Darkness Within

by whimsical musings 1

On the fateful night when Ron and Hermione were abducted, the wheels of destiny began to turn. For Harry, the kidnapping of his friends shattered the illusion that the light side could protect those he loved. An ultimatum was presented, and a decision was made. Now, Harry stands at a crossroads: Can he protect those he loves without losing himself in the process?

24. And so it begins

And so it begins...

The following month flew by in a whirlwind. Harry diligently adhered to his demanding schedule, immersing himself in study and training under the strict supervision of the Dark Lord. With each passing day, their sessions became more rigorous and challenging, pushing Harry to delve deeper into mastering all forms of magic and achieving feats he had never thought possible.

Despite his discomfort with certain aspects of dark magic, particularly spells rooted in cruelty or torture, Harry couldn't deny his increasing fascination with the dark arts. Voldemort had shared several of his personal journals with him, containing spells that the Dark Lord himself had created. What he read left the teenager in nothing less than awe. A young Tom Riddle had been creating magic more powerful than most adults ever dared to attempt, all while the same age as Harry. Reading them left the Potter heir hungry to improve himself, eager to see how far he could stretch his own abilities.

On one unforgettable, albeit confusing, evening, Voldemort even presented Harry with one of Salazar Slytherin's grimoires. He had asked Harry to come to his personal study after dinner and handed him the worn, leather-bound book. The Slytherin Lord explained that it was a tradition to pass down ancient magic from lord to heir, and he believed Harry was finally ready to begin exploring Slytherin's ancestral magic. The encounter had left Harry with a myriad of mixed emotions, unsure if this was manipulation to draw him further into darkness or a genuine desire to share knowledge with the one he considered his heir. A small part of Harry suspected that it was a bit of both; Voldemort himself likely couldn't distinguish between his instinct to constantly manipulate, which came as naturally to him as breathing, and a genuine desire to impart his knowledge on Harry, who was proving to be an increasingly gifted apprentice.

Among the dark spells Harry read about, several stood out that he was eager to use in a duel. One, called 'Serpentis Umbra,' conjured a shadow serpent capable of immobilizing and constricting opponents upon contact. The serpent's scales, upon touching the skin, would paralyze its victim. The counter-spell was incredibly difficult to cast, and victims only had seconds before they went completely numb. What made it especially useful was Harry's ability to control the serpent in Parseltongue, making his intentions indecipherable to adversaries. He could cast it and have it hide in the shadows until his opponent was distracted, then have it strike.

Another potent spell, 'Tenebris Obscurum,' enveloped both the caster and the surrounding area in an impenetrable cloak of darkness. The spell not only obscured vision but also seemed to affect the victim's mind, making them momentarily forget they were in a duel, preventing them from casting counters or offering resistance. It only lasted a minute, which Harry had justified to himself as not the same as casting an actual mind-control spell. Though unsettling, Harry recognized its immense worth, especially compared to simpler fog-inducing spells that could be easily countered or circumvented. If he hit an opponent with this spell, the duel would be over.

As Harry turned the ancient, battered pages of Salazar Slytherin's grimoire, he came across a particularly intriguing section. The script, written in a flowing, archaic hand, detailed a spell known as 'Ignis Tenebris,' or "Black Fire." What caught Harry's attention was Slytherin's personal annotation, detailing how he had transformed this spell into something uniquely his own.

Slytherin had re-envisioned 'Ignis Tenebris' by infusing it with characteristics emblematic of his affinity for serpents. The modified spell, now named 'Serpens Ignis Tenebris,' or "Serpentine Black Fire," was described in careful detail. Slytherin had altered the very essence of the spell so that the conjured black fire took the form of sinuous, twisting snakes made of dark flames. These serpent-flames possessed lifelike agility, moving with disturbing realism.

What truly set this spell apart, as Slytherin proudly noted in his grimoire, was its casting in Parseltongue. This unique adaptation not only enhanced the spell's potency but also made it exclusive to those who could speak the ancient language of snakes. By uttering the incantation in Parseltongue, the caster could command the serpentine flames with greater precision and control, allowing for deadlier use in duels or battles.

Slytherin's pride in this creation was evident in his writing. He saw it as a perfect embodiment of his magical prowess and his affinity for serpents—a spell that was as much a signature of his identity as it was a formidable tool in his magical arsenal. As Harry read the different entries, he felt a mix of awe and trepidation, realizing it was this type of magic Draco had warned about when he said the houses used to use their special abilities to strike at each other. If Voldemort had already mastered all these spells, he was even more terrifying than the teen had realized.

As Harry delved deeper into his studies, his feelings grew increasingly conflicted over his genuine desire to learn more dark magic. The more he immersed himself in it, the more he recognized its value in life-or-death situations. He began to understand that dark magic, often more lethal and powerful, derived its strength from the caster's intent. In moments of high emotion and fear, such as during an attack, it seemed almost easier to focus on the necessary intent for casting dark magic rather than the joyful and hopeful requirements needed to fuel powerful light magic.

Worse, Harry wasn't sure if it was only a matter of perspective. He was certain Dumbledore would argue that the love of protecting others and the emotions tied to saving someone were strong enough to fuel light magic in any scenario. It had worked to dispel Voldemort when he had tried to possess the teen the fateful night his Godfather had been stolen from him. Yet, as Harry observed the hellish world around him, he couldn't help but think that, in a true moment of need, dark magic might work better for him. It certainly seemed eager to answer his call the more he practiced. He was shocked at the ease with which he could master most dark spells. He wasn't sure if his increasing power was due to him nearing his majority or because his magical core seemed to thrive on the opportunity to explore and master various types of magic.

Beyond his training, it was evident that Voldemort himself was becoming increasingly busy as he orchestrated his plans within the Ministry and the broader Wizarding World. Harry's evenings were frequently spent at the Dark Lord's side in meetings, where he spent hours observing Voldemort skillfully manipulate the inner workings of the Wizengamot from a distance.

He found himself impressed as he observed the Slytherin Lord. Voldemort's preparations were meticulous and thorough. With ease, he navigated the complexities of political maneuvering, drawing on arcane knowledge of Ministry procedures and referencing magical precedents or evidence from obscure sources, like forgotten Goblin Rebellions, to support his arguments. Harry couldn't help but think that Voldemort might have missed his calling as a lawyer or politician, though he was clearly ruthlessly vicious and incredibly competent as the Dark Lord, so perhaps not.

Meetings with high-ranking Death Eaters, usually including Malfoy, Ambrose, and Barty Crouch, became a regular occurrence for Harry. Occasionally, these gatherings also featured Nott Senior, Rockwood, and other Death Eaters who, by day, seemed to be upstanding ministry citizens but by night transformed into shadowy sycophants. Harry found little enjoyment in their company but was surprised to gradually realize that they seemed to begrudgingly respect him, often deferring to his opinions, especially when the Dark Lord was by his side.

The one he had the most trouble with was Bellatrix. He was in no hurry to reveal his status as the upcoming Black Lord to her. The longer he waited, the more powerful he became, which he hoped would temper her violent response once it came out as public knowledge. He could often sense her manic eyes upon him, watching him intently as he accompanied Voldemort to meetings and increasingly acted as a conduit between the Dark Lord and his followers. She rarely antagonized him, perhaps remembering her own punishment from their duel, but the teen was certain there was still bad blood. He hated her for what she had done to Sirius, and it was clear she did not approve of the attention Harry constantly received from her beloved master.

A small solace for Harry was that Lucius often brought Draco to the Dark Lord's manor. Whenever he could, Harry would steal away with the blonde, escaping the oppressive atmosphere of the meetings and manor. They spent hours discussing Draco's previous lessons, essential for any heir or Lord-apparent. Draco had kept his promise to bring books on each visit and had done a remarkable job educating Harry on the intricate histories of the different houses, the current state of the magical world, and the finer details of the society Harry was soon to enter. Harry was shocked that after a month of seeing the Malfoy heir almost daily, he was genuinely beginning to consider the teenager as a friend. He was an arrogant, pompous, and highly contemptuous friend, but Harry wasn't really in a position to be picky.

While his world had shrunk to mostly keeping to his room, the library, or the dueling room, Harry had accompanied Lucius Malfoy to the Ministry on three separate occasions to interact with neutral factions. In these meetings, he played a more observant role, listening and watching. His involvement was mostly limited to expressing his support for the dark side at the beginning, stating his belief that allowing Lord Voldemort to reclaim his titles was in the best interests of everyone.

During these diplomatic endeavors, Harry was struck by the skill with which Lucius Malfoy navigated the complex web of politics and allegiances. Lucius had a remarkable knack for conveying his intentions subtly, using nuanced phrasing, artful innuendos, and subtle gestures to steer the discussions. Half the time Harry wasn't sure if he was threatening or persuading the other party, but all of the encounters seemed to end with the Malfoy Lord acquiring the support he sought. In all, it seemed like their plans were working; by the end of the week, Voldemort was expected to be confirmed by a majority vote as the Slytherin and Gaunt Lord, regaining both of his seats and the political status that accompanied such a feat.

Harry faced his most formidable test of resolve three days before the vote. While they were having breakfast, Voldemort informed him about an important upcoming meeting, which he expected the teen to attend.

"This morning you will accompany Lucius to the Ministry," Voldemort announced after taking a sip of steaming coffee.

"Who am I meeting with?" Harry inquired, a sense of apprehension growing within him. The flicker of anticipation in the Dark Lord's eyes indicated that the encounter might be difficult for the young Potter heir.

"Madame Bones," Voldemort replied.

Harry's hand paused mid-air, the half-eaten piece of bacon dropping back onto his plate, forgotten. "I'm meeting with the Minister?" he asked, thinking he'd heard wrong. Voldemort and Lord Malfoy had been deliberate in keeping Harry away from those aligned with the light side.

Crimson eyes watched him intently. "Yes, is that a problem?"

