Preparing Potter for the cutthroat business of surviving the Dark Lord's inner circle was, admittedly, much more entertaining than managing accounts. Draco tried to not make it too painfully obvious that he was enjoying Potter's company. Did Potter always have a dark sense of humour? Had he always favoured sarcasm and a dry wit in conversations, making insightful observations to give away that he wasn't a moron? Draco had always, deep down, wished that Crabbe and Goyle possessed more than a brain cell between them. Neither of them had an opinion about anything or any degree of social skills. He'd been stuck with them since they had been toddlers.

In comparison, Potter was frighteningly interesting. Draco couldn't help but be entertained and stimulated in his presence. He hadn't laughed so carelessly in so damn long. The sight of Potter stressing about what to wear in front of Death Eaters who had all been charged with hunting him down only a week ago was deeply amusing. Torturing Potter's almost prudish sensibilities about what sometimes happened after the secret meetings had been down-right hilarious. Teasing him with sordid mental images of what the Lestranges got up to behind closed doors had been a delight.

After the Dark Lord expressed his surprise at Potter's cooperation, Draco found himself equally astonished. He also felt a strong sense of satisfaction. Potter appeared to have listened to him. He'd finally accepted his situation fully, even if he was very unhappy about it. He truly wasn't a complete idiot.

"The current structure of the Death Eaters is more like how it used to be before the Dark Lord disappeared. It has mostly consolidated back to its former glory with new members replacing old ones. The meeting tonight will be Marked members only… other than you. Only members of the Inner Circle are branded with the Dark Mark."

Draco had sketched out a diagram on some parchment for Potter's benefit, marking roughly where all the Death Eaters sat and who currently held the positions of favour with the Dark Lord. It became quickly apparent that Potter was largely clueless about how their operations were run – unsurprising when it was held with utmost secrecy.

"Originally, only those with the Mark could recruit. Potential followers would be tested, their loyalties and resourcefulness assessed. Their 'sponsor' is responsible for them until they earn the Mark. At that point, they have equal rank with the others. At least, that was how it used to be. Things changed during the interregnum."

"The what?" Potter interrupted, peering curiously across at Draco.

They were both now back in Potter's suite, sitting together at the table. It was starting to get close to when they would both be summoned for the meeting. The clock's ticking from the mantlepiece was a constant reminder that time was not on their side. Draco had at least had the time to change into his Death Eater robes and eat a light meal. Potter, too, wore black and it was too damn distracting to focus on how the tailored robes flattered his body and complexion.

"It's what we call the time where our order was broken and the Dark Lord was believed to be defeated. His… interruption."

Potter snorted lightly. "You're welcome."

"Yes, you don't have many fans in our ranks because of that," Draco said dryly, "though I believe tonight will change that. The Dark Lord is bringing you into the fold and he'll be acting as your 'sponsor'. That means you'll be sitting with him… at the top."

Draco marked with his quill on the diagram where he'd written 'DL' at the head of the table. He wrote 'HP' next to him. Potter rolled his eyes, taking the quill from his hand. He then crossed out 'DL' and put 'LV'.

"Won't that piss them off?" Potter asked as he put the quill back in Draco's hand.

"It'll be a test," Draco said after a second to think, "he'll be looking to see how the others react to the change. Questioning his decisions is a huge risk, but he does allow it from time to time if there is a good reason. The main rule is that whenever anyone speaks, they speak with respect."

"Noted," Potter said grimly, glancing over to the clock, checking the time. He then frowned and considered the diagram. He pointed over to where Draco had written 'S.S'. "Does this really mean I have to sit next to Snape?"

"Yes. Like I said, it's a test. For you, for Snape, for me… everyone. That's why we can't ever lower our guard when around the Dark Lord. Believe me, the others are always looking for ways to get higher up the table and if it means sabotaging someone else to get there, they'll do it. There are no friends among the Death Eaters, just allies."

"And family," Potter pointed out, running his finger over to where Draco had marked out his position with his aunt. "How important is family?"

