Aftermath
In the nights following the duel, Harry was plagued by nightmares that vividly replayed the event with unsettling detail. He was haunted by the screams of Selwyn and the sight of him writhing in agony. Sometimes, he would see a convulsing rat, only to transform into the Death Eater's twitching form. On other nights, it was the Death Eater chasing him through shadowy corridors, hurling deadly spells with a sinister greenish hue, which Harry barely managed to evade. These chases would only end when Harry, driven by fear and desperation, spun around and faced his pursuer, casting the killing curse in self-defense, watching as his body dropped limply to the ground.
The most distressing dreams involved Draco; Harry would helplessly watch him meet a tragic end due to his own hesitation because he was unwilling to do what was necessary to stop Selwyn. His friend would fall to the ground to never move again, and Selwyn's malicious laugh would ring in his ears. Waking from these nightmares left Harry with a racing heart and the haunting images of Draco's lifeless, dull silver eyes staring at him, forever gone. He'd come so close to another person he cared about dying… he could not let that happen again.
He wasn't exactly mad at himself over his use of dark magic; he'd prepared himself for it, aware of its necessity. Ensuring his spot as heir was worth the sacrifice. He knew the spells he intended to use, starting with those learned from Slytherin's grimoire, would ensure that Selwyn would be unable to fight back. Only a snake speaker could dispel the curse once cast; that or Selwyn would have had to defeat Harry to make him release the magic. No, it wasn't that he'd used those spells, it was his reaction to the stray killing curse that left Harry feeling hollow, uncertain. The intensity of his response to Draco's near-miss with death caught him completely off guard. Driven by a sudden surge of fury, he'd cast both the Cruciatus and Imperius curses instinctively, their execution marked by a terrifying precision and ferocity that had frightened him.
He had wanted to hurt Selwyn for what he'd tried to do to Harry, and what he had almost done to Draco. He understood that dark magic was fueled by feelings, often anger, and the power to inflict pain. Was it because he had already cast three other dark spells that slipping into the use of unforgivables had been so easy? He certainly hadn't planned to use them at the start of the duel. But overwhelmed by fear and anger at what had transpired, casting them had felt disturbingly right. Even days later, he wasn't sure if he regretted his response; it felt deserved. He didn't feel remotely guilty about breaking the wizard's wand. As he reflected more on the duel, he realized it wasn't the act of casting those spells that alarmed him, but rather that he hadn't planned to—that he had lost control in that moment. The shock of discovering such darkness within himself—to the point of crossing a line he had never meant to approach—was profound. He knew he couldn't let that happen again either.
The one positive aspect of the entire ordeal was that it was increasingly evident that he had redeemed himself in the Dark Lord's eyes. The following day, they resumed their regular training and conversations, with Harry once again being allowed to participate in planning sessions with the select inner circle, focusing on Ministry laws and policies. His voice was heard and his recommendations, more often than not, obeyed. The Dark Lord did not explicitly mention it, but Harry could tell he was pleased by the way he praised Harry's spellcasting during their training or by him being slightly more engaging than usual during their meals together.
Beyond that, Harry would find the Dark Lord sometimes just staring at him, lost in thought, but seeming satisfied. It was an odd experience for Harry; he'd never had someone he sought to impress. Part of him hated it was the Dark Lord suddenly filling that role, but the pragmatic part of his brain at least recognized that Voldemort was one of the strongest wizards, if not the strongest wizard, of their time. If he was impressing him, then he knew he was actually achieving something of worth.
Following Harry's demonstration of power, the subsequent weeks were unlike any he had experienced before. The most notable change was in the behavior of the other Death Eaters towards him. There was a discernible shift; they started to give him more space, often nodding or bowing deferentially when he passed by. None dared to challenge him, whether Voldemort was present or not. Although he had wished to no longer be seen as a victim or a target for challenges, he was uncertain about his feelings towards being at the opposite end of the spectrum, where they seemed to fear him almost as much as they feared the Dark Lord.
Why couldn't things ever just be normal?
Voldemort seemed to derive a sinister pleasure from the noticeable shift in his followers' behavior and the ensuing awkwardness it caused Harry. He began explicitly directing Harry to linger after the large group gatherings, suggesting that personal interaction would engender deeper loyalty from his followers toward his heir. Had Harry not half-suspected the whole situation to be a twisted joke at his expense, he might have believed he was being subjected to a peculiar, hellish form of punishment.
It was after one such meeting, which had particularly heightened Harry's discomfort, that suddenly seeing Draco's blonde hair in the sea of bone masks and dark cloaks had provided a welcome relief. The Death Eaters had become increasingly enthusiastic for his attention, with unfamiliar masked witches and wizards eagerly approaching him with attempted light conversation or straight-up unsolicited boasts, outlining their contributions to various nefarious plots or their influential roles within the Ministry that could be exploited for dark purposes.
Each conversation left Harry feeling profoundly out of place. After tactfully extracting himself from a plump middle-aged wizard who had been elaborating on his methods for enhancing the efficacy of dark curses, Harry eagerly stepped towards Draco, craving the comfort of a familiar and reassuring presence amidst the unsettling dark zeal.
Draco, noticing Harry's approach, appeared to tense up; silver eyes glancing around as if searching for someone else to engage with to avoid the raven-haired teen. Seeing this, Harry slowed, but there was no one between them, making the whole encounter suddenly feel very awkward. As if bracing himself, Draco took a step forward, meeting Harry.