Shaking his head, Harry responded, "no, I'm just surprised. What am I supposed to discuss with her?"

Voldemort smirked, clearly pleased. "The reopening of Hogwarts."

Harry was momentarily speechless, processing this unexpected development. "And what exactly is my role in this?" he eventually asked.

"My followers in the Ministry have been advocating strongly for the reopening of the school, demanding that their children be allowed to return. Dumbledore, however, has been obstinately delaying it," Voldemort explained, his voice dripping with contempt. "He asserts that he's concerned about the safety of the students, claiming that I am merely biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and plunge the wizarding world into war. Attacking the school would be an opportune way to do so." As he spoke, his tone grew increasingly contemptuous, as it always did when he spoke of the Light Lord.

"But you haven't launched any attacks in months?" Harry questioned, though it sounded more like a statement. He had been part of the planning sessions with the Dark Lord and was fairly certain Voldemort would avoid overt violence until his Lordship vote was complete. Harry just hoped he could find a way to maintain that peace after Voldemort regained his titles.

"He's exploiting the school's closure as a platform to rally against me," Voldemort explained. "With each passing day it remains shut, he seizes the opportunity to proclaim that it's due to the perceived threat I pose to society, especially to the children."

Harry was tempted to point out that the Dark Lord did indeed pose a significant threat to society, but he doubted such an observation, accurate though it might be, would be well- received by the menacing wizard.

"And you expect me to convince her to reopen Hogwarts?" Harry asked, gazing down at his half-finished breakfast, lost in thought. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, being maneuvered like this, especially considering Voldemort's relentless pursuit of his Lordship hinged on such manipulations. Yet, a deep sense of dread gnawed at him at the prospect of personally advocating for the school's reopening. He feared that if Voldemort broke his promise and did attack, then it would be Harry who bore the guilt of putting the students in harm's way.

"Lucius has indicated that her reluctance might be overcome with assurances that there are no plans for an attack on the students or the school," Voldemort continued, ignoring his apprentice's growing apprehension.

"She would trust me? Everyone knows I've aligned myself with you," Harry responded incredulously, feeling a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, he was relieved that they didn't perceive him as completely lost, still trusting him enough to believe he would protect the students. On the other, it saddened him to realize how deeply Voldemort's deceptions had taken root if his own words now carried such influence that they might believe the school safe just because Harry said so.

Scarlet eyes met emerald. "Yes," the Dark Lord said, his voice carrying a hint of unexpected affection. "Despite my considerable efforts, it seems I have not yet succeeded in tarnishing your image in the eyes of the wizarding world. But don't worry, there is still time."

It was a testimony to how much time he now spent with the Dark Lord that the words did not paralyze the teen on the spot. Instead, he found them almost amusing, a fleeting smile breaking through despite the seriousness of their conversation. However, his expression soon returned solemn. "If I do this, do I have your word? You won't attack them; you won't harm the students or the school, no matter how much Dumbledore or the Light anger you?"

Voldemort straightened in his chair, his tone not completely devoid of warmth but carrying a subtle undercurrent of threat. "I have already given you my word on this matter."

Harry held Voldemort's gaze, feeling the weight of the moment. "I know you have," he said quietly, firmly. "And I find myself believing you." He paused, swallowing hard. "Just please, don't launch any attacks. If you must act against Dumbledore, allow me the opportunity to ensure no innocent children are caught in the crossfire."

Voldemort observed Harry, his expression inscrutable. After a moment, he nodded, "You have my word," he said. Remarkably, his tone was not laced with malice; it sounded genuine.

A wave of sincere gratitude swept through Harry. "Thank you," he exhaled, the relief palpable in his voice. He needed that reassurance, to believe it himself if he were to convincingly argue the case to Minister Bones and take on such a risk. He tried to console himself with the belief that Hogwarts was among the safest places in Britain. Despite Voldemort's growing influence, Harry suspected the school remained a stronghold that the Dark Lord would be cautious to assault if his victory could be secured through other means— means that Harry found himself increasingly involved in orchestrating on the Slytherin's behalf. They quietly finished their breakfast, and Harry returned to his room to get ready for the upcoming meeting.

Upon arriving, Harry should have anticipated that anything that could go wrong would go wrong when he was involved. As had become customary, Lucius Malfoy escorted him. They arrived early to avoid the usual busy crowds. Although Harry had successfully avoided any official summons and had only navigated the Ministry's halls a few times for veiled meetings with neutral wizards, he had been largely isolated from the rest of the world over the past month. Each visit was brief and conducted with discretion before he was whisked back to Slytherin Manor.

As they approached the Minister's front office, Harry knew this time would be different, that a swift and unnoticed entry and exit would be unlikely. As they arrived, they were greeted by the junior receptionist, a young witch whom Harry faintly recognized as Penelope Clearwater, a bright Ravenclaw. He remembered her spending considerable time with Percy during his final year at Hogwarts. As they waited for entry into the Minister's office, Harry sensed something amiss when Lucius suddenly positioned himself in front of the young wizard.

"This meeting is intended to be a closed session between Mr. Potter and the Minister," Lucius stated with authority.

Harry looked up at the unexpected visitor, forcing himself to take a calming breath. He wasn't ready for this confrontation.

"Considering the topic at hand involves my school," Dumbledore replied, his tone measured, "I believe my participation is appropriate. Despite your efforts, I still wield some authority, and the decision to reopen Hogwarts cannot be made without my input."

The blonde was obviously irritated. "Any additional participants should have been included in the initial summoning," Lucius countered resolutely.

Harry stood numbly, feeling a sinking sensation in his chest as he met Dumbledore's somber, light-blue eyes. The familiar twinkle was absent. Realizing the confrontation was inevitable, Harry stepped around Malfoy. "Headmaster," he greeted quietly.

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore spoke in a gentle tone, taking a step forward, only to be intercepted by Lucius.

"Considering your last interaction with Mr. Potter, you must understand my hesitance to grant you free access," Lucius said, his tone almost mocking. "And since it is obvious you struggle to conduct yourself within the rules governing our body, I find myself obligated to remind you that forced apparition or using a portkey without consent is illegal."

Dumbledore, undeterred, turned his gaze back to the disdainful Lord Malfoy. "Unlike some, I have no intention of detaining Harry against his will, cutting him off from friends—those who care for him and who would ensure his safety and protection."

Lucius's eyes narrowed sharply. "Let's be clear: nobody is compelling Mr. Potter to stay where he currently resides."

Dumbledore turned back to Harry, his entire countenance exuding concern and worry. "Harry, I know that you feel trapped on this path, but I promise you there are better alternatives. You don't have to resign yourself to this fate. Please, my boy, come back. We will figure this out."

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but Harry placed a hand on him, briefly establishing contact enough to silence the Malfoy Lord before withdrawing. Resolutely, he met Dumbledore's light blue eyes. "I've made my choice," Harry admitted, disliking the sorrow, regret, and disappointment reflected back at him. Part of him blamed Dumbledore for all of this. If the headmaster had trained him, trusted him, allowed him any say in his life, perhaps an alternative would have existed. But Harry was resolved, he would not let wishful thinking and senseless hope sway him from the path he had chosen. "I didn't come here to debate my decisions. Is this meeting supposed to happen, or was it merely a trick to bring me here?"

"No, Mr. Potter, this meeting was no trick," Minister Bones interjected, her timely arrival capturing everyone's attention. Harry eyed the witch, noticing her imposing presence. Clad in dark, elegantly tailored purple robes, her office emblem shimmered on her chest in the light. Her sleek, dark brown hair was styled in a practical, yet fashionable updo, and her face bore the marks of years of experience and a straightforward approach to life.

Her brown eyes, sharp and observant, swept across the room before settling on Harry. She exuded a natural authority, her confident strides echoing the quiet power of someone adept at navigating the complexities of the wizarding world.

Despite her stern demeanor, there was a touch of warmth in her gaze as she approached Harry. She extended a hand, her expression softening, "Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, her voice respectful with a hint of kindness. Harry shook her hand, and she stepped back, nodding to Albus and Lucius. "Headmaster, Lord Malfoy," she acknowledged, then gestured towards her office. "Let's continue this inside, shall we?"

Eager to escape the tense standoff with Dumbledore, Harry gratefully followed the Minister into her office. The interior struck him with its blend of grandeur and practicality. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books that spoke of a rich history of magical knowledge. An ornate fireplace in one corner cast a welcoming glow across the room.

The office's centerpiece was a large, polished wooden desk, cluttered with parchments and magical artifacts, hinting at the ongoing affairs of the wizarding world. Portraits of late previous Ministers hung above, observing Harry with a mix of curiosity and scrutiny.

Despite its grand scale, the office exuded a sense of coziness. Plush couches, upholstered in deep green with intricate golden motifs, were arranged in a semi-circle facing the desk. Harry chose one of these and sat down. To his amusement, Malfoy selected the seat right beside him, subtly compelling Dumbledore to occupy a separate sectional by himself. Minister Bones assumed her position in the high-backed chair at the center, clearly designated for her role.

"Mr. Potter, your presence here today is appreciated, though I wish the circumstances were more favorable," the Minister began. "Ideally, I would have preferred a private meeting, but we must work with the situation at hand. I overheard the tail end of your discussion upon my arrival."

Her gaze shifted between Lucius and Albus, a slight furrow forming in her brows. "I'm faced with a challenging dilemma. Daily, I receive increasing appeals to reopen Hogwarts. The Headmaster maintains that the threats and fear instigated by the Dark Lord persist, making it unsafe to resume classes. Opinions are divided among both the light and dark factions, yet it's evident that the students' futures are being adversely affected. I am inclined to reopen the school, but not at the expense of their safety. Considering your unique situation and the apprenticeship you've undertaken, I'm keen to hear your perspective on this matter."

