(AN: Koldovstoretz accepts students from further afield than Russia in canon; however, here, no, they don't. I've again been getting a few 'I'm confused's', so I will reiterate. This fiction is written from Harry's POV in an unreliable, limited third-person perspective. You will only know what he knows; often, he is guessing, wrong, or ignorant. While Tom and V are manipulating themselves and Harry/Harrycrux, the 'what the fuck is going on' will be slim pickings. At this point, I have left hints going as far back as 'Unspeakable' regarding what Harry is hiding from himself (Tom literally says it in that chapter ;).) I, of course, will clear it all up in time. If you find yourself readying to tell me that you're confused, it's okay—I know xx)

Koldovstoretz (колдовсторец), Putorana Plateau, Russia

Svetovid, Jan Janko Močnik

(Instrumental)

When Harry woke up—the howling of wolves in the distance the likely cause—it took him several seconds to remember where he was and what had happened during the night. It had taken him longer because he was healed; the blood vanished from the pillowcase, bed, and face as though he'd dreamed it.

He'd stayed in bed, listening to Nagini's hushed but insistent whispers. It was almost sun-up, pale blue light highlighting the white fabric above him. There was still a gap in the curtains, and Harry watched with semi-closed eyes as she whipped back and forth, quietly retrieving potions.

At one point, Voldemort walked by the gap, swigging straight from a bottle of what looked like whiskey. Nagini followed him, flicking the back of his head with a large potion in her other hand.

'He thinks I have encouraged you to do this. Whatever he thinks we are doing. I honestly don't know how much he knows.' Tom thought without prompting, 'By encouraged, I mean manipulated.' He swallowed before he continued, 'It is not entirely untrue.'

Harry's eyes narrowed to closing, 'What do you mean.'

'I- saw it as one of the only possible ways to…' Tom was weighing his words, adrenaline making him sweat, 'Equality. To equal power.' He paused again and inexplicably removed several of his own thoughts and jammed them in the hidden part of Harry's head, quick as a whip, 'I still believe that. And I also stand by what I said last night. If you want out, Harry, I will find a way. If I had to kill him, I'd find a way to do that. If that's… What you wanted.'

His hands were shaking, his face hot, and Harry didn't know how to respond to any of it. He didn't feel like he'd been manipulated at any point into making the decision he had. He felt like the choice to 'seduce' the Dark Lord had been one of his only unobstructed ideas. 'I don't know when you would have… I made the choice, though?'

"…This potion at a bare minimum, or you'll fall down on your feet," Nagini hissed, her voice creeping above a whisper.

'I know you made the choice. It had to be you.' Tom thought.

'…You'd kill him?'

'Yes.'

'Is that even possible?'

'Without destroying the Horcruxes? I don't know. I have considered a few alternative options. Is that what you want?' He was clinging to Harry's thoughts as they came, examining.

He needed ten seconds to consider it, 'I- No? I mean, sometimes. All the time… Do you still think we can do this? Convince him?'

'…Yes.' His thought was loaded with a thousand other words that Harry wished he could hear, like clawing at a stone for water.

'We'll… Hold off on the murdering and 'alternative options' then.' He was trying to wrap his head around Tom's offer.

That he'd essentially kill himself if Harry willed it.

Nagini and the Dark Lord were still arguing in silence, her whispers loud enough to hear, his continued quiet apparently irritating her. "You'll be a skeleton man leading your stupid army."

"Nagini."

"You would feel better if you ate. If you slept."

"I cannot eat. I cannot sleep." His pitch increased at the end, both in volume and tone, squawking it through audibly clenched teeth.

They didn't say anything after that, and Harry waited five minutes before he fake coughed. His curtains whipped open, and he could immediately smell the whiskey.

"Get him ready, Nagini," his face gave nothing away, though his teeth didn't part when he spoke. He was already dressed, hood down, hair perfect.