"Service to the Dark Lord is meant to be more important than ties to our blood, but as you can expect, it does impact who we trust and ally with. My aunt would defend me more than Snape, for example. She hates him."

"Really?" Potter looked intrigued. "Why?"

"She distrusts him," Draco said distractedly, "anyway, you'll be under the Dark Lord's protection as he's sponsoring you. If anyone at the table disrespects you or dishonours you, they will have to answer to him."

"Who was your sponsor?" Potter then asked, interested. "Your father?"

"No, he was in Azkaban, idiot," Draco said sharply, but then sighed out of his nose. "I didn't have one. I was initiated right away… but that's not important."

"So… aside from Snape and Yaxley, who else is important and I should worry about?"

Draco blinked. It was a surprisingly good question.

"Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan are the most zealous and loyal to the Dark Lord. If he orders them to treat you with respect, they will do it. The Carrows… I would watch out for them. They are my biggest threat as well. Antonin Dolohov and Walden Macnair hate you… I think you know why…"

Potter glared at the initials that represented them. "The feeling is mutual."

"If I were you, I'd be very careful around Augustus Rookwood. He should hate you, but doesn't."

"Huh? He was at the Department of Mysteries too."

Draco felt a shudder ripple down his spine. "Potter, he… is a deviant. Even my father warned me to stay away from him."

Thankfully, Potter wasn't completely clueless. His face paled as he understood, nodding. "Right, okay, so he's a creep. Got it."

"He has said some pretty disturbing things about examining you so… yes… avoid at all costs."

"Okay! Definitely avoid," Potter said, his eyes wide with alarm. "And what about the names further down? Nott? Wait, is that Theodore Nott's dad?"

"Yes… and Crabbe's and Goyle's fathers will be present as well."

"Oh, I forgot about them," Potter remarked, nodding along as he checked over the diagram. His brows then came together. "Did you forget Wormtail?"

Draco glanced up at Potter, uneasy. He had a strong suspicion that Pettigrew's time was coming to an end. He hadn't seen him since the poisoning incident and wasn't comfortable asking after his absence, especially not since he practically suggested to the man that he end his own life. Perhaps the rat was just avoiding him… but it didn't make him any more comfortable.

"No, he… doesn't sit at the table. He might be present, but… to be honest, I don't know where he is."

Potter stared at him, "he's gone?"

"I don't know. When I saw him last, he asked about you and… said some alarming things. About your… ah… history."

"My history?" Potter looked confused for a second before a murderous gleam shone in his eyes. "He dared to bring that up? That back-stabbing rat?"

"Yes, well… I have a feeling his guilt may have finished him off," Draco said awkwardly. "I haven't heard anything and I can't imagine he'd be brave enough to kill himself, but… he's wretched about you being here."

"Death is too good for that cowardly piece of shit," Potter hissed savagely, the hate in his eyes burning more intensely.

"There is a chance he's fled," Draco said thoughtfully, looking over to the door. "Turned into a rat and disappeared like he did before when his life was in danger."

"I think that's more likely than him committing suicide," Potter said grimly. "Either way, if it means I don't have to deal with his existence anymore, I'll be happy."

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Draco looked sharply at the clock. It was yet twenty minutes before they had to descend down to the dining room for the meeting. Draco swallowed. Had he failed to consider that they would be expected earlier as an advance welcome party?

The door opened. Draco let out a small breath of relief, seeing Potter do the same as his mother entered. She wore her customary resplendent black velvet robes for the occasion. As she wasn't a Death Eater, she had no obligation to dress in the robes. She did so anyway when the inner circle used their house as a centre of operations. All Death Eaters treated Narcissa Malfoy with the utmost respect, accepting her hospitality with ample praises and perfect manners.

Potter politely got to his feet, greeting her. His manners were oddly quaint for someone who Draco usually dismissed to be boorish and rude by nature. Draco listened as his mother complimented Potter's appearance with a genuine smile. He recognised the look she gave Potter, her fondness since cementing after she had nursed him back to health herself. She then considered Draco, her gaze shining with pride as she reached for him. Her touch on his shoulder was the extent of the sort of affection that they could show in front of an audience. Open gestures of affection simply weren't the Malfoy way.

