Plans, Plotting, and Revelations
Harry awoke early the next morning, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains of his room. He lay still for a moment, his mind slowly emerging from the fog of sleep, only to be immediately engulfed by the memories of the previous night. The ritual and the choice he had made weighed heavily on him.
As Harry went about his morning routine, the familiar comfort of the shower did little to ease the chaos of his thoughts. Dressed in a towel, he was attempting to comb his helpless hair when the sound of a soft pop announced Tipsy's arrival. The house elf's hands were full of an array of clothing, each piece appearing more lavish than the last.
"Master Harry, I have brought you your clothes for the day," Tipsy said, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and servility. "You is going on a trip with Master!"
Harry accepted the garments, trying to ignore the discomfort that washed through him as he looked at the pieces he was expected to wear. There was a long, elegant robe in a deep shade of midnight blue, its fabric shimmering subtly as it caught the light. Beneath it lay a shirt of the finest silk, white and pristine with subtle silver snakes stitched into the collar and seams, and trousers which were impeccably tailored, black and sleek. Beneath the clothes was a pair of polished leather shoes, shining like obsidian, completing the elegant ensemble. The shoes seemed to capture and reflect the light in an almost bewitching manner, as if imbued with a subtle charm, giving them a luster that was both captivating and ethereal. The entire outfit screamed affluence and wealth.
Standing before the mirror, Harry hardly recognized the figure staring back at him. Gone was the boy in worn and tattered robes or begrudgingly given oversized muggle outfits, replaced by someone who looked every bit a pure-blooded heir. The fine clothes transformed him, projecting an air of sophistication and power he hadn't known he could possess. He hated the small part of himself that was relieved to not look like a homeless and neglected child draped in ill-fitting rags. If he had grown up as the Potter heir, was this how he would have dressed?
As Harry turned, watching the robe swirl around him, a sense of both anticipation and apprehension filled him. Today, he was not just Harry; he would be fully embracing his role as the Dark Lord's apprentice, as Voldemort's heir, actively fighting for the Dark Lord to gain more power. He looked at himself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the young wizard staring back at him. This wasn't just a physical transformation; it was a stark reminder of the new role he was stepping into, a world away from the simplicity of his previous life.
Leaving his room, Harry made his way to the library, the silence of the manor echoing around him. He pushed open the heavy door to find Voldemort already there, a solitary figure silhouetted against the morning light. The Dark Lord was staring outside, his gaze lost in a moment of pensiveness as he looked out over the expansive grounds.
As Harry entered, Voldemort turned, his movements ever graceful. "Good morning," Voldemort greeted, his voice devoid of warmth yet not entirely unkind.
"Good morning," Harry responded, approaching the imposing figure. He noticed no visible effects of the ritual on Voldemort; yet, there was an unmistakable air of confidence and excitement in his eyes that was almost physical. Harry wondered if the Dark Lord felt liberated from his undesirable past. The teen thought about his own feelings towards the Dursleys. If he had been forced to adopt their name instead of Potter, would he have sought to erase that history with equal vigor?
The Dark Lord turned, stepped towards him, a faint hint of eagerness in his otherwise impassive demeanor. "We will meet Lord Ambrose at Lucius' manor. I expect you to work with them, to devise a plan to ensure that I may walk freely through the ministry again."
Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm ready," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.
The Dark Lord reached out and grasped Harry's arm; in an instant, they were enveloped by the compressing sensation of apparition. The world around them twisted and turned in a blur of colors and shapes before they abruptly emerged into the receiving room of Malfoy Manor.
The room, a grand display of the Malfoy family's wealth, was adorned with ornate furnishings and rich tapestries that spoke of centuries of affluence and influence. In stark contrast to the opulence, a house elf, dressed in simple attire, much more modest than what Tipsy wore, appeared. Its clothes were not quite as bad as what he'd seen Dobby in, but a clear marker of the Malfoy's less indulgent treatment of their servants. With a bow and a squeaky greeting, the elf gestured for them to follow, leading them through the sprawling corridors of the manor.
They arrived at the appointed receiving room where Lucius Malfoy, Barty Crouch Jr., and Lord Ambrose were already waiting. Harry's gaze flickered between them, taking in the three figures and the subtle undercurrents of their interactions. Malfoy looked completely at ease, a master in his own domain. While Ambrose appeared to hold his own, there was a sense of discomfort that exuded from the wizard, despite his best efforts. Harry met Barty's eyes, the intelligent brown riveted to his own. In a moment of surprise, he realized that he wasn't sure what had happened to him or Snape after his "rescue." He was certain it could not have been good. While Barty didn't look hostile, there was gleam present that Harry couldn't ignore.
"My lord," the three murmured in greeting, each bowing their heads respectfully. The Dark Lord strode past them, sparing barely a glance as he made his way to the head of the table. Eight seats were set around it. Harry, following closely behind Voldemort, offered Lord Ambrose a hesitant smile as their eyes met. Ambrose acknowledged him with a slight nod, his gaze quickly shifted back to Voldemort, observing him with deep contemplation.
"Come, sit. We have much to discuss and little time," Voldemort announced without preamble.
Unsure of the seating protocol, Harry instinctively took his usual seat to Voldemort's left, as he always did back at the Slytherin Manor. Across from him, Lucius settled into his chair, seemingly unperturbed by Voldemort taking charge in his own home. Lord Ambrose took the seat to Harry's left, and Barty took the seat to Lucius' right.
"How are your efforts progressing with the Daily Prophet, Lucius? Will the articles about Minister Bones be published as planned?" Voldemort inquired.
Lucius nodded affirmatively. "Yes, my lord. They will be in circulation by the end of this week. I have also secured assurances from several smaller publishers to disseminate similar findings to keep the buzz alive in the weeks to come."
"Good," Voldemort responded with a nod of approval.
Harry observed the exchange, frowning slightly. It appeared that no further context was required. He met Voldemort's knowing gaze, who was looking almost expectantly towards the teen. The Dark Lord arched an eyebrow, giving Harry a subtle nod that seemed to grant him permission to speak.
Turning to Lucius, Harry asked, "What exactly are you publishing about Minister Bones?"
At first, Lucius appeared almost dismissive of Harry's question, as if debating whether it was worthy of a response. However, a sharp look from Voldemort prompted him to clear his throat and answer.
"We've unearthed some testimonies from individuals who knew Madame Bones prior to the first war, a time when she was less vocal in her opposition to the dark arts. She has a history of experimenting with various branches of magic, including those deemed dark, before the Ministry clamped down on such practices. Our plan is to remind her—and the wizarding world—that dark magic was not always viewed with the same fear and disdain it is now."