Harry nodded, feeling the weight of their gazes, still beyond shocked that his opinion would matter so much. "I wish the circumstances were better too," he admitted, his eyes flicking between the three adults. "I understand your problem, and all I can offer is my belief and feeling." He paused, gathering his resolve. He could do this; he had to. He strangely found himself trusting that Voldemort would keep his word, at least in this. He'd done so in everything else that mattered to the teen so far. "I don't honestly believe that he will attack the school if it reopens, that he won't attack students."

The Minister's penetrating gaze felt intimidating. "And why is that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged slightly. "I've discussed this with him. I know what he wants, and attacking the school won't achieve that. As everyone now knows, he and I have reached certain agreements as part of my apprenticeship. He's given his word not to attack the school or the students."

"My dear boy, how can you place your trust in a mass murderer, the very man responsible for your parents' deaths?" Dumbledore's voice carried no absence of reproach as he interrupted Harry. "We all know he will say and do anything to further his ambitions. It's difficult to believe you truly trust him."

Lucius Malfoy's response was swift and cutting, his icy gaze fixed on Dumbledore. "As the trial's detection enchantments revealed, Mr. Potter does indeed trust him. That's more than can be said for his trust towards other certain individuals in this room," he said, his voice dripping with implication.

"I believe Harry should be allowed to speak for himself," Dumbledore interjected mildly, but it was clear the comment had struck a blow. "While the performance in the trial room was masterfully orchestrated, it was clear who was pulling the strings."

Unmoved, Lucius stood his ground firmly. "You were voted out in accordance with our laws. Are we here to reexamine the outcomes of your trial and perpetuate this farce of a crusade you seem committed to, this hope of starting an unnecessary war? Or Albus, are we here to discuss the reopening of Hogwarts so that children's lives are not forever ruined because of your negligence? Mr. Potter is present solely for the latter purpose." Lucius' voice was firm, making it clear that he would not entertain any deviations from the intended agenda.

Minister Bones leaned forward, cutting through the escalating tension between the two opposing wizards. "Lord Malfoy is correct, Albus. We must remain focused on the school," she stated, fixing Harry with a formidable look. The intensity of her attention made Harry wish he could sink into his chair and vanish. Fortunately, or unfortunately, his months of maintaining a mask of composure in Voldemort's presence had prepared him to remain poised under scrutiny, to not shrink under her dissecting stare. Despite the challenging situation, he maintained a straight back and a neutral expression, consciously ignoring Dumbledore's look of profound disappointment and Lucius's anticipatory gaze.

"Mr. Potter, please explain why you think it is safe for Hogwarts to reopen."

Harry paused, a flicker of genuine emotion crossing his features. "I hope you know that I would never do anything to put others at risk, to knowingly endanger the school. It is more of a home to me than I ever had with the Dursleys," he didn't miss the visible reaction from Dumbledore to his statement.

"I know the reality is that our world is not safe, and I'm not going to pretend that it will become safe anytime soon," the Harry continued, aware of Lucius's searching gaze on him, undoubtedly questioning his angle. Determined to speak the truth, he refused to temper his words. He would not lie, not with something so serious on the line. "Lord Voldemort has returned, and from what I have witnessed, he is stronger than before. That is a fact we cannot ignore. But, a war hasn't started when we all know that it could have. I think that means something."

His eyes darted from Minister Bones, to Lucius, then finally to Dumbledore. "We can't stop living, and we can't just hide. The students deserve a future, a chance to learn and grow. And I believe that, despite our extreme differences, both sides at least agree that destroying our future generations isn't in anyone's interest. So yes, I do think it's possible to reopen Hogwarts, that it will be safe for the students, and I would never say that unless I absolutely believed it."

The intensity of their gazes upon him was penetrating, each pair of eyes reflecting a different narrative. The silver ones shimmered with calculating delight, contrasting the light-blue ones filled with sad disapproval. The brown eyes, however, scrutinized him with undeniable hesitation.

Breaking the silence, Minister Bones spoke with a mix of skepticism and concern. "Mr. Potter, forgive my directness, but how can we be sure you're speaking freely, that you are not under compulsion?" she inquired. "Albus has informed us of your... unique apprenticeship.

I'm aware of the extent of your harsh experiences. Such influence could be exceptionally compelling."

Harry met her eyes. He shouldn't be surprised that Dumbledore had recounted his harrowing capture, but that didn't mean that he liked that the Minister of Magic was aware of the torture and manipulation he had endured at Voldemort's hand.

"You're welcome to use verification charms, but my stance will remain unchanged," Harry said, feeling a sense of detachment from his own words, as if he weren't discussing the torture he'd endured under the Dark Lord's wand. "Regardless of what is going on between me and the Dark Lord, I want it to be perfectly clear that I have returned to him of my own free will, and I'm here before you now freely. I can't control it if you believe me, but please accept that my actions have always been to protect others. You may not like how, but I am determined to see this through."

He paused, taking a breath, centering himself. This was more than just advocating for the school; it was about laying the groundwork for his future interactions with the Ministry and the relationship he might have with the Minister. "When I come of age, I will become even more active. I don't know you personally, Minister Bones, but I have the utmost respect for your niece and have only heard positive things about you since you've taken over for Fudge. I hope you and I can work together, that we can create trust. There is so little of it these days."

Harry's gaze briefly shifted to Dumbledore, a flicker of resolve cementing within him. "I know you don't approve of my decisions. Maybe I am wrong, but they're my mistakes to make. I hope you can remember the person you know me to be, and I hope you help me, that you won't stand in my way."

He turned back to Minister Bones, suddenly feeling awkward. He was surprised to realize that he'd grown accustomed to being listened to, that the Death Eaters now frequently gave him their resenting respect, and he almost expected the same in this situation. "I really don't have anything else to say. I can only tell you what I believe. I believe you can reopen the school, and the students will be safe."

Minister Bones' expression was difficult to decipher, her lips pressed together contemplatively. "And what of him reclaiming his titles, growing his influence within the Ministry? Should we simply stand by and observe passively?"

Harry met her gaze with a level of intensity. "He's going to pursue power regardless of our actions. Would you prefer he did it in the open, where you can see, or in the dark? We've already watched the shadows version play out once before, I personally don't want to see that happen again."

A brief silence settled in the room, the stern woman's gaze fixed firmly on the maturing teen as if she were weighing her options carefully. Minister Bones eventually nodded, her expression showing a hint of softening. "Mr. Potter," she said, her tone measured, "your words have been heard, and your perspective duly noted. We will take the time to deliberate on this matter and reach a decision soon. I do look forward to future discussions with you."

The meeting soon concluded; Harry was all too happy to escape. Dumbledore had silently let him leave, not saying a word as the raven-haired teen quietly departed, Malfoy directly on his heels.

His emotions conflicted, Harry felt a mix of reservation and satisfaction when he learned that Hogwarts was set to reopen the following week. Malfoy seemed impressed by Harry's conduct during the meeting, and even Voldemort had shown approval after watching the events unfold. Harry had allowed the Dark Lord to observe the meeting through his mind, lowering his mental defenses with minimal hesitation when he had asked to view the memory.

On the eve of the vote expected to restore his title, Voldemort convened a meeting with all of his Death Eaters. It was the first time Harry had witnessed the whole group gathered in one place since he was introduced as the Dark Lord's apprentice. Harry had entered with the Dark Lord, his golden mask in place, and stood near his throne as he addressed his followers. The meeting, though brief, crackled with an undercurrent of anticipation. Voldemort, with his characteristic blend of charisma and menace, announced his impending appearance before the Wizengamot. He made it clear that he expected not just the attendance of his followers but also their utmost decorum and unwavering support.

Before his mesmerized followers, Voldemort had looked every bit the Dark Lord that he was, standing tall and exuding an aura of dark authority. "My loyal servants," he concluded, his tone laced with a promise, "the time we have long awaited is upon us. The moment for the Dark to rise again is at hand. Our strength, our perseverance, has brought us to the brink of a new era, one where we shall reign supreme. Let the wizarding world prepare itself, for our power will no longer be denied. We will emerge from the shadows, stronger and more formidable than ever. The morning of our ascendance draws near!"

In the room, a wave of overwhelming excitement and glee rippled through the assembled Death Eaters. Their masks, a varied collection of sinister designs, did little to hide the fervor in their eyes. They understood the significance of the upcoming vote; it wasn't just about reinstating a title, it was about cementing their power and Voldemort's dominance in the wizarding world. Harry, standing silently near the throne, could not help but feel the weight of the moment, a pivotal point that would define the future of the wizarding world.

After the larger assembly, the inner circle retreated to the more private receiving room. Harry was shocked to see Snape among them. He had only seen the dour potions master once since his return, and that had been from afar, and he was certain Snape had not seen him. Harry's gaze met Snape's piercing black eyes, filled with a mix of shock and a twinge of guilt, wondering how the wizard had managed to redeem his place back within the Dark Lord's chosen elect. Harry could only assume that Snape had somehow managed to present the situation in a way that spared him from Voldemort's complete wrath but that the Dark Lord held him at fault for the rescue and had thus kept him away from his apprentice.

As the Inner Circle meeting drew to a close, Voldemort issued his final instructions with meticulous detail, ensuring that everything was perfectly arranged for the spectacle that was surely to come. As he prepared to depart, Voldemort leaned toward Harry, speaking in a soft whisper meant only for his apprentice. "You should be terrified, my dear apprentice. If you thought my methods were harsh, just wait until you endure the tortures of a full Wizengamot session." His voice was tinged with sardonic humor, ironically subtly acknowledging Harry's role in steering the Dark Lord toward a path that avoided outright violence and terror.

Harry fought to suppress a snort of amusement. "After enduring Lucius's excited prancing around at the Ministry all month, I've had my fill of boring political scheming. Must I really sit through the session?" He knew the answer even before Voldemort responded; his attendance was non-negotiable, serving as a stark reminder of Voldemort's power and influence to everyone present.

