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batsutousaiTitle: Nose to the Wind
Series: Like a Ghost in My Town
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort, James Potter/Lily Potter
Warnings: AU, violence, universe hopping/rebirth, Dark!Harry, werewolf!Harry, underage relationship (ish)
Summary: While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?
A/N: There is a bit of a time hop at the start of this chapter, because most of the stuff I have planned needs a little more time to pass.
I'm crying, just a little. For those confused about how/when Dumbledore died, that was back in chapter three. :') His death officially ended the war. (This is Voldemort we're talking about; he's not the type to leave his foe trapped in prison. *throws so much shade on the dead* XD)
For ages at the start of this chapter, Harry is turns 9 during the first paragraph. (Will is 7 and Chris is 5.)
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
Chapter Nine – Only the Silence Remains
-0-
Without the threat of a rebellion on the horizon, life seemed to pass far more sluggishly. Ron and Ginny got invited over for a small party made up of mostly muggles the week of Harry's ninth birthday, and Harry made a point to appear super excited about the sweets they'd got him, because he didn't want Ron to be embarrassed at his poor-man's gift. The fact that Will, Chris, and Sirius were all equally excited, especially when Harry let everyone pick something out of the bag, only helped.
Voldemort sent him more rare potions ingredients, as well as a potion recipe that was intended for werefolk suffering from travel-based nausea, because most of the common potions for travel-based nausea didn't work for most werefolk, Harry included.
"Your benefactor is a spy," James decided, and Lily lightly smacked him.
Harry rolled his eyes and made a point of hugging the recipe to his chest, because it was the sort of thing that he'd never have gone looking for himself, and so appreciated it all the more.
The rest of the year passed with very little drama. The youngest four Weasleys and Molly came over to visit every two weeks or so, and Harry and Will introduced them to their muggle friends. Fred and George caused trouble and generally drove everyone bonkers, but Ron and Ginny were easily accepted by the other children, just as Geoffrey had been when he'd started joining them. Ron flourished in a way that Harry had never seen, playing with other children his age who mostly didn't have magic, and there were times when Harry just had to stand back and shake his head in awe at the way the boy that had been his first friend in another life grew with muggle playmates.
By Voldemort's birthday, Harry had managed to track down a cache of books that had survived one of the fires of the Library of Alexandria. About half of them had been beyond saving, but he packaged up the other half and delivered them to Voldemort's office while he was sleeping.
The second half of the school year followed the first half, with regular visits from the Weasleys.
At the beginning of the summer holiday, James decided, "Since our last holiday was so excellent, I insist we take another one!"
Lily laughed and waved a hand at him while Harry and his brothers grinned. "Go on, then," Lily said. "Where and when?"
James let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, I couldn't get any time off until right before Harry's birthday, so we'll have to hold your party overseas this year, pup. Sorry about that."
Harry rolled his eyes, because that was hardly an issue.
James winked at him. "As for where? Well, we could give America a shot, now that they're not likely to decide we're war criminals or some such, or we could try and learn another language in less than a month and go somewhere in Europe."
"Or we could find a guide that could act as a translator," Lily pointed out, amused.
"Or we could do that," James agreed. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"
Lily nodded. "I think I'd like to see Spain."
"What, all of it?" James teased.
Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, and in one day."
Harry and his brothers all snickered, while James grinned and shook his head. "I'll ask around about popular destinations," he promised, and came home the next day with a list of possibilities to whittle down.
They ended up in Granada for the first week, it being one of the two major magical centres of Spain. Remus hadn't been able to come, with the full moon falling in the middle of the trip, but Sirius and Peter both came, serving as more of a constant source of entertainment than a third and fourth adult to help with corralling Harry, Will, and Chris. (To be fair, Will tended to stick close to Sirius anyway, when he wasn't shadowing Harry, and Chris and Harry both tended to stay relatively close to Lily, when Harry wasn't sneaking off because something had caught his eye, so they managed.)
When Voldemort's gift was in the pile of presents for Harry, despite the change in location, James threw his hands up in the air and declared, "It's Albus Dumbledore, come back from the dead. That's the only possible explanation."
Sirius snorted. "Prongs, practically the entire ministry knew we were holidaying in Granada."
"It could be a house-elf delivering the gifts," Peter suggested with a helpless little shrug.
James pointed a finger at him. "Merlin's pearly whites, why didn't I ever think of that?!"
Lily patted his arm. "Because I won't let you get a house-elf and you're clearly out of practice with them." She turned to Harry while James groaned. "Robes?"
Harry glanced down from the enclosed note at the two pairs of robes that had been in the box. He nodded, then pulled out his speaking notebook to have it explain, "They're spelled so they vanish when I become a wolf, then reappear as I take human form, like an animagus' clothing does."
