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batsutousaiTitle: Nose to the Wind
Series: Like a Ghost in My Town
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
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: This chapter picks up pretty much right where the last one ended. Even though I seriously considered just moving on to the following scene. You're welcome, I guess? XD
Fair warning, if you hadn't cottoned on previously, that our Russian dark lord is super homophobic, and that does feature in this chapter. He's also super anti-creature, so, you know, he's gross on multiple counts.
Also featuring in this chapter is Harry killing a few people, mostly in a very bloody and violent manner.
For ages at the start of this chapter, very little time has passed, so Harry remains 16. (Hermione is 17, Will is 15, and Chris is 12.)
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
Chapter Twenty-Six – Burn Out the Stain
-0-
To their credit, Fred and George hadn't taken too long to recover, and they quickly set about kicking all of the customers, other than Cedric, out and closing up shop for the day, then ushered Harry and Cedric back into their attached flat.
Harry went to the kettle sat on the hob to start tea, figuring everyone could do with some, while the other three all dropped into the mismatched chairs around the tiny table.
"How," George asked after the kettle had whistled and Harry started pouring the water into the mugs he'd pulled down, "are we not dead yet? Fred and I?"
Harry winced; it was never a good sign when the twins actually referred to themselves by their proper names. "Well, you're my friends, good as family, so I won't let him?" he offered as he set the kettle back on the hob. "Anyway," he added as he started bringing cups over to the table, "I'm fairly certain the pair of you amuse him."
"But it's You Know Who," Fred stressed.
"Who, contrary to everyone else's belief, does actually have a sense of humour," Harry insisted.
"I need something stronger than tea," Cedric decided.
"There's firewhiskey in the top right," George said.
"You're going to regret that when you have to go back to the ministry," Harry warned, even as Fred helpfully summoned the bottle and set it in the centre of the table.
When all three older wizards vanished their tea, then shared around the bottle to refill their cups, Harry just sighed and turned to attempting to find something edible in the kitchen, since he was feeling a bit peckish.
"So, quick question," George said after a bit.
"Why is he so ridiculously hot?" Fred asked.
Cedric choked.
Harry sighed. "That's what he really looks like."
"Okay, so, follow-up question."
"Why bother with the spooky face?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Maybe because it's easier to terrify an entire community of wand-waving sheep into subjugation when you don't look bangable as fuck?"
"Fair point," George allowed.
"He can subjugate me any day," Fred decided.
"Oiy!" Harry complained. "That's my slightly temperamental and very homicidal partner you're talking about!"
"I'm not drunk enough for this," Cedric decided.
Fred and George's chorus of slightly manic laughter was, honestly, utterly predictable.
The explosion turned out to be an experiment gone wrong, and while a number of ministry personnel ended up reporting to St Mungo's for treatment, and there were two fatalities, no Potters, Weasleys, Blacks, or Diggorys were among them.
Harry didn't end up going past Tom's that night, partially because it sounded like his partner had his hands full, between the ministry and the ICW, but also because he'd had to help Fred and George to their beds, set Cedric up in the spare room, clean up the shop, and send out an owl to the Diggorys letting them know where their son was before he got to go home. None of which he could do with magic, because there were charms all over the place that kept non-employees from using magic on the shelves and fixtures, and Harry wasn't keyed in on account of him being a squib. So, by the time he made it home, he had about enough energy to greet his parents and check they were both okay, then fall into bed.
Of course, because his luck was just that way, the front page story in The Daily Prophet the next morning, was that Voldemort was dating the eldest Potter boy, a squib.
"How is this my life?" he complained while James awkwardly patted his back.
"At least you have classes all of today?" Lily pointed out. "You don't have to see another magical person unless you absolutely want to."
"So, Molly will probably firecall as soon as she knows I'll be home, and Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus will be by for dinner," Harry muttered.
"I suppose you could just go and hide in Voldemort's manor all day?" James suggested a bit uncertainly.
"A not unwise choice," Death said as it stepped out of a portal on the far side of the kitchen.
