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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: Extra cheese, hold the whine.
I'm a little bit sorry.
For ages at the start of this chapter, Harry is 10. (Will is 8 and Chris is 6.)
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
Chapter Ten – Love is a Doing Word
-0-
When Harry woke again, the bedroom was dark and the house silent. Someone had moved Chris back to his own bed, and Harry had a moment to mourn that before realising there was someone else in the room, bone fingers tapping quietly together.
"You're late," he whispered to Death as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
Death shifted, and it was too dark for Harry to be sure, but he suspected the apparition had shrugged. "You needed them to come and find you," it offered.
Harry looked down into the pool of shadows in his lap, lacing his fingers together there, where he could only barely make them out.
"Too, they needed some proof that Tom is not the monster they have been made to believe," Death added, and its fingers stopped tapping together just before one skeletal hand pressed against Harry's cheek. Harry closed his eyes and leant into the touch, accepting the cold comfort. "I do apologise for the damage you suffered in exiting my realm," Death added quietly, the sound of honest regret colouring its genderless voice.
Harry frowned at that and glanced up into the deeper shadows of its hood. "What do you mean by that?"
Death let out a death-sigh. "Your ties to me allow you to draw energy from my realm itself, allowing you to remain within it so long as you please without damage to your mortal form. But, had you returned to your family in such pristine shape, after four days missing..."
"There would have been questions," Harry whispered, understanding, "ones I wouldn't want to answer. That's fine. Thank you for watching out for me, even if I did suffer for it a bit." He flashed Death a grateful smile, unable to stay angry at his eternal servant for something that he hadn't even thought to blame on it.
Death's fingers shifted against his cheek, as though petting him. "I have fixed it," it admitted, and Harry's smile widened into more of a grin. "Should there be concerns, I expect you can play it off as a perk of being wereborn."
"So long as I don't lead them to believe I attempted some sort of ritual," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I love them all, but this human squeamishness about death is..."
"Entirely understandable?" Death offered drily.
Harry snorted. "You just like terrifying people," he replied, and Death rattled a quiet laugh. "Thank you, by the way, for not appearing for my parents."
"Of course, Master."
Harry closed his eyes and let himself lean into the familiar touch on his cheek for a moment more, then sighed. "You probably have people to kill, and I should see to some of those irritating necessities of having a living body."
Death rattled another quiet laugh. "As you say, Master," it agreed before pulling away.
"You're still my favourite," Harry felt compelled to offer before Death could vanish.
"I know," Death replied before it was gone.
Harry smiled at the empty space for a moment before getting up to see to his bladder.
Lily stumbled into the kitchen while Harry was in the process of making himself some eggs and bacon. She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking uncertain.
Harry held up two uncracked eggs questioningly.
Lily sighed. "I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be letting my ten-year-old son make me breakfast."
"Which makes you about a thousand times better than my first caretakers," Harry admitted quietly, and Lily closed her eyes in regret. "Do you want eggs?"
"Sure," Lily decided, finally stepping forward. "Best put some on for Dad, too."
Harry nodded and grabbed some more eggs and bacon, then moved on to the kettle while they cooked.
"I'm just going to sit down," Lily decided, amusement in her tone, and Harry flashed her a knowing smile before turning his attention back to the hob.
James came in shortly after Harry had brought the food to the table, and he considered Harry as he sat down. "You look better."
Harry shrugged and nodded.
James' mouth kicked up at one side in a crooked smile. "Are we going back to not talking?"
Harry covered his mouth as he swallowed, shaking his head. "No, sorry. But give me a couple days, yeah? I'm not used to being allowed to talk to you."
" 'Being allowed'?" Lily repeated, frowning.
Harry sighed and set his fork down. "I realised, once I'd developed the motor control necessary to actually speak clearly, that I had no idea how to sound like a child just learning how to speak. I figured it was better to be quiet, than to get caught speaking like an adult when I wasn't even two yet." He grimaced. "Incidentally, once I'd trained myself to keep my mouth shut, it was really hard to get out of the practice."
James nodded. "Makes sense." He pinned Harry with a sharp look that made him hunch his shoulders. "Your book sounds remarkably like you really do."
"I expect that was intentional," Harry admitted, though he'd never bothered verifying it with Voldemort.
"So your benefactor has heard you speak," James guessed.
Harry nodded.
"That can't cover many people," Lily pointed out.
Harry ducked his head to hide a smile. "If you include the deceased, actually, that's a fairly substantial number," he commented.
"You know what your mother means."
"I do," Harry admitted before taking a sip of his tea. Then he looked between his parents and allowed, "Only three living people have ever heard me speak, before. And two of them are sleeping upstairs." He paused while Lily and James traded looks, listening to the movements he could hear from his and his brothers' room. "Correction, one of them is sleeping, the other is heading for the loo."
James shot him a startled look, then snorted to himself. "I forget, sometimes, how good your hearing has to be. You don't show it off too often."
Harry winced. "This is going to sound terrible, but I learn far more when you two don't take into account how good my senses are."
James pointed a fork at him. "Spy."
"Curious," Harry insisted. "The only person I spy for is myself, which is hardly an acceptable comparison."
James turned to Lily and deadpanned, "I'm beginning to understand why he kept his mouth shut for fear of us questioning his maturity."
Lily smiled and got up from the table. "Which of your brothers is up?"