"I don't know, the embarrassment of being naked after a night spent howling at the moon is supposed to be part of the charm," Sirius pointed out.
Harry shot the man an unimpressed look, and Sirius grinned in response, entirely unrepentant.
"You'll have to try them out," Lily commented, which was the cue for everyone to get up, so Harry, Will, and Chris could take his new things to their room the next over.
The robes, as Harry had expected, worked exactly like Voldemort had promised, and it was a glory, being able to change his form without having to either get undressed first or struggle out of his clothing after shifting form. More so, not having to keep track of his clothing could only serve as a boon if he needed to travel in wolf form. Not that such happened often to him, not since he'd learnt how to use the Realm of Death, but it was always nice to have an alternate method of travel.
Their second week was spent in Toledo, which was the other magical centre of Spain. There was a darker feel to Toledo, which put James and Sirius on edge, but soothed a part of Harry's soul. It meant the adults stuck closer together, and Sirius didn't spend quite so much time screwing with Peter.
On their third day, still distracted by the sense of darkness, Harry drifted a bit behind the rest of his family. Will was walking with him, pointing out everything that caught his attention.
"Catch up, boys!" their guide, Alejandro, called back in accented English, his tone distinctly irritated. He'd been trying to keep Harry with the rest of the group the whole visit, and while Harry would always catch up when it was pointed out he was falling behind, it wouldn't take long for him to fall behind again. That Will was sticking with him that day only seemed to bother Alejandro more, for some reason Harry couldn't hope to figure out without asking Death to cheat on his behalf.
"Come on," Will grumbled in Atlantean, and they both sped up a bit.
Before they caught up with the group, a strange sort of streak of shadow caught Harry's attention, and he grabbed Will's arm to stop him as he turned to try and see where it had gone.
Ahead of them, Lily screamed, while Chris started crying.
"Mum!" Will shouted, straining against Harry's hold, but Harry didn't let him run forward, couldn't, not when he recognised the symbols that had lit the ground less than two steps in front of them: Necromancy. Sacrificing a specific number of souls to grant some gift or another to the casters. A bastardised version of death magic, created by those who wanted the benefits of such, but were too attached to their physical bodies to chance using the real thing.
"Shit!" Alejandro spat in Spanish, glaring past the dome that had sprung up to enclose the rest of the group. "This fucking boy and his inability to stay with the group!"
"It can be fixed," a voice said from behind Harry and Will.
Will let out a noise of distress and pressed tight against Harry's side as Harry turned towards the man who had come up behind them. He bared too-sharp teeth at the man, growling a warning.
"Oh?" the man said, unbothered by the display. "Alejandro! Did you know this child was a were?"
"No. Is that bad?" Alejandro replied.
The man smiled at Harry, showing off decaying teeth. "You will do nicely," he said in English that was more heavily accented than Alejandro's. "Move."
"No," Harry replied, voice as cold as Death itself. "I refuse to play the willing sacrifice to a bastardised ritual," he continued in Spanish, and the man's eyes widened, "and I won't allow you to use my family, either. Set them free, or I will kill you and your partners where you stand."
"Harry?" Will whispered.
The man laughed, and he was echoed by multiple others around the circle behind Harry. "So brave, little were, but you are too young to understand the true power of what you face. Walk to your death with your head held high, or you will be dragged."
Harry glanced over his shoulder, counting the wizards and witches surrounding his family. He could easily catch them all with a single doorway into the Realm of Death, but it would catch his family, too. If he used the Wand, he could deal with all of them without endangering his family, but if his parents had to discover one of his secrets, better it be the one that Voldemort already knew, that he already had something like an explanation for; there was no earthly way he could ever hope to explain how he could do magic without magical pathways.
In Atlantean, Harry said, "Will, do you remember when I said you needed to be in contact with me if you ever approached one of those doorways?"
Will's jaw clenched and he nodded. "Don't let go?" he guessed.
Harry nodded. "Trust me and, when we reach everyone else, grab hands."
"Go!" the man behind Harry shouted in Spanish, shoving him hard in the back.
Harry moved with the motion, let it push him over the spell-line and into the ritual. Will cried out in shock as the magic hit them, and Harry had to resist the urge to simply rip the spell apart, because the backlash would hurt his family as much as it would the casters.
"Oh, boys," Lily whispered as Harry and Will reached them.
Will reached for Chris, ordering, "We have to hold hands. Harry says."
"Hold hands?" Sirius repeated, an hysterical edge to his voice. "What's that supposed to do?"
"Keep you safe," Harry said, and the adults all turned to stare at him. "I can protect you, but you need to trust me and you need to not let go."
"Death," Chris whispered, grabbing hold of Harry's wrist.
Harry held his free hand out to his parents, Sirius, and Peter. "The ritual will hit its peak in approximately two minutes. You need to take my hand now."