Looking at him, Harry felt more uncertain than ever. He had been impatient to see Draco, this being their first meeting since the duel. He wasn't sure if Draco viewed him differently now, fearing the Malfoy Heir might think him a monster for the dark curses he'd cast or, worse, resent Harry because the duel that had almost gotten him killed.
"You've become quite the figure," Draco remarked quietly, breaking the tense silence.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to gauge the mood of his peer. Their previous conversations hadn't felt forced; this suddenly felt different. Was Draco only interacting with him because Harry was the Dark Lord's heir, and he felt obligated? There was none of the usual enjoyment that Harry had come to expect when they spoke.
"It's all a bit...overwhelming," Harry confessed. "This sort of attention, this fear from others, it's not what I wanted."
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the approach of another Death Eater, whose intentions to curry favor with Harry were painfully clear. Draco gave Harry a look that was difficult to dissect, then stepped back. He nodded at the other Death Eater, clearly signaling his willingness to leave Harry to allow him to discuss whatever matter had prompted the interruption.
"Draco, wait," Harry called out, a note of urgency in his voice. "Can we talk? Could you meet me in the garden later?"
After a moment's hesitation, Draco acknowledged the request with a slight nod, then turned and left the hall. Harry, feeling a strong desire to depart as well but aware that leaving prematurely would displease Voldemort, resignedly turned his attention back to the eager Death Eater. After a few more painful conversations, Harry decided he had lingered long enough and left the gathering. Upon reaching the garden, he found Draco contemplatively looking over the pond.
"Draco," Harry greeted.
The Malfoy Heir turned, acknowledging Harry with a silent nod. Their interactions had been sparse since Harry had saved his life at the Malfoy party—a moment that now felt like a distant memory. Worse, since his duel with Selwyn, Harry hadn't had the opportunity to speak with him at all. The Malfoy heir had been avoiding Slytherin Manor, appearing only for meetings when absolutely necessary—a move Harry considered prudent. Harry didn't believe Voldemort would go back on his promise and kill Draco, yet he thought adopting an "out of sight, out of mind" strategy was wise even if Voldemort's acute mind was unlikely to forget anything—especially not the blonde teenager who had betrayed him and his heir.
"It looks like you're still being invited to meetings," Harry observed, aware of Draco's concern that his betrayal would lead to him being excommunicated from the dark. A lot of the Malfoy family's prestige was intertwined with both Lucius and Draco's visibility and participation in dark scheming and association; being excluded from meetings would certainly not help their already tarnished reputation. Both Malfoys had been suspiciously absent for the first few weeks after his betrayal unless Lucius was absolutely necessary for a ministry requirement, but that had suddenly changed after Harry's duel.
"Yes, the invitations have returned to their usual frequency," Draco confirmed, though his tone was more subdued than usual. As he spoke, he gave Harry a considering look as if questioning whether Harry was responsible for the subtle change in status. Harry hadn't explicitly asked the Dark Lord for the favor but suspected it had been an unintended consequence of his pleasure with Harry's duel, willing to indulge Harry by letting him maintain a connection with Draco.
"Draco..." Harry started, uncomfortably unable to ignore the persisting tension. "Isn't that what you wanted, for things to go back to the way they were?"
Draco gave a noncommittal shrug. "I seek to please the Dark Lord," he replied tonelessly. "What about you?" he deflected, steering the conversation away from himself. "Seems like you've been busy."
The blonde's response only reinforced the apprehensions Harry had felt since the duel with Selwyn. He hated that Draco had once again been put in mortal danger because of Harry's action, that he was the reason Draco had almost been hit by the killing curse.
"I'm sorry you almost died," Harry blurted out, unable to contain the guilt any longer. The thought had been gnawing at him relentlessly. He had half-expected Draco to sever ties, to prefer distance over the danger that seemed to follow Harry. And if Draco chose to do so, Harry would force himself to understand and respect that decision. But he hoped that wasn't the case, that he could make amends.
Draco raised an eyebrow, a hint of dismissal in his tone. "We already discussed this," he stated, his gaze sharpening and his posture tensing as though he preferred to leave the topic in the past.
Harry stared at him, confused. They most certainly had not had this conversation. "I haven't even seen you since Selwyn was killed," Harry countered, standing his ground.
"Wait, you're talking about that duel? I thought you meant...never mind…" Draco's confusion was evident as he initially believed Harry was referring to a different, equally perilous incident involving Voldemort.
"No," Harry quickly interjected, his tone dropping. "I'm referring to when you were nearly hit with the Killing Curse because that idiot couldn't accept his loss… I should have disarmed him, not trusted that he was defeated..."
Draco shook his head, "you didn't cast the curse; he did," he said slowly.
Harry frowned. "Yes, but if I had finished him properly and disarmed him when he fell, he never could have attacked again…" Harry had replayed that particular moment over in his mind so many times he could see it when he blinked.
Draco's expression shifted subtly, a complex mix of emotions flickering across his face as he absorbed Harry's words. For a moment, he seemed to hold his breath, the lines of his face tightening. It was as if Draco's own guilt surfaced, mirrored in the brief hardening of his eyes—a silent acknowledgment of his role in the events that left Harry even more puzzled.
Harry swallowed, pressing on with the need to offer an apology and hoping for reconciliation. "When I saw that body next to you, realizing it could have easily been you… I'm so sorry…"
"Is that why you used the Unforgivable Curses on him? Because he nearly hit me?" Draco's voice was low, tinged with a mix of disbelief and something that almost sounded like remorse. Harry turned away, his hands balling into fists as he wrestled with his emotions.
