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batsutousaiTitle: Stand Against the Moon
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort
Warnings: Violence, character death, Dark!Harry, werewolf!Harry, AU, ending of questionable happiness, underage sexual relationship (depending on the way you tilt your head)
Summary: Cursed against his will, Harry made the best of his life until he found himself, again, wandering in Death's realm. When Death offers him a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs he'd been blind to for too long, he can't possibly refuse.
A/N: Minor time skip (about a year and a half), but Voldemort makes his first appearance in this chapter, so there's that. Any questions should be answered by Death in the second section, but let me know if there's something that's still confusing you.
Chapter Six – Uneasy Alliance
-0-
Despite the fact that Harry was in Knockturn Alley at least once a month, he didn't visit Diagon Alley for the second time until after his seventh birthday. The lack had been part born of Sirius' hectic auror schedule, and part born of Harry's own disgust at the possibility in facing the fawning of the wizarding public, should someone chance recognising him.
Honestly, he'd probably have considered holding off, but the Weasleys knew Remus was a werewolf – it had been hard to hide it from them, given how often Harry was invited over for a playdate – and Molly insisted on Harry staying at the Burrow the day after the full moon, especially when Sirius had to work, so Remus could have a day to relax. (Molly would have insisted on Harry staying over the night of the full moon, too, but Harry had put his foot down and thrown a fantastic tantrum at the mere suggestion that he wouldn't be able to check on 'Uncle Remus' as soon as the sun rose. Sirius, politely, had waited to lose his shit until after they'd got home, laughing stupidly until he was blue in the face from lack of oxygen.)
At any rate. Day after full moon, plus Sirius having to work, plus the Hogwarts letters coming out the day before and all three of the eldest boys needing to get things, equalled Harry finally getting dragged to Diagon.
"It could be worse," Bill told Harry once they'd snuck off from the rest of the family, Molly trusting her eldest to keep an eye on the boy she appeared to consider her adopted son.
"How so?" Harry grumbled, staring irritatedly at the shoppers around them. "It's the day after the letters have gone out; everyone is out to shop today."
Bill snorted and ruffled Harry's hair. "You could have no wand."
Harry smirked and touched the wand sheath hidden under the sleeve of his robes, within which was the wand Sirius had let him pick out of a collection of old Black family wands for the Christmas of his fifth year. Harry had been much too young to get a wand through any legal means, but Sirius had admitted that it wasn't uncommon for pureblood families to save old wands so the children could learn some spells before they were allowed to get their wand. Given, that didn't usually happen until the child was nine at the earliest, but Harry was a rather unusual case.
"People could also be expecting to see you," Bill added.
"Oh, I suppose that's true," Harry allowed at last; he was very much not looking forward to the summer he turned eleven, as that would be the summer he officially re-entered the wizarding world. He expected plenty of hopeful gawkers, and had already taken to joking that they might be better served doing their shopping on the continent. Or in America.
They had just finished collecting the three ingredients Bill had needed to restock from the Apothecary, when Harry saw a face that froze the blood in his veins. "Tom Riddle?" he heard himself ask, loud enough to carry across the short distance separating them, in spite of the sounds of the crowds.
The man that he'd caught but a glance of turned back towards him, burnt-brown eyes narrowing in a face that looked to be no more than thirty-five. "And you are?" the man demanded. And though his voice was nothing like the high-pitched whine that Harry remembered the Lord Voldemort of that other reality's being, his inflection was a perfect match.
Harry stared at him for a moment, completely thrown, before Bill touching his shoulder brought him back to himself. "A party interested in an alliance, if you can hear me out without threats of grievous harm."
Riddle gave him a quick glance-over and smiled nastily. "Why don't you go along home and play your–"
Riddle's mouth snapped shut as Harry pulled out the chain with four rings – he'd added his parents' wedding rings when Sirius gave them to him for his sixth and seventh birthdays – usually hidden under his robe. "Bill," Harry said to his companion, "I'll find you in a bit. I've some business down Knockturn."
"Mum'll have both our heads if she finds out," Bill warned, but there was a note of resignation to the words; he'd already learnt that Harry's title meant duties sometimes found him toeing the line of Molly's temper.
Harry flashed the elder boy a smile as he tucked his necklace away. "Best to avoid her for an hour, then."
"Don't be late, Growly," Bill ordered before turning and walking away.
Harry turned his smile on Riddle. "Shall we to Bloody Eyetooth, Mr Riddle?"
"You haven't introduced yourself, wretch," Riddle snarled even as he obediently followed Harry, very likely unable to walk away after seeing one of his horcruxes.
Harry held his silence as they stepped into Knockturn. They got about two shop-lengths in and Riddle looked like he was going to get nasty, when a sharp-eyed wizard stepped in their way, an appreciative eye looking over Harry. "You're a pretty 'un, then. 'Ow much fer 'im?" he asked of Riddle.