Harry couldn't look at him directly for long. He watched the Dark Lord stand and stare as he got out of bed from the corner of his eye, his cheeks red, semi-hard and irritated just at the sight of him.

Nagini was digging in the chest for a set of robes that would undoubtedly be comfortable, well-tailored, and strip him of his magic. He showered, summoned the curse for a few seconds just to feel it, and scowled as he changed into the robes.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened the door to find the Dark Lord standing in the frame, already talking at him.

"Koldovstoretz is hostile. They have accepted our invitation to assess my force and show theirs. You will find your magic unsuppressed." He held up a silver chain. "I will change that if necessary. Though your magic is not withheld, you will not use it unless it is abundantly clear the situation has devolved into madness. Understand?"

Tom nodded once while Harry considered his words.

'Why would we go if they're hostile?' He wondered.

'Political. Koldovstoretz is larger than Hogwarts, and it produces exceptional witches and wizards. The Russian Ministry of Magic is a force to be reckoned with and a serious concern; there is not much they do not involve themselves in. They have spies in every government around the world, last I heard. Voldemort wants to take it; they want to take what is his. So, we break bread.'

'That doesn't even make sense.'

The Dark Lord was staring at him, apparently seeing the conversation in his head playing out on his face. He was glaring as he turned toward the exit. The chests were gone, and when Harry followed Nagini into the early morning chill, Voldemort collapsed the tent with magic and pulled his hood up. He took the Babel Fish from his pocket and presented it to them both.

"Do not indicate that we understand. Under any circumstances," he said as Harry put a finger on it.

He slipped the gem back into his robes and summoned his mask. He took yet another Portkey from his pocket, enlarged the box, and presented a silver version of the jewelled reptilian eye. Harry touched it when they did.

They rematerialised within a landscape that seemed much the same, lower in altitude, with scatterings of trees where they stood, spreading into a denser forest in the distance.

The Dark Lord was already walking towards the thickest part of the trees. Nagini looked at Harry and then shrugged, falling into step behind the Dark Lord.

They walked for twenty minutes before Harry made out the shape of horses and their riders along the densest part of the tree line. Hundreds of them. He shot a look at Voldemort to find that he didn't seem concerned.

He watched the Dark Lord slip his thumb into his sleeve and press it to the Dark Mark as they got closer. Tom raised an eyebrow but didn't think anything 'out loud' about it.

When they reached the horses, one of the men dismounted. Harry noticed they were all men, carrying engraved staves; none seemed to be students. They all wore the same grey uniform, nearly military in style.

The man who'd dismounted and approached them was short—he had to be under five feet tall—but he made up for it with a threatening aura. His dark green eyes held a warning as he spoke.

"Nesterov Arkadiy Pavlovich." He said, not extending his hand.

The Dark Lord tilted his head to the side and said nothing.

"I am head of Koldovstoretz. You walk; we ride."

Tom immediately bristled, but the Dark Lord said, "No matter."

A pop of Apparition started the horses closest to them, two rearing back onto their hind legs. Then there was a smattering of pops and cracks, like rain on a tin roof. It quickly became a deluge, and Harry turned fractionally to watch potentially thousands of Death Eaters appear, decked in full regalia, wands in hands.

The horses had been driven to near madness, soothed with magic while they whinnied and stomped, blasting fog from their nostrils, eyes wild.

When the pops died back to sporadic crackling, Voldemort said, "Shall we proceed?"

The headmaster was openly sneering, his red-grey beard spreading with his lips. He returned to his horse and yelled—a wordless bark—moving the small army into the trees. The horses were jumpy and stomping, pulling against their reigns and walking sideways, a Death Eater horde behind them.

The Dark Lord held up a hand and started after them, his smirk so tangible that Harry felt it on his own face.

He quickly found there wasn't much more forest, the trees giving way to a ring of visible wards that shielded the school grounds. As they broke through the other side, the castle appeared—not there and then there—almost making Harry close his eyes. The brightness of the towering construction made them water, even under cloud cover.

