space was who he had at least hoped would be present. There sat Lucius Malfoy, looking as impeccable and arrogant as ever. Beside him sat a very straight-backed and pale Draco. Harry was relieved that at least two of them were Death Eater he knew he could spend five minutes with and not try to kill them. But the other two were among the worst that Voldemort could have picked. His eyes snapped back to the red gaze. He could see from the barely suppressed amusement flashing in the Dark Lord's eyes. Voldemort knew exactly what he was putting Harry through.

"Come now, Harry. You came here to eat, did you not?" The Slytherin heir mocked.

"I came here because that was our agreement," Harry icily countered. He could care less if he ate; not in this company. He would rather starve. But he would not allow Voldemort to go back on his deal and harm his friends. If he had to suffer through dinner with the mentally insane and deranged, then so be it. He would just sit there quietly until he was allowed to leave.

"Awe it the wittle boy upset?" Bellatrix simpered, her voice taking on the annoying baby tone he had come to associate with the unhinged woman. "Come sit next to auntie. I'll take care of you." She wiggled her fingers at him invitingly, her lips twisting upwards as she grinned at him.

Harry saw Draco barely suppress a frown as he glanced from her back to his empty plate. The blond looked even more unwell than the last time he'd seen him. He was thinner, his pallor flush even for the abnormally white skin tone he was born with. Harry almost pitied his peer, almost.

"Enough, Bella." Voldemort commanded; his voice suddenly bored. "Come, Harry, I won't ask again. Sit." He gestured towards the vacant seat near him. Harry could easily hear the threat in his tone.

One measured step after the other, Harry forced himself forward, across the broad expanse of the hall, past all of the empty seats until he finally arrived at the one designated for him. He pulled out the highbacked, sizeable wooden chair and dropped bodily into it. He clenched his hands under the table, trying to still their shaking. He wasn't sure if it was from rage or discomfort given the present company. Was he surrounded by those of his nightmares and expected to sit here and have a civil dinner with them? It was absurd.

He could feel Voldemort's eyes upon him, but he would not give the Dark Lord the satisfaction of looking up and seeing his discomfort. He had met his end of the bargain. He was there. He would learn from the man and, for the most part, obey. But that did not mean he would dance as an obliging little puppet every time Voldemort decided to play his new toy.

The eyes stayed on him for several uncomfortable seconds before they shifted away. "Let us eat," the velvety voice commanded. With a pop, several house elves appeared, hovering dishes before the six of them. Harry felt his stomach growl as the hot dish was lowered before him. He had foolishly not eaten that day, too caught up in the compulsion Voldemort had put on him then their impromptu lesson then later too upset by their conversations and the awful revelation about his core and how cores reacted to different branches of magic. He was embarrassed to admit that he was starving.

He gazed at the steaming lamb, carrots, and rice before him. It was such a normal meal despite sitting with a table of dark wizards and their master who was determined to take over the world. An elf hovered next to him and suddenly his glass was full of red wine. He glanced from it towards Voldemort before he could stop himself. He was underaged, he had just assumed the wine glass would remain unfilled. He met the amused stare before glancing away.

Voldemort reached forward, gripping his knife and fork gracefully and cut a small piece of meat off the lamb, taking a bite. It seemed like that had been the unspoken command to eat, because everyone at the table immediately picked up their own utensils and began. It was a quiet, uncomfortable dinner, which Harry was grateful for. It would seem that the Dark Lord valued small talk amongst his followers just as much as they desired it, which was not at all. Resigned, Harry grabbed his own utensils and began eating at a measured pass, all the while he could feel the amber eyes of Greyback fixed pointedly on him.

They were all almost finished when Voldemort broke the silence. Harry was surprised it lasted that long. What was the point of dragging everyone together if the Dark Lord did not at least have business to conduct? Was he truly that bored that he had to command his followers to be with him? Somehow, that did not seem to fit, but he could come up with no better answer.

"Lucius, tell me about your progress in the ministry, have you gained control of the Daily Profit?"

Harry paused midbite, glancing towards the senior Malfoy, who stilled at being addressed. He seemed to pause a breath before lowering his fork down resignedly. "We are making progress, my lord," he began calmly, but Harry could hear the strain in his voice. If he could, he was certain Voldemort did as well. "To avoid detection it is slow work, but I am gaining more shares each day."

"That means you have not succeeded then?" The disappointment and anger was clear.

Malfoy swallowed, raising his head slightly as he stared up the table. "I will have it by the end of the month, my Lord, I will not fail you."

The silence was screaming at them. Harry kept his head down but could sense a pulse of darkness accompanying the displeasure from the Slytherins heir. "Let us hope you are right," Voldemort said, his tone clearly indicating how merciless the punishment of failure would be.