Harry snarled, showing far too much tooth, and dug his wand into the man's sternum. "Were I you, sir, I would piss off before I decide to test my bow-tying skills with your intestines."
The man fled and Riddle let out a laugh that sounded a little like it had been surprised out of him. "Violent little brat, aren't you?"
Harry flashed him a smile full of too-sharp teeth and watched Riddle take a startled step back. "You have no idea," he promised before continuing their way to The Bloody Eyetooth. No one else dared approach them, something warning them back, and Harry suspected his eyes were glinting gold again, the clear sign of an irritated werewolf who kept his wolf too close to the surface.
"Alpha Lord," the werewolf bartender called in exhausted surprise when he noticed who had entered the pub.
Harry frowned at the man, whom he'd become quite fond of over the years. "Richard, you should be in bed," he commented as he stopped next to his usual stool.
The bartender shook his head. "I run with a pack, Alpha. I'm fit for work."
Harry let out a heavy breath. "All the same. I understand why you and Edmund don't get a third," he said, naming the vampire who managed the bar each night, "given the lack of acceptable non-humans, but that doesn't mean I approve of the strain it puts on the two of you."
Richard offered him a knowing smile. "Perhaps when you're older, Alpha, you can serve as our third."
"Cheeky," Harry returned fondly. When Riddle let out a disgusted noise behind him, he rolled his eyes and added, "We require one of the private rooms and refreshments. Butterbeer for me. Riddle?"
Riddle sneered. "Butterbeer is acceptable," he allowed.
Richard offered Harry an uncertain look as he handed over one of the keys to the warded rooms upstairs. "Number one, Alpha."
Harry leant up and kissed Richard's cheek as he took the key, a show of gratitude and fondness that seemed all too acceptable to a race that spent one night a month licking their own arses and ripping out each other's throats, then pushed away from the stool and led the way upstairs to the designated room.
There, after checking to ensure the butterbeers had been sent up with a plate of his favourite biscuits – he really did adore Richard – he locked the room and let the wards snap into place before turning to Riddle and saying, "I'm Harry Potter."
Riddle's eyes went wide and he had his wand pointed at Harry before he could take a breath to continue. "Avada–"
"If you kill me, Tom, my godfather will destroy all of your horcruxes," Harry informed him drily as he walked over to the table and the food on it. "Well, except the one I'm wearing, I expect, since you'll likely get to it first." He flashed a sharp smile at the frozen Dark Lord. "I feel it's only fair to inform you that all but two of the eight beings in the room downstairs will do their damnedest to see you dead should you kill me. So, really, I wouldn't."
Riddle let out a snarl and stalked over to the other side of the table to drop heavily into a chair. "It seems, Potter, that you have me at a disadvantage."
"Well, yes," Harry agreed. "I'm not so much a fool to meet with you when the advantage lies anywhere but with me. Incidentally, it wouldn't have worked at all, save for the simple fact that you underestimated the threat I pose due to my age. Which, really. You lost your last body because you tried killing a one-year-old. You'd think you'd have learnt better by now."
"Your survival, boy, had nothing to do with you," Riddle snarled, one hand clenching tightly around his bottle of butterbeer.
"Oh, I know. It's entirely due to the fact that, because Snape begged you to spare my mother, you gave her the option to step aside and live. Except she chose to sacrifice herself, invoking old magic that used her life force to safeguard my own."
Riddle stared at him.
"The theory behind the magic is actually quite interesting, though I do lack access to the book that has the most in depth research into sacrificial rituals. Something about seven being 'too bloody young' to have access to that sort of material. Honestly, I think Sirius is afraid I'll start getting ideas." Harry rolled his eyes and picked up a biscuit. "These are really good, by the way. Bipdey and Shrill make the absolute best chocolate biscuits. I keep trying to get them to give the recipe to my house-elves, but Shrill seems to think I won't ask for them any more if I'm getting them at home. Which, when you think about it, is entirely–"
"Are you incapable of shutting up?" Riddle snapped.
Harry flashed him a grin. "Were you ready to talk, then?" he returned cheerfully before taking a bite of his biscuit.
"You cannot possibly be Harry Potter," Riddle announced.
Harry snorted. "This should be good."
Riddle scowled at him. "You know far too much to be Potter. Potter is seven."
Harry pointed a finger at himself. "Hello. Do you see me? Do I not look seven?"
"That is beside the point!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "So I have a propensity for knowing things I really shouldn't. Danger of having a run-in or two with Death when I was younger. On the other hand, the pros include such wonders as being able to talk to a select few dead people and an all-knowing being willing to tell me where a certain not-so-dead Dark Lord's soul tethers are hidden. Which, for the record, the flesh-rotting curse?" Harry tapped his chest where the Stone was hidden. "Not even passingly cool. Actually, that was downright cruel."
