A slight wave of relief swept through Harry, mixing with his already present feelings of anguish. He didn't have to go to Azkaban; he wasn't going to get locked up... He could stay at Hogwarts…

However, the same could not be said about the Order... And the professors... What were they going to expect? What would happen in a re-education prison, set by Voldemort and his Death Eaters?

Harry pressed his arms against his chest in an effort to keep his robes around his body, as they were still torn apart. He paces across the room, too restless to sit. At the same time he felt more exhausted than ever. The burning in his scar had lessened; that was at least something.

"Come, Potter. Follow me."

Harry jumped. He had forgotten Snape was still standing in the room with him. He wasn't sure how to respond to him. Should he be suspicious that Snape was up to something? Could he even trust Snape; it has never been really clear on whose side Snape was on. Nevertheless, it was because of Snape, that he didn't have to face another imprisonment. Even if Snape had his own reasons for wanting for Harry to stay, he could help but feel - though a little reluctantly - grateful.

But to thank Snape… That was going a bit too far. Snape was probably acting for his own sake. Why else did he want for Harry to study Occlumency? Probably so that Voldemort couldn't notice some sort of plan, something that Snape wanted to tell him… Does this mean Snape is at his side after all? Or was this plan designed by Dumbledore, before he died? And did Snape not wanted to risk his neck, in case Voldemort would find out?

Harry didn't move. Too many thoughts raced through his head, too much was going on. Being so close with Voldemort, Snape must know what the others were up against.

"Is the Order going to be all right?" he asked.

"The Order doesn't exist anymore, as I'm sure you've found out by now," Snape answered coolly. Harry glared at him.

"They shall face a difficult time, but they will live," said Snape finally, when Harry had crossed his arms. It didn't ease Harry's mind at all. He wanted to ask more, but Snape's intense glare told him to leave the subject.

"Why do you want me to stay?" he asked instead.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "That should be obvious, Potter. How are you going to improve yourself in Azkaban?"

"But -"

"I can't, right now, Potter," Snape interrupted, before he could finish his question. "Come, I am to show you your new quarters."

Giving up, he followed Snape to the stairs, ascending to another long corridor. It looked a little similar to the route he'd taken in his second year, when he and Ron wanted to interrogate Malfoy about the Heir of Slytherin. It felt like they were in the dungeons, anyway.

Snape led him to another room he'd never seen before. The space was lit by a few black candles, showing vaguely the grim interior of the room. It looked like the fireplace of Voldemort's ghastly mansion. Harry suppressed a shiver.

"It is the Dark Lord's wish to use this room for when he's visiting Hogwarts. You are to stay here as well."

"I am to share a room with Voldemort?" Harry blurted bemused.

"Yes. And with me, as it so happens."

Harry looked up to Snape, horrified. What on earth had he done to deserve this?

"This is my personal quarters here at Hogwarts," Snape continued and pointed to a heavy-looking door on the right. "Over there is my office. Normally, you had to take a different corridor to get there."

Snape shifted his hand and pointed to another door. "My bedroom is behind that door. You are not allowed enter, ever."

Harry lifted his eyebrows. "Like I wanted to."

Snape's expression darkened. But instead of reprimanding Harry, he pointed to the elevated floor across the room, which was reachable by a wide staircase.

"Over there is a vacant room. I've never needed it. The Dark Lord will use it when he's here. You are not allowed to enter this room without permission either."

"Right," said Harry.

Snape ignored him, and continued: "On your left is another vacant – er – room. This will be yours."

Suddenly, Snape gave Harry a malicious smile. He walked around him and opened the door. It looked like a broom cabinet, much like his old cupboard under the stairs back at Privet Drive. Harry stared at it.

"As much I would like you to sleep on the floor…" Snape said, while waving his wand. He conjured a bed in the air, which levitated towards the cupboard, and hit the ground with a soft bump. "Here."