"Be careful not to sound too eager, perhaps I've found a new way to punish you when you displease me. I'll just send you to the Ministry to encounter the true horrors of our world." Despite the serious undertones, Harry couldn't suppress a light chuckle. The Dark Lord's gaze then shifted to the zealous faces of the Inner Circle watching them. "In fact, I demand that you stay behind to practice. You'll need to master the art of tolerating tedious conversations as you begin to attend more Ministry events. I'm sure my most loyal will prove to be ample substitution."

Harry sighed but acquiesced without complaint, having already spent a lot of time with most of the members present over the past few weeks. He no longer felt quite as uncomfortable in their presence. There were a few, like Barty, who we actually enjoyed spending time with.

Moreover, there was something disconcertingly comforting about these rare moments of levity from the Dark Lord, and he couldn't help but wonder if the Inner Circle was as aware of this shift in Voldemort's demeanor as he was.

S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S

As the meeting drew to a close, black eyes intently observed Voldemort lean in, whispering in a muted tone to the boy. Severus, seated at a distance, corrected his own perception — he wasn't just a boy anymore, but a maturing young man. Throughout the meeting, Severus found himself unable to look away from him. Harry's lips twitched with amusement, his eyes reflecting a subtle glimmer of mirth that did not escape Severus's keen observation. Harry responded in a similarly hushed tone, leaning in and mirroring the Dark Lord's posture; a stark contrast to the frightened boy Severus once knew.

Now, Harry seemed more self-assured, his previous trepidation around Voldemort and his followers noticeably diminished, a change that Severus found unsettling. He spoke quickly and earnestly, unhesitant in his responses to the Dark Lord. Unlike their earlier encounters marked by Harry's evident reluctance, this interaction, though still respectful and cautious, held a hint of familiarity, not driven by fear.

Voldemort spoke again, still inaudible to Severus's unabashed scrutiny. Harry appeared increasingly amused, his slight smile broadening into a near smirk as Voldemort stood up, signaling the meeting's end. Harry, along with the others, stood up in a customary gesture of respect as the Dark Lord departed. These meetings always ended with Voldemort's prompt exit, the real plotting among his fervent followers starting only afterwards.

Harry lingered near his seat, his amused gaze shifting from Voldemort's receding figure to those conversing around the table. For Severus, this was a rare chance to observe Harry since his dramatic betrayal at Dumbledore's trial. Since Harry's return, Severus had been kept at a distance as punishment for his supposed failure to protect the Dark Lord's apprentice. Only after barely proving his loyalty and innocence to Voldemort, an experience he was eager never to repeat again, had Severus been readmitted into the dark circles. He knew his position was precarious; his summons had been infrequent, and he was acutely aware of being excluded from the inner circle meetings. This was the first time in a month he had been allowed to stay with the other so-called elect.

As the room's occupants began mingling, forging alliances and engaging in small talk leading to deeper schemes, Severus felt an urgency to act before others approached Potter. He smoothly moved towards the young wizard, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry's emerald eyes, eerily reminiscent of someone from a past life, glanced at the hand before meeting Severus's stern gaze. The detached, controlled expression he received took Severus aback.

"Yes?" Harry inquired, his tone even.

Severus, aiming to unsettle the young man, resorted to sarcasm. "How things have changed, practically drooling at the hand that feeds you. Have you become so tame that the Dark Lord now shares private jests with you, Potter?" Severus knew any inner circle member would envy such a moment with Voldemort, but he doubted Harry shared the same ambition towards the wizard who murdered his parents. This should provoke him and make him easier to read.

Surprisingly, Harry displayed no outrage. His eye roll was dismissive, and his reply came with a sharp, self-deprecating edge. "He just thought I should stay and learn something about skulking and scheming in the shadows. You know, professor, to pick up tips from the master of those arts." The way Harry emphasized 'professor' dripped with biting sarcasm, clearly mocking Severus.

Severus's eyes narrowed. Potter's audacity was astonishing. Was the brat aware he was openly mocking the Dark Lord's followers in a room full of enemies? Worse, he implied a shared joke with Voldemort at the inner circle's expense, within earshot of many.

"Still playing the fool, I see," Severus responded dryly. "Fancy attire and proximity to power does not change as much as one might think."

Potter's shrug was nonchalant, his attention already drifting over Severus's shoulder as if seeking more engaging company. It would seem some things never changed, the Potter heir was just as infuriating as he had been at school.

"Be careful, Potter," Severus warned in a low but meaningful tone, making a show of looking around. As he suspected, they were the center of attention, despite the others' pretense of indifference. "Here, without the Dark Lord's protection, accidents are known to happen, especially after these meetings."

Harry met his gaze, a defiant spark in his eyes. "Yes," he agreed softly, yet firmly, "they do."

Severus frowned, recalling Lucius Malfoy's recent claims about an emerging camaraderie between Draco and Harry. He was highly skeptical. Lucius had bragged that Draco was delighted to be favored by the Dark Lord's protégé, yet the idea of Potter and Draco finding common ground seemed nearly inconceivable to the potions master. Draco had allegedly shared with Lucius about Harry's rapid progress in magic under Voldemort's tutelage. Severus had initially dismissed this as youthful exaggeration, possibly Potter's attempt to impress a peer.

Now, observing Potter's composed demeanor and effortless poise, Severus began to question his earlier doubts. It seemed improbable that Voldemort would indulge the boy's ego without reason. Typically, overconfidence in someone so young and inexperienced would be quickly and harshly corrected. Voldemort was notorious for not tolerating arrogance or overlooking weakness. And Potter had been under his influence for almost half a year. Could it be that Potter truly believed he could confront someone from the inner circle? Did Voldemort see potential in him, allowing Potter to mingle with his dangerous allies, even at the risk of arousing their envy?

Severus realized his strategy for approaching the teen might need reevaluation. The rash, impulsive Gryffindor he had expected was not who stood before him. Potter's responses were no longer the passionate, unguarded outbursts Severus was accustomed to. Their last meetings, around the time of Potter's capture by the Order, had already shown a more cautious and reserved young man. After more extended time with the Dark Lord, it was not surprising to witness even more significant changes.

Aware of the many watching eyes, Severus subtly motioned towards a secluded alcove. "Perhaps a private conversation would be better, though I know your fondness for the spotlight."

Harry's expression darkened, a flash of genuine hurt crossing his face. "If your intention is just to belittle me in some twisted revenge against my dead father, then I'd rather not," he replied, his tone carrying an edge, almost reminiscent of the pureblood aristocracy. With a sinking feeling, Severus couldn't help but wonder if Draco's influence was affecting the orphan in some way. Or worse, he might be adopting the Dark Lord's mannerisms. The prospect of who might influence whom was a disquieting thought as he looked at the youth that bore Lily's intelligent yet guarded eyes.

"No," Severus conceded, lowering his voice. "There's something I'd like to discuss. If you can avoid invoking the arrogance of your father, then I shall endeavor not to treat you like him." Yes, he realized adjustments were necessary, much as he loathed it. Potter was likely to remain at the Dark Lord's side for some time, and this conversation needed to occur. Severus wasn't sure when another opportunity would arise, given his diminished standing with the Dark Lord.

Potter hesitated. Severus, ever the astute observer, could almost feel the uncertainty emanating from the young wizard. If Potter declined, what then? Forcing the Dark Lord's apprentice to talk was not an option; it would cause an undesirable scene. Harry's voluntary cooperation was key.

"I have information about your friends," Severus offered, his voice a murmur. The mention of his fan club captured Potter attention instantly, his green eyes flickering between hope and despair. There was something there, an emotion the master occlumens couldn't quite decipher.

"Alright," Harry finally agreed, though he looked wary as he glanced at the potions professor. "But not here. Too many prying eyes, even with privacy spells."

Severus frowned, considering their limited options. Since his return, the Dark Lord's manor had become the standard venue for their assemblies. The larger group of Death Eaters usually gathered in the main reception room for general meetings, while a smaller, more private space was reserved for the Inner Circle. Severus had been summoned to the Dark Lord's office and library a few times, always escorted by either an elf or the Dark Lord himself, but the rest of the manor was generally off-limits. He knew better than to wander uninvited, aware of the risks involved.

Harry seemed to mull over their predicament, seemingly oblivious to Snape's reservations. "He's probably in the library; I believe he had some correspondence to finish. What about the gardens? There shouldn't be anyone there, and the weather is nice enough these days."

Snape was momentarily taken aback by Harry's suggestion. It wasn't just a random guess; Potter knew Voldemort's schedule, his habits. The realization was startling – the teen was privy to Voldemort's routines and seemed perfectly comfortable with it.

Severus nodded, his face an impassive mask. As they turned to leave, a voice called out. "Little lord."

Harry stopped, a look of amused exasperation crossing his face. He glanced at Barty Crouch, his expression revealing both fondness and frustration.

"Please, don't call me that," Harry said lightly as Crouch approached, a spring in the Death Eater's step. It seemed this was an argument that had occurred more than once.

"Sure thing, little lord," Crouch retorted with a smirk. "I've finished the drafts we discussed. When would you like to go over them?"

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" Potter suggested, maintaining a relaxed tone.

Crouch Jr. nodded eagerly. "Perfect." His countenance shifted, a predatory gleam appearing in his youthful, sharp features. "We could also fit in that practice duel you owe me, if you're up for it."

Potter's demeanor shifted subtly, becoming guarded. "I'll check if that's acceptable," he said, likely referring to Voldemort's approval.

Barty's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "It's a date then," he declared, before turning to Severus with a casual nod. "Haven't seen much of you around here, Severus."

Snape's gaze narrowed slightly. "I've been occupied with various matters," he responded, deliberately vague. Watching the easy interaction between Potter and Crouch, Severus realized that their relationship had developed more than he had thought. The potion master knew Voldemort had kept him at a distance since his failure to protect the young apprentice, but he had assumed that applied to both him and Crouch. Clearly, he was mistaken.