Riddle flashed him a smile that was every bit as monstrous as some of Harry's best. "You seem to have survived it. More's the pity."
"I really don't know why everyone seems to think you were charming before your mutilated soul started affecting your appearance and temperament," Harry remarked. "You're an unmitigated bastard to me pretty much every time one of us happens to have eyes on the other. Which, given, some of that can be attributed to your mutilated soul, but I only put so much stock in that."
"It does tend to occur when you prove a threat to me."
Harry pointed a finger at Riddle. "First off, that prophecy is one hundred percent your fault. Second off, I have far more important things to worry about than some hack of a seer declaring that one of us has to die at the hand of the other."
"...you know the whole prophecy," Riddle realised, eyes going wide.
Harry sighed. "Incidentally, yes. I consider it a load of bollocks. More importantly, the thing about prophecies is that we can both agree to ignore the bloody thing and there's not a damn thing Fate can do about it."
Riddle narrowed his eyes, clearly unmoved. "Tell me."
"No. You want the prophecy, you risk yourself and do the legwork. I'm not handing you anything, especially since I don't hold any stock in it."
Riddle took a long drink of his butterbeer, then asked, "You said something about an alliance in Diagon?"
Harry nodded. "I despise the Ministry and find myself largely ambivalent towards muggles and muggleborns. You agree to give non-humans the freedoms they deserve when you reform the Ministry in your image, I promise the alliance of every non-human in Britain."
Riddle snorted. "You can't possibly promise that, Potter."
Harry smiled at him and stood. "You'd be surprised what I can promise." He motioned with his wand and a bag appeared, which he began dropping biscuits into. "I hold court here the evening of every new moon. That's about as close to neutral territory as you're going to find if you want to talk again." He held out the last biscuit to Riddle.
Riddle gave the biscuit a disdainful look, but accepted it. "I want my horcruxes back, boy."
Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh no. I'm far too fond of having them around to keep you in check."
"Potter," Riddle snarled.
Harry reached over and patted his cheek, quickly snatching his hand back when Riddle looked like he might go with the non-human theme and bite him. "Perhaps I'll give you one back, if you come to this month's gathering."
"Which one?" Riddle demanded, eyes flickering towards where the chain of rings tented the front of Harry's robes.
Harry hummed in thought. "The locket, I suppose." He nodded to himself and slipped the bag of biscuits into a pocket. "Yes. It has a tendency to get a bit chatty when it's bored, I've found, and I'm getting a bit tired of it critiquing my every clothing choice."
Riddle shook his head, a vaguely constipated expression on his face.
Harry smiled and took one last long sip of his butterbeer, then set the empty bottle on the table and turned to leave. Just before he disengaged the wards, he turned back to the Dark Lord still seated at the table, nibbling at the biscuit he'd taken. "Oh, and Tom?"
Riddle snarled at him.
"If you cross me or my people, I will lock all of your horcruxes in a room with Fiendfyre, then come and rip out your throat with my teeth," Harry promised sweetly before he left the room.
"My companion is still up there," Harry told Richard as he returned the key. "Also, it's likely he'll show at the new moon, though he may come bearing a different face. I'll try to come early so I can catch him before any trouble starts."
"Do you expect some?" Richard asked, brow furrowed in concern.
Harry offered him a strained smile. "I will be honestly surprised if everything goes smoothly."
"Not reassuring, Alpha," Richard complained.
"It wasn't meant to be," Harry admitted as he leant across the bar and kissed Richard's cheek again. "Give Edmund my love," he added as he hopped down and left the pub for Diagon Alley and Bill.
With luck, he finished that quick enough that he wouldn't have to contend with Molly. And if he did, hey. He had enough biscuits in his pocket to give one to each of the Weasleys; something about giving Molly a moment of peace while her children indulged in sweets put her in the mood to forgive any infraction.
When Harry flooed home that evening, Sirius was still at work while Remus remained with the pack of werewolves who lived at Grimmauld Place, leaving Harry the house to himself, save for the two house-elves.
"Master Lord wishes food?" Kreacher asked, appearing at Harry's side as he stepped out of the receiving room. (The title had come from Kreacher cornering Harry, one afternoon, about him being the Alpha Lord. When Harry had admitted to the truth, both Kreacher and Pinky had begun calling him 'Master Lord' while in the presence of other non-humans or Sirius. Harry resigned himself, aware when he was facing a losing battle.)
"Molly fed me, but I'll take some juice and any biscuits you might have lying about up in my room," Harry replied. He didn't really need the biscuits, but it felt cruel to simply brush Kreacher off just because Molly couldn't resist feeding anyone that came into her house.
Kreacher gave a quick nod and popped away, so Harry made his way up to his room.