"He would like to speak to you both before the others arrive," she explained, "Bella will be there as well."

Potter grumbled at the news, but nodded, offering no angry protest. He glanced between them, waiting for something. He turned to Draco, moving his arms behind his back. Draco then realised that Potter expected him to restrain him.

"That will not be necessary," his mother said as she noticed his behaviour as well, "come, let us go."

Draco eyed the nervous fluttering of Potter's gaze. His lack of mental discipline left his emotions clear to read, broadcasting each one. His unease and even fear radiated off him. Draco didn't exactly blame him. While he had tried to reassure Potter that it was very unlikely that he would be harmed while under the Dark Lord's protection, there was a slight chance. Potter had been tortured already very extensively and he was right to fear the threat of it happening again. The Dark Lord often disciplined those in his inner circle for their failures. Potter would be under the same strict system.

Soft chamber music swelled through the halls as they descended the stairs. Draco caught Potter's confusion as he looked around for the source. The music came from the entrance hall where their charmed quartet entertained in preparation for the gathering that would take place. Potter came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, gazing in bafflement as he spotted the stringed band.

They headed straight for the dining room. Waiting in the doorway, Bellatrix stood leaning against the door frame, twirling her wand between her fingers. Her dark eyes shone with interest as she beheld Potter walking between Draco and her sister. She had donned make-up as she did for such occasions, her eyes lined with black. Her lips were painted red, forming a savage slash across her face. Draco then noticed something starkly.

Potter cracked out a laugh, noticing as well.

"Oh my God, I don't ruddy believe it…"

Bellatrix just grinned, showing off her now pristine white teeth. Draco choked back his laugh.

"Mention a thing, pretty little Potter, and I will tear off your toenails," Bellatrix said through her menacing smile. Potter instantly flushed at being called 'pretty'. She then turned, leading them into the room. Potter managed to get his amusement under control once they entered with her.

The table had already been prepared for the meeting. Each chair positioned perfectly, all lined up neatly. There were crystal glasses at each place, all ready for when they would toast to their leader and relax as they shared their reports. The candles flickered away as music drifted inside from the entrance. Draco paused in time with Bellatrix, bowing as he caught sight of the Dark Lord. He stood waiting, his back turned to them, dressed in his high-collared robes. As Draco had rightly guessed, there was another chair positioned at the head of the table.

"Stay, Narcissa. I wish to speak to the four of you before our friends arrive."

The Dark Lord then turned, gracing them with a polite nod before approaching to meet them before the table. Potter was the only one who didn't bow, but he did dip his head in a nod in response. Coming from Potter, it was a ground-breaking display of respect.

"I would like you to take Harry with you to Gringotts tomorrow. As manager of his family estates and accounts, I expect Harry will require assistance on how to take responsibility of his finances. Narcissa, would you be willing to lend your aid and meet with the goblins alongside Harry? I have arranged for a Ministry representative to meet you both at the entrance of the bank at half ten tomorrow."

"Of course, my lord," came her response.

"Bella, Draco, you will be joining to guard Harry while he is out of his confinement. If any dare to approach him, I expect you to take full measures to stop them. He is to engage with no one other than the goblins during his appointment."

Draco glanced over at Potter who looked over at the same time. He was just as surprised. Bellatrix pursed her lips at being relegated to guard duty, but bowed her head all the same. With her guarding Potter, no one would be foolish enough to get close.

"Harry, this is your chance to prove to me that you have fully accepted your situation. Behave yourself and I… will consider your proposal to convince your remaining supporters to surrender."

Potter nodded though his brow was creased. "I won't do anything stupid, but… I don't understand why this is important."

Bella let out a derisive snort, "because, you stupid boy, our traitorous cousin left you in charge of our maternal house. It's your job to look after the family accounts now that you are of age."