Harry considered that for a moment, judging the weight of steps on the linoleum. "Chris."
Lily nodded and went to pull out the breakfast cereal that Chris was so attached to.
James tapped his fork against his mostly-empty plate, catching Harry's attention. "It's Voldemort, your benefactor, isn't it?"
Harry swallowed and nodded.
"Mum said you'd been giving him presents for his birthday," James continued, as if Harry hadn't already agreed, "and you must have actually spoken to him, to warn him you could kill him." He dropped his fork onto his plate, the sound loud in the silence between them, and met Harry's eyes with an unbending stare. "Why didn't you kill him? Why just warn him off?"
"Harry?" Chris asked from the doorway into the hall, sounding lost. "Where's Harry?"
Harry looked around his father and smiled at his brother. "I'm still here. Mum's got breakfast for you," he offered in Atlantean, hoping that using their language would help soothe Chris' fears.
Chris rushed around the end of the table, and Harry barely had time to turn in his seat so he could catch his brother before Chris was crashing into him. "You were gone!" he babbled, tears in his eyes. "You were gone and I was all alone in my bed and I was afraid it was all a dream and–"
"Shh," Harry whispered, pulling Chris into his lap and hugging him tight. "I'm right here, Chris, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."
Chris let out a loud sniff and unlatched one hand so he could roughly wipe at one cheek. "Kay," he whispered.
Harry smiled and picked up a napkin from the holder on the table to gently wipe Chris' cheeks. "Do you want to eat with me?" he asked, switching to English to include their parents, now that the crisis had passed.
Chris took a moment to debate that, then bit his lip and shook his head.
"Okay. Do you want to sit next to me?"
"Yeah."
Harry nodded and reached out with a foot to catch the nearest chair, pulling it close enough that Chris could crawl over his lap into it.
Lily set a bowl of cereal in front of Chris before leaning over to kiss his forehead. "Good morning, sweetheart."
"Good morning, Mum," Chris offered in return, poking uncertainly at his spoon. "Morning, Dad."
"Morning, trouble," James returned with a smile before glancing at Harry and raising an eyebrow.
Harry sighed and gently combed a hand through Chris' bedhead. "Eat your breakfast," he whispered to his brother, before looking up at James. "A number of reasons," he admitted, finally replying to the question his father had put to him before Chris' arrival. "Fear, to a large extent – I would never be the darling of the ministry, especially not one that had just finished fighting off a dark lord – but, too, you have to understand, I relate to him, on some level. Not the 'muggles are beneath us and they and their offspring must be exterminated' part," he added when both Lily and James frowned, "but I deal in death. And I understand that upsets you both, I really do, and I'm sorry that I'm not afraid of taking a life if the ends justify it, but I can't change who I am. That...that's something Voldemort and I can agree on."
Lily swallowed and came to stand behind her husband, putting her hands on his shoulders. "But why warn him?"
Harry looked over at Chris and smiled at his brother's worried frown. "Because sometimes, when you're going toe-to-toe with a powerful person who has no qualms, and you have something to protect, the only way to make that person listen is by threatening them." He glanced back towards his parents, letting a helpless smile twist his mouth. "Ten times as true when you're only two."
"The amnesty," James whispered, and it was clear he'd figured that out before, but there was a certain level of respect in his eyes that Harry hadn't expected. "You're the reason he offered amnesty to us."
"I told him he had a chance to lessen casualties, to keep from ending that war with only a handful of witches and wizards to rebuild with," Harry admitted. "I made him pay attention, then I gave him the facts that he was ignoring." He met Lily's eyes. "The same facts that eventually had him writing a law to allow muggleborns back into Hogwarts."
"Voldemort wrote that law?" Lily breathed, eyes wide with disbelief.
Harry nodded. "Both of them, yes. I made a couple suggestions when he asked me for my thoughts, but it was his idea."
"I can't– I had no–"
"Even the most monstrous of us are still human, Mum," Harry offered quietly. "His story is no less terrible than mine, he just hasn't earned his second chance yet." Then he turned towards the doorway out into the hallway, aware of an eavesdropper. "Hey, Will. It's safe to come in, you know."
Will stepped into the room, looking vaguely guilty. "Are you getting yelled at?"
Harry shrugged, and it was Chris who offered, "Mum and Dad are grumpy because Harry thinks Voldemort is okay."
"I wouldn't go that far," Harry complained.
"English, boys," Lily complained.
"Sorry, Mum," they chorused.
James snorted. "And we thought it was bad when they could only pass notes in another language. What is it again?"
"Atlantean," Harry replied as Will dragged one of the other chairs over so he could sit on Harry's free side. "From Atlantis. I'd offer to find you an actual dictionary–"
"Aww, no," Will whined.
"–but the only ones I saw in the ruins that you might be able to use were Atlantean to Latin, and I'm not sure how your Latin is," Harry finished, ruffling Will's hair and ignoring his complaining.
"You've been to Atlantis," James replied, voice dry.
Harry ducked his head to hide a grin. "It's a bit wet."
"A bit."
"We'll give you the dictionary we've been working on," Lily decided as she brought a bowl of Will's favourite cereal over to the table for him. Once she'd set it in front of Will, though, she pinned Harry with a narrow-eyed look. "If you promise to actually fix it up."
"I solemnly swear," Harry promised, pressing one hand to his heart.
"Harry," Will whined.
