Embracing His True Self

Chapter 48

"Have you seen the late edition of the Daily Prophet?" Voldemort enquired, as he interrupted Harry's reading, the table he was at was surrounded by packages. Some of them brightly coloured, a very good indication that his birthday was soon. He did eye the books Harry had been perusing but he shook it off, he wanted an answer.

Harry stared blankly up at Voldemort, blinking a few times before he realized exactly what Voldemort had said. "Um, no, I haven't, why? What's been said?" Elsmere wouldn't have gone and used the later edition – not everyone bothers with it, it's just extra and mostly to print of the match results, when it comes to quidditch as well as the duelling results and everything in between.

"You were heard in Honeydukes with the intention of going to the duelling matches," Voldemort told him, placing the newspaper in front of him.

Harry shook his head utterly vexed, he couldn't get a seconds peace or bloody privacy. "There was only the shop assistant that could have heard that." Lips pursing, he knew there had been no reporters nearby or anything of the sort. Only they could have heard them, only they could have revealed that piece of information to the press, "I mean seriously? How much did they get that it was worth it?" scoffing as he leaned back in sheer annoyance.

"You'd be surprised," Voldemort said dryly, "They were deprived of their ability to write everything about you for over a decade. Like or not, you were safe from exposure while at Hogwarts, for the most part." Well aware of Skeeter but if he hadn't deliberately put Harry out there in the tournament, he would have continued to have safety from the press he will admit that. "They are going to continue trying to make you larger than life, it will help boost the ratings, increase readership and quite frankly raise their status."

"Is Barty safe?" Harry asked, straightening up, his back protesting his abruptness, worry suffusing him, he didn't want his best friend exposed because of something stupid.

"He wasn't mentioned," Voldemort reassured him, "Do you wish to do something about them?"

Harry paused, glancing at the paper thoughtfully, truth was there was nothing bad about it, it was just a reporter reporting the truth. They hadn't lied or anything, so there was nothing for him to complain about. "No, let them do as they please, for the times they'll actually see me. If they cross the line, even just the once, then yes, something must be done. I am not going to give them enough rope to hang me, give them an inch they'd take a bloody mile." Parroting the words that he'd heard his aunt use a million times without thought.

"Very well," Voldemort agreed, "However, you cannot attend the matches now." everyone would be expecting it, which happened to include the Order, and if they found him, there was no telling what would happen to Harry. He didn't know how far Dumbledore would go to get Harry to become the little hero he'd wasted fourteen years on trying to produce. He'd attacked the Longbottom's and left them for dead, just to try and get Harry when the newspaper has just given him the first real lead, they'd likely had all year.

"That actually explains this," Harry said, picking up the large square missive he had and slid it across the library desk.

Voldemort's gaze flicked towards it, with a nod from Harry, he picked it up curiously, arching a brow in shock at the contents within. "This is unprecedented." He confessed; not yet sixteen-years-old he'd been invited to participate in the duelling.

"Hardly, they're likely doing it to up the number of attendees." Harry commented, "Thing is…I actually like the sound of it." He confessed sheepishly; it was true enough he did like the sound of attending to see how well he could do.

"They would never do the competitors the disservice of bringing in someone 'famous'," The Dark Lord retorted immediately, refusing to let Harry believe even for a moment that it was his fame enticing them to ask him to attend. "They must believe you capable, the question is who suggested you in the first place? The newspaper could have been the kick they needed to ask you to participate or it's a coincidence."

"You don't believe in coincidences," Harry said with a laugh, but warmth suffused him at his defence.

"I do not." Voldemort agreed, "You understand the rigorness of the training you'd be undertaking should you agree? And how long you'd be gone touring as long as you win your matches?" Harry had very little say in his life, with Dumbledore pulling the strings in the background, as much as he'd love to keep Harry near, he had to let him do as he wished.

"Wait, you'd actually let me go?" Harry gaped at Voldemort as if he'd just spouted a second and third head.