Finished with his quick explanation, Lucius then turned his attention back to Voldemort and began delving into a detailed discussion about the various publishers involved, the specific articles they would release, and the planned timeline for publication.
Not as interested in the nuanced details, Harry's attention drifted to the expansive view outside the windows. The breathtaking scene showcased acres of flawlessly groomed land, embodying the Malfoys' wealth and status. The stables in the distance hinted at the family's equestrian interests. Harry wondered what the equivalent of magical horses were, but it was the professional-grade Quidditch pitch that truly captured Harry's eye. This was a world of privilege and power, a world vastly different from anything he had known before. Turning back to the room, he glanced around at the prosperity so easily flaunted, so different from the Weasleys' own modest home.
"Pay attention," hissed a voice, snapping Harry back to the present.
The reprimand, delivered in the serpentine language, jolted him. The teen's eyes quickly refocused, locking onto the piercing crimson stare, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks at being caught lost in thought, gawking at the Malfoy's riches of all things. Ron would have boxed him, and it would have been deserved.
"You may proceed," Voldemort calmly commanded, switching back to English as he looked expectantly at the newly appointed Chief Warlock.
Clearly trying to regain his broken composure from hearing the snake language, Ambrose resumed, albeit with a hint of fear as his gaze shifted between the Dark Lord and his apprentice. "Certainly, my lord," he began, visibly swallowing. "As I was mentioning, I anticipate significant resistance to your re-entry into the Wizengamot, especially without undergoing any form of trial."
The wizard looked visibly uneasy as he continued, as if knowing his words would displease the volatile Dark Lord. "The Wizengamot, as you know, is deeply entrenched in its traditions and legal precedents. The members will be wary, if not outright hostile, to the idea of readmitting someone of your... history, without the due process of a trial. The light will not be meek in their protests, they'll demand that you be held accountable."
Voldemort listened, his expression unfazed. "And what is your strategy to mitigate these complaints, Lysander?" he inquired, his condescending tone suggesting that it was the silver- haired wizard's job to see this through, that anything else would be unacceptable.
Ambrose paused, weighing his words carefully. He glanced at Harry, almost as if apologetic. "I understand that Mr. Potter is prepared to vouch for you, to argue that he believes allowing you to reclaim your Lordship is the best move for our world?"
A pulse of unmasked dark magic swept across the room. Voldemort's response was immediate and firm. "Let me be incontestably clear. I am not seeking anyone's permission to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I will assume my titles, with or without the Ministry's endorsement. I am simply giving them a chance to recognize my status willingly."
Harry caught Barty's eye; the wizard seemed to be hiding a grin, clearly enjoying Ambrose's discomfort.
"Of course," Ambrose replied hastily, his voice wavering slightly as his gaze flitted from Voldemort to Lucius, then to Harry, his apprehension palpable. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise... Yes, of course." He swallowed hard, visibly striving to compose himself. Turning his attention back to Harry, he seemed to find somewhat steadier ground. "Mr. Potter, you are prepared to lend your considerable influence to alleviate any reservations, correct?"
Under the piercing scrutiny of Voldemort, Harry nodded, forcing himself to display confidence he didn't feel. "Yes," he agreed, suppressing any hesitation, not dwelling on the implications of his decision. "I will publicly advocate that the ministry should accept Lord Voldemort openly holding the position of Lord and head of the Slytherin and Gaunt houses." At the mention of the Dark Lord's chosen name, both Ambrose and Lucius momentarily recoiled, Barty frowned. Voldemort, however, seemed satisfied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips at Harry's unflinching acknowledgment of his title and claims.
"Good, very good," Ambrose's tension visibly eased, his body language shifting to one of relief that Harry was seemingly in agreement with the plan. That he would not have to play a part in forcing the savior of the wizarding world into backing his parents' murderer. "Then we should discuss how we should go about this."
Again Ambrose hesitated for a moment, his eyes shifting between Harry and Voldemort, clear trepidation at broaching the next point. "There are, of course, several approaches we could adopt moving forward. With your permission, my lord, one strategy involves leveraging Mr. Potter's status as the vanquisher in the first war. He could claim you are not a threat. We could argue that his decisive role in ending that conflict grants him the authority to determine whether you should be held accountable for past actions, effectively rendering the question of your forgiveness or culpability a moot point, since he supports you."
As Ambrose outlined his idea, Harry watched Voldemort closely, certain that the Dark Lord would never accept a plan that placed him in a subordinate position to the Boy-Who-Lived, where his success was contingent upon Harry's endorsement or alleged mercy. He could sense a growing aura of dark annoyance emanating from Voldemort. The sentiment seemed unmistakable to Lucius Malfoy, who instinctively appeared to recoil from the table, anticipating Voldemort's volatile disapproval.
"I think we should try something else," Harry quickly intervened before Voldemort crucioed the wizard for even suggesting it. He felt a slight soft spot for the man; he had been the first to try and comfort and protect Harry after Dumbledore's trial. And he had been just as forced as Harry to take up this stance. More importantly, for this to work they would never be able to paint Voldemort as innocent or make the ministry forget the first war, nor what the wizard was clearly capable of. The wizard reeked of dark power. It was beyond clear that he was Dark Lord, to claim anything else would be absurd. Their best bet was to get them to come to the same conclusion Harry had, that it was worth a shot of trying to get the formidable Dark Lord to work within the system. Anything else would otherwise result in a devastating war that the light wasn't capable of winning.
"What is your suggestion, Mr. Potter?" inquired Lucius, his grey eyes briefly flickering towards Harry, a hint of recognition in their depths. He seemed acutely aware of Harry's attempt to diffuse the escalating tension, pacifying the brewing storm within Voldemort.
Harry cautiously met Voldemort's gaze, seeking unspoken permission to continue. While his aim was to divert Voldemort's anger from the well-meaning Ambrose, he wasn't seeking to draw the Dark Lord's ire upon himself. He had some sense of self-preservation, despite what many in the room might claim. Voldemort's eyes, sharp and calculating, bore into Harry's with an intriguing blend of malice and curiosity. After a brief pause, the Dark Lord gave a slight nod, granting Harry permission to continue. His interest in Harry's perspective seemed, for the moment, to supersede his desire to chastise Ambrose.
"Well," Harry started, a wave of uncertainty washing over him. He wished he understood wizard politics better. Surely some sort of historical precedent existed for situations where warring factions reached agreements. Otherwise, wouldn't all wars end in mass killings? "Is it possible to negotiate terms? It's clear that a war is simmering, one that could erupt into outright fighting at any moment. What if we proposed a formal agreement, a negotiation of terms, as an alternative to prevent this from moving to conflict? It's more rational than starting a war and then negotiating halfway through when one side is clearly losing. And I think the light side knows they don't have the numbers to fight this."