Harry glanced over at him and whispered, "It's not like I'm intending to teach them the alphabet. You can still write secret messages."
"How did we miss how secretive he was?" James complained quietly to Lily.
Lily rolled her eyes. "One of Will's first words was 'secret'; you've clearly been living in a dream world if you missed that."
James snorted and glanced toward the clock. "Ah, blast," he muttered, pushing out of his chair.
The usual goodbyes were exchanged, then James left for work. Harry helped his mum clean the dirty dishes from the table, then led his brothers upstairs to all change into day clothing once they'd finished eating. Once they were all dressed, Will settled down with Chris, determined to teach him to write the Atlantean alphabet – he already knew how to read it, and far better than he could English – while Harry accepted the dictionary that Lily unburied and got to work correcting it for them, adding words that he and his brothers commonly used which weren't already in it.
Over lunch, Lily wondered, "What exactly would you get a dark lord for his birthday, anyway?"
Will giggled into his soup and glanced at Harry, who was trying to swallow without choking. "You get him birthday presents?"
"He's my benefactor," Harry admitted, since neither of his brothers had been there for that part of the morning's conversation. To Lily, he offered, "He's a bibliophile with a fondness for rarities."
"And he writes you notes in Atlantean," Lily commented, shaking her head. "I think I can see where this is going." She let out a quiet laugh and offered Harry a crooked smile. "You know, I never would have thought he'd be a book lover."
"If he'd been any less power-mad, I expect he'd have been a Ravenclaw," Harry said with a shrug. "As it was, his school records rivalled Albus Dumbledore's."
Chris tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Who's Albus Dumbledore?"
"A friend of Mum and Dad's who died in the war," Harry replied, and he couldn't completely keep the disapproval out of his voice as he added, "He was respected by a lot of people."
"Harry and Albus have a few differences of opinion," Lily commented.
"Politics?" Will asked, making a face.
Harry nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so."
"Don't care," Will declared before clearly changing tracks and asking, "Was that book you kept copying from for Voldemort?"
"What book?" Lily asked, looking curious.
Will held his arms out wide. "It was huge. And the pages kept coming out and falling everywhere. Some of them got really badly damaged."
"The Canterbury Tales," Harry offered, grimacing when he remembered the couple of pages that had slipped off his bed one night and begun to decay because they were too far away from him. "Chaucer gave it to me one day," he added, grinning when Lily's eyes went wide and her spoon slipped out of her hand and clattered against the table top. "Regretfully, things created in the Realm of Death don't tend to survive long outside of that realm, unless near someone who practises the right magic, so I couldn't give Voldemort the original, which meant copying the whole thing over, by hand, into something else."
"Do you still have it?" Lily breathed.
"Sure," Harry agreed. "I'd have to go into the Realm of Death to get it, though."
Lily looked torn about that for a moment before shaking herself and admitting, "I would really love the chance to read it."
Harry laughed. "If you give me a few weeks, I can make you a copy. I'm afraid I have to be touching the original while it's on this side of the Veil, or I'd just lend you it." He snorted to himself. "I can even translate it into modern English for you, if you'd prefer."
"It's not in English?" Will asked.
"It's in an older form of English," Harry corrected. "Still mostly understandable, but you have to think about it."
"Cool," Will decided.
Lily smiled. "I think I would appreciate a more modern copy," she admitted.
"Sure." Harry shrugged. "I can get started on it after lunch."
"Can I help?" Will asked.
Harry snorted. "You can read over my shoulder."
Will pouted while Lily laughed.
Having his parents know the heavily edited truth about what sort of person Harry really was, in the end, didn't change much. There were a couple of strange and/or strained conversations the first week or so, while Lily and James – and, by extension, Remus, Sirius, and Peter – tried to wrap their heads around his darker nature, but things did eventually go back to normal.
The first time Harry spoke around the neighbourhood kids, the Weasleys, and Geoffrey Hooper, everyone sort of stopped for a moment and gave him an odd look, then shrugged it off and accepted the change with very little trouble. Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Geoffrey, being magical, had all heard his speaking notebook before, so they commented on the similarities, and Harry just shrugged and suggested, "It was probably spelled to do that. I dunno."
Chris started primary that year, and with all three of them finally out of the house for part of the day, Lily looked into an actual job, rather than occasionally charming objects for people. Remus offered to keep an eye on Harry and his brothers after school, since he was only working part-time at the moment. "Though, I won't be able to help around full moons."
"We can look into a babysitter for those days?" Lily suggested.
"I could do it," Harry offered quietly, glancing around at the adults.
"Yeah," Will agreed, perking up from where he'd been slumping over his dinner. "We don't need no babysitter."
James shook his head. "What if something happens? What if one of you slips and falls on the stairs?" He sighed and met Harry's frown. "I'm sorry, Harry, but there needs to be an adult around, especially since you can't do magic."
Harry scowled down at his food and muttered uncomplimentary things in Russian.
"English," Lily reminded him.
Harry huffed and shut up.
"I'll look into people this week," Lily decided. "I'll probably look for someone full-time, in case you pick up another job, Remus, but I'll let them know that you can take the boys if they're not available."
Remus nodded. "That's fine." He snorted. "I probably should look into another job, anyway, before you get sick of needing to feed me every other night."
"Perish the thought!" James called, and Remus smiled gratefully.