If someone asked Harry to describe it, he would say it was a castle made of sugar, with white, swirled meringues sitting on its three colossal towers. If someone asked Tom, he would say it was a Muscovite style castle, common for the late seventeenth century. He would also say that white cupolas atop ornate and equally white walls were a blinding choice.

Outside the castle, ringed much like the wards and the forest, were another few hundred men on and off horseback, each carrying a staff and looking grimmer the closer the Death Eaters got. The students stood in front of the white arched doors, all in the same shade of grey. Tom counted somewhere just over a thousand of them—silent as the grave as they approached. The wind and stomping, whinnying horses were the only sounds.

The trees that made up most of the forest—birch and larch, because for some reason Harry just calling them trees was annoying Tom—lined the marble courtyard.

The headmaster dismounted his horse and was apparently set on pretending he wasn't surrounded by robed sycophants. He pushed the wide double doors open after the students parted in a wave. The men not on horseback marched into the school after the headmaster and Harry finally chanced another look at the Dark Lord.

He could still smell a hint of whiskey mixed with cedar. Voldemort's eyes were emotionless as he raised a hand and moved, Nagini and Harry after him as though they were pulled.

The entrance hall of Koldovstoretz was a large amphitheatre, white marble with white walls, a stage at the far end with a coat of arms hanging above it, depicting two brown bears fighting to the death. Stadium-like seats lined the entrance doors on either side. The head had taken the stage with another bearded man, both sneering and talking quietly. The rest of the men lined the walls, probably two hundred wizards.

They weren't given seats, made to stand by the stage with guards behind and aside them. Nagini was scowling, her hands clenched. The Dark Lord was either unconcerned or doing a great job of hiding it.

'He lives for this,' Tom thought, as though it were obvious or made sense.

"Not so remarkable; I could shoot the killing curse at their backs right now." The voice behind them had muttered it, presumably in Russian. Again, Harry looked at Voldemort and found him smiling with his eyes.

The students filed in, forming uniform lines as they took the stadium seats. The front rows were taken by—Harry assumed—the professors, though the numbers didn't seem right, and some of them weren't dressed in the grey of the army-style uniforms or the grey of the student's robes. They wore red suit jackets with black pants, over thirty red-clad sets of eyes locked on them.

'Representatives from the Russian Ministry of Magic,' Tom supplied.

Around a hundred Death Eaters had followed their lord in, standing deliberately in front of the Koldovstoretz guards. Harry knew by then they'd have the entire castle surrounded.

Six students were led in from one of the two side doors by yet more guards in grey, all stern, eyes on the Dark Lord. Harry almost felt like he was enjoying it more than Durmstrang.

"Kudrin Polikarp Kirillovich!" The bearded man on stage with the headmaster shouted, making Harry's eyes bug.

One of the boys stepped out of the line the six students had formed in the centre of the room. He was short and pale, with ears that stuck out the sides of his head like a pair of brackets highlighting his face. He stood stock still, eyes on the headmaster, arms crossed behind his back.

"Poltanov Ludomir Rostislavovich!"

Tom had to explain to Harry how Russian names worked while the first student, Polikarp—because the middle was the first name in formal situations—gave a sharp bow to his headmaster and stepped back into the line while Ludomir came forward.

He was also pale, tall, of average build, with dark brown eyes. He had the same stern posture, eyes on Arkadiy, arms crossed behind him.

Harry noticed that the only girl in the line had tears in her eyes—honey-brown and staring straight ahead, unblinkingly. Nagini seemed to notice, too, watching her exclusively, her hands unclenched.

"Ozerov Fridrik Yegorovich!"

If the other two were pale, Fridrik was deathly. Dark rings encircled his hazel eyes, and short brown, curly hair encircled his lean face. His expression was severe, and his left eye twitched as he stared at the headmaster.