"Don't mention Sirius to me," Potter snarled, his eyes flashing with his usual temper.

"Enough," the Dark Lord interrupted before Potter could explode. "Your godfather was killed in a duel. His death was not unjust. If you truly wish to avenge him, you should direct your anger towards the one who betrayed him."

Potter recoiled, staring at the Dark Lord, his anger fading. Confusion clouded his gaze for a moment before sharpening. He blinked in surprise.

"Wormtail?"

"I will not entertain a feud between you and Bellatrix," the Dark Lord continued as if he hadn't heard Potter's question. "Persist in this grudge no longer… and that goes for you as well, Bella."

Bellatrix glowered at the floor, but she didn't dare argue. Nor did she speak. Her silence was the height of the defiance she could show in response.

"I… can try," Potter said hesitantly, "sure, fine, whatever. I'll speak with the goblins tomorrow."

Under the dwindling rage, Draco caught something else lingering in Potter's eyes. Something akin to desperation. It was a wild look, as if he was floundering in the dark, searching for a rope to pull him to safety. Instead, Potter glanced around, instinctively looking for help. His gaze then settled on Draco. As their eyes met, that moment of panic ended and Potter appeared to calm. He looked away.

"Very good. Now, I will need to speak with Harry alone before the meeting begins…"

The Dark Lord then stepped up to Potter, resting both his hands on his shoulders. Potter tensed under the touch, but then willingly turned, allowing the Dark Lord to lead him off to the seat at his side. Draco sunk down into a bow, knowing that he was dismissed. He pushed aside a fluttering of guilt that he felt as he turned away, abandoning Potter to be without an ally or any support. A friend.

Was that what they were?

So lost in his thoughts, Draco didn't realise that he was alone with his aunt until he discovered himself standing in the breezy entrance hall. The quartet had picked up a familiar minuet just as his aunt's long nails gripped his arms and wrenched him rather forcefully around. He half-expected to see her furious visage and drew back in surprise when he saw her exuberant grin, showing off her newly restored teeth.

"My, my, Draco. I never knew you had it in you. I know you have the task of seducing Potter over to our side, but I never thought you would take it so literally."

Stunned with the suddenness of her praise and attack, it took Draco a moment to register what he said.

"I… what? Seducing Potter? I haven't seduced him."

Bellatrix laughed, running her hands down his sleeves appreciatively.

"There is no need to play coy. I am impressed."

Face feeling as if he'd spent too long out in the sun, Draco shrugged her hands off him, causing her to cackle.

"Still so innocent," she cooed but she didn't go after him as he stormed over to the front doors, his footsteps echoing. "Just do not forget… he is not your toy to play with, Draco dearest."

Gritting his teeth, he glared out at the darkening sky, doing his best to ignore her laughter. He wasn't seducing Potter. At least, he wasn't purposefully. Surely Potter didn't look at him in that way. Potter was into witches… he had dated Cho Chang, hadn't he? And the Weasley girl? He couldn't possibly be into men… could he?

Draco had figured out that he appreciated good looks no matter what went on under the robes. It was fairly common for growing wizards to have an increased interest in everything sexual once on the other side of puberty. He'd even pointed out to Potter that he had noticed his own good looks much to Potter's mortification.

Potter had been paying him a lot of attention. He smiled more, laughed more. He even appeared to like Draco's company. Was there more to it than just needing a friend while alone in his enemy's camp?

When the first pops of apparition sounded outside, Draco firmly pushed his confusing thoughts as far as possible. He didn't want someone like Snape of all people to catch him mooning after Potter. Reassembling his mental state after his aunt just bludgeoned her way through his composure, he squared his shoulders and prepared himself for the battle of wits ahead. Within the same bloody room, he was going to need to stay focused.

And definitely not get distracted by a good-looking Harry Potter.