A small pile of post awaited him, mostly written updates from the various pack alphas who had occasional trouble on the moon, either because of a nearby human settlement, or because of a particularly troublesome packmate. Harry had begun ordering vampires or centaurs near packs that roamed too close to humans to keep an eye on the pack during the moon, which had drastically cut down on the number of Ministry retaliations.
It was a wonder, sometimes, what a bit of non-human cooperation could do to ease their lots in life.
With his post seen to, Harry added a reminder on his calendar to send things with Bill when he returned to Hogwarts so he could collect the diadem. He'd already warned his friend that he needed him to collect an artefact from the school, and that it wasn't something he wanted to be caught with. He'd be taking both Harry's Cloak and a special box to contain the diadem on the train, then owl everything back once he'd collected the diadem.
Truly, Harry could just have Death collect the diadem, but he'd been so far holding to his decision to keep the horcrux hunting in mortal hands, beyond Death's retrieval of the Stone, and he saw no point in deviating simply to have the last one a couple weeks sooner, especially since there was no real way that Riddle could check on that particular one while Dumbledore was alive.
Though, there was another matter he thought Death might serve with, so he took a quick sip of his pumpkin juice before calling, "Death."
The familiar cloaked figure appeared before him, scythe held as though it had been about to swing it. "Master," it replied, letting the weapon drop to the ground between them, blade turned to the side to lessen the chance of Harry accidentally getting impaled on the curved blade.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the apparition, but left all curiosities about Death's regular dealings to say, "I ran into Voldemort in Diagon today."
"It may be more appropriate, Master, to call him Tom Riddle," Death helpfully pointed out.
Harry snorted. "True enough. How did he return so quickly? And why with so...pretty a face? Or is that a glamour?"
Death shifted its grip on its scythe, the clicking of bone on aged wood more a comfort than anything else, any more. "In the other reality, he attempted a ritual on the fifth anniversary of his defeat, which drew from his most recent horcrux, to return him to power. However, that horcrux was you, unbeknownst to him, and your mother's protection polluted the ritual, so it backfired."
"My not being a horcrux allowed it to succeed this time," Harry realised. "So it drew from–"
"The cup," Death answered. "As for his current appearance, that is truth. Your habit of collecting the horcruxes and keeping them in close proximity to each other has healed a great deal of the damage he did to his soul by creating so many."
"Really? That's interesting." Harry glanced towards his cupboard, where the locket was still hidden away. "So I expect he'll be a little less insane, to match his pretty face?"
"He is," Death agreed.
Harry hummed, fingers fiddling with a biscuit he didn't actively remember picking up. "Well. I suppose that explains why he was willing to sit and actually listen to me, rather than making continuous attempts on my life. That bodes well for our alliance." He snorted and dropped the biscuit. "I doubt Sirius or Remus will agree, but they're both still unsure about putting our lot in with our resident unwilling scapegoat of a Dark Lord. Still, I approve, and he's definitely not getting more than the locket back, now."
Death let out a cackle.
Harry flashed it a fond smile. "Has he made contact with any of his Death Eaters yet?"
"He has been residing with Kenric Nott and his son, Theodore," Death reported. "Kenric knew him in school, so it is sensible for him to go to one of those followers who would recognise him as he currently is."
Harry nodded. "That is sensible. I'm surprised he hasn't started going around to his other Death Eaters yet, but I can only assume he's gathering intel on his other followers, seeing who he can trust, and who would cause him difficulty now that he doesn't look like a nightmare given human form. Last time, he got much of that information from Wormy and the Ministry girl, who's-her-face."
"Bertha Jorkins, Master."
"Her, yes, thank you. This time, he has a fair bit more room to move about, and a sort of anonymity, to boot, as the number of people who would recognise him for who he is are...slim. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, those of his older Death Eaters who shared classes with him..." Harry shrugged. "Ah, well. It doesn't much matter to me that he's currently keeping a low profile. Truly, it's probably for the best, although this would be the time to take the world, since it's likely Dumbledore has his guard down.
"I have to ask him his plans when next we meet," Harry decided, mentally tabling the issue until the new moon. "Thank you, Death. You are, as ever, invaluable."
Death reached out and cupped Harry's cheek with its bony fingers, an odd little gesture of fondness that was all it allowed to show that it might be more than ambivalent towards Harry. After a beat, it withdrew and vanished to resume its usual killing spree, leaving Harry to continue his work on the runic book he'd taken from Lucius' study two years ago.
It hadn't proven hard to convert the runes into their Roman equivalent, but that had led to the discovery that the book was written in another language. Death had offered to give Harry the knowledge to read it, but Harry had turned him down, determined to figure out the puzzle on his own. He had accepted Death's suggestion that some of his vampire contacts might know more about the language, and had brought a translation to the next new moon.