Turning to face Voldemort directly, Harry addressed him with a sense of earnestness. "If your intention is to do this to avoid a war, can we just say that? Instead, come to them with a compromise, you would regain your titles and seats in exchange for not initiating a war. It could be a way to balance the scales before it gets too far, offer something both sides want."
"That might work," Ambrose agreed, oblivious to how close he'd come to being tortured. "But the Ministry will undoubtedly want guarantees. Perhaps an Unbreakable Vow?"
Harry quickly dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. He knew instinctively that would be a non-starter. The Dark Lord would never agree to an Unbreakable Vow. There was no doubt in the teen's mind that Voldemort would start a war if diplomatic channels failed.
Voldemort would outright refuse that, and honestly, Harry thought the Dark Lord had it right to do so; he clearly had more power than the light side or the ministry to get his way.
"No, we would need a different approach. Something credible yet non-binding," Harry immediately dismissed, then abruptly realized he had inadvertently assumed a role of steering the negotiations, speaking almost on Voldemort's behalf. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards Voldemort, bracing for potential displeasure. To his surprise, he was met with an expression of amused indulgence from the Dark Lord.
"You are doing well, continue," the Dark Lord hissed.
Feeling self-conscious, Harry shifted his attention back to the other wizards. He could sense their eyes darting between the Dark Lord and himself, questioning what was being said as the Dark Lord swapped to Parseltongue.
"We should focus on re-establishing the titles of Lord Slytherin and Gaunt as the main bargaining chip, and try to assure them that no one wants the wizarding world to be ripped into two," Harry suggested tentatively. "We could include a clause stipulating that should a war erupt, those who initiate it would forfeit their lordships and place on the Wizengamot?" He paused, shifting his gaze from Voldemort to the Malfoy Lord. Lucius looked aghast, the Dark Lord curious. Harry knew the Dark Lord cared little about the prestige of his followers, so would have no problem gambling their titles. It would force the rest to choose between being openly loyal to him when he assumed more open power or hiding and risking his ire. And, if Voldemort lost, then they would visibly lose as well. There would be no hiding like in the last war. "If you agree that all lords who align could lose their standing, it might convince them that you do not intend to incite a war. They'd believe that powerful bloodlines would be unwilling to take that risk and openly support your cause."
"And you don't fear that I would lose my followers if I made such a bargain on their behalf?" Voldemort inquired, his tone taking on a dangerous glint.
"You have told me that they are loyal and believe you will be victorious. This will reveal who is truly committed to your cause, who deserves to stand by your side when you win," Harry responded, refraining from casting a questioning glance at Malfoy. It might have been unfair for him to make such a commitment on their behalf, but they deserved to face consequences if the Dark Lord instigated another war. Perhaps that would compel them to assist Harry in keeping it peaceful. They all honestly should have been thrown into Azkaban after the first war; if they had, it might have prevented this second rise altogether. If another war broke out, then at least this time, there would be no hiding from the choices each house made.
Moreover, the teen had been forced to openly take a stand, and he was doing his best to navigate this hellish war in a way he could live with. Why shouldn't all the dark families, who loved to grovel and lick the Dark Lord's boots in the shadows, have to do the same? "If they're afraid to stand beside you, to openly support your goals, then this will make it evident who is truly on which side."
"So cunning, my little snake," Voldemort murmured affectionately. Lucius shifted awkwardly, and Barty's open grin became even more pronounced.
Ambrose nodded in agreement, cautiously glancing towards Voldemort. "That could serve as a reasonable negotiation point. However, there are those who will do anything to oppose you. It's likely they will demand more substantial guarantees and assurances."
Harry turned to Voldemort, sensing that he was reaching the limits of his diplomatic skills. He had committed to advocating for Voldemort's plan but wasn't sure what, if any, concessions could satisfy both the neutral and light factions without imposing conditions that the Dark Lord would find unacceptable.
Voldemort leaned back. "I am willing to agree that if I instigate a war, any and all titles I hold under the current Ministry will be forfeited. The same will apply to those who choose to follow me. Furthermore, I am prepared to submit to the heritage test and fulfill the requirements of the old, swearing an oath to uphold Ministry values, as expected of each house that holds a seat. That is more than generous on my part. It falls upon the three of you to persuade them that accepting this offer is in their best interests. If they don't want a war, this is their only opportunity to prevent it."
The other wizards at the table nodded in understanding. With a sense of conclusiveness, Voldemort rose from his seat, and the others followed suit. "I will leave you to your planning, do not disappoint me in this," he announced. "Harry, I shall return this evening to retrieve you. Do not leave the Malfoy manor until I return."
As the Dark Lord swept out of the room, the tension seemed to dissipate slightly.
"Is he always this intense?" Ambrose asked, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Lucius and Harry exchanged knowing glances. Barty released a small snort of dark amusement.
"You caught him in a rather good mood," the Malfoy Lord murmured. He then turned his attention back to Harry, seeming resigned. "Well, let's get this over with." With that, they spent the next few hours plotting to regain the title and freedom of a Dark Lord in the hopes of avoiding a war.
Their planning session concluded in the early afternoon. Lucius and Ambrose held a steadfast belief that they could rally the support of most neutral wizards due to Harry's compelling advocacy for allowing the Dark Lord to regain his seat. They planned to spend the next few weeks meeting with neutral members in private, and when necessary, Harry would join if they felt they needed his presence as proof. Barty proved very adept at playing the devil's advocate, ensuring that the argument or persuasion they settled upon for each member would not be easily dismantled by someone from the light side. They accepted that most of the light side would never support this plan, but collectively acknowledged that, with Harry predominantly advocating for the dark faction, it was increasingly unlikely that the light side would be able to sway many from the neutral camp, which would ultimately determine the outcome of the vote.
Upon reaching a consensus, Lucius gracefully excused himself, citing his responsibilities as a host and promising to oversee lunch preparations. This left Harry in an awkward position, under the watchful gaze of the recently elected Chief Warlock and Barty Crouch who might very well hate him now.
As the Malfoy Lord swept from the room, the Chief Warlock leaned forward, his demeanor growing even softer, "I owe you my gratitude, Mr. Potter. I assume you played a role in the return of my granddaughter? I was told that she would not be back until the Dark Lord had control of the Ministry. Since we're still in the midst of that transition, I am profoundly thankful to have Brielle back under my protection."
A wave of relief washed over Harry, and a genuine smile spread across his face. At least one positive outcome had already emerged from his decision to align with the dark side. "I'm truly happy to hear that," he expressed, a small ray of light blossoming within him, signifying hope he hadn't dared allow to grow since this whole mess had started.