Lily clasped his hand in hers, her eyes wide and terrified. James was next, his expression that of an auror prepared to face his death, and he dragged Sirius over even as Peter joined Will and Chris on Harry's other side.
Harry nodded, then turned his focus towards the glowing wards of the ritual spell holding them, and snarled, casting out with death magic, so much more powerful than any simple human ritual could hope to be.
The dome shattered, and a number of the wizards and witches around them let out shouts of terror or pain. Harry found himself facing Alejandro through the shattered remains of the ritual, and he smiled at the man as the doorway into the Realm of Death opened under all of them, surrounding them with the dark, shadowy corners of Harry's second home.
As the wizards and witches around them dropped to the shadowy ground, their spirits appearing above them, Harry opened the doorway back to the living realm, transporting himself and his family back to the now-empty space where they'd been trapped.
"It's safe," he offered, and that was when the terror – the fear that he was about to lose everything – hit him, and he felt himself begin to shake.
And then Lily's arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a hard hug. Harry freed his hands with a desperate shake and hugged her back, barely remembering to have a care for his strength. "Mum," he choked out, unable to keep it quiet, now that he'd spoken in front of her once.
Lily's arms tightened around him. "I love you, baby," she whispered against his ear.
Harry hid his face against her shoulder, letting free the tears that clawed for freedom. They were born of terror and relief and anger and a hundred other emotions that he didn't care to classify.
"Hey," James said after a moment, his hand rubbing comfortingly over Harry's back. "You know, you were supposed to wait another couple years to start talking, so I could win the pot."
Harry let out a watery laugh and gently pulled away from Lily's arms. "Sorry," he offered quietly. "Extenuating circumstances."
"I'll say," Sirius agreed, whistling. When Harry looked at him, though, Sirius' eyes hardened. "I'd really like to know how a squib could break a necromantic ritual."
"Sirius!" Lily snapped.
"Can we...go back to the hotel?" Harry requested, clasping his hands together in front of himself and trying to find the strength of will that always let him go toe-to-toe with Voldemort without flinching. But it was one thing to face down a dark lord with an anger problem, and another thing entirely to stare into the face of his family's disapproval and remain unscathed. "I think it's about time I came clean about a few things."
"I don't think I'm looking forward to this conversation," James complained, even as he wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and squeezed him.
The walk back was done in strained silence. Will and Chris both took one of Harry's hands for the walk, being obvious about showing a united front, no matter what, and Harry squeezed their hands in gratitude.
They convened in Harry, Will, and Chris' room. Will and Chris both claimed spots of pride on Harry's bed, while the adults arrayed themselves across the younger two's bed and the uncomfortable couch that had been provided. Harry stood in the middle of the floor, too restless to sit, and tried to organise his thoughts, to remember the half-story he'd told Voldemort all those years ago.
"Harry?" Lily prompted after a long moment.
Harry offered a strained smile. "I'm sorry. There's not really a good place to start."
"At the beginning?" Sirius suggested drily, and Harry had to bite back a slightly hysterical laugh. "Do we need to put up secrecy wards?"
Harry grimaced. "Probably," he admitted, and kept quiet as his father and Sirius cast together, making it twice as strong. Then he turned and walked over to stand beside the empty chair resting against the wall, needing something solid under his fingers to ground himself. "I guess the best starting point is when I was born," he decided, looking up at his parents. "I was born with the memories of another life, you see, one where I spent most of it researching the most forbidden of magic, the magic of the soul. Death magic, you might call it."
"You were a necromancer," James whispered, horrified understanding in his eyes.
Harry barked out an insulted laugh. "Those pretenders? Merlin, no. Necromancy, as it is most commonly practised, is but a shadow of true death magic. Necromancy simply plays in death, gives a false sense of power over life and death. The magic I learnt..." He swallowed and looked away from the disbelieving stares of his parents, Sirius, and Peter.
Will caught his gaze and offered, "You can walk in the Realm of Death, right?"
Harry nodded and looked back at the adults, forced himself to meet each of their eyes before letting a doorway open behind him. The familiar chill was a balm, and he felt his shoulders relaxing. "The Realm of Death, where spirits tread," he offered, waving his hand at the dark hole behind him. "Unless properly protected, anything living will shrivel up to nothing within it – complete necrosis of the tissue and nerves – and they will die within moments. Your average necromancer would be just as dead as anyone else, no matter how many protections they layer over themselves, because the magic they use is alive. It's the magic that flows through your veins, the magic that I cannot cast.
"But death magic, the magic needed to pass safely through the Realm of Death, that is channelled through the soul; once you've learnt it, you know it forever, and even a squib can use it."
"But it's necromancy," Sirius shot back, a note of hostility in his voice. "It revolves around killing people."