Voldemort also seemed disinterested in the male students, watching the girl, bizarrely, with the same soft eyes as Nagini. Though it was slight—only visible to the trained eye—it spurred the same weird irritation that he couldn't pinpoint, increasing in frequency.

"Leskov Slava Filippovich!"

Slava was built like all he did was fight, his neck muscles sloping into his shoulders and disturbing the fit of his uniform. He didn't look at Arkadiy. Instead, he bared his teeth at Harry in what he figured was part smirk, part threat. Tom grinned back.

"Belitrov Petr Denisovich!"

Petr was tall, tanned, and had hazel eyes. He took the same stance as the first two, arms crossed behind his back, and stared blankly at his headmaster.

There was a long, strange pause before they introduced the brunette girl; Arkadiy and the bearded man had a hushed argument while the entire auditorium locked eyes on her. She'd gotten her tears under control, chin high and face clear as she stared at the coat of arms.

"And the jewel of our fine school! Voron-"

The Dark Lord seemed to be waiting for him to speak just to interrupt him. "I know who she is. Vorontsova Maledina Innokentievna." He stepped forward, and the room rippled in response. "Twelfth generation Maledictus. Proud daughter of the Vorontsova family—the founders of Koldovstoretz—those that cursed their daughters to take the forms of bears. The youngest of eight children, seven brothers. Her mother succumbed to her curse just six months after Maledina's birth. A success. Congratulations, it's a girl."

Maledina looked confused and scared, obviously not understanding a word of it.

"Tell me, is she betrothed?" The Dark Lord spun to face Arkadiy, "It would be a waste of symbolic honour if not."

The headmaster's eyes flicked the boy they'd called Polikarp while the rest of his face was disfigured with pure disgust. Voldemort caught his gaze.

"This one?" He gestured at Polikarp, and the teen bristled along with the room. "It is important to ensure the next generation."

Nagini looked at Harry with mild fear, relaxing slightly as the Dark Lord stalked back toward them, his eyes wild. He took a Portkey box from his robes, enlarged it, and held a hand up, his Death Eaters stepping forward.

"Until December," Voldemort said as he opened the wooden box for Nagini and Harry.

He put his finger on the fragment of obsidian mask when they did, thankful to be sucked out of the oppressive air in the Koldovstoretz amphitheatre.

Uagadou School of Magic (Uagadou Essomero Ly'obulogo), Mountains of the Moon, Uganda, Africa

Mamamuso, Sona Joberteh

É um bom momento para te dizer que te amo

Eu te amo, eu amo você e sempre será assim

E sempre será e sempre será

"Are you just gonna leave all the Death Eaters there?" Harry asked when they reappeared in a far warmer climate, at the base of several sprawling mountains, so tall in the distance they were snow-capped and vanishing in the clouds.

There were no trees, and the vegetation was sparse, reddish-orange dirt poking through dark green shrubs that Tom couldn't name.

"What else would I have done with them."

Harry imagined the discomfort of being left in Koldovstoretz after the Dark Lord had made fun of their apparently twelve-generation-long tradition. "Did they really put the curse on themselves?"

"Yes. Vitomir Vorontsova cursed his wife when she was pregnant with their first child. A girl. Sixteen-ninety-three. Koldovstoretz was founded that same year," the Dark Lord said.

"Horrible. To be… Bred for it," Nagini said.

Harry had never seen her look so disgusted. She sat down in the dirt and scowled at nothing. Voldemort set up the tent 'temporarily', and he assumed, correctly, that it was purely for him to change into a set of robes that blocked his magic.

Nagini used the time to attempt to convince the Dark Lord to eat, apparently unsuccessfully, judging by the way they were both frowning with their arms crossed when Harry exited the bathroom.

"Did… Koldovstoretz go well?" He asked, standing in the doorway awkwardly, definitely not moving to sit at the table with them.

Voldemort slowly smiled before he looked at Harry, "They will try something. I would assume in December, though sooner cannot be discounted. The Maledictus will not be returning to Russia after the competition."