Despite the indepth briefing that Harry received from Draco, he struggled to fully anticipate what the next few hours would bring. Draco had put some effort into assuring him that he wasn't there to be tortured in front of an audience. What Harry didn't understand was why he'd been invited to the meeting in the first place. Was it really because of what he said about muggles? His perspective shouldn't have come as a surprise considering that he lived as a bloody muggle as a child. He knew they weren't mindless barbarians, smashing rocks with sticks as most purebloods appeared to think.

Really, he should laugh. How did his situation keep becoming more and more ridiculous?

He was far from laughing. In fact, in his current state, he was close to tears. Humiliation was cutting off his air supply, sending sickening waves of heat through him. Every fibre of his being was telling him to run and hide. His most primal instinct, one that had been his existence when a young child, was telling him to make himself as small as possible. Hide in the dark, be as uninteresting as possible, don't make a sound… hide, hide, hide…

The jeers felt like nails scratching across his skin. The stares burned where they lingered, abusing his privacy where he was being treated like a spectacle. His rich, tailored robes of midnight black satin did little to shield him from feeling like an animal on display in a zoo. Gentle classical music swelled from the room beyond, a mockery of the so-called civilised gathering taking place.

"Join us, friends, take your seats. There is much to discuss."

Voldemort called out once it appeared he was satisfied that his Death Eaters had enough time to hurl their taunts at Harry upon arriving. Harry glowered at the table. The retorts that he very much wanted to lash back with were very stuck in his mouth. Before the Death Eaters were shown inside, Voldemort had made it very clear what would happen if he spoke out of turn.

Only two Death Eaters didn't sneer at him. Draco had been one. He just bowed in respect and went to his seat. The second surprised Harry.

Snape had frozen in the doorway for a second, his eyes wide as he stared right at Harry. He looked different, not dressed in his usual stiff black robes with the buttons down the front. Instead, he wore the same embroidered, padded battle-robes that the Death Eaters wore with the high collar. He couldn't conceal his shock at the sight of Harry sitting at Voldemort's side.

Hatred, rage, grief, bitterness… so many feelings were set off like miniature explosions. Yet Harry held his tongue, not voicing a single protest as Snape approached, moving to take his seat adjacent to Harry.

Needing some distraction from his humiliation, Harry sought out Draco. He met his gaze, offering a small nod. It was likely the only encouragement he was going to receive. Harry then busied himself with familiarising himself with identifying the others. Thanks to Draco, he had all their names. Unable to face their stares and interest, Harry returned his gaze back to the table. He flexed his hands and tried to relax them against the arms.

The last member of the gathering then entered the room, closing the door behind him. Harry glanced up and felt immediate disappointment at the sight of Peter Pettigrew.

So the rat isn't dead. Pity.

Skittish, Wormtail hurried over to the head of the table. He completely avoided looking at Harry, instead moving into position behind Voldemort's chair. He didn't have a place at the table because he was a servant.

"We have a great deal to get through tonight, my friends," Voldemort said clearly once silence had fully fallen. "I will address the most pressing matters first. As you no doubt have guessed, they concern our young Mr Potter here."

Harry inwardly burned at the titters that sounded at his expense. To be so reviled and hated by the present company, they relished in his suffering… it was nearly unbearable.

"I have made my decision regarding his fate. It has been discussed on how we present his defeat and whether or not a public execution is the best way to deal with him. As it so happens, I cannot kill him nor will I allow his death to occur. Harry Potter is under my protection."

Harry looked up, seeing the slack expressions of shock down the table. It took a few more seconds for the announcement to settle. One man, with wavy greying brown hair, pushed himself up to his feet. His eyes were simmering with rage. Harry recognised his pointed nose and wispy beard. Dolohov.

Draco's warnings came to him. Dolohov was among those who hated him. He'd been at the Department of Mysteries… and he also very nearly killed Hermione.

Yep, that hate is definitely mutual.

"My lord! I must protest," Dolohov burst out angrily. The man beside him glared openly at Harry as well. Macnair.

"I too," Macnair snapped out. Another, two seats down, mumbled something that could have been an ascension.

"Sit down, Antonin, you greasy prick."