"Very much so," Harry agreed, forcing himself to meet Sirius' stare and not react when Lily let out a quiet, horrified noise. "There's not much good that can be done with death magic, and it can be destruction on a massive scale, without the need for those tedious rituals necromancers have to perform."
"Why?" Lily asked quietly, and Harry turned to her. "Why would you want to learn this magic?"
Harry swallowed and clung to the reassurance of cold at his back. "My parents were killed when I was one," he offered, sticking close to the truth so there were fewer lies for him to keep track of. "My guardians hated me, hated the fact that I was magical, because they weren't, and they treated me accordingly. When I got to Hogwarts, I started making friends, and I thought my life was looking up, but not long after I finished, I was turned into a werewolf. A man with power I didn't understand found a way to control me while I was a wolf, and I was made to destroy everything I cared about."
"Oh, Harry," Lily whispered, tears in her eyes. She held one of James' hands in hers, and Harry could tell from the whiteness of both of their knuckles that they were holding each other tightly.
Harry took a deep breath. "Death magic meant being able to travel the Realm of Death, to see everyone I'd lost." He turned to Sirius, whose eyes were brimming with a sort of broken understanding. "I never set out to hurt anyone, but once you have dangerous magic, it's hard not to use it when you're cornered. It's hard not to wonder what sort of rituals you might be able to cast, what sort of bonuses will keep you ahead of the people who are hunting you because you turn into a monster once a month." He turned towards Will and Chris, a smile kicking his mouth up on one side at the acceptance he saw in their eyes. "What languages you can learn overnight."
"Harry James Potter!" Lily snapped, and Harry felt a bit like his heart had stopped. He turned to look at her, vaguely terrified, and found disapproval in her gaze. "Tell me you did not involve your brothers in some sort of ritual so you three could pass messages in code."
Harry held up his hands. "Please believe me when I say that the only ritual that Will and Chris have ever been involved in, was the one we were all caught by today." When Lily's expression didn't relax, Harry winced. "I did start out teaching them the normal way, but a...friend, I suppose you'd call him, offered to speed the process along, at no cost to anyone. Death magic was involved, yes, but not in such a way that would, oh, I don't know. Stain their souls."
"But it stained your friend's soul?" James asked.
Will and Chris both let out snickers, and Harry snorted. "I'm not sure he has a soul," he admitted. "Even if he did, it's his magic, so I doubt the amount required to grant a language to two children was going to make much of a difference."
It took the adults a moment, but Harry could tell by the ways their eyes went wide and they looked worriedly towards Chris and Will, that they understood who Harry was referring to.
Will nodded, expression serious. "I told you Chris' friend taught us. And he has skeleton hands."
James pointed at Harry. "Right. You need to tell us what language it is."
"Aww, no!" Will complained, while Chris made a pitiful noise.
Harry shrugged. "Atlantean," he offered, because he figured that truth was a small price to pay for not getting yelled at for introducing his brothers to Death. "If you want, I can correct that dictionary you and Mum have been building."
"Harry!" Will cried.
"How do you know about that?" James complained while Lily covered a smile.
Harry raised an eyebrow at his father. "Question not the Harry, for the Harry knows all things."
Sirius let out a loud laugh. "Merlin's beard, you actually do, don't you?"
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "Not really. I can find out most things pretty easily–" he motioned to the open doorway behind him "–if I find the right spirit, but there's plenty of things that I can only guess at. Or, as Will likes to remind me, that I simply never learnt, such as skiing."
Will nodded. "You're really bad at it."
"You've mentioned," Harry returned drily.
"Could you kill the dark lord?" Peter asked, and everyone went very, very still.
Harry felt his whole body go stiff, and turning towards the rat animagus was far harder than it should have been. "Yes," he admitted.
"But you won't," Peter guessed.
Sirius snorted. "What are you on about, Peter?"
"The first attack of the rebellion," Peter said, not looking away from Harry, "was at the dark lord's mansion. Dark doorways caught spells before they could hit the dark lord and sent them back at the rebels, and others simply...vanished."
"Harry?" Lily whispered.
"You're working with him," Peter accused.
"Really?" Harry shot back, venom in his voice. "Really, you're going to try holding something like this over my head? You sold your wand to him before I was even born!"
"And I'm paying for it!" Peter shouted, jumping to his feet. "But you! You can kill him! You can rid the world of him forever!"
When Harry looked at his parents, he found heartbreak and something that looked too much like disappointment in their eyes. Something in his chest cracked, and Harry spun and ran into the cold embrace of the Realm of Death.
"Don't touch it!" he heard Will shout behind him, just before the doorway closed completely, leaving Harry in isolation.
And then Death was there, skeletal hands drawing Harry into a hug. Harry choked out a broken noise and grabbed for Death's robe, clinging to the one being that never judged him and was always there when he needed it. Death didn't say a word, just let him hold on.