The first sitter Lily found was an older witch who was clearly proud of her ancestry, judging by the family coat of arms she had emblazoned on everything. She asked Harry and his brothers to call her 'Lady Mabel' and corrected them if they substituted any other prefix for the 'Lady', though she would accept simply referring to her as 'madam'. She was extremely strict about making sure the boys got their homework done first thing when they got home, refusing all three of them snacks if Harry and Will didn't sit down right off with their work.
"I hate her," Will grumbled the third day she was there.
"I know," Harry murmured, not looking up from his work. "Grin and bear it before Dad starts wondering if he was really joking that time he asked if the dark lord would be willing to babysit."
Will choked on a disbelieving laugh and hid his face against his homework.
"Is something funny?" Mabel asked, coming over to stand over them.
"No, ma'am," Harry replied politely. "Just a typo."
Mabel snorted and turned away. "Honestly," Harry heard her muttering to herself, "letting wizards go to a muggle school."
Harry narrowed his eyes at her back, but didn't comment on the – admittedly rather common, any more – scorn for muggles.
A little over a month into Mabel's tenure, during a rainy day when all three boy were stuck inside, Chris came up to Harry while he was reading, cradling his left hand. "I cut myself," he admitted.
Harry dropped his book and flexed his wrist to call out his wand. "Let me see it," he ordered.
Chris revealed a jagged cut across his palm and let out a sniffle.
"I don't want to know what you were doing, do I?" Harry muttered as he turned his wand on the cut. But, before he could direct the wand's magic, it was snatched out of his hand. "Hey!" he shouted, turning to glare up at the offender.
Mabel stood over him, disapproval darkening her face. "Little boys shouldn't steal wands."
"I didn't steal it!" Harry snapped back. "It was a gift!"
Mabel snorted. "No adult in their right mind would give a child a wand, no matter how close to Hogwarts age you are. I think we'll just confiscate–"
"You will return my property to me right now," Harry ordered, wearing his best 'I'm the Alpha Lord and you will obey me or die' glare.
Mabel jerked back, gaze caught on his eyes. "Monster," she breathed before pointing Harry's wand at him. "Confringo!"
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "Did you just try casting the blasting curse at me?"
"What's wrong with this wand?!" Mabel shouted, stumbling backwards and shaking the stick.
"Harry?" Chris whimpered.
"You did, didn't you?" Harry continued, getting to his feet and moving between his brother and the woman. "You actually just tried to curse me."
Mabel tossed Harry's wand to the side. "Monsters will be put down!" she shouted as she reached for her own wand.
Harry snarled and opened a doorway into the Realm of Death under her, and Mabel let out a scream as she dropped out of sight, the sound cutting off as the doorway closed after her. "I really fucking hate anti-non-human people," Harry growled as he stalked over to his discarded wand and snatched it up.
"Did Harry just kill our babysitter?" Harry heard Will ask from the stairs.
"Uh-huh," Chris agreed quietly.
"You are going to be so grounded," Will informed him as Harry forced himself to calm down.
"Strangely, I can't find it in myself to care," he admitted as he walked back over to Chris. "For now, let me see your hand?"
Chris was perfectly happy to let Harry fix him up, then he and Will spent the next twenty minutes trying to get Harry to get them sweets.
"I'm already going to be grounded until next year for killing Mabel," Harry finally told them when he started to get irritated. "I am not compounding it because you two want to feed your sweet teeth. Shut up."
They left wearing pouts and didn't come back to pester Harry again.
When Lily got home, all three of them came to greet her, and she hugged them all before asking, "Where's Ms Mabel?"
"Harry killed her," Will said matter-of-factly and Harry winced.
"Harry James!" Lily shouted, rounding on Harry.
"She tried to cast a blasting curse at me!" Harry insisted.
That brought Lily up short, and she turned to look at Will and Chris, the latter of whom nodded and added, "She got really angry when Harry's eyes turned gold."
Lily squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I need tea and the full story, in that order."
Harry ran to put the kettle on.
Fortified with tea, Lily sat quietly while Harry told her what had happened. When he was done, she sat down the mug she'd been sipping from and said, "You realise I'm going to have to ground you."
Harry sighed and nodded.
"But he was protecting himself!" Chris complained, clinging to Harry's arm.
"I still shouldn't have killed her," Harry admitted. "Just because it's my first reaction to a threat doesn't mean it's the right one."
"Exactly," Lily agreed. "Two months."
Harry winced, because that was a long time to be cooped up inside. "Okay."
"Go to your room until dinner."
Harry sighed and dragged himself up to his room, resigned.
Lily and James had learnt from that mistake, at least, and made a point of asking, up front, if a possible sitter had a problem with non-humans. They refused two out of hand for their views, and a third was discarded when she started saying nasty things about squibs.
Remus took over the duty of watching the boys while Lily and James tried to find a new sitter, but they were all acutely aware of the approach of the beginning of November and the full moon.
"If you trust them to floo by themselves," Molly told Lily one weekend, while Ron, Ginny, Will, and Chris were outside playing, and Harry was stuck inside because he was still grounded, "I'd be happy to watch them during the afternoons. And I know Ron and Ginny would appreciate having their friends over."
Lily was quiet for a long moment before calling, "Harry? Could you come in here?"
Harry sighed and set aside the book he hadn't been reading anyway before walking into the kitchen. "I can get all of us over to the Burrow fine," he offered as he stepped into the kitchen. "I'd ruther Molly than another babysitter, anyway."