Harry stiffened, while his parents looked a bit uncertainly between him and his eternal servant. "What's gone wrong?" he demanded.
Death folded its hands together in front of itself, bone fingers clacking loudly in the tense silence. "You are aware of Golubev's opinion of your sexuality."
"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed tightly; the Russian had written a paper on what he believed to be the best way to 'cure' homosexuality a few years before his rise to power, which Harry had very much regretted making the decision to read, even if it had given him a feel for the man that hadn't yet been particularly obvious.
"He hopes that, should you be 'cured', that will be sufficient to 'cure' Tom," Death deadpanned. "Should he discover you are a werewolf, he will forgo the 'curing'."
"In other words," Harry said over James' cursing, "there's a target on my back." Which wasn't particularly surprising, in the end. He'd known that, as soon as it came out that he and the dark lord were together, people would see him as the weakest link and target him.
"It may be time to enact the safehouse plan," James said, looking at Lily.
"Safehouse plan?" Harry repeated, looking between his parents.
Lily sighed and nodded, then turned to Harry to explain, "Dad and I worried that, when it eventually got out that you were dating Voldemort, someone would make an attempt on your life or – if they didn't think they could get to you – your brothers, Dad, or myself."
"I'll kill anyone who dared," Harry snarled flattening his hands against the table to lessen the chance that he might damage something with his too-sharp nails.
"We know, pup," James said, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder, "but Mum and I would rather avoid bloodshed, if at all possible. Will, Chris, and Hermione will all be safe at Hogwarts, and Mum and I have a cottage set up in a remote location, something not tied to anyone in the family, so we'll go there for a bit, until things blow over."
"Given who's after you, however, you may be best served staying with Voldemort," Lily said. "I suspect that his wards are comparable to Hogwarts'."
"I don't like hiding and waiting for someone to come kill me," Harry snarled. "That's how you two–"
"Died. Before," James said for him, far more gently than Harry would have. "But that's not going to happen, not this time. For one thing, Uncle Peter isn't going to be giving anyone our location."
"For another, if Dad and I are attacked, we trust you'll know right away and bring reinforcements," Lily added, speaking just as gently as James was. "I suspect that having Voldemort on our side will help, at least a little."
The reminder certainly made Harry feel better. Too, he wouldn't be a baby; he was more than capable of holding his own, should danger come for him or any of his family, and damn his attempts to keep the Elder Wand a secret.
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath and set aside his protective instincts for a moment. "Death," he said, looking up towards where his eternal servant had remained standing in the kitchen, "have Albus stick with Mum and Dad, and keep a handful of spirits watching Hogwarts and the ministry, but I need everyone else tracking Golubev's people. This is beginning to smell a little too strongly of war, and I would much rather be the one laying the traps, than the one trapped."
"As you will, Master," Death agreed, before stepping back into its realm.
"Mum, you should probably warn Severus; Dad, contact Uncle Sirius, Uncle Remus, and Uncle Peter; I'll warn the Weasleys."
"As you order, Lord Harry," James muttered as he got up. But he also ruffled Harry's hair, so he knew his father wasn't really upset about being ordered around.
"I'll call your school after talking to Severus," Lily said as James left to start contacting the other Marauders, "let them know you'll be unable to attend classes for a bit. A family emergency."
Harry grimaced. "I suppose it's probably best I don't chance turning my classmates into casualties because I didn't want to miss any classes."
"Molly and Arthur first, so you don't miss Arthur," Lily insisted with a smile as they both got up. "And assure them that Ron and Ginny with be safe; I know Molly will start worrying."
"Assuming the family clock isn't already moving hands to mortal peril," Harry muttered as he preceded her out of the dining room, though he didn't think they were quite to that point yet.
When he stepped through the floo to the Burrow, he found Arthur, Molly, and Percy all seated around the table, the morning's Prophet with the headline about him and Voldemort slumped over Arthur's plate.