"How did you manage it?"
Harry looked up, meeting the Chief Warlock's clear, searching eyes. He wasn't certain how much of his negotiations and agreements with Voldemort should be divulged to the public. "I spoke with the Dark Lord, and he agreed," Harry replied somewhat evasively. Revealing that he had effectively made a pact with the devil seemed overly dramatic, even if it was more accurate. And truthfully, it was between him and the Dark Lord. He didn't want everyone to know everything about his life.
Sensing that there was more to the story, Ambrose allowed it to pass without pressing further. "However it was accomplished, thank you. I can clearly see that you've sacrificed more than most will ever comprehend. I can't fathom your position, but for what it's worth, I do believe you are making a positive impact."
Harry felt his heart swell with emotion. He hadn't realized just how much he needed to hear those words, to receive confirmation from someone not firmly entrenched in the dark or light that he wasn't viewed as a traitor who had forsaken everything.
"Thank you," he whispered sincerely.
"Making your own following I see, little Lord." Harry glanced to Barty who had been watching the exchange silently. The joking title he had once used before on Harry seemed to be said in the same fashion, light, not mocking, yet hard to decipher.
"How are you?" Harry asked cautiously. The etiquette books Voldemort had been slowly forcing him to read didn't cover the protocol of how to ask if someone had been tortured for failing to protect the Dark Lord's apprentice from the light.
Barty smirked, clearly sensing the teen's discomfort. "Right as rain, right as rain," he said, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "I know what I've signed up for, the side I've chosen. And the Dark Lord recognizes my commitment and what I bring to his team. I was a little bit worried about you after all that, but it's clear you've made amends with our Lord as well." He paused, a intelligent look that wasn't quite genuine nor malicious appearing. "So, water under the bridge."
Harry nodded, not daring to believe it could be that simple, but eager to hope that it was. He would need to be careful around the Crouch scion in case he wanted to get Harry back for any perceived fault in what had happened, but at least on the surface, it seemed that the Inner Circle Death Eater wasn't angry with Harry. That just left Snape, who Harry was beyond curious to know what happened to him, but afraid to ask.
Lucius returned shortly after, and to Harry's astonishment, Draco stood at his side. "Mr. Potter, I thought you might appreciate the company of a fellow peer rather than us boring aging wizards," Lucius remarked, his lips curling in the faintest of sneers. The irony in his voice was unmistakable, yet the fact that Draco didn't appear entirely displeased to spend time with Harry left the Potter heir wondering if the Malfoy patriarch might be subtly teasing him.
Harry nodded, preferring the teenage Death Eater to the real ones, if he were perfectly honest. Since they'd finished their planning, he saw no reason to stay with the others. He turned back to Ambrose, saying with genuine sincerity, "It was a pleasure to see you again. I suspect our interactions might become more frequent as all this continues to shake out." The teen then turned to Barty, "I'm glad you're doing well," he said equally sincere, hoping the man could feel the truth in his words, that he hadn't meant for Barty to get caught up in any of what occurred.
Turning back to Draco, Harry gave him a nod of greeting, which the Malfoy scion returned, his eyes glancing from Harry to Lord Ambrose and the other room's occupants in contemplation. This was the first time the Malfoy Heir saw Harry interacting with the Dark Lord's followers in any real capacity. Harry wondered what it was that the teen thought he saw.
"We can dine on the terrace," Draco suggested, gesturing for Harry to follow.
As the raven-haired teen trailed behind his Slytherin peer, Draco couldn't help but notice the interest in Harry's eyes as they strolled through the opulent manor. Not one to miss a chance to boost about his family, Draco seized the opportunity to regale him with tales of the manor's rich history.
"Ah, you see, this room here," Draco began, his voice dripping with pride, "is the Oakwood Parlor. It's been in the Malfoy family for centuries, dating back to the time when the original manor was first constructed. Rumor has it that some of our ancestors may have even dined with Merlin himself in this very room."
Harry raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his amusement. Draco continued his commentary unaware or choosing to ignore him, "Of course, we can't verify the Merlin part, but the Oakwood Parlor has witnessed its fair share of significant meetings and clandestine plotting over the years. Every serving minister has dined in here."
They moved on to another room, and Draco's narrative continued seamlessly. "And over here, we have the Silver Gallery. It's said that the chandeliers in this room are enchanted to flicker like stars as seen from the vantage point of the sun. Quite mesmerizing, don't you think?"
As they explored further, Draco's entertaining commentary brought the manor to life, weaving tales of Malfoy family lore and the secrets hidden within its luxurious walls, making the tour shockingly enjoyable, even if it was Malfoy bragging non-stop for at least ten minutes straight. It reminded Harry of simpler times.
"Did you enjoy growing up here?" Harry inquired, his gaze sweeping across the terrace that had been meticulously set for two. The two young men settled into their seats, and Harry found himself captivated by the spectacular view that stretched before them. Were those white peacocks elegantly strutting through the garden?
Draco fell into a momentary silence, his eyes drifting across the picturesque scenery before turning back to Harry. A subtle undercurrent of nostalgia tugged at the corners of the blonde's lips, mixed with emotions the teen clearly wanted to keep hidden.
"It had its moments," Draco mused, a faint smile gracing his features. "The manor itself is truly magnificent, as you can see. But my childhood…" He paused thoughtfully. "It wasn't without its challenges, especially when one bears the full weight of the Malfoy name and all that it encompasses. My father's expectations have always been high." He paused, his tone shifting contemplatively. "But I believe I'm growing into them, that he is pleased."
Harry was surprised by the lack of arrogance in Draco's statement. Instead, there was a genuine introspection. It was a side of Draco that Harry hadn't often seen but was coming to know more and more. It seemed that the Malfoy heir was equally coming into his own while navigating the complex world that both young wizards had found themselves swept up into.
Draco turned to the raven-haired teen, his silver eyes looking serious. "I suppose you can more than relate," he began, his tone sounding almost empathetic. "You have the entire wizarding world's watching you, waiting for you to fail. And now you have the Dark Lord's expectations as well." He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "To think I used to be jealous of you… I was a fool, you can have it all, that's for sure. Only an idiot would want to be you."
"Yeah," Harry replied, unsure of what to think of the strange confession. He supposed in some ways it made sense that Malfoy might have been jealous of him, but it made him feel more isolated than anything. There were so many just like him that made judgments on the Boy-Who-Lived, never getting to actually know Harry. But Harry had to admit he'd made his own judgments about Malfoy, many of which had been replaced over the last few months.
The teen was slowly becoming someone Harry enjoyed being around, who he might even consider a friend. "It's been quite the journey, to say the least."