"You don't need anyone's permission," Voldemort retorted, noticing the subtle relaxing of Harry's shoulders, and suddenly he felt like he'd passed some sort of test.

"But?" Harry asked, shrewd as always. There was definitely a but in there somewhere.

"Not a but, however," ignoring Harry's laughter, "I would like it if you chose two others to be your bodyguard to see to your safety…and a third that remains in the background to keep an eye out on everyone whereas the bodyguards can keep an eye for a frontal attack." And this was going to be a long-term thing, Harry wasn't going to be out the first match, he would be there until near enough or for the semi-finals, and emerge victorious as a champion of at least bronze but wouldn't be surprised if he got either silver or gold.

"There's no way I'm good enough to become a duelling champion, there's no point to sending everyone with me, or going," Harry said, shaking his head, deciding against going, every single bad thing he'd been told all his life momentarily overwhelming him. He felt in that moment like he would never be good enough for anything or anyone.

"Get them out of your head, if I thought it would help, I'd Obliviate the memories from you, but they make us who we are, do they not? For good or ill." Voldemort curtly stated, Severus was far better when Harry was feeling rather melancholiac truth be told. "Don't make me have to get Severus to help you." He added.

This seemed to stir Harry out of his stupor but caused confusion, "Is he not coming here for lockdown?"

"No," Voldemort declared, his position as spy was far more important, he didn't want to risk Severus being caught. However, judging by the look on Harry's face he definitely wasn't happy with Severus being left out/behind. Who would have seen the day where they two got on enough that Harry wished for his company and spoke of Severus fondly. Perhaps the knowledge that he could have grown up with the wizard as a father figure. Lily had decreed Severus a suitable guardian after all, and without Dumbledore's interference.

Sitting up straighter, "Where have the meetings been held?"

"Dumbledore alternates between his office and the Burrow," Voldemort stated eyeing Harry speculatively. Wondering what the teen was up to now, when he got that look on his face it was obvious he was scheming. Usually quite fortunate, his scheming, worked well for him and his side.

"Well, there was a Slytherin Headmaster…a Black right?" Harry said pensively.

"Indeed," Voldemort drawled still not seeing it, "His name was Phineas Nigellas Black." He pointed out as always, a host of information.

"Portraits aren't spelled to remain loyal to its current Headmaster…are they?" Harry mused thoughtfully, mind whirling away on how to get Severus out of there but give Voldemort the spy he clearly wants.

"Spells do not work on paintings, but they do work around them," Voldemort informed him smugly. Most were even impervious to being burnt or otherwise tampered with even after death. Those sorts of spells were permanent, not all spells were naturally.

"Well Phineas has bound to have a portrait in the Black townhouse, he has one at Hogwarts…not only would he be able to spy on the Order meetings…he'd be able to tell you everything that goes on within Hogwarts at any given time." Harry pointed out; green eyes gleaming with vicious victory. He knew this because Sirius had mentioned it in passing once.

Voldemort's mouth opened very temporarily, before he closed it with a snap. Why was it with this boy he could feel so utterly stupid despite the fact he had a very high IQ? It was contemptuous really, and also made him incredibly grateful he had that wonderful outside the box thinking boy within his grasp. Thank Merlin he had his own moment of epiphany in ordering his House-elves to get the boy from his relatives home.

"Do you have access to Grimmauld Place? Didn't Black sell it?" Voldemort enquired deceptively mild, as if he wasn't impressed with the boys ingenuity. He didn't need to tell the blasted brat; he was sitting there with a smug upturn of his lips that stated he knew fine well he had impressed him. he was nonetheless grateful that his little bout of doubts was done with.

"Sirius didn't sell it, and it belongs to the Black estate, it reverted back upon Walburga's death, Sirius was technically squatting and allowing others to illegally squat in Grimmauld Place before I had him shut up shop and leave." Harry informed him, Voldemort didn't know much about the Black estate after Orion's time, and Harry didn't spend too much time in talking about it.