Snape turned to face Harry and gestured for him to come closer. Reluctantly, Harry complied. He got seized by his robes again and was unceremoniously pushed into the small room. He fell onto the bed and heard the door slam behind him.

"Colloportus," he heard from behind the door, followed by the sound of footsteps, telling him Snape left. Harry let out a sigh. How was this even fair? He'd lost his parents, Sirius, a man who was as close as a father, Dumbledore and most of the Order. All his protectors were gone. And after spending years with the Dursley's, he was now to live Snape and Voldemort in the same room.

Harry curled himself up on the bed and stared into the dark nothingness. How were Ron and Hermoine doing? And Ginny? Were they asleep already? Or were they laying awake, like him, wondering what had happened to him? Was the Order awake yet, facing whatever Voldemort had in store for them? And were was Hagrid, what had happened to him after the battle?

Something was prickling behind his eyes, and he couldn't keep the strength to push it down. Silent tears trickled over his cheeks. The suppressed guilt, which had slowly eaten him ever since Voldemort had taken him, now writhed and squirmed like some monstrous, weighty parasite in the whole of his chest. Harry could not stand this, he could not stand being Harry anymore… He had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody — anybody — else…

He wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not feel the horror inside him, where he didn't have to think, didn't have to feel… It was his fault. His fault Sirius was dead, his fault that the Order had spent months to look for him, rather than trying to stop Voldemort's attacks, and his fault that his friends were in danger too.

Harry began to tremble softly on the bed. Another wave of self-loathing swept through him. Now that he'd seen his friends, right with the victory of Voldemort at Hogwarts, he couldn't believe that he didn't think about their feelings before. He had been so busy with his own experiences, his own fears and miserable thoughts, that he hadn't thought about what he had done to them.

Harry closed his eyes. Feeling thoroughly exhausted, his body finally granted him with some sleep, whereas his mind was still set to haunt him with nightmares about crystal balls and dark graveyards.

Voldemort Apparated on the tiny island, far, far away from Hogwarts. The enormous tower of Azkaban hid the shade of moonlight, so that the Death Eaters, who were dragging the unconscious bodies, were covered in absolute darkness. Absentmindedly, Voldemort watched them disappear behind the entrance doors, while listening to the ruffles of the sea.

His mind was still at Hogwarts, where he'd left the boy with Severus Snape. And though he trusted Snape with his Horcrux, it didn't sit right with him. Before he left, he had checked his last Horcrux; Ravenclaw's diadem. It was still in the Room of Requirement, the Room of Hidden Things. In other words, safe. So, at least three of his Horcruxes were still intact. Actually four, counting the boy.

Voldemort had no hopes with the locket and the ring. He still hadn't found out who this R.A.B. was and whether this person was still out there, hunting his other Horcruxes. So until the identity was discovered, Harry had to remain safe. Alive.

"My lord, we're set up." Bellatrix had emerged from the darkness, bowing before Voldemort. Her eyes stared at him, glimmering with longing. Voldemort tilted his head and considered the woman before him.

"Thank you, Bella," he said and stepped a little closer. He traced his long, white finger down her cheek, ending with caressing her hair. She seemed close to collapse at his touch. He gave a soft chuckle. "And for your service, I will award you the honor of taking care of our guests."

"T-thank you, my lord," she whispered and pressed her lips against the back of his hand. He slowly pulled his hand back.

"Now, leave me, Bella. Go back inside. I trust you will take good care of our plans. I shall return tomorrow night."

Bellatrix endowed him another bow, and backed away slowly towards the door. Voldemort turned away, facing the sloshing water against the rocks. His presence here wasn't necessarily, his followers knew what to do. They've had this planned for months, before their raid on Hogwarts. And he had research to do. With a crack, echoing over the rumbling sea, he Dissapparated.

"Welcome back, my lord," said Snape over his book, when he entered Snape's quarters. He looked to the dark-haired figure in the armchair, next to the fire. Leisurely, he strode over to the vacant chair opposite of him and sat down.