"Harry," Draco pressed, seeking confirmation, "was that the reason?"
"I... I don't know. Yes, probably. I wasn't thinking clearly. He tried to hit me. I was furious that he had killed someone who was innocent, who didn't deserve to die. Realizing it was so close to being you... it pushed me over the edge. The idea of losing another friend to this war, especially after all I've done to protect everyone, it's something I can't face."
A heavy silence fell between them. When Harry finally dared to meet Draco's gaze, he found him looking back with a mixture of shock and something else, something harder to decipher.
"Say something," Harry requested, wondering if he should not have confessed all that. Maybe he was a monster, and Draco was now seeing him for who he truly was—someone willing to resort to torture for personal reasons because he was upset.
"Do you... actually consider me a friend?" Draco's voice, almost inaudible, cut through Harry's self-reproach.
That was what he'd taken out of his confession? Harry nodded, both in confirmation and no small amount of confusion. "Of course," he said, surprised. He thought his actions and feelings had been fairly transparent. He'd sworn an oath to the Dark Lord and tortured someone to protect Draco. Even by Harry's insane standards of saving people, that was pretty extreme. "I mean, only if you want to be... I understand if you don't. Being my friend comes with a lot of risks, and, well... you've had a few close calls now because of me."
Draco seemed caught off guard. "I... I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me after everything. Seeing your reaction that day, I feared... perhaps I was to blame for putting you in a position where you felt you had to act. I thought maybe you resented me, that you felt like you had to save me again, even after everything you've already done..."
"You thought... that I was angry with you?" Harry was momentarily speechless. The notion that Draco might consider Harry's actions—actions that Harry himself was responsible for— as a source of resentment towards Draco was ludicrous. "That's not it at all. If anything, I blame myself for the danger you were in..."
"No!" Draco interrupted with unexpected fervor, gripping Harry's shoulders firming. "Don't you dare start blaming yourself," he asserted, his voice laced with a mix of sternness and incredulous laughter. "You know what? This isn't about blame for either of us. The real blame belongs to the idiot who cast that spell, not you or me. And frankly, you did more than enough to compensate for his stupidity," he added, his features briefly morphing into a smirk as if to suggest the retaliation he had received was well warranted before it quickly disappeared. "Though, I can't lie, the whole ordeal was... intense."
"Intense," Harry echoed, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. "I've shown everyone that I'm a demon, a Dark Lord in training." He shuddered at the memory of bows, whispers of 'my lord', and the unsettling deference from the Death Eaters that now shadowed his every step. "They fear me almost as much as they do the Dark Lord himself."
Draco regarded Harry with a thoughtful, almost analytical gaze, which unsettled Harry further. "You really don't see yourself clearly at all, do you?" Draco remarked, his tone tinged with frustration and a hint of amusement.
Harry could only offer a helpless shrug, his bewilderment clear. He thought he understood the reflection that stared back at him from the mirror each day, that he saw himself plainly.
Secretly, he half-expected his green eyes to one day flicker red, leaving no question about the dark path he feared he was treading.
Draco, perceiving Harry's turmoil, persisted. "Yes, the magic you wielded was terrifying, the kind only the Dark Lord himself is known for," Harry winced at the comparison. "But there's more to it than that. You used only a handful of spells against him, and it was over quickly.
You demonstrated you were stronger, you defeated him. And it was obvious you were restraining yourself; you could have inflicted far more damage, prolonged those spells, or... possibly used even more dangerous ones." Harry felt uncomfortable, disliking the accuracy of Draco's observations and the casual manner in which he spoke of Harry's capacity for greater cruelty, as if it were a given that he could escalate the duel with minimal effort.
Draco, undeterred, continued. It seemed he had accepted this aspect of Harry, perhaps even expected it, as if it were a natural attribute of the Dark Lord's heir and apprentice to possess similar power and potential for cruelty. "That should have been it; the idiot should have conceded defeat, you had clearly bested him." He paused, his silver eyes scanning Harry thoughtfully.
"What you're missing, that the rest of us saw, is that you only became truly angry, and only resorted to punishing him with torture, snapping his wand—making it personal—when one of our own was killed, when you thought I was in danger," Draco said, giving Harry a significant look. "Harry, you avenged that unfortunate sap who was unlucky enough to be hit by the killing curse. You made it clear that you wouldn't let Selwyn get away with that again. That you protect your own.
"So, you actually achieved two things: you let everyone know what you would do to those who cross you, which was all the more terrifying because the Dark Lord clearly endorsed your use of whatever magic you deemed necessary against one of his own followers. But you also did it in defense of one of us. So yes, while they might be terrified of you, I think their deference also comes from a desire to be seen as loyal to you. Everyone knows the consequences of angering the Dark Lord, and you're the only one who might mitigate his wrath. And now, they also understand that if they prove themselves worthy, you might defend them too, just like you did for me."
Harry found himself without words, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. Could the world really be so crazy? Was he inadvertently gathering his own dark followers within the Dark Lord's ranks because of that single act?
"Merlin," he breathed out, his head shaking in sheer disbelief. "The world's gone mad. Only your lot would trust me more after I've resorted to torture on their behalf..."
Draco's laughter was soft, tinged with appreciation and wry amusement. "No argument there; everyone's lost it. But their madness works in your favor, so leverage it. At this point, it seems you can do no wrong with the Dark Lord."