Lily shook her head, amused, while Molly laughed. "I'm aware." Then she turned serious. "You'll have to come straight home and through the floo. No mucking about, dragging your feet with your mates."
Harry nodded. "I know. If Geoffrey and Will want to hang out, Geoffrey needs to check with his parents about going to the Burrow, or you and them have to work something out in advance."
Lily nodded. "And you're still grounded–"
"Until the start of winter holidays," Harry finished, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know, Mum."
Lily smiled at him. "I know you do." She turned back to Molly. "I really appreciate this, Molly."
"You know I'm always happy to help," Molly replied as Harry turned around and started back towards his book. Once he was out of sight of the two mums, Molly lowered her voice to say, "I really don't know how you and James did it; not a single one of my children have ever taken a punishment so calmly."
"Will and Chris always kick up a fuss, too," Lily admitted just as quietly. "My best guess is it has something to do with being a werewolf. More important for him to control himself."
"Maybe," Molly agreed. "Still, are you sure two months isn't a little much for threatening to bite that sitter?" she asked, referring to the story James and Lily had given everyone who didn't know about Harry's penchant for murder.
"When he starts complaining, I'll consider shortening it," Lily said, and while Harry believed she might well let him out of his punishment early if he asked for it, he also knew that he'd reacted like the Alpha Lord, and he wasn't that any more.
That said, he was still going to drop the next person who tried to curse him or his brothers into the Realm of Death, because he was a vengeful bastard with a penchant for murder, and no amount of grounding was going to change that.
On the first Monday of winter holiday, Lily called in sick. "I just want to spend a day with my favourite boys," she told James when he teased her over breakfast about looking perfectly healthy.
"What does that make me?"
"My favourite man," Lily retorted before leaning in to give him a long kiss that had Will and Chris making grossed out noises while Harry rolled his eyes at his whole family. "Now, go to work."
"Rude," James complained good-naturedly before going around and saying his goodbyes.
As soon as the floo had fallen quiet after James left, Harry said, "Severus is coming over today, isn't he?"
"I can still ground you for another week," Lily threatened, even as her cheeks turned pink.
Harry nodded while his brothers both failed to stifle giggles. "Uh-huh. Because you really want me around to eavesdrop on you and him reliving old times."
"Go outside," Lily ordered and Harry flashed her a knowing grin as he herded his brothers upstairs to get dressed.
Snape was indeed there when they came in for lunch.
"Hi, Secret!" Will called as soon as he saw the man.
Snape's eyes glinted with that sort of resigned amusement that the name always produced. "Will, Chris," he offered in that drily amused tone that Harry had become used to hearing from this version of the man, one who had never been forced to mourn the death of his childhood love and one-time best friend. "And what's this I hear about Harry suddenly deciding to speak?"
"It's a Christmas miracle," Harry deadpanned and his brothers both laughed.
"It's not Christmas," Snape shot back, equally deadpan.
"And it wasn't when you started talking, either," Lily added. "Wash your hands, boys."
Lunch went as smooth as ever, the five of them having long developed an easiness between them which wasn't so fragile as to be broken by Harry's occasional dry comments. Indeed, Snape seemed to enjoy his comments much more when Harry could actually add tone of voice to them, rather than the even tone his notebook had always produced.
When they were finishing the last of the food and Will and Chris were bouncing in their seats, clearly ready to run off their fresh infusion of energy, Lily cleared her throat and said, "Harry, I was thinking about telling Sev a few things."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her.
"I trust him," she defended, while Snape looked between them with a frown. "And, should something happen, you're going to get your brothers to Hogwarts by any means, since it's protected."
Harry turned to consider the man. While he actually didn't mind this Snape, he would always carry a healthy helping of distrust for the man, born from the hostility he'd faced his first life. Death? he called, because he needed an unbiased opinion, and this one could ignore occlumency barriers to find the truth.
Snape gave an almost imperceptible shiver and his frown deepened. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"He is actually quite fond of you, Master," Death offered. "He's quite fond of your brothers, as well, but he sees something of himself in you and relates to it, for all he retains some fear for your wolf half. The truths you're willing to share will remain safe in his care, though you may wish to make a stipulation about one Bartemius Crouch Jr."
Harry raised both eyebrows at that. Oh?
"They have been in a sexual relationship for almost five years," Death said.
"Now I'm just insulted on Mum's behalf," Harry announced, and Lily and Snape both gave him confused looks. "It's really not nice, not introducing your lover to your best friend, Severus."
"Lover?" Lily asked, her eyes glinting with the sort of light that made Harry really glad he wasn't on the other end of her attention.
Snape pointed a shaking finger at Harry. "How could you possibly know that?" he demanded, and the tone he used was the same one that he used when James or Sirius were mentioned.
Harry just stared at him until Snape lowered his finger. "I asked Death if I could trust you, he...overshared," he answered evenly before making a face. "He does that."
"Death," Snape repeated disbelievingly.
"Death," Death agreed from behind Harry.
Lily let out a vaguely terrified sound, while Snape's eyes widened far enough, Harry was half convinced his eyeballs would pop out.
"I thought you weren't going to terrify my parents," Harry complained.
"Apologies, Master," Death replied, not sounding even vaguely apologetic.
"Hi, Death!" Will called.