"If you say so," Barty replied nonchalantly, his focus returning to Potter. "See you tomorrow, little lord."

Harry shook his head, his irritation still tinged with affection. Noticing Severus's stern look, his expression quickly shifted to one of neutrality, a mask falling into place. Severus was taken aback by the swift change. Evidently, much had changed since their last meeting a month ago.

"Shall we?" Harry suggested, indicating a side door that Snape had never noticed. The Potions Master followed him out of the room and into a torch-lit corridor. As they walked, Severus observed his surroundings. The manor was a monument to the grandeur of ancient wizarding families, built to exude luxury and magnificence, characteristic of a lineage as old as Slytherin's. Severus had always envied Lucius' estate; the wealth and grandeur of the Prince family paled in comparison. And this mansion seemed to overshadow even Malfoy Manor. While the Malfoys certainly possessed wealth, this place was steeped in powerful magic, both impressive and intimidating.

Harry led them through the labyrinth of hallways with a familiarity that implied deep knowledge of the place. They reached a set of ornate wooden doors, and Harry pushed them open. Severus stepped outside, his gaze sweeping over the expansive garden. It was enchanting. Besides the forbidden forest, he had never seen such a diverse and exotic array of magical flora. His attention was immediately drawn to several rare plants, identifying at least six varieties of potent potion ingredients.

"I always thought you'd appreciate this place," Potter commented, watching Severus's reaction.

Severus was momentarily taken aback, uncertain how to interpret Potter's acknowledgment of his interests, especially in the context of something belonging to the Dark Lord. Instead of dwelling on it, he decided to shift the conversation.

"How have you been?" Severus inquired, his tone neutral.

Potter shrugged noncommittally. "I'm alright," he answered, mirroring the response he gave when Severus had asked him during his initiation into the dark ranks. Back then, Severus had been probing and taunting, trying to unsettle the young wizard. It was clear that a different tactic was required now.

"You seem well," Severus remarked. Small talk was not his forte.

Harry shifted awkwardly under his gaze, clearly thinking the same. "You mentioned having news about my friends?" he inquired, a hopeful note in his voice. Severus could tell Harry was struggling to mask his emotions. Was it distrust towards him, or the turmoil of thinking about the friends he had betrayed? In truth, Severus had mentioned the friends merely as a means to secure this private meeting. It seemed that despite Voldemort's influence, the young Gryffindor's emotions were still as transparent as ever when it came to those he loved, willing to brave his animosity with the dreaded potion's master for any tidbit about them.

"Would it be accurate to say that he's prevented you from any correspondence with them?" Severus asked, seeking to understand the situation better. By all appearances, Potter had returned to the Dark Lord willingly. The teen had been seen in the wizarding world occasionally over the past month, always with Malfoy, meeting with neutral factions and seemingly laying the groundwork for the Dark Lord's increased power with little resistance. Severus was astounded at how easily the wizarding world seemed to accept Potter's current status. Or perhaps 'sacrifice' was a more apt description, given the lack of attacks or threats since Harry's bold move.

Oddly, Harry looked down, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. Was the young man blushing?

"I haven't tried to," Harry murmured, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I didn't think they'd want to hear from me."

Severus observed the young wizard, endeavoring to understand him. Was this a plea for attention or sympathy? Did Harry expect tales of their longing for his return? Of course, the Order would celebrate his return to the light, much to Severus' disdain. But as he watched Potter, it seemed the bravado he'd displayed earlier had faded, replaced by genuine contemplation of his friends.

"Why would you think that, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked carefully, striving to maintain a neutral tone to avoid triggering the teen's defenses.

"Because I betrayed them," Harry stated bluntly. "They wouldn't want to hear from me. How could they?" There was no lack of self-loathing in his voice, a sentiment Severus understood all too well.

"Then why did you leave? Why oppose your friends if their opinions matter to you? The common belief is that you have chosen this path, to be his apprentice," Severus pressed, trying to mask any contempt in his voice, though he wasn't entirely successful. It seemed immature for Harry to think he could align with the Dark Lord without alienating those who opposed him.

Harry shrugged, his defenses visibly rebuilding, the brief moment of candor fading as he remembered who he was talking to.

"It doesn't matter," Harry replied curtly. "I didn't come here to question my decisions; they've been made. Do you have any news about them, or are we wasting our time?"

"So that's it," Snape said, more to himself. There was much he didn't understand, and as usual, it all revolved around Potter. He needed to find a way to get the teen to open up and give him answers, or he would be powerless to act. "You've made your choice, then? An apprentice to the Dark Lord, forsaking the light and everything your parents died for?"

"Don't pretend to know what my parents would have wanted, or anything about me or what's happening," Potter whispered, fire igniting in his eyes. In some ways, his temper was reminiscent of the Dark Lord, whom Severus needed to remember was not very far away.

This wasn't just anger; there was something deeper and darker beneath.

"Of course, I don't know what's happening," Snape retorted, his voice filled with equal intensity. The frustration of being at the mercy of this teenager's actions was maddening. "You betray Dumbledore after he saves you, then align with the man who killed your parents, becoming his apprentice, of all things. Everyone is bracing for a second war to erupt any day. Since the trial, you've remained mostly quiet and out of sight, as if the world is expected to just pause, waiting for your next move, regardless of the consequences! And here I am, trying to decipher the chaos that is your thought process so I can offer assistance. Yet, you stubbornly refuse to disclose anything, even when it's clearly in your own interest!"

Harry's expression transitioned from shock to indignation. He shook his head, a look of self- reproach briefly crossing his features before it morphed into anger. "You don't care about me; this is about your own protection, isn't it? That's what you claimed last time, that you only care about survival. Are you upset that you chose the wrong side?"

Snape snorted, feigning indifference. "Hardly," he replied coolly, aiming to unbalance the self-assured brat. He was finally speaking without the pretense of a pureblooded aristocrat, he needed to keep him that way. "I am where I want to be. Are you?"

Harry released a bitter laugh, clearly not believing him. "Is that why I haven't seen you around? The Dark Lord doesn't tolerate betrayal. I'm surprised Dumbledore didn't use your 'sacrifice' to guilt me into staying with the Order. I would've thought your certain exposure would be used as blame placed on my shoulder to try and force me to stay. He certainly tried everything else," Harry said, his tone blending curiosity and accusation. "I have no idea how you managed to convince Voldemort to allow you back."

Severus was momentarily speechless. "What are you talking about?" He knew Dumbledore was aware that he hadn't betrayed the Dark Lord. His standing with Dumbledore had been beyond precarious once the Light Lord learned he spent the morning with Potter outside the Slytherin Manor without immediately alerting the Order. Severus had considered it, but under Barty Crouch's watchful eye, he suspected it was a test, a trap. Since Harry appeared safe, he opted to delay his report until he understood the situation better.

"How did you convince the Dark Lord to allow you back here after setting me up to be taken by the Order?" Harry said, speaking slowly as if he thought Severus was slow-witted. The audacity of the boy was astounding.

"I didn't orchestrate that," Severus firmly stated. "Has the Dark Lord led you to believe otherwise?"

Harry's frown deepened, his glare intensifying. "This was a waste of time," he muttered, starting to walk away.

"Potter, wait," Severus called, stepping in front of him. He noticed Harry adopt a defensive stance, readying himself as if to draw a wand. It was a clear dueling position. Severus's eyes narrowed. Did Harry genuinely believe he would attack him in the Dark Lord's manor? The boy's heightened paranoia, though indicative of caution, gave Severus a begrudging sense of approval. Caution was wise in such a place, though misplaced in this instance.

"Please," Severus said, the word grating against his pride. "This isn't a trick. I want to understand why you returned. Why leave after Dumbledore's efforts to rescue you?" He tilted his head, voicing the question that had haunted him since that day. "Why turn against the light, and do it so publicly, for the entire world to see?"

Harry met his gaze. "Why should I tell you anything?" he countered, his frustration apparent. "You'll just report back to your masters, whichever one it is this week. I owe nothing to Dumbledore and have nothing to hide from Voldemort. I never asked to be rescued by you, so it's not my fault it backfired on you."

"Damn it, Potter," Snape snapped, his frustration boiling over as he loomed over Harry. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, his dark eyes piercing. "Stop echoing whatever lies you've been fed. I'm not trying to get information to report to anyone. You're simply impossible to protect, you reckless fool. I've been trying to honor a promise, an oath to…" His voice faltered, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Severus was suddenly overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions he usually kept buried. Potter infuriated him, drawing out his worst in every possible way. And on top of it all, as he stared at the entrapped teen, he knew that he was equally failing her in every way.

Harry, startled and confused, stared at Snape with bright green eyes that strikingly resembled Lily's, making it difficult for Severus to stay focused on the present conversation. "What oath?" The teen asked, his bewilderment evident.

Snape scowled, his emotions a turbulent mix of anger and reluctance. He had no desire for this conversation, especially not in the Dark Lord's manor and certainly not with the offspring of his childhood nemesis. "The details are irrelevant," he stated cryptically, his voice barely above a whisper. "What I need from you is your understanding and trust. I am not the deceiver you perceive me to be. My aim is to assist you, Potter, genuinely so. But you're making it exceedingly difficult. Protecting you is akin to guarding a bleating sheep in a cave of ravenous lions."

Harry's brow furrowed, a blend of indignation and skepticism evident. "How can it not matter?" he challenged, straightening to meet Snape's gaze. "If you want my trust, you need to offer more than that. I refuse to allow another manipulative wizard into my life; I've already have enough of those."

Severus was acutely aware that his annoyance was visible on his face, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade, possibly even revealing a hint of desperation. He understood Potter's suspicion; after all, he had contributed to it, an inevitable consequence of being an effective spy desired by both sides. However, to fulfill his oath, it was becoming increasingly clear that he needed Harry to believe in him, to trust him.