The rebuke came from a large blond woman opposite him. Harry hadn't seen her before, or if he had, it would have been so fleeting. It took Harry a second to remember who the woman had to be. The female of the Carrow twins. Alecto.

"You have no say, new blood," Dolohov growled.

"And you're embarrassing yourself," grunted one of the Lestrange brothers. Harry couldn't remember if it was Bellatrix's husband or not.

"Oh, and how many years of your life did you spend in Azkaban because of that brat, Rodolphus?" Dolohov seethed, his fists clenched as he looked up and down the table. "How many of us rotted away in that hell because that half-blood whelp." He glared down at Harry directly. "He is an abomination… an insult to our lord…"

Voldemort sat silently, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. A placid, almost amused smile played on his thin lips as he watched his lieutenant bluster through his protests.

"Silence, fool," Rodolphus snapped. "Magical potential must never be wasted, but harnessed. Potter may have mixed blood, but he has strong bloodlines. We must bolster our society with strong blood, not exterminate more ancient families."

"I agree," Voldemort then said, causing Harry to look over. "I will not condone any further spilling of magical blood if it can be helped. Not when killing Potter will only serve to weaken me. He will serve and do his duty… the same as any other wizard under my rule."

He then turned in his seat, as he brought his gaze over to Harry. He stiffly raised his head, meeting his gaze.

"What say you, Severus? You carry the strongest grudge against Potter, correct? Your hatred towards his father extends also to his only son."

Harry didn't look away, studying the large red eyes, unsure of what game was underfoot. Draco had told Harry that the meetings were pretty much also tests for the Death Eaters to prove their worth and their loyalty.

"While the Order's numbers are greatly diminished, there are still remnants out there who will look to Potter as a rallying point. His death could break their morale… but then it could also create a martyr."

"Yaxley?"

"I agree with Severus."

"Then I find your protest pointless and unfounded, Antonin," Voldemort said, coolly surveying the man who was still standing. "I fail to see how Potter is to blame for your incarceration in Azkaban. When you were arrested the first time, it was Alastor Moody who caught you. Potter had nothing to do with it. The second time was Dumbledore. You claim to be insulted on my behalf, but I have already collected my due from the boy. I tortured him to his absolute limit and preserved him in a state of suffering that few could have endured without shattering their sanity in order to escape the torment. He nearly expired two times under my wand – first from the mental strain and second from the physical."

The casual mention of his torture caused Harry to flinch violently. His reaction didn't go unnoticed. He could feel Snape's stare upon him in particular.

"I provided Potter with a chance to surrender and, at first, he was resistant. We have since come to an understanding. I served his Rehabilitation Order this morning, the first of those to be dispensed to traitors who hand themselves in and submit. I find this to be a far more satisfying outcome than the boy's demise. He will serve and, in return, he has my protection."

Voldemort then rose to his feet himself, placing his hands on the table as he leveled his gaze upon Dolohov. He then considered each and every person at the table.

"I want to make this clear to each and every one of you. Harry Potter, just like each of you, has earned his place at the table. I do not have to explain the reasons as they are mine to know. You will respect my decision. Lucius, who you can no doubt see is absent, did not respect my decision. He attempted to kill Harry and fled before he could be caught. For his cowardly acts of dishonour, he has condemned himself. His life is forfeit."

Dolohov sat down then. He glared at Harry, but he didn't argue again. Harry felt he could relax a little then. Draco had been right about Voldemort getting the point across about how he had his protection. He had firmly asserted his power, demanding that his decision be respected. Harry sensed the change within the interest coming his way, now more curious than resentful.

There was a small break as drinks were then served. Charmed decanters swept in, filling glasses, while Wormtail was tasked with tending to Voldemort's glass. With a small flick of his hand, Voldemort indicated for Wormtail to serve Harry as well. Harry allowed himself some satisfaction as he watched the stream of red wine twitch dangerously as Wormtail shook. Whether out of fear or guilt, Harry wasn't sure. He made a point to look up at the man's pale visage.

"Thank you, Peter," Harry said quietly. The man nearly dropped the decanter in his mix-matched hands.