They sat there quietly, their food, quail in a decadent-looking cranberry sauce, was left untouched. "So, this is it. You're really committing to the dark side?" Draco asked with a mixture of curiosity and no small undertone of shocked denial.
Harry nodded, his hand reaching for a crystal glass of water and taking a sip. "Yes, I am." The act of saying it aloud was becoming less difficult with each repetition.
Draco shook his head. "What a world," he mused. "Harry Potter, the Dark Lord's apprentice."
Harry laughed sardonically. "Believe it or not, it's even more complicated than that," he confessed. He knew the truth would inevitably come to light in a few months when he officially asserted his claim to the Potter Lordship, if not sooner as Voldemort began actively campaigning in the ministry.
Draco's piercing gaze locked onto Harry's, a hint of both curiosity and apprehension dancing within the silver orbs. He let out an exasperated sigh, groaning. "How in the world could it be more complicated than that, Potter? Don't you already have enough on your plate?"
Harry rolled his eyes, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of that, we can both agree," he quipped, this was the first time he'd been able to see any humor in the situation, "just another day in the thrilling life of Harry Potter, where fate seems to have an unending supply of hippogriff shit reserved just for me."
"So, what's the latest crisis?" Draco inquired, growing serious.
Harry turned back to the sprawling outdoor landscape, considering how to approach the topic. "You seem very familiar with the rules governing noble lines, lords, and heirs, right?" he asked.
Draco nodded. "Of course, it's been drilled into me since before I could walk."
Harry sighed, hating how vulnerable he felt; he was almost of age. He was so far behind and had no clue how he would ever catch up. "Well, I grew up with none of that, completely clueless about the whole noble family lineage thing. What's expected, how it works…"
Draco's silver eyes softened as if the teen actually did understand what Harry was going through. "And you're expected to take the Potter Lordship when you come of age, correct?" For once, he didn't sound arrogant. "I suppose it makes sense that you feel behind. You've had awful role models. Merlin knows the Weasley's wouldn't have taught you anything proper. Nor that addlebrained headmaster who refuses to instill any type of education in our school. I imagine the Dark Lord will want you to claim your lordship and publicly declare that House Potter is aligned with the dark faction since you've sided with him, right?"
He paused, his head tilting as if pulling an invisible chart of wizarding families to the forefront of his mind. "I don't recall any Potter ever being associated with the dark," he reflected, offering a nonchalant shrug when he noticed Harry's spirits sinking. "It's not the worst thing," he continued, smirking slightly. "We're not monsters. The dark side isn't filled with baby killers or the like." He paused, going pale as if realizing who he'd just said that to. Harry glared at him, but his heart wasn't truly in it. Draco truly had no filter at times.
"Sorry," Draco murmured, a blush coloring his pale cheeks. He shook his head, dismissing the awkward moment. "But honestly, at this point, it doesn't matter. I doubt anyone will be surprised if you declare the Potters dark. In times like these, it's clear to anyone with half a brain that you're doing the best you can. That, in itself, brings honor to your house—more than many houses could ever claim. At least you're taking action."
"Thanks, I think," Harry replied softly, a hint of a smile forming.
Draco grinned; it seemed genuine. "Do you have any books on Lord etiquette? On Wizengamot sessions? What's expected of a Lord and how you can tell the different standings between the houses? Not all are equal, as I'm sure you've summarized." The last was said with the swell of ego Harry had come to associate with Draco whenever he was talking about the Malfoy's superiority.
The truth was, Harry had no clue which houses had more power or why they did. He knew Voldemort was at the top of the pecking order, but wasn't sure if that was derived from his impressive magical power or from his Slytherin lineage.
"I do have some, but I wouldn't mind seeing what you have," Harry admitted, accepting Draco's offer with curiosity, wondering if Voldemort was selective in what he taught him to make him more compliant. "There is one question I wanted to ask you, since we have time. What's the role of an heir? Your father seems to be in good health, so you probably won't be assuming the lordship anytime soon, right? Are there any particular expectations placed on you as you wait?"
Draco chuckled, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "Oh, there are plenty," he enthused, his expression lighting up with passion. "Being an heir is almost as demanding as being a Lord, but without the satisfaction of being the one in charge. You're tasked with upholding the family name and legacy, which means not only maintaining our reputation but also ensuring our traditions endure."
The Malfoy heir was clearly eager to talk about it, to list what was expected of him. He seemed equally eager to accept the challenge of it as well. "Once I come of age, my father can delegate a wide range of responsibilities to me, allowing me to act on his behalf as his agent. It's a common practice among older wizarding families to pass down certain Lord responsibilities, to give their heirs valuable experience, soon I'll be expected to manage Malfoy equities and investments, oversee our properties, and make decisions that affect our family's standing in the wizarding world."
Draco's enthusiasm didn't waver; he seemed to pick up speed as he rattled on. "There will be countless social gatherings and events I must attend, representing the noble Malfoy name. Additionally, once I graduate, I'll start participating in meetings with the Ministry, advocating for our interests and ensuring our family's voice is heard in key decisions. In the eyes of other noble houses, being an heir is seen as only one step below the Lordship itself; absent of the Lord's presence, your voice speaks for your house; that is an honored tradition as they know you'll eventually step into that role and carry the legacy forward."
Draco paused, momentarily aware that he might have been going into too much detail. "You won't have to worry about that, though," he said, realizing he'd steered the conversation towards his own situation. "You'll be the Potter Lord, not an heir."
Harry hesitated, carefully considering how much information to divulge. "Is it possible for someone to have multiple lineages, to be the Lord of one house and the heir to another house that already has a standing Lord? Or to be the Lord of multiple lines?"
Draco considered the question thoughtfully. "Well," he began, contemplatively, "theoretically, it's possible. But it's not practiced in modern times. There's a long, dark history of house rivalries filled with fighting and killing. Your house name used to define your social status, and to some extent, it still does, despite the efforts of mudbloods and blood traitors who would have us forget all our traditions."
He frowned, shaking his head slightly as if trying to keep himself on topic. "Our traditions exist to maintain order and balance in the wizarding world. The old ways are still deeply ingrained in our society. Magic unregulated can be incredibly powerful; that's why the light is trying to block dark magic, they want to restrict it even further than what's become accepted practice. The Wizengamont was established so that there would be order among families; many of the ancient and most noble houses had special magic passed down in their bloodlines, the Blacks are metamorphosis, the Slytherin's have the power to control serpents. Things like that which can be dangerous if families are trying to take each other out.