"Perhaps," Voldemort mused thoughtfully, but there was no guarantee there were any portraits left, surely Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed a family of dark practitioners to remain within hearing distance of the meetings. It was straining credulity that Dumbledore would be so idiotic.

In the end Voldemort expressed his thoughts to Harry. "The portraits likely were removed, Dumbledore wouldn't have trusted them, and without knowing how many other frames were connected…and who owned them it was a precarious thing to do." And as much as he detested it, Dumbledore wasn't entirely foolish.

"True, but getting rid of them seems…kind of sacrilegious," Harry pointed out, "They're more than likely somewhere in the building. We know Dumbledore used silencing spells anyway when conducting the meetings. It cannot hurt to have a look."

"How do you propose that would work?" Voldemort interjected.

"By shrinking the portrait down to a stamp size, and sticking it to the underside of the table in the Headmaster's office…without being seen." Harry replied immediately. "No magic could detect a portrait; it isn't a listening device…not really so nothing would come up. If he had two…we could have inserted one into the Weasley's as well," since Severus was an Order member and had the ability to come and go as he pleased. "Maybe even etch a chameleon rune into it. I'd need to test it to see if it would show up on all the spells Dumbledore uses before meetings."

Voldemort's eyes begun to gleam with wickedness, "Then I suggest you get testing them, I have someone to call back before lockdown is activated." And he couldn't use Harry unfortunately, for he did not bear his mark. Oh, but he was exceedingly excited at the prospect of actually helping him with the portrait and testing its validity, with that the Dark Lord moved swiftly, one might even call it running, but Dark Lord's don't run of course, they might hasten at most.

What people didn't see wouldn't hurt them.

"You do realize you have rooms of your own?" Voldemort drawled seeing dozens of more books spread out on the table. Harry looked like he was ready to stay the night here in the library. Not just books either, but surprisingly, with pieces of wood – where he got it Voldemort wasn't entirely sure – wedged between his thighs. Presumably to test his theory on whether the rune would work. Thankfully both of them were very much aware of all the spells Dumbledore went through courtesy of Severus.

"I do?" Harry asked blankly, visibly refraining from rolling his eyes at the wizard's statement. He was here pretty much eighty percent of his time, the rest of it was outside or in his bedroom. As much as he loved having his own room, it didn't have everything he wanted. There were always new books to devour, not always new books just out but old, brittle and priceless books that were really artefacts.

Voldemort sighed heavily, and over dramatically before reclaiming his seat. "Severus will be here soon, so we must be quick." He would have preferred Harry be hidden with so many of his Death Eaters children gathered in the manor for a brief time. At least until lockdown officially happened, and they were made very aware never to upset him lest they wish his ire upon them.

While watching the teen at work, he asked, "How did it go with Black and Lupin?" not truly interested in either wizard, but Harry's machinations in having both wizards under his thumb. So, the fact they abandoned the Order…it had saved their lives, and likely allowed Harry to retain his position on the dark side and not truly go neutral.

Harry flushed red, "Ugh, they think I'm going on holiday, with a boyfriend," he shook his head in disbelief, honestly the things Sirius came up with.

"There," he sighed in satisfaction, passing over the piece of oak wood, letting Voldemort test his hard work. The runes were tiny etching things in the corner of the empty 'frame' they were using to test the past. "Ah, wait!" he said, using a non-permanent sticking charm – it was an antique table – and stuck the frame to it. "Probably should use an actual portrait though, but this is just to see if the Chamaeleon rune will hide it with any detection spells."

Harry observed Voldemort working, the delicate intricate dance of his wand as he murmured spell after spell. His mouth moving but no sound really emerged, non-verbal magic really. Swallowing thickly, glancing immediately at the bookcases, cursing his wandering mind with vehemence. Damn it, why the hell did it have to be him of all people? He'd begun to think there was something seriously wrong with him, he unlike the rest of his peers at Hogwarts had never truly felt anything for anyone. No arousal, no wet dreams, nothing at all. It was almost like he was a late bloomer…either that or he hadn't been interested in them because he didn't find them stimulating…and Voldemort was stimulating…and very, very fucking good looking that it should be illegal.