"For once, Wormtail's life debt towards you has a use," Voldemort said bemusedly, "as he cannot threaten your life. I can trust he will not poison you."

The meeting then continued in the structure Draco had shared with Harry beforehand. Once the urgent matter was addressed, different Death Eaters offered their reports. Harry hung onto every word, anger and fear spiking through him at different intervals. There was talk about the dementors, a discussion about the possible need to exterminate their numbers before they grew out of control. Then about a protest that happened at St Mungo's, resulting in arrests and, sadly, deaths.

"Yaxley…" Voldemort moved to the next item on his agenda, addressing the man who had brought the Minister to his execution. "Tell me, how is the relationship between your puppet Minister and his muggle counterpart? How is he managing the muggle Prime Minister?"

Confusion filled a lot of faces, disgust even on some. Harry sharpened, wondering if the topic change was due to what he had said to Voldemort earlier that day. Yaxley was among the confused in the room, leaning forwards with a small smile.

"My lord?" He said with a light, confused laugh. "I'm not sure if I understand what you mean."

From the pulse of pain in Harry's scar, he sensed that Yaxley had said the wrong thing.

"Has he obliviated the Prime Minister? Or is he maintaining that all is well on our side of things? We have future plans to subjugate the muggle population, but what is being done now to keep things under control?"

From the continued confusion, Harry felt a rise of alarm and panic. He looked around the room, seeing the evidence for himself. They really had no clue? All of them were so ignorant of the muggle world, they completely disregarded the threat they posed. It was like they were all children who didn't know that fire burned.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I do not understand."

"No, you do not," Voldemort's nostrils flared, showing his displeasure. He then looked down at the table. "Can anyone present a report on the muggle response? The rising number of dementors will not have gone unnoticed. The families of murdered muggles as well. There are scant few muggles who are allowed to know about magic, their leaders among them. What is being said and, more importantly, what is being done about it?"

No one answered and it was clear that they didn't understand the problem at all.

"That I cannot get an answer is unacceptable."

"If I may, my lord?" Snape then spoke, shifting in his seat. Voldemort's mouth twitched but he flicked his hand, granting permission. "As you know, I have expressed my views on this subject before in the past. While I have always agreed that we should not live in the shadows as we do, the dangers of dismissing muggles as a threat is a dangerous oversight. They may not have magic, but they still have brains. Intelligence and ingenuity can be just as valuable as magic if used properly."

Snape's words earned him some hateful hisses, but he didn't appear abashed. He just looked annoyed. Voldemort thoughtfully nodded and his gaze then roamed onto Harry.

"It may interest you to know, Severus, that I heard the same opinion from Harry here earlier today."

His words stilled the hisses. Snape looked at Harry, but the customary hateful sneer was absent. Harry met his gaze.

"My lord, I… cannot believe I am saying this… but Potter is right. As much as it benefits us to believe that muggles are less than human, the facts remain that they are human. We are not looking at a colony of cockroaches, but a highly advanced civilisation with greater numbers than our own. Our benefit is our magic, but we are heavily hindered by our refusal to modernise. We are still using owls and quills, purposefully impacting our progress for the sake of preserving traditions. It has only weakened us."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Snape was repeating his own arguments. He agreed with him?

Voldemort then looked at Harry, his stare feeling like the rays of the sun, burning where it touched.

"Harry, remind me, what was it you said was their advantage?" Voldemort addressed him. Harry's head snapped around, meeting the hot stare straight on. "The term you used."

Harry could feel every stare on him, burning him up. He somehow summoned the courage to speak.

"Modern technology."

"Ah, yes, that was it," Voldemort then casually looked back to Snape, "would you agree that is the case, Severus?"

"I… would, yes."

"I am in agreement as well," Voldemort said impossibly, causing Harry to gape. "Yaxley, you will work tomorrow on speaking with the muggle Prime Minister. Control this now while we can. Your upbringings have fed you all false information about muggles. Yes, they are lesser, but they are still dangerous."