Seeing no other option and knowing that his time was running out, Severus relented. "Very well, Potter," he said, voice heavy with resignation. "I will tell you, but only if you swear an Unbreakable Vow to not share what I am about to disclose. It's the only way to ensure this remains between us. It's as much for your protection as mine."

Harry's immediate response was a firm shake of his head. "No, I won't agree to that. You're the one seeking this conversation. I won't give you that control, especially without knowing what you plan to say."

Severus exhaled, barely keeping his anger in check. He wanted to smack the boy upside the head. "Your arrogance should go down in legend, Potter. I risk everything by sharing this with you – my past, my motives, I am compromising my own safety. This oath is as much for your own safety as it is mine."

Harry seemed to hesitate, as if torn between distrust and curiosity. After a long pause, he shook his head. "I can't do it; I've already made one oath I regret. I won't be bound by another."

Severus grimaced. "What did you promise him?" he inquired, a sense of foreboding enveloping him.

Potter's laugh was bitter. "You know I can't say."

"Was it your obedience?" Severus probed, striving to comprehend Harry's choices. Was this why he had forsaken all his previous beliefs?

The young wizard glanced down, avoiding eye contact. "No, I'm not lying when I say I chose this path, chose him. It was the only way to keep others safe. To prevent this war. The vow is about a secret I wasn't meant to discover; that's all I can tell you. Don't ask me again."

Severus nodded, acknowledging the gravity of an Unbreakable Vow, familiar with the intricacies of his own. It seemed unlikely he would receive the assurance he sought. But was disclosing his secrets to Harry without any assurance worth it? He doubted he could gain the teen's trust otherwise.

"Fine, Potter, I'll tell you. By Merlin's beard, if this is the only way to earn your trust, then so be it." Snape motioned towards some benches nestled against the garden's enclosing stone wall. "We should sit for this," he suggested. "And perhaps a stiff drink is warranted," he added under his breath, more to himself than to Harry.

Appearing surprised by Snape's unexpected willingness to talk, Harry led the way to the benches. As they sat down, Severus adopted a serious expression as he looked out over the garden in contemplation. Where was the best place to begin? He had no intention of telling Potter everything, but he needed to divulge enough that the boy would believe him. It would not be an easy story to tell, he suspected it would be equally distasteful to hear.

"When the Dark Lord killed your parents, it... it altered the course of my life," he started, his voice heavy with the burden of unspoken emotions cascading through him. "Your mother wasn't supposed to die. I knew they were targets, and I pleaded with the Dark Lord to spare her."

"Why would you care?" Harry interjected, knowing Snape's disdain for his father and likely skeptical about any concern for his mother, given her blood status.

"Your mother was one of my earliest friends," Snape said, and at Harry's shocked expression, he added with a hint of self-mockery, "Yes, I don't understand why she befriended me either.

But she did, and she was a rare bright spot in my childhood. Despite my feelings towards your father, I never stopped caring for your mother. I tried to save her…"

His gaze wandered unseeing over the garden, becoming lost in a different time, recalling moments of a happier past. "After her death, I felt as if my life had ended. In a state of desperation, I went to Dumbledore, searching for a way to atone. And Dumbledore... he required an Unbreakable Vow from me, a prerequisite for any form of redemption on the side of the light."

"So, you betrayed the dark and returned to the light because you cared for my mother?" Harry asked, astounded.

Severus closed his eyes briefly, the simplicity of the teen's explanation paining him. "No, I betrayed the dark and chose you. My oath was to you."

Harry looked stunned, his bright green eyes – so reminiscent of Lily's – wide with disbelief.

"In that vow, I swore to protect you, Harry," Snape continued, his voice distant. "It was my atonement for my past, for any role I played in the events leading to her death. I vowed to do everything in my power to keep you safe, regardless of what it cost me. It was the only way I could honor her memory."

The revelation seemed to hang in the air between them, Snape watched as Harry struggled to comprehend the gravity of what had been revealed, the young man was visibly wrestling with a myriad of conflicting emotions. It was evident how deeply Harry distrusted him, that it would be difficult for him to reconcile that against what he was hearing.

"Your vow?" Harry echoed, disbelief etching his voice. "All this time, everything you've done…?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed, locking eyes with Harry. "Every action I've taken, regardless of how it may have seemed, was to protect you. My dual allegiance and the risks I've faced were all guided by that vow. Dumbledore manipulated my remorse to ensure my loyalty to the light, all under the guise of protecting the so-called 'Chosen One.'" A bitter chuckle slipped through his lips. "And yet, you've chosen to align yourself with the Dark Lord. It is why I sought you out, why I am attempting to understand your decision so that I might continue to fulfill my vow."

Snape observed the confusion and uncertainty in Harry's eyes as the young wizard struggled to grasp the possibility that Snape, of all people, might actually be on his side. "So, you didn't betray my location to the Order? I thought you were the one... How did you convince Voldemort of your loyalty?"

Scowling, Snape replied, "I shared enough of my thoughts and memories to convincingly demonstrate my innocence, since I was indeed not involved. I also revealed my remorse over Lily's death, convincing him of my desire to see you protected. Since he considers you his property, my willingness to ensure your safety sufficed for him to tolerate my presence, albeit temporarily. I'm under no illusion; he does not trust me, and each visit here could be my last."

"Then why return?" Harry asked.

"Because I swore to see this through," Snape replied, meeting Harry's gaze. "As hard as it may be for you to believe, I intend to keep you safe through this war, despite your apparent penchant for danger." He couldn't keep the dripping mockery out of the last part; he'd never met a living soul that attracted more danger than the one sitting beside him.

Harry sat silently, seemingly processing this new revelation, a revelation that should fundamentally alter his understanding of the potion masters and the lengths he was willing to go to protect the Potter heir.

"Tipsy!" Harry called out suddenly.

Startled by the abrupt summons, Severus watched as a small house-elf dressed in Slytherin colors appeared.

"Yes, Master Harry?" she squeaked, her eyes bright with devotion. "Bring us some glasses and firewhiskey, please," Harry requested. Snape frowned. "You're not of age," he pointed out sternly.

Harry's smirk seemed forced, his eyes betraying his exhaustion, his disbelief. "I'm only a few months away. I won't tell if you don't. The way this conversation is going, I think you're right. A drink might be in order."

With a snap of her fingers, Tipsy vanished, soon returning with two glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey. She set them down carefully before disappearing.

Snape eyed the bottle, his feelings a blend of reluctance and resignation. Having already divulged his greatest secret to Potter, sharing a drink with the very teen who tormented his conscience daily seemed to be only a minor indulgence. He would be lying if he claimed he didn't want the amber liquid. He poured a modest amount into each glass.

Harry took one of the glasses, his gaze fixed on Severus. "So, you've been protecting me all this time because of a vow..." His voice faded, not quite forming a question but reflecting a realization. It seemed as if he was piecing together past events – recalling how Snape had saved him from falling off his broom, or the time Severus had attempted to shield him from a transformed Lupin during the full moon.

Snape nodded, taking a sip. The firewhiskey burned down his throat, it was exactly what he needed.

"And now?" Harry asked, clearly struggling to find words, as if he found the conversation almost too surreal to accept. "What does your oath mean now that you know I've chosen to stay here? And does Voldemort know about it?"

"He's aware of part of the situation, but not that there is an oath," Snape admitted. "After your capture by the Order, the Dark Lord was furious, he thought I had betrayed him. I had to divulge my memory of those events, revealing that I wasn't involved, knowing he would otherwise kill me. He went deeper into my mind than I normally allow. He now knows that I have some loyalty to you, that it is tied to Lily's memory, and he's currently exploiting that. Believing you would return to him, he presented me with a choice: continue serving him to ensure your safety, but that I would be under close scrutiny, or be barred from ever having access to you again. I chose to stay in his service."

Pausing, Snape took another sip; the warmth running down his throat and settling in his stomach soothed him, making this entire ordeal slightly more tolerable. The Dark Lord clearly had quality firewhiskey. "Dumbledore, on the other hand, has been keeping me at a distance, only inviting me to select meetings when they're desperate for information. He knows that Voldemort no longer trusts me and questions why I did not alert the Order the moment we left the manor. I didn't technically betray either side, so Voldemort found no reason to kill me, and Dumbledore wanted to retain his spy. But both could decide I'm a liability at any moment."

He hated the unexpected pity directed towards him. "I don't know what to say." Potter murmured.

Sensing Harry might offer a rash promise to assist him or, worse, express gratitude to him – the very wizard who felt responsible for the predicament Harry was in – Severus quickly interjected. "I didn't share this for sympathy, but so you understand the truth. My days are likely numbered. But until that time comes, know this: I am committed to keeping you safe." The potions master scowled; this was far too emotional for his liking. 'Perhaps we can move on, I'd prefer not to dwell on my bleak circumstances any further."

Harry nodded, his attention briefly shifting to the drink in his hand, seemingly having forgotten it was there. He took a cautious sip and grimaced, his reaction suggesting that he was unaccustomed to the taste of strong spirits. Snape wondered if this was Harry's first encounter with hard alcohol. And of all places, it was happening here with Severus Snape in the Dark Lord's garden. What a horrible way to experience a right of passage; the boy truly had no luck.

Emerald eyes returned to Snape; the dark wizard was shocked by the sense of longing and desire suddenly present. "Could you tell me about my mother?"

S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S

Harry felt a gentle buzz of intoxication as he departed from the garden, walking—certainly not stumbling—back to his room. His mind swirled, still reeling from the conversation with Snape.

Pausing in the dimly lit hallway, Harry suddenly became aware of his proximity to the library door. He froze, a hushed gasp escaping his lips as he detected the subtle creaking of the door's hinges. The hallway grew lighter from torchlight within as the door slowly swung open, revealing a shadowy figure emerging from the depths.

To Harry's dread, the Dark Lord stepped out into the hallway. Voldemort clearly sensed the presence of the young wizard lurking in the shadows. "Harry," Voldemort greeted, his voice smooth, as he turned towards the teen.