Harry opened his eyes to the shadowy blackness of the Realm of Death. He frowned, wondering why the hell he'd fallen asleep there. It wasn't like he had to be awake to keep up his protections against the realm's life-sucking tendencies, like normal death magic practitioners had to do, but he'd still always made a point to avoid going to sleep there, if only because he had a bed.
But then it all came crashing back: The necromantic ritual, telling his family his partial truth, Peter outing his involvement with Voldemort.
"Fuck," he moaned, rubbing at his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck me sideways. Could that have gone any worse?"
"Likely," Death's genderless voice replied.
Harry looked up to find Death standing over him, one skeletal hand held down to help him up. He took it with a groan and let his eternal servant pull him to his feet. "How long was I asleep?"
Death's shoulders shifted in an approximation of a shrug. "Some hours." Its hood cocked slightly. "What will you do now?"
Harry turned to stare across the empty plain, in the general direction that he could sense Toledo in. "I have no idea," he admitted, and the words came out sounding as if they'd been spoken by a child who'd got lost in a shopping centre.
Death let out its dying breath-sigh. "You can go to Tom."
Harry snorted. "And let him laugh at me? No fucking thanks." He let out a heavy breath and glanced up at Death. "I might just wander for a bit."
Death nodded. "As you wish, Master. Should I remain?"
"No." Harry shook his head. "I'll be fine. Please don't let me keep you from your duties."
Death cupped his cheek and Harry managed a grateful smile for it in response.
Once Death vanished, however, Harry let his expression fall blank. He turned away from Toledo and just started walking, letting his feet carry him where they would while he tried not to think, tried not to remember the disappointment in Lily and James' eyes. Because he couldn't choose between his family and the man who he'd loved in another life.
"In another life," Harry whispered and scoffed. "You're getting too used to lying, Potter."
Every thoughtful gift slipped into the pile on his birthday, every law designed with Harry in mind, every heartfelt thank you for a gift that Harry had spent months working for; he'd seen his lover in Voldemort's face almost from day one, because they'd always been the same person. And Harry was destined to ever be tied to him by one prophecy or another, but there wasn't the weight of an entire people on his shoulders this time, demanding he kill the man he loved for their future.
"No," Harry whispered, stopping and closing his eyes, "it's not the magical creatures this time, just the family I'd never thought I could have. Dammit, Tom!" he shouted, looking up into the endless black sky. "This wasn't what I asked for!"
There was no answer, no familiar smirk that made him want to kill its owner a second time, because that Tom was a reality away, living a new life. He didn't remember Harry, didn't have to agonise over everything he'd left behind. He didn't have to stare into a face that he knew like the back of his hand and know those eyes only saw a stranger, a mystery begging to be solved.
He made himself begin walking again, wished he hadn't sent Death away one moment, was glad for the lack of companionship the next. He felt torn in too many different directions, and when he finally stopped again, he found himself sitting down, then lying back to stare at the emptiness above him.
"I miss you," he whispered to the man he'd left behind, and let his eyes fall closed.
The second time he woke in the Realm of Death was far less jarring, because he remembered where he was and why he was there without having to think about it. He didn't feel much better, regarding his family, but he felt like a bleeding wound in his heart had finally healed over, all the same.
"You shouldn't sleep here," a voice said.
Harry sighed and turned his head to look up at the wizard who was sitting next to him, weaving black grass together. "Hello, Albus."
Dumbledore fitted a couple more blades of grass into his creation, then set it aside and turned his heavy gaze on Harry. "Your family is worried about you."
"Are they?" Harry replied, and his voice sounded empty to his own ears.
Dumbledore sighed. "Very much so. Over two days have passed."
Harry felt his eyebrows raise at that, focussing on the second part because he didn't want to think about what Dumbledore could have meant by the first. "You know," he said, "this is why I hate this place. I mean, what even are physics?"
"And yet," Dumbledore replied, voice dry, "you're still here."
Harry snorted. "Well, yeah. Other than interfering old busybodies who refuse to pass on, no one here bothers me. It's the perfect hiding place from real life. If I could bottle it up, I'd make a fortune."
"You'd make a lot of corpses."
"Just means no one's going to come looking for a refund."
Dumbledore let out a loud sigh and rubbed at his eyes, skewing his spectacles. "You are entirely too grim for a ten-year-old."
"And you have been here way too long to keep assuming I'm only ten."
Dumbledore shot him a tired look that was completely at odds with the youthful appearance he'd adopted in death. "In some ways, Harry, you are even younger."
"Excuse me?" Harry snapped, sitting up.
"You do your family a disservice, believing they would refuse you because of the darkness in your past."
"It's not my past that concerns me; you, yourself, are constantly picking on me for siding with Tom."