"Harry?!" Molly called, looking like she was seriously considering laying into him about his relationship choices.
Harry cleared his throat. "Good morning," he offered, then held up a hand when Molly opened her mouth. "I'm sorry. The paper is reporting facts, and there's a good chance it's placed a target on my back, as well as on the backs of anyone associated with me."
"Such as us," Arthur said as he placed a calming hand over his wife's nearer hand.
"Unfortunately, yes. Mum is getting in contact with the headmaster, so he'll know to keep my brothers, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny safe. But, just so you know, all of you should watch yourselves. Keep your wands on you."
"We'll owl Charlie and Bill, though I expect they're removed enough to be safe," Arthur decided. "Fred and George, though..."
Harry shook his head. "They were a bit sauced when I left them last night. Figure I'll go drag the pair of them out of bed and stand over them until they've both put on a shield hat or some such."
"They'll be alright," Percy insisted. "But what about you, Harry? You haven't got a proper wand or anything, and you're around muggles half the time."
"Mum's letting my school know I'll be out for a bit, and Mum and Dad have had some sort of safehouse set up for when this happened, so we'll be fine waiting for this to blow over."
"Lily knew?" Molly demanded. "She knew that you were–"
"Dating Voldemort?" Harry deadpanned, and all of the Weasleys flinched. "Yeah, she's known." He sighed and rubbed at his face, because Molly looked a little bit like her world was crumbling around her. "I'm sorry, Molly. I know you hate him and his people, and that's completely your right. But I love him, and that's not something I can or even particularly want to change."
"But he's–" Molly waved her free hand in the air a bit helplessly. "He's the dark lord."
"He's a dark lord," Harry returned. "You lived through a war with him, I know, and you look at him and remember those terrible years. But, for me, he's not that terrible. He eased back the old regime's laws against werefolk and passed legislature that makes it so much harder for people to shove their squib family members in the attic and forget they exist. That's the man I see."
"He's not the worst evil this country has seen in our lifetime," Arthur said carefully, "but he can be exceptionally cruel, and it's hard to forget that."
"Yes," Harry agreed, because he knew well the power of violence to enforce compliance, knew that, sometimes, cruelty was the only option when you were standing at the head of an entire people, only some few of whom were truly loyal to you. He shook his head, refocussing his thoughts, because he really did need to go wake Fred and George up. "If you go to work today," he said to Arthur and Percy, because he was hardly about to judge either of them for wanting to take a day to sort themselves and, perhaps, let things blow over a bit, "and anyone asks you for more details, tell them to direct their enquiries to the dark lord."
Arthur choked out a strained laugh. "Yes, I'm sure that will happen."
Harry shrugged. "Honestly, he's going to be the only one who knows enough about matters that's accessible. Which, on that note, I'm going to go drag the twins out of bed, then go hide behind whatever wards Mum and Dad knocked together."
"I would think," Percy said as he turned back to the fireplace to floo on, "that the dark lord's wards would be stronger."
Harry smiled to himself. "Doubtless," he agreed, then pulled out a pinch of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and stepped through the fireplace to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
The twins and Cedric were all awake, luckily enough, and sat around the table with the remains of breakfast scattered around where the morning's Prophet was laying in the middle of the table.
"Should you be here?" Cedric asked.
"Probably better you avoid coming in for a couple of days," Fred agreed.
"Although, a mob could be good for business," George pointed out.
"Assuming they don't bring the building down," Cedric muttered into his coffee, then ignored the insulted looks the twins sent him in favour of drinking it.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm retreating to a safe place for a couple of days, Mum and Dad are insisting. But there's a good chance someone could go after people associated with me to try and draw me out or punish the dark lord through punishing me."
"So, be on our guard," the twins chorused, their gazes sharp and intelligent.
Harry inclined his head. "Mum's asking the headmaster to keep an eye on our siblings and Hermione, and I've already gone past and warned your parents and Percy."
Both twins grimaced. "Mum read you the riot act?" George asked.
"I headed her off, a bit."