Three months of no new information led him to finally thinking to bring a copy of the untranslated runic form. Carmilla immediately recognised the language then, calling it the 'Old Tongue', and was able to provide him with the resources necessary to translate the book himself.
He'd finally been able to start the translation in March, and he had enough at this point to discover that the book seemed to be some sort of written history of non-humans before the magical humans rose to power. It was a little dry, but after spending almost two years on it, now, Harry was determined to see the project through. And it did given him something to do in those down hours when he'd already gone through his post and his attention wasn't being demanded by one of the Marauders or the Weasley brood.
Harry rolled his eyes when Sirius and Remus both met him in the receiving room when he got ready to leave for The Bloody Eyetooth late in the afternoon on the new moon. "I don't know what you two expect to do that a pub full of non-humans won't be equally capable of handling," he commented, though he was, in truth, already resigned to the escort. Had resigned himself before he told his guardians about meeting Voldemort, even.
"Yes, but those non-humans don't know he's coming," Sirius insisted.
"And enough of them either don't know or simply don't care to know your history and what it means to invite Voldemort into the same pub where you are," Remus pointed out logically, because it was true enough that many of the non-humans that came to The Bloody Eyetooth – which, beyond the usual company of vampires and werewolves, included some goblins, various fairie folk, a revolving door of various were-felines, and a sphinx who seemed to get a kick out of terrifying the denizens of Knockturn Alley by flying by every third month or so – couldn't care less about the inner workings of human politics, beyond how those workings might affect them.
Harry just shrugged. "Fine. Far be it from me to stop you," he decided before tossing down a small handful of floo powder and calling out his destination.
"You're playing a very poor dictator," Sirius informed him as soon as the animagus had stepped through the grate. A few of the werewolves in the room shot Sirius disapproving looks, smelling his obvious humanity, but they were all enough of regulars to know that Sirius was Harry's – as Carmilla put it – 'pet human' and so was welcome. (The fact that he'd bodily protected a newly turned werewolf from a fellow auror intent on 'putting the young man out of his misery' last November had won him a number of points, too.)
"Even dictators need a couple hours of downtime," Harry retorted with a grin before he walked over to the bar and pulled himself up onto his usual stool.
"Your godfather's the only human to come through today, save for my afternoon regulars," Richard reported as he pulled out a bottle of butterbeer for Harry.
"Oh, I don't expect Mr Riddle to be showing up until much later," Harry insisted as Sirius and Remus joined him, both taking care to avoid the stool that everyone knew was Carmilla's. "Though, he's not always known for his wisdom, so I thought to come early."
"Lord just wants biscuits!" Shrill insisted as she popped into existence on the bar.
Harry grinned at her. "Maybe a little bit."
Sirius let out a knowing laugh from Remus' far side.
"Okay," Harry admitted, "more than a little bit. But you love me enough that you'll feed my naughty addiction, won't you, sweet Shrill?"
Shrill let out an irritated huff, but the pleased light in her eyes rather gave her away. "Lord is such a flatterer. Lord will be eating what Shrill and Bipdey gives him for dinner, or Lord will gets no more biscuits."
"You drive a hard bargain, madam," Harry complained before letting out a put upon sigh. "But, yes, as you say. I promise to completely clear my plate at dinner."
"Lord had better," Shrill insisted before popping away, leaving a tray of chocolate biscuits in her wake.
"Those elves adore you," Richard said with a laugh as Harry grabbed a biscuit.
Harry grinned. "And I them," he admitted with honest fondness for the pair before he started eating his biscuit. "Perfect," he declared once his mouth was empty again. He grabbed another biscuit and turned to observe the room while the three adults at the bar with him all laughed. "Right," he called to the room at large, and everyone looked up, "I'm officially in. If you're here to talk to me, come on up. Otherwise, continue." He waved a negligent hand at everyone and chuckles filled the room.
A couple of those in attendance needed to talk to him, and others dropped by periodically. (Most were aware, after two years, that he showed up some time between lunch and dinner and remained until dawn.) Remus and Sirius eventually moved to a table, freeing their stools for those who had a matter that took long enough that the appealer appreciated the chance to sit down.
Riddle didn't show up until after sunset, stepping in through the Knockturn Alley entrance not long after Carmilla had settled in at Harry's side. The entire pub went silent, those non-humans able to smell when a human was nearby leading the charge, while others followed their cue once they figured out that something was amiss.
"Welcome, Mr Riddle," Harry offered easily before cocking his head to one side. "Ah. I assume you would rather I use your pseudonym."
"If you would," Riddle agreed tightly as he moved towards Harry, burnt-brown eyes raking over the crowded pub distrustfully.
Harry nodded, then let out a sharp whistle that brought all gazes to him. "Voldemort is here on my invitation. Anyone wants to make a fuss, you come to me."