Aware of his less-than-sober state, Harry grappled with uncertainty about how to respond. This unplanned encounter with Voldemort was the last thing he wanted in his current condition.

When Harry remained silent, Voldemort exhaled impatiently. "What are you doing? Why are you hiding in the shadows?"

Embarrassed and with a mind still clouded, Harry awkwardly stepped forward, struggling to maintain his balance.

Harry nervously cleared his throat, fighting to keep his composure in front of the imposing figure before him. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Harry hadn't drunk that much. Tipsy refilled it once… well maybe twice... but surely he didn't have more than two glasses. Or so he thought… he was certain he'd remember if he'd had more. "I... I didn't expect to run into you here," he stammered, his voice betraying a hint of unease.

Voldemort's crimson eyes bore into Harry's, his gaze both piercing and unsettling. "Indeed, it appears you didn't," he replied his tone eerily calm. "What has you wandering the halls so late, Harry?" Voldemort stepped closer, his perceptive eyes carefully studying the young wizard. He reached out a hand, gripping Harry's chin and lifting his face. "Are you intoxicated?"

Harry hesitated, the fog in his mind making it difficult to think clearly. "Umm… Yes," he admitted with a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

"Why?" Voldemort inquired, curious, a hint of sadistic amusement evident. Harry felt a wave of shame wash over him; he had been caught drinking underage and by Voldemort of all people. It felt surreal. Weren't teenagers supposed to be caught by their professors, or parents even? Not murderous Dark Lords. Instead of being grounded would he get a cruicio? Fate hated him.

"I had a... a conversation with Professor Snape," Harry explained, choosing his words with caution, despite the haze in his mind. He fought to keep his words smooth, to not slur them. He thought he was convincing. "It left me feeling... well… not great, and he'd mentioned needing a strong drink. It sounded like a good idea... " He trailed off, unable to shake the

mortification that had settled upon him. This could not be happening.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of wonder dancing across his sophisticated features, which he quickly masked. It seemed that Harry's actions that evening had genuinely surprised him. "Ah, Severus," he mused at last, speaking more to himself than to Harry. "He possesses a knack for leaving one in a state of perplexity. Tell me, what occurred during your encounter that led you to need a drink of all things? I was under the impression you had elected to abstain while residing here."

Harry, cautious not to reveal too much and already regretting the impulsive admission, knew he had to provide an explanation that would satisfy the Dark Lord without delving into Snape's true secrets. "I confronted him, believing he had informed the Order about my trip to Gringotts. That he was the reason everything was almost ruined between you and I." He blushed, that had come out wrong. He was never drinking again. So far, he was two for two with things exploding magnificently in his face every time he risked dabbling.

Voldemort's crimson eyes bore into Harry, his gaze sharp, penetrating. "And why, my cunning serpent, did you arrive at such a conclusion?" His tone held something Harry could not trace.

Harry swallowed, recognizing the need to tread carefully. After what he had learned, he didn't want to reignite suspicions against Snape. "Well, I know someone betrayed my location… I wanted to know why. I hated thinking that Snape had made that decision for me... But it seems I was wrong. No one in the Order had actually said Snape was the one who tipped them off about my presence in Diagon Alley. So, I assumed... wrongly, it seems," he paused, collecting himself. He needed to sell this, to convey his belief in Snape's innocence. He looked up, meeting the calculating red stare. "I believe him. He was kept away from me while I was there. I asked about him, and Dumbledore was secretive. His story aligns with what happened and I think they would have told me if it had been him that tipped them off."

Voldemort continued to fixate on Harry, his thoughts veiled behind a mask of inscrutability. The silence between them stretched, leaving Harry anxious and uncertain about the Dark Lord's reaction. He wished fervently that he had never found himself in this precarious situation.

After what felt like an eternity, Voldemort finally nodded, releasing his grip on the teen's chin. "In this, I believe your instincts are accurate. Severus has managed to persuade me that his loyalty remains intact, at least in this matter." Harry visibly exhaled in relief, his shoulders relaxing. He had not realized how tense he had become.

"You should go get some rest; I want you at your best for tomorrow."

Relieved that he wasn't in trouble and that the Dark Lord didn't seem like he was going to track Snape down and murder him, Harry nodded, taking a step back.

"Oh, and Harry," Voldemort added, his voice growing serious, "I would strongly advise you to abstain from overindulgence in the future. This is your first lapse in judgment like this, so I will suffice with giving you a warning, but if you behave like an immature teenager, then you will be treated as one. For your sake, I hope you will heed my warning." With those chilling words, the Dark Lord turned and disappeared into the shadows of the castle, leaving Harry in shock over the ominous warning and the surreal encounter he had just endured.

S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S~S

The next morning arrived all too soon. Harry, suffering from a headache and nausea unlike anything he'd ever felt before, was immensely grateful that Tipsy had provided him with a hangover potion along with his breakfast. He assumed he had received it because Voldemort wanted him on his best behavior at the Wizengamot vote. The tiny elf had also laid out new clothes.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the elegant wizarding robes before him. They were a striking combination of deep black with green stitching. The acid-green thread exuded Slytherin house airs, creating intricate patterns that caught the light. As he examined the robes closely, he noticed the snake stitching not-so-discreetly woven into the fabric around the cuffs and collars. The robes clearly conveyed a powerful statement about who Harry was aligning himself with.

Harry met the Dark Lord in one of the receiving rooms with a large fireplace. He wore similar robes, which was not a coincidence. The Dark Lord mercifully did not mention the previous night's encounters, much to his apprentice's immense relief. Harry wasn't sure what to think and wasn't eager to reflect on either encounter, whether with Snape or the Dark Lord. Seeing that Harry was alive and presentable, the two flooed to the Ministry together.

Upon arrival, Harry had already accepted that they would immediately become the center of attention. This was the first time since his resurrection that Voldemort had made a public appearance. Yes, he had been seen that night in the Department of Mysteries, and some had witnessed him during the attack on the Burrow and the Hogwarts Express. However, for the average witch and wizard, this was the first time they had ever laid eyes on the fearsome Dark Lord. Glancing sideways at the aristocratic features that resembled a mature and powerful Tom Riddle-turned-Lord Slytherin, Harry wondered what others would see and think. He could feel his heart begin to race as the reality of what they were doing, what he was supporting, truly set in. Here he was, assisting Lord Voldemort, the very same Dark Lord who had murdered his parents and all but abducted him during the summer, in his quest to take control of the Ministry. And they were executing this plan in broad daylight, for all to witness.

As Harry followed the Dark Lord into the Ministry atrium, he watched the reactions of the witches and wizards around him. The bustling atrium was immediately filled with a mix of startled gasps, hushed whispers, and apprehensive glances, all directed toward the imposing figure who had just emerged from the Floo Network—the Dark Lord Voldemort had willingly and freely arrived at the Ministry with none other than Harry Potter at his side.

Those present seemed to be caught in a spell, fear and anticipation of what this moment would mean for the future of the wizarding world emanating from each of them. The atmosphere was charged with alarm, a feeling that only one such as the Dark Lord could instill. On his right, a young witch who had been briskly walking by with parchment and quills had stopped, visibly trembling as she seemed to meet his penetrating red stare. She whimpered and ran off, dropping everything.

Around the room, several Aurors, intentionally stationed near the entrance doors, stood in a state of heightened vigilance. Their wands were held discreetly but firmly in their hands as they exchanged apprehensive glances. Harry wondered if he would see Tonks and Moody in their midst. He hoped not. This was already more than he could bear, and he didn't want to add their disappointed faces to what he was sure would be present during the Wizengamot vote.

In an alcove, Harry saw the vibrant design style and clear hair marking Rita Skeeter, her quill hovering over her parchment as she hungrily recorded the events unfolding before her. Harry knew that this had been planned, that nothing would be published without Lucius's consent.

Footsteps approached them, and Harry looked up to see Lord Ambrose. It had been decided that he, as Chief Warlock, would meet them upon their entrance and escort them both to the chambers. It was a deliberate gesture to show the world that the Chief Warlock was not afraid to approach and address the Dark Lord, projecting the message that Voldemort was a recognized member of the Ministry.

"Lord Ambrose," Voldemort greeted. Harry could see the faintest amusement hidden in his eyes, the twitch of his lips. It was clear the Dark Lord was enjoying his first moments of being able to walk freely throughout the Ministry. That he reveled in the fear directed his way.

"Lord Slytherin," it had also been decided he would discard the name Lord Voldemort for the purpose of Ministry dealings; he needed to separate himself from the previous war if his plan was to work. Though Harry knew the wizard still self-identified himself with his self-created name, he would never respond to Tom Riddle again, and Merlin help the fool that tried to resist that change.

"Mr. Potter." Harry glanced up at the greeting, meeting Ambrose's tired brown eyes. Harry nodded to the man, not fully trusting his voice. The Potter Heir was doing everything possible to stay calm, not to have a panic attack as he openly walked next to Voldemort through the Ministry of Magic. It was surreal. He was more than a little worried he might become sick.

"What is the matter?" Voldemort hissed, taking in his paling apprentice, the wide green eyes that were darting around frantically.

Harry met the crimson stare. There wasn't any anger, at least not yet. He knew he had to collect himself, that he couldn't succumb to a freakout like he had the day he returned from the trial to Voldemort's library. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

Voldemort frowned slightly, his piercing gaze sweeping over his apprentice once more, as if assessing whether the nervous teenager might falter. "Fall back on your Occlumency training; bring up your shields. Detach yourself if necessary, but I need you to remain calm. To show that you are voluntarily at my side," he paused, leaning in, dropping his voice. Not that it was necessary, no one but the two of them understood the snake language. "Now is not the time to fall apart; you are not a cowering child; you are my Heir. Pull yourself together; if this fails, you will only have yourself to blame when this then erupts into a bloodbath."