Harry snorted dismissively. "That's not true. I think I have found about every way possible to piss him off," he said, his voice trailing off as he contemplated the complex dynamics at play. The world truly was going mad.
Draco shrugged, "seems like you're pleasing him more often than not."
Harry frowned. Yes, recently he had to agree that he was. And he found himself wanting to be the recipient of that pleasure more than he cared to admit. Not wanting to think about it beyond that, he turned back to Draco. "Are we good?"
"Yes," Draco said with forced exasperation. "We're good."
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Harry was relieved to have reconciled with Draco, astonished that both had mistakenly believed the other wanted to sever their ties, all due to misinterpreting the same incident. The thought of blaming Draco for Harry's own use of the Unforgivable Curses in a moment of fear and anger had never crossed his mind. His intention had always been to protect his friend. At least there was the slightest silver lining that the other Death Eaters had witnessed his fierce response. It showed that he was loyal to those he cared about, and it served as a clear warning that Draco was off-limits should they wish to avoid provoking Harry's anger. Even after all that, perhaps the most startling development following the duel and his conversation with Draco occurred the next day when Harry was ordered to work with his father.
He had been instructed to meet with Lucius Malfoy to discuss upcoming changes to the Hogwarts curriculum, changes that Lucius had been tasked to come to Slytherin Manor to work on with Harry. For the most part, Harry was in agreement with the proposals. Starting the next year, the school would offer an optional introductory course to students, highly recommended for Muggle-born or those who hadn't been raised in the magical world, unlike purebloods. Scheduled for one evening a week during the first three months, each hour-long lesson would cover a different topic, complemented by optional further reading and assignments for those eager to learn more about their new world. Harry appreciated the idea but had reservations about the curriculum, which seemed to have been authored by a pureblood supremacist—a suspicion that seemed confirmed as he observed Lucius, who appeared oblivious to any issues with the proposed lesson plans.
"This is very biased," Harry pointed out. "I agree they have a lot to learn about the wizarding world, but it can't be presented as though those who didn't grow up in our world are second- class citizens."
Lucius looked at him blankly, as if that was precisely the intention. "I grew up with Muggles," Harry emphasized, his eyes narrowing, "and the way this is written, it seems like I should bow down to all my pureblood Slytherin classmates and just be grateful I'm allowed to breathe the same air as them."
Harry wasn't particularly worried about any potential disagreements with Lucius regarding the proposal's phrasing; he doubted Voldemort had even reviewed it, let alone shaped its narrative. Understanding the background of the Slytherin Lord, who had been as surprised as Harry to receive his Hogwarts letter, he knew such directives would have enraged the young Tom Riddle. The idea of being informed in his first year that his status as an outsider put him at a disadvantage compared to those born into the magical world, suggesting he should simply be thankful for the chance to learn the ways of purebloods, would have been unthinkable to someone as driven and destined for greatness as the future Dark Lord.
"Then what changes would you suggest?" Lucius inquired, his voice thinly veiling his mounting irritation.
After reviewing the document again and considering the timeline for its presentation at the end of the month, Harry responded, "I'd like to take this with me to review. I'll return it to you soon with proposed changes."
Lucius's face clouded over, clearly displeased by the suggestion, but after a moment of visible effort, he managed a nod, releasing a slow breath. "Very well," he agreed, albeit reluctantly.
Seizing the documents, Harry planned to consult Voldemort about collaborating with Hermione on the revisions, confident she would have useful ideas. He knew he had to avoid biases from either side, and believed that by balancing Lucius's perspectives with Hermione's, he could create a fair and constructive proposal that would ideally benefit both parties, especially those newly introduced to the magical world.
"So, I guess we're finished for now. I'll bring this back to you shortly with some revisions," Harry concluded, his excitement palpable at the prospect of refining the curriculum and making a meaningful difference. This was the type of help he'd always wanted to achieve. "Thank you for your time discussing this," he added as an afterthought, offering a nod as he stood. Despite Lucius's current estrangement, he remained a Lord. While not as respectful as he could have been, Harry had no intention of completely alienating him, particularly in light of the recent events where Lucius's son had narrowly avoided death because of Harry's duel.
"The honor is mine, my lord," Lucius replied, his tone flat, devoid of mockery yet carrying an undercurrent of something unspoken. Harry quickly looked up, his gaze locking with Lucius's cold grey eyes that stared back with intensity. This form of address was new to Harry; the lesser Death Eaters used it commonly, but it was rare for the Inner Circle. While Barty often said it in jest, and Nott when he had a favor to ask, Lucius had consistently used 'Mr. Potter.'
"I haven't assumed my lordship yet," Harry pointed out cautiously, still a few months shy of reaching his majority—a fact Lucius was certainly aware of.
Lucius gave him a meaningful look. "I am not referring to that kind of lordship," he said, then turned and walked away, leaving Harry thoroughly perplexed. Was this because he'd defended Draco a second time, or something else? He wasn't sure that he wanted to know.
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After the strange encounter, several evenings passed before Harry was able to dine with Voldemort for supper. The Dark Lord had several evening commitments, ones that Harry truthfully didn't want to join since they were formal dinners at dark or neutral homes of those whom the Dark Lord was busy courting to his side. The Potter Heir found such events awkward and uncomfortable, not at all eager to have to start joining, as would be expected when he came of age. Very much aware of his heir's dislike for such gatherings and still satisfied with Harry's recent performance of dark prowess, Voldemort had given him the choice to attend the two most recent events. Harry had gratefully declined the offer.