"She'll save it up," Fred promised.
"Will she ever," George agreed.
Cedric hid a very unconvincing cough in his coffee mug.
Harry sighed. "Yeah, looking forward to that. For now, I'm gonna go avoid everyone behind some good wards. You lot–" he waved a hand between Fred and George, then motioned to Cedric, since they were friendly enough, and he'd been there the night before "–wear some of the shield set for a couple of days. For my comfort, if not your parents'."
"Yeah, yeah," Fred said with a careless little wave, even as George summoned four hats.
"Wait, are you–?" Cedric started when George held one out to him, after putting his own on.
"Just put the bloody thing on, Diggory," Fred ordered, even as he tossed the last one to Harry.
Harry sighed, but figured it really couldn't hurt, so he stuck it on his head. At least the twins had foregone any of their usual embellishments for the defence line, believing that everyone was better served if they weren't obvious from a distance.
"We'll just add it to Harry's tab," George added.
Harry huffed, but didn't argue; in truth, he bought very little actual product, because Lily had forbidden him from bringing anything home that might start a prank war, and if him covering the cost of an extra hat got Cedric to wear the bloody thing, he was happy to. "Just wear it, Cedric. If nothing else, it'll save you having to cast your own shield charm if you end up getting into a sticky situation down the line."
"I suppose," Cedric agreed, finally accepting the hat and putting it on. His shoulders relaxed after a moment, and Harry suspected he'd been afraid the hat had been pranked. Which, given who had given it to him, was totally fair.
"Okay, wards for me. One of you two," Harry said, looking between the twins, "recolour one of those hats for Verity, assuming you open and she's willing to come in; she won't wear it, else."
The twins very obviously turned to him and rolled their eyes in sync. "Go hide behind your wards before the owls figure out you're here," George ordered.
"And celebrate a couple days off by banging your scarily-hot boyfriend," Fred added.
"Could we not?" Cedric complained as Harry took his leave.
"I can't help that he's hot," Fred insisted.
"You can stop bringing it up!"
"What would be the fun in that?" George asked.
Snickering to himself, Harry returned home, where he found his parents packing a couple bags of clothing up in their room.
"All the Weasleys filled in?" Lily asked with a quick, slightly strained smile.
"Yeah."
"Peter's warning Voldemort that you're coming by," James told him, "so best to pack some things quickly, then head over there."
"Yeah, alright," Harry agreed, but he still held off a bit so he could step in and hug both of his parents, which they returned so tightly, it was almost like they feared they'd never see him again. "I'll come past tonight," Harry promised, forcing himself to smile. "Probably have all sorts of stories to tell about the Death Eater's reactions."
"That'll be good," James agreed with a laugh that sounded forced.
Harry nodded, then hurried to his own room, where he waved his hand to magically pack plenty of clothing and all the school books he might need, secure in the knowledge that no one was about to spot him doing so, while he leant down and took out the container the horcruxes were in, unwilling to leave them behind, in case the house was ransacked.
Albus was standing nearby when Harry stepped through to the Realm of Death, and he nodded to Harry, but didn't stop him to talk, so he was probably just as aware that the sooner he assured Tom he was safe, the better.
Merope was standing outside the access to Tom's room, twisting her hands together in that vaguely worried way she did when things were going to shit. As soon as she saw Harry, before he could do more than open his mouth, she asked in a rush, "Do you need me out watching the Russians? Death said you probably didn't mind if I stayed with Tom, but I know you only specified Albus and some of the group at Hogwarts, and I don't–"
"Merope," Harry interrupted, catching her by the shoulders and smiling at her. "I'm leaving it up to you. There's every chance that Tom will go off on his own, in which case I'd much prefer you to follow him, but if he wants me to stick with him..." He shrugged. "I know you love watching over him; I should never think to order you away from him."
"Oh," Merope said, then pushed past his hold on her and hugged him tight, which Harry gladly returned.