"Will I be able to get to my bedroom without being accosted by the idiots I used to have to call classmates?" Harry then asked, letting out a breath when Voldemort finally finished the damn procedure in checking the wood to see if the rune was detected. "Is it detected?" it shouldn't be, he'd been the one to create it, it was new therefore it shouldn't be able to be found. At least that was the way he was seeing it.

"You'll be pleased to know that it is imperceptible." Voldemort stated, sitting back in his chair, placing the piece of wood on his desk, his wand returning to its holster. "As for your ex-classmates, yes, you'll probably see them at some point, most of them are around. Should you wish to avoid them, remain on the family wing, nobody but you or I and a select others can venture there."

Harry let out a breath, grateful for the reprieve, but the time would come. If they didn't already know about him…and learned when they saw him…the looks on their faces were going to be utterly bloody priceless. Considering each year that passed, he noticed the 'Slytherins' sort of masked their looks, became guarded, presumably something to do with learning Occlumency if they could? Or just learning to hide their thoughts and feelings as heirs and would be Lord's. "Do they know?" he queried.

Voldemort glanced at Harry, arching a brow at the gleam he could see in those eyes. A gleam he was very familiar with, for when he used to get very vindictively mischievous that look too would appear on his face. "Do refrain from causing too much trouble," he told Harry firmly, knowing it wouldn't work. All piled in together, there would be fights, arguments and general unpleasantness behind his back. The last thing he needed was Harry cursing his followers children and causing even further wretchedness. He thrived on it, yes, but not to the extent that Harry would no doubt immerse himself in it.

"I have no idea what you mean," Harry replied.

Voldemort just gave him another incredulous look; the teen didn't even bother with an 'innocent' façade. He just stared blankly at him; his green eyes gleaming in a way that suggested he was contemplating the best way to achieve maximum chaos. "Tomorrow you're be formally introduced to everyone at the party, at least wait until after then,"

Harry's lips curled, a true look of disgust on his face. He loathed the very thought of it, even though he knew he'd be able to find some amusement while at it. "You have no idea what I've had to endure silently from those…" there wasn't a word to truly describe them, he actually struggled to find a word nasty enough, "Despicable pathetic idiots." He decided upon, wasn't good enough but it would just have to do.

Staring straight at Voldemort, "Don't blame me for what happens next…you can't expect a snake to shed its skin then wander back into it."

"Very aptly put," Voldemort replied, his own voice serious. It was true, he had unleashed the potential within Harry, given him the means to be who he truly wanted to be – who he was meant to be – and asking him for a moment to endure what he had at Hogwarts – the same way he'd been forced to endure as the perfect golden boy – from the students would indeed be wrong. No, the boy couldn't and wouldn't be able to return back to the boy he'd once pretended to be, he'd had his freedom for far too long.

"I do mean it, if they start anything…I'll finish it," he declared strongly.

Voldemort nodded curtly, giving Harry his permission and understanding to deal with them in any way he saw fit. He'd rather have this smart ruthless boy on his side than a couple of stupid idiotic boys who thought they knew better. Boys who couldn't look past their own noses to see the danger that Harry Potter represented to them all.

A sharp rap at the library door stole his attention, "Enter!" he commanded, already sitting straighter, he knew who was there, Severus.

Harry glanced at the time, everything was being cut short, it was nearing nine o'clock, by twelve the entire estate would be going on lockdown. The only death eater that wouldn't be there was Elsmere who would be hiding in plain sight, and starting in earnest to release the articles having built up his reputation as a good and honourable reporter.

It was time to begin Dumbledore's fall from grace.

And it was going to be glorious.

"If I go...I want him to be one of my guards." Harry told him, just before the door actually opened, he gave Severus a bright smile, before darting around him. He only had so long to get those portraits and the plan put together for Severus to get here for lockdown and hopefully end his duties as a spy.

R&R