Despite skipping these dinners, Harry and Voldemort continued to meet almost daily. Harry would spend his mornings studying in the library and his afternoons practicing magic alongside the Dark Lord, which helped alleviate any concerns that missing the dinners would displease the Dark Lord. The sessions were progressing well, enhancing Harry's confidence in his magical abilities as he continued to push the envelope with riskier and more dangerous magic. However, he had yet to find the right moment to bring up the topic of seeking Hermione's help. He thought it necessary to avoid discussing it during more formal meetings or training with Voldemort, where he was seen more as an apprentice and was expected to perform. In such settings, mentioning his Muggleborn friend seemed unwise.
"How did your dinners go? You met with the Carroways and Lady Blackthorn?" Harry asked, wanting to break the silence more naturally than just diving straight into his request.
Voldemort nodded, placing his fork aside; he comfortably began to recount the details of his visits. Harry listened with keen interest. While glad he didn't have to attend, he still found himself captivated by the strategic interplay of power and persuasion. These events were like a dance, and it was masterful to see how the Dark Lord took the lead.
As Voldemort concluded, Harry carefully placed his own silverware down on his plate. "I'm glad it went well," he said, attempting to sound normal. He allowed himself a fleeting glance in Voldemort's direction before glancing down at his lap, feeling the weight of the Dark Lord's piercing gaze upon him.
"Do you have something you wish to ask me?" Voldemort inquired, his voice laced with an indulgent knowingness that hinted at his familiarity with Harry's nuances and tells.
The Potter Heir nodded, not sure why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable. He suspected it was because this would be a new evolution of what he was or was not allowed to do. While given the freedom to work on policies and influence them, he wasn't sure how the Dark Lord would react to the idea of Hermione being allowed to work on them as well.
"Harry?" The Dark Lord prompted, his curiosity appearing genuine.
"The other day, when I was with Lord Malfoy, we discussed the curriculum proposal for students not raised in the magical world," Harry explained. Voldemort nodded, indicating his awareness of Harry's involvement in the policy work.
"It's written with a strong bias favoring purebloods, those who grew up in this world. I don't think that should be their introduction, creating a hierarchy and division that is formally taught by the school."
The Dark Lord remained silent, clearly expecting Harry to elaborate further. Feeling the need to underscore his argument, Harry continued, "I mean, both of us grew up without a traditional magical upbringing, but that doesn't make us inferior to Malfoy or anyone else.
The way it's written, it would imply that we are."
Voldemort's lips quirked in a semblance of amusement, though it was clear it wasn't from genuine mirth but rather as if Harry had inadvertently made a concession. "If no child grew up outside of the magical community, a class like this would not be necessary. Which is precisely why the laws I intend to enact are necessary," Voldemort declared. Harry found it challenging to hide his agitation about the legislation Voldemort was so eager to introduce—a proposal Harry had yet been unable to alter. Thankfully, it wasn't set to be proposed anytime soon; it was controversial and would create too much of a divide between the different factions which the Dark Lord did not want until his power was more secure.
"Perhaps, but this will start affecting the students attending next year," Harry stated, deliberately avoiding being drawn into a debate. He knew such a discussion would only end in his frustration and likely Voldemort anger if he didn't immediately submit. The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed with a discerning awareness, accepting Harry's reluctance to engage on the topic they both knew troubled him so deeply. "So, I want to ensure we get this right."
"Then do so," Voldemort replied, his tone imbued with finality, as though he were unconcerned that Harry planned to change the current wording—a stance that might indeed reflect his true feelings. "You, more than most, should understand what knowledge would have been beneficial to receive early on. Incorporate that as you see fit. I don't understand your concern here?"
Harry nodded, pleased he would get to change it, but now they'd arrived at the topic that did actually concern him. "I'd like to get Hermione's perspective on it. She's brilliant, possibly the most intelligent person I know," he hesitated, noticing Voldemort's eyes narrow slightly, "aside from you," he conceded, his statement genuine. While Hermione's academic prowess was undeniable, Voldemort's intelligence spanned theoretical knowledge and its practical application, seemingly limitless. "I think she'd have valuable ideas."
Amused, Voldemort gave a nod of assent. "Then seek her insights," he permitted, his demeanor still appearing indifferent. "You're aware of what I would not want included, what I will not tolerate. Should there be any doubt, then ask."
"Really?" Harry's surprise was evident, relief and satisfaction washing over him in an instant.
Voldemort appeared to suppress a sigh, Harry's evident astonishment at his allowance seeming to cause mild irritation. "There is value in obtaining perspectives from those not raised within our world," he explained. "To understand what they believe should be included, what they wished they had known. I doubt one such as Lucius would be able to discern that on his own." The way Voldemort reasoned his approval made everything seem beyond logical. Harry often wished he had the same eloquence.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. The Dark Lord nodded as if it were not that great of a concession.
Leaning back, the teen took a moment to savor the minor triumph of securing Hermione's input—a small yet significant victory in what felt like an unending series of compromises. The conversation then shifted as Voldemort outlined his intentions to alter the Hogwarts curriculum further. Harry found himself strangely at ease listening to the Dark Lord discuss plans for initiating exchange programs with other magical schools. Voldemort elaborated on how these programs could lay the groundwork for introducing a wider array of studies, taking advantage of the broader curricula offered by international magical institutions as the framework so it would not be as apparent that he was the one introducing the change.