"He's in the ballroom," she told him after a moment, pulling away. "Peter told him you were coming around witnesses, so I don't think he'll mind if you go down to join him."
"Maybe I will, then," Harry murmured, then leant in and kissed her cheek before motioning a doorway open and stepping through to the dark lord's room. He left his bag next to the desk, then made his way down to the ballroom, ignoring the way the two Death Eaters he saw in the hallways both froze and stared after him as he passed.
Voldemort was indeed reigning over the ballroom, sitting stiffly in his throne while witches and wizards were duelling in pairs around the room. As Harry stepped into the room and started towards the throne, pairs lowered their wands, turning to watch him, and while a part of Harry wanted to shy away from the attention – he'd never been one to enjoy having all eyes on him, though it was a fate he often suffered – he forced himself to keep his head held high and his pace even; weakness would do him no favours, not here.
Voldemort had turned to look as soon as the first pair stopped duelling, and Harry was fairly certain the stiffness of his shoulders had relaxed a bit, as though the sight of Harry had calmed him. While he made no move to get up, he also didn't hurry Harry forward, and when Harry was to the spot where most visitors would stop and bow, Voldemort held out a hand to him, which Harry stepped forward to take, letting his partner draw him far closer than most anyone else would have dared.
"Peter suggested you believe yourself to be in danger?" Voldemort asked in his careful Atlantean.
Harry sighed and nodded. "Golubev doesn't approve of you taking a male lover," he explained drily.
Voldemort hissed out a couple of unpleasant things the Russian could do with his approval in Parseltongue while Harry smiled and the nearest pairs took a brief break from their duelling to take a couple of careful steps away. Switching back to Atlantean, Voldemort said, "Because you appear weaker, he'll focus on you. I'm sure he has some excuse for why he would think I won't retaliate if you're harmed."
Harry shrugged. "Doubtless. It also possible he's thinking first with his homophobia, then his fear of you–"
"He fears me, does he?" Voldemort interrupted his red eyes lit with a terrible sort of glee.
"How, I have to ask, is there room for anyone else in the manor when your ego is so massive?" Harry couldn't resist asking.
Voldemort's smile was wide and more than a little violent. "Tell me you wouldn't also delight in him fearing you."
Harry...couldn't do that; the mental image of Golubev pissing himself at the thought of Harry coming for him was far too tempting. He inclined his head, giving his partner that one, then said, "So far, it doesn't seem he's aware I'm a werewolf, as he doesn't actually want me dead, just 'cured'."
Voldemort hissed a few more unpleasant comments, and the closer pairs again took a couple of steps away.
Harry rolled his eyes, mostly at the Death Eaters and their fear of the snake-tongue. "My family and the Weasleys are all aware they may be targeted to get to me and have, presumably, taken the proper steps to protect themselves, which will limit the ways I can be drawn out."
Voldemort nodded, his brow furrowing. "Give me your wand for a moment."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. But, aware of their audience, he didn't bother arguing or asking questions, just passed it over.
Voldemort waved his own wand over the false Elder Wand for a moment, then handed it back. "Should you have need to cast another killing curse, the blueprints are now in your wand. That should protect you from any curious parties."
Harry blinked at his partner, a bit thrown by the thoughtfulness, before looking down at his squib wand and smiling. "Does it actually work, then? Or is it just meant for show?"
Voldemort scowled. "Who do you think I am?" he demanded, before waving his wand and summoning a mongoose off to one side.
Harry laughed at the animal choice, even as he motioned with his wand at it, casting a silent killing curse.
Green light blasted from the end of the wand and connected with the summoned animal, killing it instantly.
Harry turned back to the dark lord, a particular feeling of warm delight ballooning in his chest. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, because that seemed the best way to properly thank his partner for giving him a way to explain his ability to cast one of the deadliest curses in his repertoire.
Voldemort looked uncertain for a brief moment, eyes sliding past Harry to, doubtless, recall that they were in a room full of Death Eaters. But then he raised one hairless eyebrow and decided, "If you must."