"Respectfully, Alpha Lord," one of the younger vampires called, "that's not the humans' self-titled Dark Lord. I understand you were a bit young–"
"Do you honestly think Voldemort was born and attended Hogwarts looking like the marriage between a snake and a poorly vampire?" Harry wondered, amused. A couple people tittered in the crowd while Riddle let out a disgusted sound and settled into the open stool next to Harry. "You will simply have to trust me on this, my friends."
Heads were bowed in understanding and most people made to return to their previous discussions, only to be distracted when a werewolf whom Harry occasionally had trouble with stepped forward. The man's eyes were flecked with gold, never a good sign on the new moon.
Harry sighed and slipped from his stool to step forward. "Do you have a grievance, Bruce?"
The werewolf bared human teeth in a silent snarl before growling out, "I do, Alpha. And so should you!" He pointed behind Harry towards Riddle. "He killed your parents!"
"And?" Harry returned, ignoring the hiss Sirius let out at his callousness. "We need his assistance to remove the human Ministry from power."
"We have no need for such traitors as humanity!" Bruce roared.
Around the room, others traded uncertain looks, too many sharing Bruce's world view.
"No?" Harry wondered, tone amused. "And how do you intend to remove the humans from power, then? Shall we all floo in on some full moon and massacre everyone in the Ministry building? Perhaps, in victory, we shall continue outwards and simply brutalise anyone unlucky enough to be on the streets in muggle London."
"Yes!" Bruce shouted, grin feral.
Harry sighed. "And then?" he asked. "What about when the new day starts? When my weres are weak from the moon's fall and my vampires are asleep? All of the humans that we didn't kill will discover the massacre and they will strike back. They will come into our homes, our covens and campgrounds. They will slaughter us all indiscriminately, even those who didn't take part. Is that the path you choose?"
Silence filled the pub, the tens of bodies filling the magically expanded room barely breathing.
Harry nodded. "No, I thought not. To destroy the human Ministry, you must face them as humans. It is to our favour that we happen to have a man intent on doing that very thing, and he's already got people in place to further his aims. I don't care what your personal grievances are from the last war, I don't care how little you want to ally with humans, we need their help. So I am accepting it. And you will either follow in peace at my side, or you will be declared Omega and I will hunt you down like the traitor you are. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Alpha Lord," the room murmured.
Harry stepped forward and met Bruce's downturned gaze. "I didn't hear you, Bruce," he commented, tone easy. Friendly, almost.
Bruce's eyes glinted and he snarled at Harry. "I will never work with that monster!" he snapped before starting around Harry, towards where Riddle sat at the bar.
"Talking never works," Harry heard Riddle mutter even as he spun and caught Bruce's arm, one violent yank dislocating the werewolf's shoulder while a foot swept against his ankles brought him to his knees.
"That. Is. Enough," Harry ordered, voice gone hard and unforgiving. "You are treading on my last nerve, Bruce."
"Then brand me, child," Bruce challenged, turning to glare up at Harry.
Harry sighed and motioned with his free hand, opening a doorway to the Realm of Death in the middle of the room. All of the non-humans flinched back, familiar with what that particular doorway was after years of watching Harry throw people into them. Harry somewhat absently shoved Bruce with his foot, putting enough strength behind the push to send him sliding across the well-worn floor, whimpering in terror, and through the doorway.
Harry turned back to the room, one eyebrow raised. "Anyone else want to holiday in the afterlife, or may I return to my biscuits now?" he asked.
Silence met the question.
Harry let out a snort and waved the doorway away, then hopped back up onto his stool and grabbed for one of the biscuits on the plate that had just appeared for him.
"I really wish you wouldn't do that, my Lord," Carmilla complained, delicate nose wrinkled in displeasure.
Harry shrugged. "Apologies," he offered after swallowing his mouthful of biscuit. "The last time Sirius found out I'd cast the Killing Curse, however, I had to spend an hour listening to him read the punishment for use of illegal spells from one of those damnedable law books he brought home to vandalise. He doesn't know what to make of this particular ability, and he doesn't actually see the proof that they're dead, so he never complains. Though," he added with a scowl, "I expect I'll be suffering the silent treatment for the next few days because I acted like I didn't care about my parents."
"People put too much stock in the importance of parents," Riddle interrupted.
Harry pointed a finger at the man. "You don't get to say that unless you can honestly say you never once wished a visiting family was willing to take you home with them," he insisted and Riddle's eyes went wide. "More importantly, I'm not sure your opinion counts at all, since you bloody went and killed your father and grandparents the first chance you got, and then framed your uncle for their murders."
"Potter–" Riddle snarled.
"I really wouldn't start threatening him in here, Voldemort," Remus commented as he stopped behind Harry.
Harry turned and offered a biscuit to his non-Ministry-approved guardian. "Hey, Remus. How pissed off at me is he?"