"To try and find peace among competing powers, Merlin created an order that has evolved into what we see today. Each house gets a vote, and majority rules. We have a minister, but that position is mostly a puppet to appease non-magical lineages, to give them a voice to carry the desires of the populace to the chambers of the Wizengamont. But no laws or actual change can occur without a Wizengamont vote. I believe that's why the Dark Lord is insisting on reclaiming his seat. It's not only expected of him, but it's also necessary if he wants genuine pureblood support.
He paused, meeting Harry's eyes. "To you question, because each house gets a vote, if you held more than one house title, you would have disparate power; it would be an insane advantage, especially with housing beginning to die out. The magical community would definitely take note if you claimed more than one Wizengamont seat. Sometimes powerful lords emerge, and families will swear their vote to support them, but it's rare to actually give the title and seat to a family not of your blood. Honestly, it's so tabooed, that families just prefer to die out."
"That seems really stupid," Harry observed. All of it did - killing for power, doing everything to keep your vote only in your blood. The wizarding world seemed excessively and unnecessarily barbaric at times.
Malfoy shrugged. "It is what it is. The practice of holding more than one title died generations ago. Most stopped doing it because it made you a target. Having so much power makes it easy to either want to kill you or coerce you. Have you heard of the Rite of Magical Succession and Conquest? It's ancient, from Merlin's time." Harry nodded, Draco had no clue how close he was hitting to home.
"That's why families dedicate heirs immediately if they're near the last of their bloodline, or if their family is large, then it'll naturally task to the next of blood kin. We don't see it today, we're more cultured. But if houses started blending, if we saw an influx of witches and wizards with multiple votes," Draco actually shuddered. "I wouldn't want us to go back to that time. It was violent, scary. The accepted practices of today are much better. Now, the only way I could see it happening is through blood adoption if a heir became an orphan, but it's exceptionally rare for someone to be the heir of one house and then be adopted into another. Usually, the child simply becomes a ward and retains their original legacy when they come of age to not put that target on them, to not create an imbalance now that there is finally peace with most of the families."
Draco paused thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?" He inquired, his curiosity clearly piqued.
Harry hesitated, a multitude of thoughts swirling in his mind. The information Draco had shared made him nervous. It sounded like, that for generations, wizarding families had avoided mixing lineages, especially when it came to having more than one seat on the Wizengamot. If that were the case, why had Sirius left him the Black seat if it would lead to an uproar? Did the late Black Lord know the implications? His godfather's mental state had always been somewhat unstable. And Sirius likely wanted to prevent the Black legacy from falling into the hands of his dark cousins. The irony was that Harry now found himself firmly aligned with the Dark.
"Sirius Black was my godfather, and he willed the Black legacy to me," Harry said at last, gauging Draco's reaction.
"You're the Black heir apparent?" Draco echoed, appearing speechless. "How... Why? You're not even a Black!"
Harry nodded, acknowledging the surprise. "I was equally shocked when I found out," he admitted. "I learned of it when I underwent a heritage test at Gringotts."
Draco shook his head in disbelief. "My mother and Aunt Bella will be livid," he murmured, his eyes wide. It was evident he wasn't joking. "This is why it's so dangerous; with close Black blood relatives still alive… they would kill to reclaim the title back among their own."
"Well, if they try to kill me, what's to stop me from designating someone like Ron Weasley or Ginny as the inheritors of the Black name after me?" Harry asked.
Draco shook his head, "You really know nothing," he murmured. "It's not just a written will. It involves incredibly powerful dark magic, a blood ritual, to transfer a legacy. It takes powerful magic, and the ritual is very difficult. That's why magical adoption is so rare and closely monitored by the Ministry; to do so requires special approval and supervision. Why do you think so many houses die out? If they could just adopt and continue their legacy, they definitely would. But if you're found attempting it on your own, it's punishable by life in Azkaban. You mess up that ritual, then everyone involved would die."
Harry couldn't help but think of the blood ritual he had witnessed the night before; Voldemort clearly had no fear of the repercussions. Draco shook his head, "This is insane. Black must have done it when you were a baby, before he was caught, or maybe when he escaped from Azkaban. Did he ever obtain any of your blood? He could have killed you if he'd messed that up!"
Harry shook his head, uncertain, no small amount of anger simmering at Sirius for doing this without his consent. Draco appeared to be in shock.
"This will surprise everyone. I can't believe it. You need to be careful, especially with Bellatrix, when she finds out. She'll want to kill you before you sire an heir so that the Black ancestry will return to the Black bloodline; she's next in line."
Draco paused as a thought struck him, concern etching his sharp pale features. "Does the Dark Lord know?"
Harry frowned, considering the situation. It hadn't dawned on him that Voldemort was likely unaware of his Black lineage, as he hadn't probed those specific memories when he had forced Harry to lower his mental shields.
"I don't think he does," he admitted hesitantly.
"You might want to tell him," Draco urged, his tone serious. "If anyone can dissuade Bellatrix from targeting you, it's him. Harry, I'm not exaggerating. You need to be careful. There are plenty of dark wizards who won't take kindly to a Potter inheriting the Black lineage, even if you're aligned with the Dark Lord. Some will want it to revert to a Black, while others, motivated purely by greed, might seek to eliminate you to prevent one house from accumulating too much power. They won't want the Potter and Black lines inescapably linked.
He shook his head, appearing deadly serious. "If it wouldn't piss off the Dark Lord, I could honestly even see my own father acting against you in his self-interest. The Malfoys hold one of the most powerful names, but a Potter-Black Lord..." Draco shook his head. "Those who adhere to the old ways will recognize that as an extraordinary concentration of power; when you take up your Lordship, you'd immediately be at the top of the wizarding order."
"What about the Slytherin Lordship?" Harry inquired, a sense of dread beginning to pool in his gut. Was Harry inadvertently challenging the Slytherin Lord's own control? Or worse, he was his heir, so did that mean Voldemort had some weird pureblood traditional claim over Harry's Lordships so he would be even more unstoppable?
Draco shrugged, not immediately grasping the implication behind Harry's question. "The Slytherin name is one of the original founders," he explained. "So naturally, it carries the most weight. The other founders' lines have disappeared over time, leaving no competition. So no, when he regains Lordship standing, he will definitely be at the top. Besides, nobody would question the Dark Lord's magical prowess. He's truly a Dark Lord, one who has mastered the dark arts. It's a different type of Lordship than houses like we're talking about. Dumbledore holds the same as a Light Lord, just everyone thinks he's weak and useless now. In his prime, that meant something; after you put him to shame at his trial, I doubt anyone would recognize him as a Light Lord anymore."
He paused, as if trying to get back on focus. Harry had never seen the teen so talkative. It was obvious that Harry had come to the right place. The Malfoy heir was not only exceptionally knowledgeable about their traditions, but genuinely seemed to enjoy imparting his knowledge to Harry.