"Thank you, Severus," he said softly, while caressing his wand. His gaze was still set upon the face of the man across him. The man returned the look.

"Where is our Chosen One?" asked Voldemort, using the phrase the Daily Prophet had brought into the world, a few weeks before he had held house there. Snape smirked, and pointed his finger into the direction of Harry's cupboard.

"I reckon he is asleep now, my lord. I've been gracious enough to provide him a bed."

Voldemort returned Snape's smile. "Good. And I trust you've stayed here, to make sure he doesn't escape?"

"The door is locked. He won't be able to go anywhere. Not without a wand."

"Ah yes," said Voldemort softly. He reached inside his robes and retrieved Harry's wand, holding it next to his own. "Did you know, Severus, that there was a moment, back in the graveyard, were I forced young Harry to duel with me after my rebirth, in which these wands connected with each other?"

Snape didn't answer. He stared at the wands, but his face evidently showed what he knew exactly what Voldemort was talking about.

"My Avada Kedavra got blocked by a simple Disarming Spell. Can you imagine? I've been wondering ever since… How was the use of such a simple spell able to form such a connection?" Voldemort continued. "Perhaps, I ought to pay Ollivander a visit. Surely, he will know. I doubt it is because of the strength of the boy…"

"Is that why you haven't killed Potter yet, my lord? Because of the wands' connection?"

Voldemort took his eyes of the wands and studied Snape's face. After a few moments of silence, Voldemort finally spoke, the contempt in his voice unmistakable audible.

"Do you think I'm fearful, Severus? Do you think I don't dare to kill the boy?"

"Of course not, my lord," Snape answered. His voice was calm, collected, and even his face betrayed no sign of fear. "I'm merely expressing wonder over your decision to keep the boy alive."

"Well, you're not the first," Voldemort replied coolly. "As I explained to Ackerly the other day, I've discovered something important, in which the boy is useful to me. I need him alive, for the time being."

"And may I ask what this important something is, my lord?" Snape tried.

"You may not, Severus, because you do not need to know. Harry possesses something I need to extract, that is all I will tell you. And all you need to remember is to keep the boy alive."

"Certainly, my lord. Forgive my curiosity," said Snape softly, giving no hint of any remorse. Voldemort paid him a soft smile.

"Speaking about curiosity, I am wondering whether you've an idea why these wands connected?"

Snape seemed to hesitate a little, before answering slowly. "Well, yes. Dumbledore told me, after Potter returned to the maze, that you and Potter share twin cores. His wand possesses a Phoenix feather, as well as yours. From the same Phoenix in fact."

"I see," said Voldemort very softly, gazing towards the ceiling, as though being lost in thought. "And the relevance of this shows in…?"

"According to Dumbledore, brother wands are not able to fatally harm one another. They can hurt each other, yes, but not kill."

"I see," Voldemort repeated, his eyes still upwards. "And you never thought to tell me this?"

"My lord," said Snape, a little too hastily, "I thought you knew, that you figured this out for yourself already."

"Is that so?" Voldemort asked softly, turning his eyes back at Snape. "I wasn't aware that Harry Potter's wand and mine share the same core, now was I?"

"Forgive me, my lord."

"What else are you not telling me, Severus?" whispered Voldemort dangerously. "What else has Dumbledore told you, what you're not sharing with your true master?"

His eyes bore into Snape's. The latter didn't blink, and returned the gaze with controlled expression.

"I'm not aware of withholding information from you, my lord," answered Snape slowly. "I am devoted to you, and only you."

There was a long pause in which the two men stared to each other. Finally, Voldemort seemed satisfied.

"I believe you, Severus. You will do everything in your power to help me, won't you?"

"Of course, my lord, naturally-"

Voldemort raised his hand and Snape stopped talking immediately.

"That will do. I trust you, Severus. Just make sure I am not wrong in doing so," said Voldemort and turned to the two wands again. "There's something else I want to ask you."

Snape remained silent, waiting apprehensively for the next question.

"Do you know anyone who bears the initials R.A.B.?"