"Do you think her beau will come too?" Nagini asked.

"Wait? You're going to kidnap her?" Harry asked.

"I will make her an offer, and she will not refuse. It does not matter to me what her betrothed does. They will treat it as a kidnapping, yes."

'Provoking them on purpose,' Tom thought.

"Oh. Good…?" Harry said.

The Dark Lord snorted a laugh and shook himself, standing abruptly. "Uagadou. Nagini," he held out a hand for her. She frowned at Harry as she took it and let him lead her from the tent.

Instead of moving when he collapsed the temporary construction, Voldemort pulled up his hood, conjured his mask, and waited, watching the mountains in the distance. As though the world ran on his clock, within minutes, a black jaguar approached them, an eagle owl perched atop its back.

They both took human form together, the owl taking flight to transform. Two women, one older, maybe in her forties—the jaguar, and a teen—Harry's age. They looked alike, their dark skin tones nearly matching, their high cheekbones almost identical, both tall and regal in looks and in the way they held themselves, dressed in brightly coloured, patterned dresses. The only stark difference between them was the older woman's eyes: so light grey that they nearly blended with the whites.

The Dark Lord didn't remove the Babel Fish as the women stopped before them. The younger one was watching Harry, her eyes narrowed. He thought she looked more curious than angry, but he had no way to know for sure.

"Welcome, Dark Lord." The older woman put a heavy inflection on the words 'Dark Lord', but he couldn't figure out why—her expression far too stoic, "To Uagadou. I am Xivono Mboweni, the headmistress. This is my daughter, Nosiphiwo."

"Ah. I'm sorry, mother. I must do this." Nosiphiwo grabbed Harry's hand, and her dark brown eyes immediately rolled backward into her head.

"Ahh?" He said, looking at Voldemort with wide eyes.

The Dark Lord swung his arm and essentially karate chopped them apart. "She has pissed me off."

"I am sorry; it was worth the consequence," the teen said without hesitation, bowing and looking at Harry from the corner of her eye.

"What?" He asked, ignored.

"Nosiphiwo." Xivono said, her eyes wide for an instant.

"Mother, he must hear it." She was still bowed low, and Voldemort was pacing.

Harry was frowning liberally by that point, and Nagini seemed as lost as he felt.

"…I am afraid if Nosiphiwo says you should hear it…" The headmistress looked torn between horror and decorum.

"So be it. Privately," the Dark Lord said, his eyes narrowed to slits.

'A Prophecy,' Tom thought.

"In private? She held my hand? So, the Prophecy is about me?" Harry asked. Tom shared his sentiment.

Nosiphiwo looked like his words caused pain, wincing and baring her teeth as she stood up and repeated, "Mother. It is urgent."

"The quickest way to the school is to Apparate," Xivono counted heads.

"Take them. I will follow," Voldemort said.

"You will not be able to find it?" Xivono said.

"Go."

Harry could hear his teeth were clenched, still pacing.

Nagini took Xivono's arm, and Harry took Nosiphiwo's. He frowned at her until they were shot through the familiar tube. They weren't standing at the base of a winding, wooden staircase for long before the Dark Lord appeared with a pop beside them. He assumed the tracker in his Dark Mark had something to do with it.

They'd reappeared within the mountains, the stairs leading high into the cloud bank above. Rope on one side, tied to intermittent posts. A scary handrail if he'd ever seen one. Voldemort took the steps ahead of them, appearing as if he was resisting the urge to run.

Nagini was quick to follow, matching his speed without hesitation. He exhaled and took the stairs after them, leaving the handrail be.

"Why can't I hear it?" He persisted in Parseltongue.

"Do not start."

He rolled his eyes and then bugged them. His calf muscles were already burning; the speed and the steepness quickly a work out.

Tom kept pursing his lips, and Harry could tell he was trying to find a way around it, hear the prophecy anyway. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Nosiphiwo, her eyes on him. She held up the orange fabric of her skirts to take the steps faster.