Harry rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers in Snape's face to get his attention, while Death traded greetings with his brothers in Atlantean. "Hi," he offered with a sharp smile that only just avoided involving a mouth full of too-sharp teeth, "I'm a reincarnated werewolf and practitioner of death magic. Which is pretty much necromancy, except about three times as powerful."
"Five times," Death corrected, moving close enough that Harry could feel its unliving chill along his spine.
"Five times as powerful," Harry allowed, amused, before leaning back and looking up into the shadowed hood. "You're like a small child who's been slighted."
Death let out a death-sigh. "As you say, Master."
Harry offered a soft smile to his eternal servant before straightening and shooting Snape's continued wide-eyed expression a wide grin. "Death magic isn't beholden to the same restraints as the living magic witches and wizards use, so I do, actually, have access to a form of magic. It includes a means of travel, so if you ever spot a portal opening into darkness, best assume it's myself."
"And don't touch it," Will suggested, perfectly serious.
"Yes, please don't," Harry agreed. "It's not pleasant if you don't have the proper protections in place."
"Noted," Snape rasped. He swallowed, then asked, "How terrified of you should I be?"
Harry snorted. "I'm not the dark lord," he said before looking back up at Death. "Stop disturbing Mum and go kill someone."
Death's hood dipped. "Master," it agreed before vanishing.
"Harry," Lily complained, though her heart wasn't in it.
Harry rolled his eyes. "The last time I told him to go frolic with ponies, the ponies ended up dead."
Lily sighed and covered her eyes.
"There is a certain resemblance between yourself and the dark lord," Snape commented carefully, looking a little bit like he wasn't certain if he wouldn't be best served running like hell.
"Oh, I know," Harry agreed. "But I lack the ability to crucio people, and I like you too much to kill you, so you're safe." He tilted his head to one side while Snape let out a quiet breath of relief. "That said, Mum might do something terrible if you don't bring Barty by to meet her by this time next year, and I will send her to you at the most embarrassing moment possible if you tell him anything about this conversation before I've met him myself." Harry stood while Lily turned a speculative gaze on Snape. "Will, Chris, shall we go back outside?"
"Yeah!" Will shouted, jumping up and running from the room.
Harry rolled his eyes as he and Chris followed him.
On the night of the thirtieth of December, Harry cast a couple of silent spells on his brothers to make sure they'd go to sleep at a reasonable time, and took a potion he'd brewed one night while everyone was sleeping, which would help keep him up for the whole night, then skipped off to Voldemort's room, because he had something planned that he wanted the whole night for. He grinned at Merope when he saw her standing around the access to Voldemort's rooms, and she replied with an uncertain smile. "Is he in for the night?"
She nodded. "It seems so. And things sound pretty calm, for once."
"Yeah, I've had people keeping an eye out," Harry admitted, because what was the point of having thousands of souls able and willing to help him in any way if he didn't use them to watch out for any coming trouble? Which wasn't to say he could keep tabs on everything, but he had a pretty good handle on the magical world, at least. "Right, fingers crossed this works like I mean it to," he muttered before stepping through a doorway and into Voldemort's rooms.
Voldemort turned towards him as the doorway closed behind him, raising one hairless eyebrow. "You're unusually early," he commented neutrally, glancing Harry over. Then he frowned. "No gift this year, Scythe?"
Harry spread his hands slightly. "This year's gift isn't something you can store on a shelf, I'm afraid," he offered before putting on an apologetic look. "And, I'm sorry, but I can't leave the room for this."
Voldemort straightened, his eyes narrowing and the air around him sparking with hostility. "For what?"
Harry closed his eyes and called on the power of the Stone, focussing its magics on Merope and hoping that his assumption that he could decide who could interact with the spirit held true.
"Who–?!" Voldemort snapped, fear hidden under anger in his voice.
Harry opened his eyes to find Merope standing next to him, her hands pressed over her mouth as she stared at Voldemort, who was standing and looking a little bit homicidal. "I thought you might like to spend a night with your mum," Harry offered quietly, watching the dark lord for a clear sign that he needed to leave before curses started getting thrown; there was never any telling how Voldemort was going to react to personal things, which seemed doubly true for this version of the man.
Voldemort went stiff, staring at Merope as though he really didn't know how to handle her presence.
But Merope, who had wasted away in the afterlife watching her son struggle through life, had a very specific goal in mind, Harry knew, and when Voldemort didn't immediately demand they leave, she gave up on staring at him and crossed the room to reach up and cup his face with faintly glowing hands. "Oh, my Tom," she whispered, gratitude and sorrow and so much love in her voice. "I'm so very proud of you."
And Voldemort – who had spent his life hating his mother for being too weak to survive, and would have told anyone with enough gumption to ask, that he was glad he'd never had her in his life – sort of slumped and lifted his hands to hover uncertainly over her shoulders, looking so lost it ached. "Mum?" he whispered, and Harry had to look away.
"I'm sorry," Merope whispered, and Harry didn't have to look at her to know she was crying. "I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't be there for you. I'm sorry you had to be alone for so long, that there was never anyone there–" She cut herself off with a sound that was half surprise, half happiness.
Harry glanced back over his shoulder to find that Voldemort had pulled his mother into a hug, one that Merope – Harry knew – would be perfectly happy to never break. He smiled to himself and tiptoed over to the bookcase of rare books, intending to borrow one of the scrolls from Vesuvius, since he'd not had the chance to read them, and he'd need to stay nearby to support Merope's existence on this side of the Veil.