"I digress… But yes, the Slytherin house would surpass a Potter-Black lord unless you were magically stronger,"
"Which I'm not," Harry easily admitted.
Draco rolled his eyes. "If you say so… If you're concerned about him knowing, I doubt he'll have a problem with it, especially considering you're his apprentice. It would likely enhance his prestige, having such a formidable name aligned with his own, a Potter-Black apprentice on top of your 'Chosen One' status." Draco shook his head. "Yeah, I think he'll be pleased by this crazy turn of events."
Harry shook his head, his eyes closing as the weight of it all pressed down on him. "No," he muttered, his voice heavy as he mentally prepared himself for the shocked reaction he was sure to receive. "It's actually worse than that. I'm his heir. I'm the Slytherin heir."
Draco stared at Harry in stunned silence, his silver eyes widening in shock. The revelation seemed to take a moment to fully register.
"You're the Slytherin heir?" Draco finally managed to speak, his voice laced with disbelief. "But... how? When did this happen?"
Harry took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "Rite of Succession, just my conquest wasn't as successful as everyone thought," he explained, his tone flat. "The night I was attacked but not killed, the Slytherin legacy was transferred to me. But because he's still alive and older, that makes him the Lord, I'm now his magical heir in some twisted turn of fate. It's been confirmed by the Goblins…"
Draco's mind was racing as he tried to process the information. The implications were enormous. "So, you're not just the Potter-Black Lord Apparent, but also the Slytherin heir, and you're the Dark Lord's apprentice?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Harry, you're like a walking magical powerhouse."
Harry let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, I guess... Maybe. But I barely know what any of it means, what is expected of me… What power it gives him over my family name. And worse, I think the wizarding world will lose their minds when this all comes out."
Draco nodded, seeming to finally begin grasping the shocking revelation. "You're going to have to be extremely careful, Harry. The Slytherin legacy alone would make you a target, but with the Black and Potter names on top of that, everyone will be watching you. To either get you on their side or take you out."
Harry's expression became more earnest as he gazed at Draco. "That's why I need your help. You know more about noble houses and wizarding world politics than anyone I know. I need someone I can trust to guide me through this minefield."
Draco met Harry's gaze with a determined look of his own. "I will help you; I swear it." S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S
Later that evening, Harry returned to the Manor alongside Voldemort. When he'd come to collect him, the Dark Lord hadn't bothered at all with his followers. Instead, upon sweeping into the sitting room they had all retired to, the Slytherin Lord had turned to the young wizard and asked if they had a successful plan, which Harry had cautiously nodded in affirmation, glancing from Barty to Malfoy, to Lord Ambrose, who had all turned to Harry equally expectantly. Draco had shifted behind his father, discreetly becoming hidden from view.
Harry couldn't help but feel bad for his peer; it was clear that Voldemort terrified him. Nodding as if he expected nothing less, Voldemort had then collected his apprentice to take them both back to Slytherin Manor.
Apparating into the entrance hall, Voldemort turned to Harry. "I have duties I must attend to tomorrow, you will be on your own for study and training. Later this week you will begin accompanying Lucius to the ministry so that you can make the necessary contacts and have the conversations required to ensure my induction into the Wizingamont goes smoothly at the end of the month," he instructed, clearly expecting no complaints.
Harry nodded, not that surprised by the requirement, though not thrilled that it would be Lucius Malfoy who was his newly assigned minder. Harry was glad Barty hadn't appeared worse for the encounter from their previous ill-fated outing. And the teen was beyond curious what had happened to Snape; he hoped he was not the reason for the potions master's premature death if the wizard had been trying to help Harry.
As the Dark Lord turned, Harry wanted to ask the Dark Lord about the Black heritage, confide his fears about Bellatrix, but something held his tongue. It felt odd to complain to the Dark Lord about his most loyal follower, even if the wizard was likely the only one who could help him. As the Slytherin bid him goodnight, turning in the direction of his wing, Harry regretted not asking.
The raven-haired youth slowly returned to his room, his thoughts a whirl of chaos, dread gnawing at him as he considered his dilemma. He believed Draco; Bellatrix was insane, beyond zealous for the dark and a proud Black. She would never accept Harry as the Black Lord. It would bring her shame, embarrassment, which Harry was sure was exactly why Sirius had done it. A final prank on his deranged cousin, his scorned Black family, that would last through the afterlife. If it didn't put Harry at such risk, he would have been impressed.
He glanced out the windows at the glowing last rays of light departing the sky. The Dark Lord would not be around tomorrow, and Harry was soon expected to begin his ministry campaign. What if Harry was forced to take a heritage test to prove Voldemort's claims? Worse, if the first time Voldemort learned of Harry's lineage was from the ministry with everyone else, how would he respond? The more he thought about it, the worse the situation became in his troubled mind. He wasn't sure that he should wait; talking with Draco had made him realize what a big deal heirs and Lordships were, and he knew the Dark Lord held wizarding customs in incredibly high regard. He didn't want to risk losing the fragile trust he was slowly earning with the dark wizard.
Taking a resolute breath, Harry stood from his slouched position on his bed, resolved over what he had to do. With hesitant steps, he walked towards the other side of the manor, to the Dark Lord's wing. It wasn't very late; he was certain the Dark Lord would still be awake.
Would he be angry at Harry for disturbing him? Summoning his courage, Harry hissed for the entrance of the wing to open. He stepped through the main entrance, knocking at the first door on the right.
"Enter," came the reply, sounding more curious than the usual commanding tone he was accustomed to hearing.
Harry steeled himself and stepped inside the Dark Lord's private study.
"Harry," Voldemort murmured, glancing at him oddly. "An unexpected, though not unwelcomed, surprise."
Harry glanced from the Dark Lord to the stack of papers on his desk; he looked in the middle of a pile of work.
"I…" He paused, unsure. This was unfamiliar territory, the first time he'd actually sought the Dark Lord out after months of living with him.
The Dark Lord seemed to discern his caution, his struggle. "Come, take a seat," he directed, motioning to the leather-bound chair that sat on the wall to the side of his desk. He swept his wand, and it immediately moved so that it would face the teen directly in front of him.
Harry settled into the seat, his gaze falling to his hands awkwardly placed in his lap. He suddenly felt very foolish for injecting himself upon the dark wizard. This wasn't a professor or the Weasley's who welcomed childish questions; this was the Dark Lord who was trying to take over the wizarding world, who had all but enslaved the Potter heir through magic and threats. In what world did he stop by for a chat because he was worried and couldn't sleep – even if his fears were caused by one of Voldemort's ruthless followers?