Voldemort watched Snape's expression with intent. The man really seemed to pounder this one over. So, Snape had no clue either…

"R.A.B. my lord? Is this person one of us?"

"That remains to be seen, but I do not think so," answered Voldemort. "I believe this person is very much against our cause."

"I can't think of anyone in the old Order whose name resembles these initials," said Snape slowly. "Are you looking for this person, my lord? Is he – or she perhaps – a great wizard?"

Voldemort rolled the two wands over in his hand, thinking Snape's question over. It must be a great wizard, someone able to hold great power. How else was this person able to find out his biggest secret? He doubted that even Dumbledore knew.

"B…" said Snape slowly, "could be Black?"

Voldemort shot Snape another look. Black? The thought was laughable. No Black would be able to find out. Besides, all the Blacks have always been loyal to him. Well, every Black apart from that blood traitor Animagus who recently got killed by dear Bellatrix. But his name didn't start with a R.

"You are thinking about your old departed enemy, Severus?" chuckled Voldemort softly.

"Well, not necessarily him," said Snape slowly, barely able to keep the contempt out of his voice, "but he had a brother, who had joined your ranks, as I recall. And his name does start with a R. Regulus Black, remember?"

"Ah yes, I remember," answered Voldemort slowly. Regulus Black. He had spared him no thought anymore after his disappearance. He knew that his boy was having second thoughts about joining his ranks, but his Death Eaters were never able to find him, and well, he wasn't that important anyway… The last thing he remembered was asking him about his house-elf, to test the defenses of the very same place where he'd found the fake locket…

"Well, it does fit, my lord," continued Snape, seemingly not aware of Voldemort mild shocked face. "Regulus' middle name was Arcturus, wasn't it? Named after his paternal grandfather?"

But Voldemort didn't answer. How was his even possible? But Snape was right, it fit. In fact, everything fit. This Regulus, disappearing so suddenly, right after borrowing his house-elf. But he'd left this house-elf to die… Around the very same time this Black-boy disappeared…

But did this creature actually die? Wasn't it the very same house-elf who was instructed to trick Harry into going to the Ministry?

And what did the note say? 'I know I will be dead long before you read this' Was Regulus dead then, after all? Or did he manage to escape?

Impossible, Voldemort thought. The potion was very well designed. The Inferi have probably killed him. But that doesn't explain, how did he find out?

"My lord?" Snape asked, when the silence remained for too long. Voldemort paid no attention to him. The conclusion slowly sank in and he felt rage beyond rage.

How is it possible? An house-elf and a young boy, discovering his secret? Destroying one of his priced possessions?

"The house-elf, where is he?" he spat angrily towards Snape, who looked utterly taken aback.

"My lord?"

"This house-elf, the one who got instructed to lie to the boy, who serviced the Black family. Where is he?"

"You mean Kreacher?" Snape asked, slightly bewildered. "I believe he is still bound to his old house. I shall ask Narcissa, or Bellatrix-"

"Do it now, Severus. I need to speak to this house-elf. Take me to him."

Snape remained in his chair. Kreacher was bound to Grimmauld Place, the old headquarters of the Order. Was the protection-charm still intact? Was he able to bring him there, with the last Heir gone and Dumbledore dead?

"My lord," Snape said quietly, thinking out loud. "Kreacher served Sirius Black last. If I'm not mistaken, Black left his heritage, Kreacher included, to the Potter-boy… Which will mean-"

"Harry is in possession of this house-elf," Voldemort finished. He rose from his chair and turned towards the door of the cupboard. With one wave of his wand, the door flew open.

Harry shot awake. For a moment, he thought that the blinding pain, searing in his scar again, had woken him up. Wincing, and with one hand pressed onto the old wound, he rolled over on the bed and retched on the floor. The pain was unbearable. Voldemort must be really angry.

And before he could look up, to notice that the blast, which had opened the door, had woken him up, he got hauled from the bed and thrown on the floor. He looked up to see an enraged Voldemort towering above him.