When they broke through the clouds, he saw the entrance to Uagadou, appearing to sit atop the white fluff. It was a massive stone door carved from the mountain itself. The Dark Lord was pacing at the top as though the two seconds it took for them to arrive behind him were too long.

Xivono flicked her wrist and opened the door. It was slow and unbelievably heavy, probably as difficult to stop as a train once it was moving. Over three metres thick, it towered above his head, wide enough to fit a stampede through.

"You have come to us at an auspicious time, Voldemort." Xivono said the taboo name with ease, "It is Uagadou's twelfth-hundred year."

'Founded in the year seven-hundred and ninety-seven,' Tom thought absently.

The door finally revealed the interior, catching Harry's breath in his lungs. The entire interior of the mountain—a dark beige stone—had been carved away and polished, the firelight appearing liquid on intensely shiny floors and walls. Though it was simply a door from the outside, the interior was lined with windows and clear glass floor to ceiling—giving a spectacular view of the top of the clouds and the deserts beyond. Wide staircases ran up and down, and the sprawling atrium was buzzing.

Students were everywhere, with no discernible uniform. Some of them were dressed casually in Muggle clothes; others wore spectacular, colourful robes, and others wore traditional African dress. Or they were animals. dozens of tiny, fluffy and quick creatures underfoot, insects buzzing in the air, lions, tigers, gazelles, shrews, meerkats, owls, bats, boars, mandrills, jackals, dogs, cats, hundreds of twittering birds of all possible colours, chimpanzee, elk, a polar bear, a guanaco—Tom called it, a badger, and even an awkward seal. Hundreds, possibly thousands of students that seemed entirely non-plussed by their presence.

"…Wow." Harry said, while Nagini gave a shocked laugh.

"Lead the way," Voldemort said, apparently not impressed.

Xivono did, taking them to a side room through an impressively wide, tall hallway, down a set of polished stairs that were spaced and sloped so gradually he took a step every ten seconds. Nagini gasped at every animal they passed, and Harry found himself irritated with the Dark Lord for not letting her stop.

Much to his shock, Voldemort allowed them to follow them into a room with a large, round stone table. Much to his annoyance, he and Nagini were immediately placed in a silenced bubble when they sat down, unable to hear or be heard.

He could see Xivono's and Nosiphiwo's mouths moving and could tell by how Voldemort held himself that he was furious. After a moment, Xivono stood and looked between her daughter and the Dark Lord. She rolled her lips, then squared her shoulders before she stepped out of the room.

Nosiphiwo's eyes were on the table as she spoke, talking for less than a minute before the Dark Lord slammed his fist on the table and ordered her out as well.

Harry glanced at Nagini and decided that, judging by her face, he wasn't as nervous as he should have been. He chewed his tongue and waited for the Dark Lord to release the silencing wards. He didn't, sitting and staring, knocking his fist on the table repeatedly before he whipped his head to glare at Harry so fast it nearly spooked him.

"…What do you think it said?" He asked Nagini under his breath, though he knew Voldemort couldn't hear them.

Nagini didn't respond, eyes locked on the Dark Lord as she stood up, drawing his attention away from Harry.

"You're being stupid again, a big idiot face. Let me out of this bubble, I will scream," she seemed just to be saying words for the hell of it until he dropped the wards, and she said, "I want to see the Animagi." She glanced at Harry, and he automatically stood up.

He didn't respond immediately, blinking at her almost owlishly. Then in Parseltongue he said, "…Fuck. FUCK! Let's look at the fucking Animagi. Let's see these fucking students I couldn't give less of a fuck about." He stood up sharply and burst out of the room as though he'd startled himself.

"…Oh," Nagini said. Then she was out the door after him.

Harry's armpits were sweating; a deep unease was settling in, shared and fed by Tom.