"I assume you have something you needed?" The tone was neutral, not angry. "Yes," Harry said, lifting his head. "But I can come back another time."
"You are already here," the Dark Lord countered, the faintest hint of bemusement slipping through.
Harry nodded, glancing around the room, struggling to start.
"Did something happen at the Malfoy manor?" Voldemort asked, his calculating gaze locked on the teen.
"No," Harry shook his head, "Well, yes," it just wasn't in the way he was sure the Dark Lord suspected. "I realized something while there, something I thought was best to tell you before we went to the ministry."
"I'm listening," Voldemort intoned.
Sighing, Harry forced himself to press ahead. He was here, he was committed to this path; now he was just making a fool of himself stumbling over his own words.
"When I went to Gringotts, the goblins did my heritage test, the results were not what I was expecting."
Voldemort tilted his head, eyes gleaming, clearly intrigued. "How so?"
"I am the Potter Heir, and Slytherin and Gaunt as you said, but there were more."
Voldemort nodded, "Yes, I suppose that makes sense. I have one more line flowing through my own veins, so that would make you the magical heir of the Peverell line as well. Though I'm not sure why that would cause you such anxiety. While a dark family, the Peverell's were closer to neutral than my other bloodlines, not a line I would expect to cause you distress." Unlike the other two that were clearly dark, was the unspoken acknowledgment.
"The goblins said I was both blood and magical heir to the Peverell line," Harry admitted, biting his lip. "But that's not the main reason I'm here. Sirius Black must have conducted a blood adoption ritual; I'm the Black heir."
He felt the red eyes on him, assessing, probing. Harry was all but certain he'd caught the Slytherin Lord by surprise.
"And this was confirmed by blood testing?" He asked.
Harry nodded. "Yes. I was asking Draco about the roles of Lords and Heirs today; he told me some of the painful history between families, that legacies were worth killing over. That it was uncommon for any one person to hold multiple titles because of the imbalance of power it causes. Since I'm not a true Black by blood… well…those who have Black blood won't be pleased. They might retaliate to regain it back to the rightful family." He trailed off, gazing at the Dark Lord, wondering what his response would be.
"I see," the Dark Lord murmured, thoughtfully. "And what are you hoping to achieve with this conversation? Do you seek to remove the Black legacy from your inheritance?" There was something in the Dark Lord's eyes that Harry couldn't quite read but knew he didn't like. Did he think that Harry was afraid of power and prestige gained by the Black, that he was trying to shun it?
"No," Harry shook his head, immediately thinking of the ritual the Dark Lord had completed the previous night to shed his muggle ancestry. He definitely did not want to do that ritual. "I don't. I'm not really sure what my options are. But I didn't want you finding out for the first time in the ministry with everyone else. And since Bellatrix is the most likely to take this news poorly, well, I guess I wanted to ask your advice on how to handle that. I'm getting stronger, but I'm not sure I could take her on yet."
The Dark Lord's gaze was unnerving, as he stared at the teen, his exceptional mind clearly at work. "I'm pleased you brought this to me," he said at last. Relief swept through Harry. "And I'm pleased you aren't looking to shed the power you have received with the inheritance; the Blacks represent a formidable family. Their standing is uncontested in our world."
He had begun twirling the eagle feather pen he'd been writing with in his hand, the same gesture Harry had seen him make with his wand countless times when he was either deep in thought or irritated.
"Do you wish to gain Bella's acceptance, her support of you holding the Black Lordship?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure if that's even possible," he answered truthfully. He just didn't want to die by her wand.
"What does Bella desire more than anything?" It was obvious a serious question, the Dark Lord wanted Harry to think through his response.
Harry looked at the Dark Lord before him, a wizard who had masterfully manipulated entire populations to do what he desired, to serve him. How had he gotten Bellatrix so enraptured with the dark, with serving the Dark Lord that she would do absolutely anything for her chosen lord? Harry didn't think she cared as much about gaining dark power as she did about being on the dark side, about pleasing the Dark Lord. Her obsession with the Dark Lord was beyond insanity.
"She cares about you, pleasing you," he observed.
Voldemort dipped his head in acknowledgment. "How can you use that?"
Harry had no clue; he was a far cry from the Dark Lord. There was no way Bellatrix would care about pleasing him. If anything, he was in the way, taking the Dark Lord's attention off of her and claiming it for himself.
"She hates me, hates my past for what happened to you and hates the present, that you show so much interest in me." Perhaps it had been a mistake to go to the Dark Lord for help.
Voldemort frowned, clearly disappointed with the answer. "You're not thinking about this in the right light; don't focus on yourself, focus on her. What motivates Bellatrix, and how can you help her achieve that in a way that furthers your own goals?"
Harry swiped a hand through his hair. "She wants your attention," he said, basically restating his earlier facts. "I think that you being happy would make her happy, so maybe by extension, me being on your side, your heir fighting for you should make her hate me less."
Voldemort nodded, "what can you give her?"
Harry didn't feel like he could give her anything. He felt powerless. And yet, the Dark Lord had not minded when he argued on his behalf with Ambrose this morning. Draco said heirs could speak on behalf of their Lords in their absence. Was it possible that he could use his growing position on the Dark to imply he could help Bellatrix gain more favor? It was sick, twisted, manipulative. And yet, it was what she would want.
"Say it out loud," the Dark Lord pressed, his knowing gaze on the young wizard, sensing that Harry had come up with a solution but it went against his morals.
"If she thought she could get closer to you, that I could gain her favor in your eyes, she might be willing to overlook her hatred. As the Black Lord, and also your heir to the Slytherin legacy, I could show her how it links the two houses, brings her closer to you, but only through my connection with you. She might believe that if I have your favor, then I could bring that favor onto the Blacks, onto her."
Voldemort nodded. "Good, you must be willing to use everything to your advantage. Discern what others want, offer it to them if they submit to you. There are many ways to gain followers, to gain loyalty, my dear apprentice. Do so with Bella and you will never have a more loyal follower."
"And it won't anger you if she begins to accept me, shows loyalty to me as well?" Harry had a hard time believing that the Dark Lord would share.
"I've already told you that you are different from any other, that you gaining alliances among my followers is what I desire. You have shown me your loyalty, and I promised you that if you did, it would be rewarded. Continue making a name for yourself in my circles; you are my apprentice, my heir. Your power is my power. You have my support in this."
Harry nodded, deep discomfort sweeping through him, but he also felt a tinge of anticipation. He had feared that the Dark Lord would never loosen his leash, that he would just be a puppet. But everything he'd seen and heard since his return aligned with the promises made on that fateful night he'd been swept up from the Dursleys and taken to the manor. As long as Harry submitted to the Dark Lord, he truly did intend to open the world up for the teen.