"No, Harry," Dumbledore corrected gently, "I merely want you to be less callous in regards to the lives you take, which is the same thing I wish of Tom. You are both so broken, you no longer think of your opponents as real humans."
Harry smiled, and the motion ached. "Please don't think me desensitised to the families I leave to bury empty caskets, simply because I refuse to stop and mourn every life that bloodies my hands. You believe it's something horrible, the way I can just walk away from the carnage I've caused, when it's really just a means of survival. I can never atone for the lives staining my soul, but crying for them does less than nothing.
"I chose to become a monster because I was angry and hurt; I remain a monster because I have something to protect, and if I can keep them from dirtying their hands by dirtying my own, I will."
"You don't always have to dirty your hands," Dumbledore insisted.
Harry looked away. "This world is not a kind one, Albus. You, of all people, should know that."
"There is nothing that says you have to return violence with violence."
"That's true," Harry agreed, staring at his hands, "but my experience suggests that having the bigger stick results in less lives lost, in the long run." He peeked up at the former headmaster. "You made the same choice, in the end. You let him kill you so others would live. Just because you played the part of victim, doesn't mean you have the right to judge our methods."
Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "I didn't come to debate the ethics of warfare with you."
"No," Harry agreed. "I expect you came here to tell me that I need to go home."
"You expect correctly."
Harry snorted and stood, giving himself a quick brush-off, though he knew there would be nothing there; the black grass Dumbledore had been weaving only existed for him to use in that moment. "I'm leaving, since I know you won't."
"You said you'd keep them safe," Dumbledore call after him, and Harry's steps stuttered. "You can't keep them safe from in here."
Harry clenched his hands into fists, let claws dig into his palms, and kept walking. Because, yes, he'd sworn to keep his family safe, and it was hard to do when he couldn't look through the Veil like the dead, but...
He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath, unclenched his hands so the self-inflicted wounds could heal.
How could he face that disappointment again? How could he ever hope to choose between Voldemort and his family?
"Harry?" Merope called.
Harry opened his eyes and glanced off to the side, where he saw her walking towards him. "Hello, Merope."
She smiled at him, as fond and motherly as every smile that Lily had ever given him, and Harry's heart ached. "He's asking for you."
It took him a moment to understand who she meant, then he raised both eyebrows. "Tom is looking for me? Why?"
Merope took his hand and tugged him in the direction she'd come from. "You should ask him." Her shoulders slumped and she glanced back at him with a worried expression. "He looked stressed. Could it be another rebellion attempt?"
Images of Will and Chris flashed in Harry's mind's eye and he swallowed hard. "I sincerely hope not," he answered, even as he sped up his steps a bit more. "Albus didn't suggest anything of the sort, but he doesn't tend to pay much attention to anything outside his need to stalk my family."
Merope huffed a laugh. "You'd think he'd pay more attention to his brother."
Or Grindelwald, Harry didn't say, though he'd occasionally wondered if Dumbledore ever checked on his one-time best friend (and potentially more, given that another Fawkes had once asked Harry to send Grindelwald after Dumbledore; not that Harry had ever cared enough to ask anyone who might have known).
When they reached the access to Voldemort's rooms, Merope let go of his hand and offered, "Good luck."
Harry smiled at her. "Thanks, Merope." Then he stepped through the doorway that opened for him and into Voldemort's room.
The dark lord was standing in the middle of the room, looking more than a little irritated. When he saw Harry, though, his eyes went wide and filled with concern. "Merlin, Scythe, you look like death warmed over."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "Coming from you, that could be taken as a compliment."
Voldemort snapped out his wand and conjured a hand mirror, which he then held out to Harry. "Not this time."
Harry glanced into the mirror, only to freeze at the sight of himself: Sunken eyes, sallow skin, hair hanging lank, and a certain hollowness to his face, as though he was in the process of starving to death. "Well," he heard himself say, voice dry, "next time I decide to lose time in the Realm of Death, I really must remember to bring water and food."
The mirror shattered to nothing in his hands, and Harry looked up at Voldemort's scowl. "Sit," the dark lord ordered, pointing at his desk. "Shall I assume this is related to your mother storming into the mansion two hours ago and declaring she would be remaining in my receiving room until I produced you?"
Harry dropped heavily into the chair and squeaked, "What?"
"Bangles!" Voldemort called, and a female house-elf in a well-cared for tea towel appeared before him. "Bring something light for Scythe and have someone lead Lily Potter up here."
"Yes, Master," the house-elf replied, her tone polite and not the least bit scared, Harry couldn't help but note, still part-Alpha Lord in some ways.
As soon as she'd vanished, Voldemort turned back towards Harry. "Would you care to explain why I've somehow been dragged into your family drama?"