"Gah!" he yelled involuntary, and backed away while trying to stand. Voldemort rushed closer to Harry and in an attempt to back away again, he tripped and fell backwards on the ground. Still with his hand pressed against his scar, he looked up.

"Wait! Wait, what did I do?" he shouted desperately, flinching when Voldemort grabbed his robes and pulled him back at his feet. He got shoved in one of the armchairs.

"Summon the house-elf Kreacher for me. Now," hissed Voldemort.

"What?"

Voldemort gave him a backhanded slap – hard – across his face. His head swung sideways and little lights twinkled before his eyes, followed by the pain of a massive headache. Voldemort grabbed his chin and pulled his head back, to face him again. Tears sprang in Harry's eyes, when the pain in his scar and his head reached its peak.

"I shall have to punish you, if you make me repeat myself again, do you understand? Now, summon the house-elf Kreacher! Now!"

"Okay, okay," Harry whimpered, while closing his eyes against the pain. "K-kreacher! KREACHER!"

To his surprise, a loud BANG sounded through the room, followed with Kreacher's shrieks of horror. Harry opened his eyes. Kreacher lay before him on the ground, pounding his tiny fists against the floor.

"No, no, no!" screeched Kreacher.

"Silence!" Voldemort bellowed, letting go of Harry's chin. But Kreacher's screams reached another volume, drowning Voldemort's command. He didn't seem to notice Voldemort, having his watery eyes closed while continuing to demolish the floor with his fists.

"Won't! Won't! Won't! "Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"Command him to stop," commanded Voldemort, turning to glare at Harry. Feeling a little puzzled, Harry turned his face away from Voldemort and looked up a Kreacher again. What on earth was going on? Deciding it would be best to give in Voldemort's demands, Harry spoke.

"Kreacher, stop it and shut up."

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, while lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, Kreacher gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing.

"Ah, so it worked then," said Voldemort softly, who had replaced his savage fury with a look of mild content. "It seems that your Godfather knew what he was doing, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything. It was as though an invisible hand had twisted Harry's intestines and held them tight. Slowly, the realization hit him that Sirius had left him everything he'd owned, including Kreacher… Did this mean number twelve, Grimmauld Place belonged to him too, now?

Kreacher had finally noticed Voldemort, as he was standing, plainly showing a mixture of fear and awe.

"Severus, we'll finish our conversation tomorrow. There are still some matters we need to discuss. I shall see you before breakfast," Voldemort said slowly.

Snape understood the dismissal. He got up from his chair, paid Voldemort a small nod and turned on his heels towards the right door, which he'd pointed earlier to Harry as his bedroom.

"And you," Voldemort continued, while taking his eyes of Kreacher to glare at Harry again, "command Kreacher to obey me. Make him obey my every command, make him tell the truth to every question I shall ask him."

"Yeah, okay," answered Harry, feeling somewhat sorry for Kreacher, ignoring the thought that he had told him that Sirius was never going to return from the Department of Mystifications, while it was evident Sirius wasn't there to begin with. Whatever Voldemort had in store for him, wasn't going to be pleasant…

"Kreacher, just obey Voldemort, okay? Do as he says, tell him whatever truth he asks of you, and well, listen to his commands," Harry said, hoping that his words were sufficient enough.

Kreacher gave a Harry a deep bow and paid him a last aghast look. He didn't mumble under his breathe anymore like normal, and appeared to upset to even think about it. Before Harry could wonder what would happen, Voldemort snapped his fingers. The chair in which Harry sat, turned over, and Harry rolled over the ground.

"Go back to bed, Harry. I have of no use for you anymore," he said and gestured for Kreacher to follow. Together, they left Snape's quarters.

Trembling, Harry got up and stared at the door. And then, against better judgment, against all the reasonable voices in his head, he walked over to the doorway. He saw Kreacher and Voldemort disappear behind the corner of the corridor, and with one last hesitation, he followed them.