The conversation flowed smoothly until the very end when both wizards were preparing to part ways for the night. Voldemort placed his wine glass on the table with a definitive gesture and captured Harry's attention with a direct look.
"There is one last thing I wanted to discuss with you," Voldemort initiated, his voice calm yet commanding, capturing Harry's undivided attention. "The end of July marks your coming of age." Harry acknowledged this with a subtle nod, a trace of unease flickering within him as he attempted to discern Voldemort's intentions. The day had been steadily approaching, leaving Harry in a state of both anticipation and apprehension. He knew that upon coming of age, everything would once again change. He had only just begun to feel like he was settling into something resembling normalcy.
"In our world, turning seventeen is a significant milestone, a rite of passage," Voldemort's words echoed in the quiet, leaving Harry momentarily taken aback. "As you are my heir, it's appropriate we recognize this momentous occasion, not only as something significant in your life but also as a continuation of the Slytherin legacy."
Harry knew he must look dumbfounded. Surely, he wasn't hearing this correctly? The idea that Voldemort, of all people, might be suggesting a celebration for Harry's birthday was so unexpected, so fundamentally at odds with everything Harry knew of him, that he was left speechless, a tightness forming in his throat. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend Voldemort's unexpected intentions.
After a moment of silence, he managed to find his voice, though it emerged with a hint of disbelief. "I... I don't know what to say. This is... unexpected."
Voldemort's lips twitched, a subtle sign of satisfaction as he observed Harry's stunned reaction. "I would presume you won't oppose this, that you have no objections?" he remarked with a sense of knowingness, likely drawn from his own upbringing, understanding precisely what he was offering to the orphan who had seldom been acknowledged during past birthdays, let alone celebrated. "Above all, this must be a unified front, both as a recognition of the position you're expected to assume upon coming of age and as an acknowledgment that you are doing so as my heir."
Harry was taken aback, not only by the suggestion itself but also by the fact that Voldemort seemed to be genuinely seeking his input. Yet, amidst his surprise, a sense of rationalization crept in. It did, in a strange way, make sense. If orchestrated as Harry suspected the Dark Lord would intend, the celebration would undoubtedly be a grand affair, serving as a demonstration of Voldemort's authority and status while symbolizing the evolving relationship and expectations tied to Harry's role at his side. Surprisingly, Harry found himself not objecting to the idea. As he regarded the imposing wizard beside him, Harry found himself uncomfortably touched that he wanted to celebrate Harry in this way, even if he knew the Dark Lord gained something in return.
"No, I would not mind," Harry finally replied, his voice genuine as he met Voldemort's gaze. It actually, dare he say it, sounded like fun. "Thank you."
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After another inner circle meeting came to a close, Harry caught Severus Snape's significant look; the potions master subtly nodding towards the door that led to the garden. In response, Harry offered a slight nod of understanding.
The meeting and standard post-meeting scheming had passed mostly without incident except for one conspicuous moment that had occurred right after the Dark Lord had departed; Bellatrix Lestrange had approached him so swiftly that Harry nearly drew his wand in response. The fact that she was unarmed and bore a manic, yet seemingly real smile, was the only reason Harry hadn't adopted a dueling stance.
"My favorite protégé," she declared with joyful exuberance. Harry was acutely aware of those watching them, reminding him of the ever-present attention and underlying tension even within the highest level of their ranks.
He stiffened in response. They hadn't exchanged any words since the night she had come to his aid, yet he often sensed her intense gaze during meetings or whenever they shared the same space. Her eyes seemed hungry, eager, almost expectant.
"Protégé?" he repeated, his voice uneasy. Was she referring to Voldemort's mentorship or her own based on teaching him a single spell?
Her smile widened, apparently delighted that he had picked up on that particular term. "Have you given any thought to my offer? Your performance in the duel was simply marvelous; you squashed that bug… the Dark Lord was so very pleased. Together, I think we can make him even prouder," she said, her eyes alight with an intense fervor.
Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He had spent a lot of time preoccupied over the night she had come to his aid, questioning her motives. In the end, he'd been forced to accept that her actions were likely driven by his saving Draco; the same deed that had also likely influenced Lucius Malfoy's gradual shift in attitude. He wondered if, in these families steeped in pureblooded tradition, his incurring a life debt had inclined them all to favor him in some way. He wanted to discuss it with Draco but sensed the topic might be too sensitive, considering Draco's direct involvement. Perhaps he should broach the subject with Voldemort instead…
He was on the verge of outright refusing the offer but paused, forcing himself not to be so hasty. So many eyes were upon them, prying ears eagerly tuned to any conversation he had in their midst. Agreeing to lessons from Bellatrix Lestrange, especially in such a public manner, could have a significant impact on his standing within this particular group. Despite having proven himself to the masses, those who comprised the inner circle, who were allowed in this more secluded and intimate space with the Dark Lord, operated on a different level than the lower ranks.
While their tactics were more refined, they were equally, if not more ruthless, always ready to exploit any opportunity for perceived advantage. While they wouldn't dare challenge the Dark Lord by attacking Harry openly, gaining leverage over him would be a different matter. Accepting tutelage from Bellatrix, Voldemort's most formidable and feared enforcer, might offer him an edge in controlling the inner circle. The Dark Lord would not always be around, but if the others also knew Bellatrix favored him, that might mean something. Even better, everyone knew her spellcasting was vicious. He had zero desire to use anything she might teach him, but the fact that he knew such spells would certainly make others think twice.