He'd been reading maybe forty minutes, when Voldemort called, "Scythe?"
Harry blinked a few times and looked up. "Yes?" he asked, only to realise that had come out in Latin.
Voldemort didn't seem to notice the slip, however, seated with Merope on a couch that Harry could only assume he'd conjured. "How is she solid?"
Harry carefully set the scroll aside and stood from the corner he'd curled up in next to the bookcase, as far out of the way as he could get while remaining within sight. "She's not a ghost," he offered with a shrug as he started over, wincing at a cramp he hadn't noticed while he'd been reading. "Admittedly, Merope shouldn't be able to appear in the living realm, not having passed on without leaving a ghost, as she did, but I have the ability to call her to this realm in the same form that she takes in the Realm of Death. So, corporeal."
"How long?" Voldemort demanded, and it was only because Harry had lived a lifetime with another version of him that he heard the whisper of desperation in his voice.
Harry offered a crooked smile. "There's not a time limit, but I do have to be nearby." He sighed and shook his head. "I can't promise what will happen if I fall asleep, however, so if you unexpectedly end up back in the Realm of Death," he said to Merope, "I'm sorry. You know it wouldn't be intentional."
"I know," Merope agreed with a fond smile for him. "Any time with Tom is a gift I can never hope to repay."
Harry hurriedly turned away, feeling unaccountably embarrassed. "I'm going back to reading and pretending I'm not here," he announced before going back to the scroll he'd been reading.
He tried to keep from eavesdropping – if nothing else, he knew how Voldemort felt about airing his private affairs – and the scroll was certainly engaging enough to keep him distracted, but he still heard the occasional comment, or internalised a word or a name that spoke to a past that he'd only learnt the barest minimum about (and from a biased source, besides).
He didn't keep particularly close track of time, so was honestly surprised when he got up to switch scrolls at one point and saw a glimmer of light sneaking in around the heavy drapes blocking the windows. He glanced towards the antique grandfather clock that Voldemort had in one corner – Harry knew it worked, though the lack of ticking noise suggested Voldemort had magically silenced it – and raised an eyebrow to discover it was almost nine.
Something about his change from routine must have caught Voldemort's attention, for he drily enquired, "When should I expect your mother to come storming into the mansion?"
Merope let out a quiet laugh and looked away when Harry turned an amused smile on her. "I left a note saying I had business to see to," he told the dark lord.
Voldemort snorted. "I know your mother well enough, I expect, to know that won't hold her back for long."
Harry grimaced and shrugged. "You may be right," he allowed. "In truth, I haven't the faintest; I didn't want to try any tests after I got grounded."
Voldemort's eyes lit at that. "Oh? And why were you grounded, Scythe?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I killed our babysitter."
Voldemort choked on a laugh, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "What in Slytherin's name could ever have possessed you?"
"I lost my temper," Harry admitted with an easy shrug, moving forward to lean against the corner of Voldemort's desk. "She stole my wand and tried to curse me with it, so I just–" he flicked his fingers and a mini doorway into the Realm of Death opened and closed above his hand. "No more babysitter," he added with a smile.
But Voldemort didn't look amused by the story. "Let me see the wand," he ordered, sounding just shy of murderous.
Harry hid the arm his holster was attached to behind his back. "Why?" he asked, suspicious.
"Scythe, now," Voldemort demanded, his tone every inch the uncompromising dark lord that kept even the most sadistic of his followers in line.
But Harry was no follower, and he'd never made a habit of baring his throat for any version of Voldemort. "No," he returned, using his Alpha Lord voice. "I will not play second fiddle to your whims; tell me why you want it."
"Tom," Merope called when it looked like Voldemort was going to continue trying to order Harry into submission. When she gently touched his arm, he slumped, looking irritated and...worried?
Harry frowned, thrown by the suggestion of concern.
"It does you no good if someone takes your wand from you," Voldemort offered tiredly, looking at his desk, rather than Harry, as though he were embarrassed that he had to explain himself. "There may be a way to spell the wand to always return to you, should it move a certain distance from you."
Harry stared, his mind rushing through calculations, trying to verify that such a thing was possible. "An object-specific summoning charm tied to a magical tether that will activate when stretched?" he guessed.
Voldemort's head came up and they locked eyes for a long moment, connected by the sort of love of experimenting with magic that so few wizards and witches could understand, stuck in the rut of using spells for their intended purposes because that was how they'd been taught.
And then Voldemort smiled, honest and open and everything that made Harry fall in love with him all over again. "May I?" he requested, an equal to an equal.
Harry brought his wand over, voice caught behind a block in his throat.
Voldemort cast his spells quickly and efficiently, then looked up at Harry, who had managed to rally himself while the dark lord had been focussed on his spellwork. "Try it out," he suggested.
Harry raised an eyebrow and started walking backwards. When Voldemort started frowning, he stopped. "Not working?" he guessed.
"No," Voldemort agreed.
Harry considered the problem for a moment while Voldemort cast a couple of diagnostic spells. "Merope," he called at last, realising that, if the Stone was a part of him, the magic keeping her in the living realm would very likely be mistaken as him by Voldemort's spell, "come here, please."
Voldemort looked up, surprised, while Merope obediently got up and walked towards Harry. When she reached the point where Voldemort had started frowning, the wand shot from the dark lord's hand and Harry stepped forward to catch it.