Harry didn't give him the chance to rethink his permission, leaning in and kissing him with just a little more tongue than was probably acceptable in public, but fuck the Death Eaters, anyway. "Thank you," he murmured against Voldemort's mouth after pulling back a bit.
Voldemort's hand had come up to cup one side of Harry's face while they were kissing, and he used it to caress his cheek gently, then gave him a weak push away. "Go cause trouble somewhere."
Harry chuckled, but obediently turned and sauntered out of the ballroom, much more comfortable with the uncertain gazes that followed him than he'd been with the curious ones he'd suffered upon his arrival.
Bellatrix found him in the massive library about the time Harry started considering going on a hunt for food. He heard her before he saw her, her heels clicking menacingly over the marble floor, before silencing as she stepped onto the plush carpet that marked out the seating area.
He watched her over the top of his book, one eyebrow raised, as she stepped somewhat imperiously past his comfortable sofa and settled gracefully into a high-backed chair facing him. "Love, is it?" she asked, her voice neutral in a way that suggested at a level of control Harry honestly hadn't expected of her.
He raised his other eyebrow at her. "We've had this conversation already," he pointed out.
"You weren't very specific, then," she returned without hesitation.
Harry inclined his head to one side; that was a fair point. "It wasn't something we were necessarily advertising. If not for the explosion yesterday falling while we were in a public space, it would likely still be a private matter." He narrowed his eyes at her, scenting her discontent. "Are you sore because he picked me?"
She narrowed her own eyes before, inexplicably, smiling and relaxing into her chair. "My deadly little wolfling, I think I'm going to enjoy following you around."
Harry sat up from his comfortable sprawl, frowning. "Following me around?" he demanded. "I'm not some specimen under glass."
"Muggle-isms are beneath you," Bellatrix informed him, still smiling.
Harry snarled, letting show too-sharp teeth; the dark lord may have told him not to kill any of the Death Eaters, but he didn't say Harry couldn't threaten them.
Bellatrix didn't spook, unfortunately, but she did explain herself: "My Lord has requested that, should you have need or wish to leave the manor, someone attend with you. I volunteered."
That was unfortunate, but sensible, given it was a bit of a secret that Harry had more magic at his disposal than a squib wand, and the entire reason he'd retreated to the manor was that he was a target.
Still: "I hardly need a babysitter inside the manor."
Bellatrix's eyes gleamed. "Word is my lord made it possible for you to cast the killing curse."
Harry huffed and hunted down a bookmark; it was clear he'd not be getting any more reading done, so he might as well set the book aside and get some food. "He did."
"And your first cast was wordless," she added, something almost...greedy about the words.
Harry paused in the act of getting up and eyed her. He didn't assume it was particularly normal for anyone to cast one of the unforgivables silently, and certainly not on the first try, but Harry knew how to silently cast and was plenty familiar with the benefits; he wasn't about to change how he'd been casting magic for decades just to conform to expectations.
Bellatrix had already peppered their conversation so far with surprise subject changes, so Harry didn't feel guilty about saying, "I'm hungry," and heading for the door.
Unsurprisingly, Bellatrix quickly joined him, keeping just slightly behind him and to his right. When he turned towards the kitchen, though, she caught his arm and kept going forward, saying, "Lunch is served in the dining room."
Harry sighed and let her have her way.
The larger dining room was indeed partially filled with wizards and witches eating the food spread out over the table, with Voldemort sitting at the head of the table. When Harry entered – Bellatrix letting his arm go and pushing him ahead – there was a moment of silence, then all of the Death Eaters ducked their heads in a show of deference.
Harry resisted the urge to groan or sigh and just made his way up to the empty chair on the dark lord's right, while Bellatrix made for the empty seat on his left.
"I don't," he muttered in Atlantean as he picked out a couple of sandwiches, "need a babysitter."
"You'll have one anyway. Inside the manor and out," Voldemort returned flatly.
Harry shot his partner a sharp look, then looked down the length of the table. Death, how many of Tom's followers are likely to give me trouble because of our relationship?