Harry opened his mouth, realised he wasn't certain how to explain matters, and closed it again.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Harry."
Harry winced, honestly creeped out to hear his given name from the dark lord. "There was an...incident in Toledo, and I had to reveal that I could use death magic. During the ensuing discussion, Uncle Peter realised that I'd helped you in that first attack at the mansion and decided to announce it. I..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish that.
"Ran away?" Voldemort suggested as a tray with soup and bread appeared on the desk in front of Harry. "At least now I know why your mother decided to come to me. Eat."
"Were you a mother hen in another life?" Harry complained, though he did turn his focus to the food.
"I'm still trying to decide whether or not I should curse you, Scythe," Voldemort warned.
"Decide quick," Harry quipped.
Voldemort was just pointing his wand at Harry, when there came a knock on the door. He let out a quiet snarl and slipped his wand away before calling, "In!"
Lily pushed carefully into the room, her expression a mix between mostly-hidden fear and determination. "One of the house-elves–" she started before her eyes landed on Harry. "Harry!" she called, and brushed right past Voldemort to grab him in a hug.
Harry dropped his spoon into the bowl, splattering soup across the tray, and grabbed for his mother's arms, holding on tight in a pathetic attempt to keep her there. Something clogged his throat, and he blinked quickly a few times to keep unexpected tears at bay.
Voldemort was actually quiet for a long moment, closing the room door with a soft click and pacing slowly back over to the desk before snapping, "Let him eat, Mrs Potter."
Lily pulled away and took one good look at Harry before demanding, "What happened?"
"I've been in the Realm of Death," Harry offered, forcing the words past the block in his throat.
"For four days?!" Lily shouted, and Harry winced. "What were you doing?"
Harry considered that as he chewed and swallowed a bite of soup-soaked bread, then offered, "Having an existential crisis, debating the ethics of warfare with Albus Dumbledore, and discussing Albus' habit of spying on my family with Voldemort's mother."
:Of course the old fool would stalk his family,: Voldemort hissed to himself, looking disgusted.
"Oh, and I slept," Harry added before switching to Parseltongue to comment, :You realise I can understand you.:
Voldemort turned a glare on him. :I will curse you bloody.:
Harry shot him a grin. :Mum will have your head.:
"English, Harry," Lily complained, and she sounded so worn that Harry slumped in his seat and turned his attention back to his soup.
He managed a few more sips of soup, then quietly offered, "Incidentally, coming to Voldemort was the best way to get my attention. Albus tried, but our conversations tend to devolve to the point that I just stalk off because he's on his high horse again, but Merope and I actually get on really well."
"Merope?" Lily requested.
Harry waved his fork toward where Voldemort had moved to his bookcase of the rare gifts that Harry kept giving him. "His mum. She's actually really nice."
"She's dead," Voldemort snapped.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I had no idea."
"Harry," Lily warned and he turned his attention back to the last of his soup, because poking at Voldemort's weak points while they had an audience could never end well.
Once he'd finished, he stood and offered, "We'll get out of your non-existent hair, then."
"Good," Voldemort snapped, not looking away from his bookcase.
Harry rolled his eyes and led the way to the door. Before he opened it, though, he glanced back at the tense dark lord. "Voldemort?"
"What?" he snarled, turning to glare at Harry.
Harry met his glare evenly. "Thank you."
Voldemort's shoulders slumped slightly and his expression softened. "Go home, Scythe."
Harry smiled at him, then opened the door and led the way out into the hallway. "Did Uncle Peter bring you?" he asked Lily as they turned towards where he remembered the staircase being.
"Yes," Lily admitted with a sigh. "I expect he's gone now."
"Depends on what he thinks you and I were intending to tell Voldemort about his line of questioning," Harry assumed. "If he stayed, he'll probably be in the main hall."
Lily touched his shoulder, stopping him. "How much time have you spent here, Harry?"
Harry shrugged. "Less time than you fear, more time than you'd prefer," he offered. When she just kept frowning, he sighed. "I bring Voldemort a birthday present every year. Sometimes we talk for a few hours, but usually I sneak in when he's asleep."
"You bring Voldemort birthday presents," Lily deadpanned.
Harry flashed her a grin. "I started doing it just to make him twitchy, but I think I started picking too well; he actually thanked me at one point."
Lily shook her head and started walking again. "How have you survived this long?" she complained and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from responding with a joke that she wouldn't appreciate.
Peter was, in fact, waiting for them in the main hall, twitching nervously.
"I didn't tell him anything," Harry commented as they reached the animagus.
Peter flinched. "You don't look well."
"Imagine that," Harry shot back before turning to his mother. "I am not taking a portkey." Because while international portkeys were the only ones that had ever actually made him sick, he wasn't about to trust any portkey, given his weakened state. (For all that he felt disturbingly fine, he was aware that he was likely dehydrated and half-starved. Doubtless, he was going to be paying for his poor life choices for a few days, assuming his weird biology ever caught up with the damage he'd done to himself.)