Harry ducked his head, nodding. He had to do this. The alternative was so much worse. Taking a breath, then another, he immersed his mind in his shields, pulling the meadow forward with the cool breeze and blue skies. Gathering all his fears, he shoved them into the mental space, forcefully removing them from the forefront of his mind. For the most part, it worked; only a faint echo of what he had been feeling moments ago remained. Seeing that his apprentice was doing as commanded, Voldemort nodded, straightening back up. The three wizards made their way unimpeded to the chambers where the lordship vote would be cast.

As they entered the Wizengamot, once again all eyes were on Harry and Voldemort. Harry glanced around, trying valiantly to keep his focus on maintaining his mental shields. He knew that Dumbledore would be present, still holding the title of a Lord of an established house, even though he was no longer Chief Warlock. Their eyes met briefly, a sad exchange before Harry quickly dropped the headmaster's gaze. Harry shifted, looking past Dumbledore, taking in the full seats of the chamber. Every family with a vote had shown up in force. Many faces were unfamiliar to him, but there were quite a few that he recognized.

It was obvious the assembly was clearly divided into two, unlike last time, the neutral faction appeared smaller. On one side, Madame Longbottom maintained a passive demeanor, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared visibly nervous, seated next to an equally concerned Diggle and Dodge. Shacklebolt sat tall and resolute next to McGonagall, who radiated displeasure. Many of the Order members were unable to attend, not belonging to a family with a vote or being high enough in their family to warrant a seat, such as Tonks, Lupin, and Moody.

On the opposing side, the dark forces were clearly represented in force, with the Malfoys, Notts, Carrow Twins, Yaxley, Rowle, and Rockwood taking prominent seats. Pureblood families like Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini, Macnair, and the Flints were also present, each with their own vested interests in supporting the ambitious Dark Lord. Harry couldn't help but notice the alleged neutrals, families such as the Bustrodes and Greengrass now sat near the side dark fraction as well.

His surprise deepened when he spotted in the middle of the assembly Mr. Lovegood engaging in a one-side animated conversation with Mr. Diggory, the latter's eyes locked onto Voldemort with a murderous scowl. Harry quickly averted his gaze, unwilling to meet the eyes of Cedric's father, the boy he had watched be murdered, dismissed as a mere spare. This was worse than the trial; how could he ever expect to face Mr. Diggory again?

"Please take your seats," Percy called out, his voice barely rising above the already hushed murmurs in the chamber. A nervous tension hung in the air, with one side filled with fear and anger and the other brimming with anticipation. Very few appeared neutral or undecided; it was clear which side had more support based on their seating arrangements. It seemed that the Dark Lord's influence had taken hold, as most were eager to stand with the dark wizard, who seemed unstoppable, or at least not openly stand in his way.

As the assembly found their seats, Voldemort led Harry to the designated seating area reserved for those on the agenda. Both wizards took their seats, remaining the center of attention for everyone present. Voldemort appeared unfazed by the scrutiny, while Harry struggled to mimic the same aloof nonchalance, though he was certain he was failing.

In the center of the chamber sat Madame Bones next to Lord Ambrose. Just as Lord Ambrose was about to begin, the Minister held up her hand. "Before we begin, there is a quick matter to address. Only those who have seats or who are on the agenda are allowed to be present during a session." She looked at Harry, her gaze indiscernible. "I understand that Mr. Potter is your apprentice, but only members of the Wizengamot are allowed to be present for a session unless he has a specific role. As witnesses are not expected to speak during a membership vote, Mr. Potter will have to wait outside."

Harry's eyes widen, surprised that he would be expelled. He knew he wasn't expected to speak, but Voldemort had wanted him there next to the Dark Lord as a reminder of just how much power he held and also a stark reminder of who was allegedly tempering it. He knew that Voldemort would not be pleased, but as he glanced at the Dark Lord, he only smiled indulgently.

"You are correct, Minister Bones, that if he were just my apprentice, then he would not be allowed to stay," Harry's breath caught at the anticipatory 'but' that he knew was coming.

A predatory smile stretched across Voldemort's face, radiating nothing but malicious glee. "But as I'm sure you are aware, our statutes clearly state that an impending Lord's heir may be present at the time of a vote. This is because once the vote is confirmed, then my heir will hold certain authorities that are acknowledged on a House's behalf in the event of my absence in the future." The chamber fell into a deafening silence, tension thick in the air. Harry felt frozen in his seat. His heart was beating unnaturally loud in his chest, he wondered if everyone could hear it.

"Lord Slytherin," Minister Bones managed to say faintly, her face pale. Harry could feel a mix of outrage, pity, disgust, and surprise directed at him. "Are you implying…" She could not even bring herself to say it.

Dumbledore stood up, genuine anger radiating from the wizard. "Surely you are not trying to say that Mr. Potter is your heir? Blood adoption rituals are illegal without Ministry permits. I was under the impression that you were petitioning for your seats under the guise of being a rule-abiding citizen. Worse, beyond violating clear laws prohibiting such forbidden blood magic, I am certain that Mr. Potter would never consent to such an act, not without great personal costs and threats."

Voldemort stood up as well, angry darkness radiating off the wizard, causing all present to flinch and drawback. "Then it is fortunate that I did not conduct a blood adoption ritual," Voldemort responded, his tone sharp. "And I take offense that you would accuse me of such a vile act. That your first address to me under the eyes of our distinguished colleagues is to accuse me of such a crime and imply that I would force my own apprentice into a forbidden ritual without his consent is appalling. Be careful with your accusations, Albus, because everyone here knows that I am entitled to retribution if you slander my reputation without proof."

Harry's heart sank as one of his biggest fears was laid bare in front of everyone. He knew it was possible it might be revealed during this session; Voldemort had said he did not intend to introduce the relationship but would not stop it if it came up. And this was too perfect of an opportunity not to. Not only could he claim Harry more fully as his own, but he was doing it in a way that reminded everyone that Harry had, in essence, conquered him once and was still willingly on his side. And worse, it would make Dumbledore look like a lying alarmist since, in this instance, Voldemort had not forced this upon Harry.

Dumbledore shook his head, ignoring the threat. "I refuse to believe this, not without proof of both his heir status and proof that you did not conduct blood magic to achieve this."

With a smile that did not touch his eyes, Voldemort walked to the center of the assembly, pulling a parchment from his robes and handing it to Minister Bones.

"What is it?" McGonagall asked. An uncomfortable murmur was beginning to swell within the chambers, gaining momentum as the revelation sank in.

Minister Bones glanced over it and then handed it to Ambrose. She looked to be in disbelief. "A Goblin-sealed heritage test confirming the Slytherin and Gaunt lineage. It has Mr. Potter listed as his heir due to the Rite of Succession."

The chambers exploded on both sides. Neither dark nor light had expected it. Harry could sense probing eyes on him; glancing up, he met Voldemort's amused stare. The teen knew this was exactly what Voldemort wanted, to throw the assembly into disarray before the vote, making the light look like fools while only cementing the Dark Lord's power.

"I assume you no longer object to my choice of having Mr. Potter present for the vote?" Voldemort inquired.

Minister Bones sighed and shook her head. "No, Lord Slytherin, it seems you are well within your rights."

Voldemort nodded in acknowledgment and turned to Lord Ambrose. "Excellent, shall we proceed?"

"Ah yes, of course… My fellow members of the Wizengamot," Lord Ambrose began, clearly looking out of sorts, having not been privy to the Slytherin revelation that had just been disclosed. "We have convened today to address a matter of utmost importance—one that concerns the restoration of titles and seats of two noble houses, House Slytherin and Gaunt…" The Chief Warlock continued, laying out the rules that governed such a vote with a quick recap of the history of how seats worked and why they were so important. It seemed he was reading a rehearsed script that was presented for every vote.

Once it actually began, Harry was shocked by how simple it all seemed to be. There would not be heartfelt speeches or impassioned pleas. Like many things within the wizarding world, it seemed to come down to a simple vote of majority. Voldemort was entitled to give remarks, should he choose, but in doing so, that would open the floor to others, which the Dark Lord did not want. If he did not speak in his own favor, then by law, the floor was not open to comments or dissenters. Confident that they had the numbers, Voldemort refused the opportunity to open the floor. While the light looked disappointed, they did not look surprised.

As those assembled prepared to vote, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of worry. He had never imagined a day when such a vote would take place, and he knew the implications were beyond far-reaching. Voldemort, or rather, Lord Slytherin, was on the verge of having his titles and seats reinstated, openly acknowledged as a member of the wizarding body. He would gain unprecedented freedom to act as he pleased, would never be held accountable for the first war, and was certain to continue to be appeased by many in an attempt to prevent a second one.

When the final tally was read, Lord Slytherin was reinstated to the wizarding body with a vote of 67% support. The rest of the session seemed to pass by in a surreal blur. Harry sat there, his mind still reeling from the turn of events, next to a very pleased Dark Lord. His triumphant smile sent shivers down Harry's spine.

Once they arrived back at the Manor, Harry turned to the newly elected Lord Slytherin.

"Did you know all that would happen, the accusations and revelations about me being your heir?"

He wasn't surprised by the knowing look. "I suspected it might."

"Why didn't you warn me?"

Voldemort shrugged nonchalantly, as if revealing Harry as the Dark Lord's heir to the entire wizarding world was a trivial matter. "Your mask is getting too proficient. I wanted you to be surprised, your response to be genuine so they did not think we had orchestrated it. It will help you maintain an image of innocence, that you are swept up in my schemes, doing the best you can to temper the evil dark lord." All Harry could do was nod. The answer made sense, but it didn't make him feel good about how it had gone down.

As Harry went to bed that night, nestled under the embrace of soft silk sheets on a plush, comfortable mattress, he gazed up at the ceiling, his thoughts were all over the place. He couldn't help but question whether he had made the right choice. Lord Voldemort was now officially operating in the open, wielding more power than ever before, and Harry was the reason why.

AN: Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed it then please drop a review!