Malfoy ducked his head, shakily reaching for his wine. It almost sloshed out of the goblet as he brought it quickly to his lips.

Harry glanced towards his own glass. It was likely unwise to do so in his present company, but he figured he was owed some reprieve from the hell that had become his life. He reached forward and grabbed it, taking a large sip. It was good; slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. He had only had wine once before, he'd stolen a sip at the Dursley's when clearing the plates one Christmas holiday. He could tell immediately this was a much higher quality. He took another sip, but his enjoyment of the alcohol was paused as the entrance of a new member.

"The tiny creatures did not set the fire in your chambers yet," a female voice declared directly behind him. Harry jumped, eyes wide at how close the voice was. Turning, he watched as the giant black familiar that belonged to the Dark Lord slithered into the room. Greyback had straightened up as well, watching the snake cautiously as it approached Voldemort.

"Welcome, my dear, we are almost finished," Voldemort hissed to the giant snake as it slithered up the back of his chair, resting her head leisurely on his shoulder. She looked comfortable, as if she were used to accompanying her master at dinners such as these. Her black marble eyes swept over him as her head gazed around the room

"Master, I am also hungry. When do I get to hunt?" Nagini hissed. He had not thought it possible for a snake to wine, yet here he was witnessing it.

"Such a lovely serpent," Bella practically cooed from her seat. She was rocking back and forth slightly. If he had not been convinced before, he was certain the Dementors had done more damage than just age the female Black. There was a craziness to her eyes that never dulled.

"You can eat her," Harry hissed morbidly, his voice barely audible as he glared up at the psychopathic witch. Next to him, Lucius straightened in shock. He knew he should not have spoken, but his nerves were on edge being in her presence. She had not spoken the whole night, keeping quiet like the others. But he could feel her eyes on him often enough and the one time he had glanced up, she had been staring at him openly, hungrily. When she caught his eyes, she had grinned madly, clearly trying to invoke a response. It had taken all of his willpower to drop his gaze again, knowing any confrontation under Voldemort's watchful gaze would only end in his suffering.

"Please refrain from commanding my familiar to eat my followers," Voldemort requested blandly. Next to them, Draco dropped his fork much to his father's displeasure. "If you ask her to eat one of mine, I will have her eat two of yours. And I think we both know who she will obey."

"She's insane," Harry responded, resorting back to English since Voldemort was clearly agreeable to his minions hearing the conversation. The night was becoming too much, he could not stay quiet in her murderous presence. His nerves were on full alert. Images of his believed godfather falling behind the veil, eyes shocked but unseeing as he faded into the darkness kept tormenting him with every second that he was forced to endure next to the crazy female Black turned Lestrange. "It would be doing you a favor."

"And since when are you in the business of doing favors for me?" The Dark Lord asked; his tone now had a dangerous quality to it. He glanced at Harry; an eyebrow raised delicately. "If you are feeling generous, I have a list with which I can provide you on how you can best serve me."

"What a mean little boy you are," Bellatrix laughed, tapping her nails rapidly on the table. "I am the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. He would never allow it."

Harry bristled. "You are crazy," he declared softly, warily eyeing the tittering witch. The words made her laughter become all the louder, consummating in a shrill cackle as she shook her head back and forth.

"Awe, don't be nasty, w'il baby Potter, auntie Bella will get her feelings hurt."

"I would have no issue hurting you," Harry snapped, completely forgetting his pledge of silence. It was too much to sit in her presence. She was a criminal who had taken away from him the closest thing he had to a father. She deserved the kiss or worse.

She threw her head back, letting out a roar of laughter that echoed uncomfortable in the chamber. "I have seen you try, little boy. You were not very good at it. Perhaps I need to kill more of those around you to help you successfully cast an unforgivable? What do you say hmmmm? Think with enough training, I could make you stronger? Give me enough time and I could make even a little terrified boy like you become a man."

"You bitch," Harry hissed, he wasn't sure if it was in parseltongue or English. Regardless, she clearly understood his tone because she straightened, cocking her head to the side as she appraised him with unblinking eyes. The torches next to him flickered ominously as he clearly was losing control of his magic, but he did not care. "You're a coward who attacked him from behind. You're not talented; just a crazy woman who goes around licking the cloak of anyone who might give you power. You're pathetic."

"Watch yourself, Potter," Malfoy senior murmured almost too quietly to be heard.

"Is that so, little boy?" The voice was too calm, no maniacal laughter accompanied it, and that made him all the more afraid. Suddenly extremely lucid black eyes locked on his. "I challenge you to a duel, Potter."

Alright! What do you think? Thank you so much for the reviews! Should they duel? Who should win? Should Voldy get involved? So many options!