Lily grimaced. "No, I wouldn't want you to. It'll have to be apparation."
Harry made a face, never a fan of side-along, but followed the two adults into the receiving room and let Lily hug him and apparate them home all the same.
"Harry!" was the first thing he heard, right before a body bowled into him. It was a show of just how poorly he was doing, that he needed his mum to help brace him against the impact.
"Hey, Will," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his brother.
"Where was he?" James asked, and Harry looked up to find his father approaching with Chris in his arms, Sirius and Remus following close behind.
"He claims he was in Death, chatting with Albus and Voldemort's mother," Lily offered tiredly, while Chris scrambled over to join Will in clinging to Harry.
"Really?" Sirius asked, both eyebrows raised.
"Voldemort totally didn't get his bad attitude from his mum, for the record," Harry offered. "Merope's my second favourite mum."
"Voldemort had a way to get in contact with him," Lily added. "He'd sat Harry down with some soup when I got shown up to them."
"Voldemort got you soup?" Sirius demanded, sounding disbelieving.
"I know, it's a regular jaunt through the Twilight Zone," Harry retorted, and Lily let out a choked laugh behind him, the only one who understood the reference. "Tell you what, you lot can discuss the impossibilities of Voldemort and my bizarre not-a-friendship while I go to bed, because I expect I'm going to turn into something of a deadweight here directly." He frowned. "If he drugged me, I will find a way to set Albus on him."
"I like him when he talks," Sirius decided.
"But not when he's exhausted," Remus insisted, stepping forward to support Harry. "Will, Chris, move. Harry needs to go to bed."
"Can we tuck you in?" Chris asked as he and Will fell in behind Harry and Remus.
"Totally," Harry agreed, amused. At the bottom of the stairs, though, he stopped and looked back towards where Lily, James, Sirius, and Peter were still standing by the door, very clearly waiting for Harry to be out of hearing range so they could start whispering. "He knows, by the way."
"Who knows what?" James asked, frowning.
"Voldemort knows I can kill him. I made that clear the first time we met, before he'd even realised I was the other child from the prophecy." Lily and James traded guilty looks, while Sirius' eyes narrowed and Peter put on an uncertain frown.
"He knows you're a threat to him?" Remus asked at his elbow.
"Yeah. He always has. Since he granted this family amnesty." Harry met Remus' eyes, then looked over the group by the door, making sure to catch each person's gaze. "He didn't have to let us leave the hall that day, but he did. He promised this whole family protection, and you want me to kill him."
Harry rallied himself enough to pull out of Remus' grasp and start up the stairs on his own. "Come on, Will, Chris. You two were going to tuck me in," he called back in Atlantean.
"Coming!" Will shouted as he and Chris darted around Remus and hurried up after Harry.
"On second thought," Harry heard Sirius say, "I don't like him when he talks."
Upstairs, Harry only cared about changing out of his clothing because he'd been wearing it for days. He fell into bed as soon as he was changed, scowling at the heavy feeling of his whole body.
Chris climbed onto his bed, ostensibly to help tuck Harry in, but he ended up under the covers next to Harry, curled up in the crook of his arm. "Story!" he insisted, and Will ran to go pull out the book he'd found in the Room of Requirement, which had quickly become a favourite of his and Chris'.
"High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune," Will read as he joined them on the bed.
Harry closed his eyes and let the dual comforts of Chris' warmth against his side and Will's voice lull him to sleep.
As uncertain as the future looked, as much as he felt torn between Voldemort and his family, Harry knew that he was right where he needed to be, his two brothers safe at his side.
Stand Against the Moon Chapters:
Pro | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05
06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12
Nose to the Wind Chapters:
1 - Death Once Again || 2 - Bring Out All the Good Inside Me || 3 - Death and Living Reconciled
4 - Orphan Man || 5 - Using Gentle Words to Shelter Me || 6 - Living on Your Breath
7 - You Just Might Get it All || 8 - Never Want to Come Down ||
10 - Love is a Doing Word || 11 - Nothing Sacred || 12 - The Heart Yearns
13 - Mirrored in Your Stare || 14 - Camouflage Denial || 15 - Precious and Fragile Things
16 - Perfectly Reckless || 17 - Your Arms Feel Like Home || 18 - The Sun Will Set For You
19 - Your Love Has Always Been Enough || 20 - Keep Up This Charade || 21 - Truth Like a Blazing Fire
22 - Give Yourself a Try || 23 - Done Pleading Ignorance || 24 - Your Razorblade Caress of Love
25 - Summer's Scent Still Lingers || 26 - Burn Out the Stain || 27 - Final Masquerade
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