Remus' lips thinned even as he accepted the biscuit, a clear sign that Sirius wasn't the only one who took offence to Harry's apparent disregard of his parents.
"Ah," Harry replied, nodding his head. "Very well. Are you two heading home?"
"We are," Remus agreed, voice tight.
"I'll see you in the morning, then," Harry allowed and Remus turned away. He let the other werewolf get two steps before calling, "Remus." When Remus looked back at him, Harry pulled out his chain of rings, the diamond of Lily's engagement ring sparkling in the light from the candles and the fireplace on the back wall.
Remus' expression softened. "Okay, pup," he agreed before turning again and going to collect Sirius.
"What's so great about a few rings?" Riddle demanded as Harry turned back to his plate of biscuits and slipped the rings away. "I assume my ring wasn't meant as some sort of reassurance."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the Dark Lord. "Putting aside all claims of ownership when it comes to your misplaced treasures," he retorted, earning a him a glare, "the other three rings belonged to my parents. Sirius resized them so I could wear them if I wanted, but I wear them on the chain so I don't lose them when I change form."
Riddle rolled his eyes. "You can't just put them on the chain before the moon rises?"
Harry's mouth twitched with amusement, but it was Carmilla who said, "You weren't informed what the Alpha Lord was?"
Harry snorted and he looked over at her. "I didn't bother explaining much to him."
Carmilla sighed. "No, which is why he sought out one of my childes for more information." She looked past Harry to Riddle and explained, "The Alpha Lord is the only werewolf capable of changing at his leisure, against the moon."
Harry turned to watch Riddle's eyes widen and flashed him a too-sharp smile. "I'd give you a demonstration, but I'm trying to avoid the catcalling that my Lady always starts when I have to run off with my clothing to change back," he commented drily, and Carmilla let out a terrifying cackle behind him. "I can't imagine what sorts of scars you'd have left me with if I'd come to you as innocent as I appeared the first time, my Lady," Harry added, rolling his eyes.
Carmilla leant forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You have scars enough, my Lord," she murmured, regret in the words.
Harry offered her a tired smile. "Don't we all?" he murmured in response and they shared a silent moment of understanding before Harry turned back towards Riddle, flashing a toothy smile. "So, my favourite source tells me you're holed up with Kenric Nott, playing houseguest, and that you haven't tried making contact with any of your other free followers."
"Your 'favourite source' is disturbingly well informed," Riddle muttered.
"Why thank you," Death said as it appeared on the empty stool next to Riddle.
Riddle jumped away, letting out a string of curses impressive enough that, had she not been busy resisting the urge to back away herself, Carmilla would have pretended to blush at them.
Harry rolled his eyes at the reactions of the immortals and offered Death a smile. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Death?"
"Whose pleasure?" Riddle snarled.
Death let out an amused rattle. "I see why you want to keep this one alive, Master. He is quite entertaining."
Harry chuckled, ignoring Riddle's disbelieving stare. "That's neither here nor there. Was there a reason you came to torment my allies?"
"I thought I would tell you, Master, that the last of your treasures is currently visiting Gringotts."
Harry perked up. "Oh, is he?" he replied before turning around to search the crowd. "Gornuk!" he called upon spotting the goblin he'd been looking for. "I need a favour!"
Gornuk shot him a beady stare. "I'll not be helping you steal from Gringotts vaults, Alpha Lord or no," he warned.
Death cackled.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I want to steal something off a human currently at the bank, though he needn't be on bank property during the theft. He's just a bit of a wily bugger, so I need someone to distract him."
Gornuk considered that for a moment before standing from his table. "And what does Gringotts get for helping the Alpha Lord?"
"The pleasure of serving him!" a werewolf shouted.
"Don't get greedy, you little bugger," a vampire added.
"Enough!" Harry snapped and both of the speakers immediately bared their throats, eyes flicking uncertainly towards where Death sat at the bar. Harry turned his attention back towards Gornuk. "Once I start Hogwarts, I'll retrieve Gryffindor's sword and return it to you," he promised.
Gornuk flashed him a nasty grin. "You have a deal, Alpha Lord." Behind him, the other three goblins he'd been sharing a table with all grinned and stood.
Harry chuckled and turned to Death. "Thank you, Death. Your assistance is, as ever, most invaluable."
Death touched his cheek before vanishing.
The goblins hurried forward, Gornuk motioning that Harry should follow if he intended to come along. He immediately jumped down from his stool and caught up, trusting Carmilla to hold the fort during his absence, only to realise Riddle had joined him.
"I have no interest in remaining behind in that pub when I can finally get something on you, Potter," Riddle hissed in response to Harry's curious look.
"Ah. Yes, I should have expected that," Harry admitted. "You'll want to stay out of sight, however, as it is Albus Dumbledore I intend to steal from."