"I appreciate the offer, and what you've already taught me," Harry said. Her smile widened in delight at the praise; Harry hadn't said it for her, but for the others, to make them wonder what else he knew. "As you know, I'm quite busy, but I'll bring it up with the Dark Lord. He does think highly of your power; he might allow me to spare some time to learn what you have to offer."
Her expression brightened to the point of near euphoria at the mention of her master's approval. She emitted a laugh of pure joy, a sound that resonated around them. Harry felt the urge to recoil at the display but managed to maintain a composed facade. Was manipulating others truly this simple? He could see her reaction was extreme; her desire to gain favor with the Dark Lord leading her to grasp at any hint of commendation directed her way, even if it was merely implied by Harry. Disgusted with himself, he had quickly fled after that, eager for the quiet solitude of the garden, even if it was to meet with Severus Snape.
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Severus watched with a sense of relief as Potter quietly made his way into the garden. It had been a while since their last meeting, and in the interim, much had unfolded. Their last encounter had been shortly after Yule, near the tumultuous time marked by Draco's unmasking as the true traitor and Harry's astonishing ascent within the Dark Lord's ranks, seemingly acquiring more trust and opportunity at the Dark Lord's side than Severus thought possible. Snape had believed the teen had reached a semblance of stability, but then, in an unexpected twist, Harry had been attacked within the Dark Lord's own manor. This led to Harry, remarkably, agreeing to a duel in front of all the Dark Lord's followers, during which he demonstrated magic Severus could hardly fathom, let alone wield himself.
The power emanating from the serpents Harry conjured, both ethereal and real, was unmistakable. Then came the use of two Unforgivable Curses. Throughout the duel, Severus was utterly engrossed by Harry's display; his stoicism and seeming detachment captivated the potion's master. Except, of course, for those fleeting moments when Draco seemed in danger, and Harry's face was briefly marred by a storm of rage before he regained his composure to continue his ruthless display of magic, torturing the foolish Death Eater and culminating in the dramatic snapping of his opponent's wand.
While the entire display had been beyond unnerving, it was the manner in which Harry had then yielded the spotlight to Voldemort, as though he were bestowing the life of the vanquished back to the Dark Lord, that truly left Severus unsettled. This was not the innocent child of Lily Potter who he hoped to protect and to preserve.
He watched the young man walk towards him, cloaked in shadows, his elegant black robes draped around him. He exuded a sense of ease and confidence as if to say that a secluded meeting with a Death Eater in the Dark Lord's garden was an ordinary event. And not to forget, this was following an inner circle session where Bellatrix had practically salivated over him offering special instruction in dark magic, an offer Harry hadn't immediately rejected.
Watching him draw nearer, Severus found himself at a loss. The transformation was significant; Severus found it challenging to reconcile this poised and powerful wizard with the naive, impetuous, and, at times, arrogantly bold Gryffindor he had known.
"Potter," the potion's master greeted him upon arrival.
"Snape," Harry greeted quietly in return.
His dark eyes lingered on the youth a moment longer than what was considered appropriate, leaving Severus wondering where to begin, what to say. Was Harry suffering under the weight of what had been demanded of him, or was he basking in the power and prestige his advancements were earning him within the dark ranks?
"I saw your duel," Severus began, deciding to start with the most challenging topic.
Harry nodded, seemingly anticipating this. His expression was one of resignation. "Did you tell them?"
"Who?" Severus inquired, though he had a suspicion of whom Harry was referring.
"The Order…"
Severus's lips pressed into a thin line. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort operated with networks of spies, their identities as hidden from Severus as they were from each other, a necessary precaution. Yes, he had relayed the information, as was expected of him. The Dark Lord would have wanted the details shared, and Dumbledore would have considered it a betrayal had Severus kept them silent.
"Yes."
Emerald eyes shuttered briefly, then opened again as Harry nodded in what seemed like acceptance. Severus braced for a question about the Order's reaction that surprisingly never came. Perhaps Potter had truly detached himself from concerns about the Light's perspective. Observing the young man now, Severus noted a new layer to his demeanor—more assured yet simultaneously more vulnerable. Undoubtedly, more dangerous…
"I understand if you no longer want to meet with me," Harry said suddenly, shifting as if uncertain but not nearly as awkward or hesitant as the teen used to be. He was no longer looking at a boy but a young man, one who was being groomed by the Dark Lord himself.
"Why would you suggest that?" Severus asked softly, fighting to keep his face blank, his voice and movements calm, sensing that the wrong word or act would cause Potter to turn and leave, likely never to come back. He felt himself suddenly feeling increasingly protective of the youth, of Lily's son. It was his fault he was in this mess, that he'd grown up without parents, had been targeted by the Dark Lord, and had been forced to succumb to this fate to save everyone.
"There isn't much left to protect," Harry's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried a weight of conviction. "That was your vow, wasn't it? To save me? I'm not sure anyone can save me from myself."
Severus's frown deepened, recognizing this wasn't merely the melodramatic musings of a prideful teenager. "Do you consider yourself lost?" he inquired carefully.
Harry shrugged, his gaze drifting towards the pond. A silver and green fin surfaced briefly before diving back down, its movement creating ripples that shimmered under the moonlight.
"Lost… no, I think I'm where I am meant to be. Where I will continue to stay, but I know it's not what you envisioned when you made your oath."