Nosiphiwo and Xivono waited in the corridor for them, and the Dark Lord stood stock still. The mother and daughter shared a look, the headmistress's face clearly saying, 'What the hell were you thinking,' her daughter's said, 'Oops?'.

They took them back through the Atrium, Harry taking the blame for slowing down and allowing Nagini to take in the enormity of it. Voldemort didn't bother glaring at him, eyes straight ahead and borderline despondent, while Nagini's head whipped back and forth, gasping as a giraffe strolled past them.

'It was bad, wasn't it? The prophecy? Look at his… Eyes,' Harry thought.

'I cannot know unless I hear it. This makes my plans for later slightly more provocative. I am going to do it anyway. Once we are done with Uagadou.'

There was an edge of desperation in his tone, and he was nauseous while he walked, most likely a combined effort.

'What are you going to do?'

The headmistress showed them to a large hall, one huge stone table in the centre, carved directly from the mountain, he realised. At least fifty smaller stone tables were scattered about the room, lit entirely by sunlight, one massive window becoming a ceiling overhead. There was an unobstructed view of the plains from the hall, the clouds above their heads.

'It is best if you let me handle it, alright?'

'…Great, yeah, sure. Great.' Harry didn't feel like it was great or that he was sure.

Five students already occupied one of the small tables; Harry assumed they were the chosen. Tom assumed that Nosiphiwo was the sixth. With them were ten professors, dressed spectacularly and eying the Dark Lord and Harry with varying levels of distrust and curiosity. One of them with humour, grinning at them from under his bright green hat.

Voldemort didn't move to take the fish from his pocket as he sat across from the students and staff of Uagadou. Harry and Nagini followed, sitting at either side of him.

Xivono and her daughter took to the other with their cohort; both looked like they'd swallowed live eels. The table quickly picked up on the mood, all except the smiling man.

"…Welcome to the Uagadou School of Magic, Dark Lord, apprentice Dark Lord, and Nagini." The grinning man said, and Harry choked on nothing, eyes bugging.

"That's not- I mean- ha!" He glanced at Voldemort and swallowed, "I'm not an apprentice."

"Of course you are." He gestured with his hand like Harry was just being stubborn.

"Uh…No?" He was unnerved by the Dark Lord's silence, and so was Nagini.

She stood up and pushed a metal pitcher of water over with a loud clang, spilling across the wide, round table onto the laps of the staff and students. "Stop that. We're here to talk about the competition. No more of this," she said. She sat back down and crossed her arms, her nose scrunched up with her scowl.

"Mbita, I would have to say I agree with Nagini. Quite enough for one day," Xivono said, vanishing the water with a wave of her hand, her nearly white eyes on the man with the hat, then her daughter. "We hope to have a friendly relationship with the British Ministry. With Europe. We hope that our shared… Disdain… For the International Statute of Secrecy, among our other shared views, will enable us to build a strong alliance."

'Something like that,' Tom thought.

"I hope you will forgive my daughter's presumptuousness… She is highly precognitive, and she often sees the results of her actions before she takes them," she seemed to growl several of the words specifically at Nosiphiwo. "She is also one of our chosen champions. Joining her," she gestured down the table, "Dumo."

An averagely built, dark-skinned teen stood, chin out and smiling under a dense afro. An electric blue light was strobing in the palms of his hands, apparently not bothering him.

"He is incredibly magically volatile but makes the most of it. Exceptionally." Xivono said.

The Dark Lord looked through her, and Harry was desperate to leave.

"Johanika Booysen," the headmistress pointed to the only white girl, also the only one wearing casual clothes, a light blue polo shirt and jeans.

She was short, with curly, nearly white hair. She gave a short bow and was sucking her lips into her mouth, wide-eyed.

"An impressive matagot Animagus," the headmistress said.

Johanika shrugged.

'What's a matagot?' Harry wondered.

"Show it," Tom said, startling the tiny blonde.