"So, any spirits tied to me read as me, in terms of the tether," Harry assumed, offering Merope an amused smile. "It's unlikely to be an issue, in future, but it is a good limit to be aware of."
"And we can always simply take your wand and return it to you, at that," Merope pointed out.
"Also true," Harry agreed.
"An unexpected hurdle," Voldemort commented, his expression closed. "May I try another test?"
Harry tilted his head curiously. "What do you have in mind?"
"It should like to know who the wand returns to, if you are equally distant from it," Voldemort explained.
Harry blinked. "That would be...good to know, yes," he agreed, stepping forward to return his wand to Voldemort. "Merope, if you'll join me here?" he asked, and she joined him with a smile. "Brilliant. Now, you walk towards the bookcase and I'll go towards the door. Given the difference of height, perhaps go a little slower than your usual pace?"
"Certainly," Merope agreed, and they both started walking away from Voldemort.
The wand flew to Harry, when they got far enough away, and Harry let out a quiet breath of relief, because it could have been quite awkward, his wand going to a spirit who was only marked with his magical signature. "Thank you, Voldemort," he offered as he moved back towards the couch, returning his wand to the sheath as he moved. "It's unspeakably disconcerting to have someone take your wand and know you're incapable of the summoning spell necessary to recall it. Given, I'm hardly defenceless without it, but there are plenty of times when murdering an offender is not an acceptable response."
Voldemort flashed him a mean smile. "Only because you're a child."
Harry snorted, amused. "Child and living with people who consider killing an assailant something of a last resort."
"It is troubling, those morals," Voldemort offered, and his eyes practically danced.
"Sadist," Harry complained, and the word came out unexpectedly fond.
Voldemort's amusement wavered and he looked towards the clock as his expression smoothed out into something more neutral. "Given your mother's penchant for irritating me at any given opportunity, perhaps you should return home before she decides to come find you."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, frowning at the change in humour. "Like I said at the start, Merope can only exist in this realm if I'm nearby."
Voldemort glanced towards his mother and she offered him a smile full of love and understanding. "The offered time has been sufficient," Voldemort said, and Harry thought he sounded mostly sad, yet also...distant?
What–?
Harry closed his eyes, remembering another version of this man, who had pulled away from any hint of affection from Harry while he believed him a child. Even when Harry had looked to be in his late teens and told the dark lord about his first life, he'd still had to push the man to get him to make a move. 'Ah,' he mouthed before pasting on an easy smile and shrugging. "And it's not like you can never see each other again," he said before snorting. "Though, I may need to bring my own books to read, next time; I'm afraid I've read most of the ones I've given you."
"Taste-testing gifts, Scythe?" Voldemort returned drily, though still with that hint of distance.
"I know, how terribly gauche of me," Harry agreed, and Voldemort let out a startled snort and glanced up at him with a tight smile that was almost normal, for him. Harry smiled back at him, trying to keep it friendly, rather than affectionate. "Happy birthday, Voldemort," he offered.
Voldemort's jaw clenched and he gave a short nod. "Scythe."
Harry waited until he was safely back in the Realm of Death before letting out a loud sigh. "I really fucking hate that man's personal minefield," he complained to himself.
"Harry?" Merope called, and he pulled out a smile for her. She didn't quite smile back, but her bearing wasn't unfriendly, either, as she asked, "Are you courting my son?"
Harry raised both eyebrows at that. "I've been giving him birthday presents for eight years, counting today, and you're only now asking me this?" he asked, disbelieving.
Merope shook her head. "Books are one matter, even ones as rare as you hunt down; giving him and me the chance to meet... Well, that's something else entirely."
Harry wanted to turn away, didn't want to have this conversation, but he couldn't spurn Merope, couldn't just walk away from one of the few spirits he truly enjoyed spending time with. So he closed his eyes and quietly admitted, "I love him. I will always love him." He looked up into her understanding, broken smile. "You can call it courting, every gift, sure. But I'm only ten, in so far as relations between us are concerned, and I'm not going to push his boundaries. Right now, if I can make him smile, that's enough."
"But it hurts," Merope offered quietly.
Harry shrugged, let his mouth curl with a bitter smile. "The greatest sorrow of the lives I have lived is that, while our paths are always destined to collide, we are also destined to suffer along that course; there's not much I can do about that, other than take what I can from what I'm given." He shook his head. "Love," he scoffed.
"Love," Merope echoed, sounding as tired and hurt as Harry felt, before she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug.
Harry returned the hug with all he was, unconcerned that he might hurt her with his werewolf strength, not in this realm. "Thank you," he whispered against her smock.
Merope pressed a light kiss to his forehead, then pulled back and met his eyes. "Just promise me you'll never follow my path."
Harry immediately shook his head. "I would rather he never look at me again, than force his affection through magical means."
She smiled and said, "Good," before squeezing his arms once and pulling away entirely. "Now, best you head home. I'm sure your family is worried about you."
Harry snorted. "With my luck, I'm going to be grounded for another two months," he agreed, turning to head home.
"Was it worth it?" Merope called after him.
Harry smiled, unexpectedly reminded of something he'd once seen another Snape say in a memory. "Always," he replied, meaning that word every bit as much as that bitter, broken man that had lost everything had.
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 || 9 - Only the Silence Remains
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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