This was not what Severus had expected at all. He had watched silently from afar over the last few weeks as Harry seemed to reach new heights among the Dark Lord's followers. Even with the Dark Lord, from whom Severus could sense an increasing zealous hunger that practically radiated from the Dark Lord every time he was near his heir. It was beyond apparent that Voldemort was pleased to have someone of Harry's potential under his control. There was a possessiveness that was now apparent that had not previously been present.
Severus frowned, "my oath was to protect you; I see you no safer than the last time we met."
Harry let out a bitter laugh and, sighing, moved away from Severus towards the pond. With a sense of uncertainty, Severus trailed behind. This expectation of being followed was a new aspect of Harry's behavior, eerily reminiscent of the Dark Lord, a comparison that troubled Severus. He might have confronted Harry about this resemblance, but he was wary that drawing such a parallel might prematurely halt their conversation. It almost appeared as though Harry wanted him to walk away, to abandon his commitment to the young man.
"I'm as safe as I'm ever going to be; I doubt there's much more you can do to protect me now."
Feeling a mix of annoyance and dismissal, Severus moved to stand beside Potter, refusing to simply follow behind. "Then it's fortunate that my oath to you wasn't contingent on your feelings," he retorted, his voice laced with a snark he didn't bother to conceal. If Potter believed Severus would simply give up and forsake his oath, he was sorely mistaken.
Emerald eyes snapped towards him, suddenly and unnervingly focused. "Is that true? Your oath to protect me was sworn to me?"
Severus frowned; perhaps he'd been mistaken, and Potter was as dimwitted as ever; he'd already told the wizard as much. The night had been particularly awkward for the reclusive man, especially as they continued to drink and discuss his mother. "Yes, as you well know."
Harry's eyes hardened, a conviction settling in him that made Severus instantly wary. "Then I release you from it; your oath has been fulfilled. You owe me nothing."
Severus gasped as he felt the magic of the oath react. What had the reckless, foolish brat done? "You idiot!" he hissed, taking a staggering step back. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I don't want your life indebted to me due to Dumbledore's manipulation. I chose this path willingly; you didn't."
Severus shook his head, feeling an odd sensation within his core. The magic that had passed through him was both liberating and confining. He knew without a doubt that he was released from the oath.
"You fool," he muttered once more, at a loss for further words. Why would Harry do such a thing? Did he genuinely harbor a death wish? Didn't he desire someone to protect him?
Harry shrugged, a faint smile flickering across his lips, his demeanor visibly lighter. "Yes, probably," he conceded with dry humor before sobering. "I'm grateful for the oath you took, for everything you've done to keep me alive up to this point." He paused, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them again. "However, I won't force you to stay. I've made my choice; this is my path. But I won't impose it on you, and certainly not because you were manipulated by Dumbledore into it. Stay if you wish, or leave. It's really up to you. Just don't stay because you were forced... Everyone should have a choice…"
Once again, Severus found himself on a roller coaster of emotions in the presence of Harry Potter, each moment unfolding with an unexpected turn that left him reeling. At first, surprise gripped him tightly. The young man before him was a far cry from the boy he had sworn to protect out of loyalty to Lily. Harry's words and actions, so mature and decisive, were unlike anything Severus had anticipated, shaking the very foundations of his expectations.
As the conversation deepened, Severus transitioned into a state of thoughtfulness. Harry's acknowledgment of the oath Severus had taken, and his gratitude for the protection it had afforded him, touched something deep within Severus. It was a rare moment of vulnerability and recognition that pierced through the layers of Severus's guarded persona, reminding him of the complex web of duty, loyalty, and unresolved grief that had defined much of his life. A part of him that had long died when Lily had.
Yet, as quickly as that touch of warmth came, it was replaced by annoyance. Harry's casual dismissal of the oath, his readiness to release Severus from a vow that had shaped so much of Severus's actions and decisions, vexed him. It felt like a disregard for the gravity of Severus's commitment, a commitment that had cost him in ways Harry could not possibly understand.
Frustration soon followed, borne of Harry's seemingly reckless acceptance of his chosen path. Severus had spent years maneuvering through the shadows, protecting Harry from a myriad of threats, only for Harry to stand there and willingly embrace danger. It was as if all Severus's efforts were being swept aside, deemed unnecessary in the face of Harry's resolve.
Amidst these swirling emotions, Severus also felt a profound sense of uncertainty. Harry's offer, the freedom to choose to stay or go, was unsettling. For so long, Severus's path had been dictated by obligations and vows, by the need to protect, to atone, to remember Lily. Now, with those chains seemingly lifted, he found himself at a crossroads, unsure of his next step. Should he continue to shadow Harry, driven by a sense of duty that was no longer mandated, or should he seek a new purpose, one chosen freely rather than imposed?
Harry gave him a knowing look that only irritated him further. "I don't think you need to make a decision tonight."
Severus snorted, "Still arrogant after all this time," he murmured, genuinely at a loss for words.
"Always," Harry replied, his smile genuine. He looked up at the darkening sky, seemingly aware of the advancing hour. "I should probably go, I have training in the morning." With that, he turned to leave.
"Harry," Severus called out, his decision made without needing more time. The raven-haired young man paused, turning back with a look of curiosity.
"Oath or not, I'm committed to supporting you through this. I'd like to meet again..."
A wave of relief seemed to pass through Harry, gratitude was evident in his demeanor, though perhaps unexpectedly so. "I would like that," he said softly. Then, he turned, vanishing into the shadows.
AN: Thanks for reading, drop a review if you like this fic