She looked at Xivono and the headmistress nodded. The tiny girl sprang onto the table, and all at once she was a pink-skinned sphinx cat the size of a large dog, eyes as large as dinner plates—glowing purple. Nearly skeletal in frame, with claws too big for her paws.

She returned to her human form and her seat, still chewing her lips.

"Naledi. No one is faster than her," Xivono said before Harry could properly react, and a tall teen with tightly braided hair stood dressed in red.

She smiled at Harry, and he felt like she was doing something with her face that hinted at sex.

'Look at you. Yes, she is flirting with you. Flagrantly,' Tom thought, somewhat disinterested when it was a woman, apparently.

"…Bantu Matshoba. A genius," the headmistress seemed to say the next name to get Naledi to sit back down, though she was still staring at Harry with an infinitesimal smirk and slowly rolling brows.

Bantu was short, his skin deeply tan. He had tight brown ringlets that hung past his ears in a cloud. He was holding what looked like a hand-held radio; the antenna extended all the way out. Though it wasn't on, a visible thread of electricity buzzed through it.

"And Kosan," Xivono said, gesturing to the final student. "A true warrior."

He got to his feet, towering over the rest of them. He was muscular but not overly so, his head clean-shaven, his face deeply serious.

The headmistress seemed to receive the message loud and clear that the procedure was being rushed because of her daughter's prophecy. Throughout, Voldemort said nothing, his fists tightly clenched and shaking in his lap, knuckles white, fingers red.

'…What was it you said you were going to do?' Harry wondered.

Tom didn't answer him, staring at the Dark Lord from the corner of his eye instead. When he stood, Tom did as well, almost in the same instant. Harry could feel his nerves, his palms sweating, his robes suddenly too hot.

"I will see you both privately before I leave," Voldemort nearly sounded like a robot, gesturing at Xivono and Nosiphiwo, pushing Harry back into his seat by his shoulder.

The headmistress and her daughter stood up, and all eyes in the hall were on them as they vanished behind a side door, leaving Harry and Nagini to blink at each other.

"This is bad, right? Something shit is happening?" He asked in Parseltongue, choosing to ignore Uagadou.

"He is terrified," Nagini said.

"…What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen him so afraid." She looked frightened, too, frowning with wide, alert eyes.

'…Tom.'

'I am still going to do it; I am sorry.'

The apology sidelined him, but not for long, 'But what, what are you doing?'

Again, Harry's thoughts were ignored. When the Dark Lord exited, he was already holding a Portkey box, opening the lid as he approached them. He was walking like he was about to miss the last train but too proud to run for it.

Nagini got up, and Harry did too, reaching for the tiny glass cup and spinning out of the Uagadou hall with a lump in his throat.

When they reappeared in Scotland, it was cold and early in the morning, barely past eight from the looks of it. They were a short distance from the long, uneven wooden bridge and the Death Eaters that stood guard. Before Harry could ask again what Tom planned to do, he stepped sharply toward the Dark Lord, whispering into his hooded ear.

Harry's heart was pounding in his neck, shaking his voice as Tom spoke:

"For whatever it is worth to you, I am sorry. For all of it, Harry."

Voldemort shoved him so hard in the chest all the air was forced out as he hit the frosted dirt. The Dark Lord was screaming like an animal, straddling Harry with his fist raised, yanking him off the ground by the scruff of his robes.

Tom did nothing. Both hands limp beside his head as he exhaled forcefully, slowly, to stop the shaking—unsuccessfully.

'…What? What?' Harry thought, before it clicked that Tom had been talking to his Horcrux.

"You are not sorry. You aren't capable." The Dark Lord growled.

Tom was pulling thoughts from the hidden spot back into his private section. If Harry weren't so nervous, he would have scoffed.

"I am. Look. See it." Tom stared into the Dark Lord's eyes, his thoughts spilling out with an unnamed panic.

Voldemort scrambled off him, took Nagini's arm and Disapparated.