Riddle froze in place and then had to run to catch them back up as the group reached the entrance to Diagon Alley. "Why are you stealing from Dumbledore?"
"He has something that belongs to me," Harry replied before gently touching Gornuk's shoulder to get the goblins to stop for a moment. "Dumbledore. If you can waylay him while he's got his Wand out, that would be to my preference, but I can manage fine if it's not."
The four goblins nodded their understanding, then continued towards the bank.
Harry smiled after them for a moment, then whispered, "Kreacher."
"Young Master?" Kreacher replied as he appeared.
Harry closed his eyes and forced the change, knowing that was the best way to approach this. He was still small, still obviously a pup, but there was a hint of his maturity becoming obvious in the thicker, coarser fur he'd developed, darkening to the inky black he'd had in another reality.
"I would be more impressed if you weren't a pup, Potter," Riddle commented, but he still took a quick step back when Harry snapped his jaws at him.
Harry snorted, then trotted across the empty alley, trusting Kreacher to safeguard his clothing. Riddle didn't follow, apparently taking Harry's warning about Dumbledore to heart.
He waited in the shadow of the tall white building, absently picking at the dirt caught under his claws with his teeth. When the old wizard finally stepped out, whistling and carrying a package, Harry tensed to spring, eyes turned towards the doors of Gringotts for his requested distraction.
Shortly after Dumbledore cleared the last stair, Wand still out from shrinking his package, a goblin ran from the bank, calling Dumbledore's name.
Harry didn't wait to see what excuse the goblin intended to use, he just ran forward and jumped when he was close enough to reach the precious Wand, teeth gentle as they closed over the ancient wood. He kept running once his paws hit the cobblestones again, straight into a doorway into the Realm of Death that had opened just large enough for his small form to get through.
He formed another doorway next to where he'd left Kreacher and Riddle, earning a choked gasp from Riddle and a displeased look from Kreacher. He forced himself back into his human form and dropped the Wand into one hand before rasping out, "Sorry, Kreacher."
"Master Lord shouldn't so lightly use Death's magic," Kreacher informed him before snapping his fingers. Harry's clothing immediately reformed around him, saving him the trouble of having to get dressed while his whole body still ached from the two changes.
"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry told his house-elf with a fond smile and Kreacher huffed before popping away.
"That's the wand Dumbledore started using after Grindelwald's defeat," Riddle said, clearly recognising it.
Harry hummed an agreement as he looked over the Elder Wand. "Yes. He won it off Grindelwald. He still has his old one, so I don't regret stealing it from him in the least. And, anyway, it's mine." He waved it over himself, silently casting the strongest healing spell he knew, and sighed in relief as his aches vanished. "Much better. Though I suppose I'd best keep you from Sirius and Remus, if only to avoid uncomfortable questions."
A penny-sized doorway to the Realm of Death opened at the Wand's tip and the Wand changed shape, becoming a thicker, shorter version of itself.
"...the hell?" Riddle said.
Harry blinked a few times himself before letting out a delighted laugh and kissing the Wand. "You are an absolute marvel." He jumped to his feet and grinned up at Riddle's disbelieving stare. "I'm back to Bloody Eyetooth until dawn. You're welcome to follow along or not, as is your pleasure."
Riddle shook his head. "Some of us require sleep, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes. "So I'm told. Well, then, I'll see you again whenever you happen–"
"Potter," Riddle interrupted, eyes narrowing, "my locket."
"Ah! Yes, I did promise, didn't I?" Harry recalled as he reached into his expanded pocket. It took him a moment to find the locket, but he pulled it out when he did and held it out. "Here you are then. You can argue fashion with him, though I expect you actually have similar tastes."
"Potter," Riddle said with a sigh as he slipped the locket around his neck.
Harry smiled at him, then snapped his fingers as something occurred to him. "Oh! Just so you know, there's a fake locket where you'd hidden that one. Regulus Black switched them as retaliation for you leaving his house-elf to die. I would suggest leaving it there, just to frustrate anyone who connects the dots of your past and thinks to check there." He wiggled his fingers in an approximation of a wave at Riddle's narrowed stare. "Until next time you crash one of my new moon gatherings, Tom," he added before skipping off down Knockturn Alley, unspeakably grateful to have the Elder Wand at last.
Stand Against the Moon Chapters:
Prologue - Like a Ghost in My Town
1 - Procuring Freedom | 2 - Exeunt From Hell, Stage Left | 3 - Never Quite Perfect
4 - Drop the Shades | 5 - The Little Victories |
7 - Determining Boundaries | 8 - International Acclaim | 9 - Age of Mystery
10 - Absence | 11 - Eye of the Storm | 12 - No Regrets
Nose to the Wind Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07 || 08 || 09 || 10
11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
21 || 22 || 23 || 24 || 25 || 26 || 27
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