"Approximately ten, only two of which are currently at the manor: Sylvia Nott and Kendrick Travers."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Not Bellatrix?
"Bellatrix has been watching you since Samhain; she recognised Tom's human form, and while she was jealous at first, she has come to approve. Should someone attack you, she will come to your aid."
I see. Thank you, Death.
"Of course, Master."
"You could have told me some of your people are inclined to jealousy. Other than Bellatrix," he commented to the dark lord before taking a bite of his sandwich.
Across from him, Bellatrix frowned, attention clearly caught by the use of her name.
"I had assumed you would understand as much yourself. You, too, must have once commanded a sizeable force."
Harry hummed and shrugged, then turned his focus to his food; while it was true he'd had the loyalty – or at least the support – of all nonhumans, they had only cared because of his title and what he'd been prophesied to accomplish, not because of how powerful or handsome he was. But, to Voldemort, power was the only thing that could cement loyalty, and Harry didn't care enough to try explaining how his own rise to power had come about. Not least because he was already uncomfortable with how many people had figured out that he had a history of putting nonhumans before humans. (Though he suspected that might explain, at least a little better, why he was so certain he'd kill Golubev if they ever met.)
"You know," Harry said once he was mostly done with his food, "I should have raided your library sooner."
Voldemort snorted down at the reports he'd summoned to read through shortly after Harry had sat down. "Your parents would disapprove. Loudly."
A couple of people closer to their end of the table muffled snickers, while Bellatrix cackled outright.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I haven't let them control what I read in years. Anyway, you've got some stuff in there they wouldn't ban from the house. Back in the darkest, dustiest corner in the whole library."
Voldemort ducked his head a little lower, like he was maybe hiding a smile; he certainly smelt amused. "Scythe," he said after a moment, "go back to your reading."
Harry snorted and got up, then ducked down to press a kiss to his partner's cool cheek. He was a little sad when Voldemort didn't pull him in for more, but, then, he could hardly expect him to return every public kiss; it was enough that he wasn't threatening curses for Harry showing affection around the Death Eaters.
Bellatrix caught him up before he left the dining room, and he couldn't quite resist a sigh. He still didn't like the idea of a tagalong, but he did understand a bit where Voldemort was coming from; Harry had his own history of keeping tabs on the people he cared for, and no one who knew him would possibly believe that the dark lord wouldn't find a way to ensure Harry's safety.
Still, it did occur to Harry that, should someone dare to attack him, in spite of Bellatrix and the very real danger of Voldemort's retribution, he wasn't going to just stand back and let her save his arse. (Couldn't, really; he had spent far too much of his life fighting his own battles.) Which meant there was a very good chance that she would see him using death magic. And, similar to Lily's excuse to fill Severus in, Harry expected things would go far smoother if she knew he wasn't quite so defenceless as he appeared in advance.
With that in mind, he bypassed the library in favour of one of the guest rooms on the first floor. A deep breath promised it hadn't seen any use recently, not even the house-elves bothering to come in and dust it, which served Harry fine.
"I hear," he said as Bellatrix closed the door, a hint of uncertainty to her movements, "that you've been spying on me the past few months."
Bellatrix frowned. "Someone lied to you," she said with such certainty, most people would probably believe her.
"Leaving aside I can smell you're lying," Harry replied drily, and she went tense, "my source wouldn't lie to me. Would you, Death?"
The chill of an opened doorway spread out along his back, even as Death murmured from behind him, "I should never, Master."
Harry smiled at Bellatrix, giving himself a moment to enjoy her wide-eyed, bloodless stare. "This is Death. He answers to me. Through my pact with him, I have access to a sort of magic, which I can and will use to defend myself, should such an occasion occur."
Bellatrix swallowed. "A threat?" she guessed.
Harry shrugged. "No. More of a note; should someone attempt attacking me, I have a way to defend myself, and I have no intention in holding back just because the dark lord saw fit to give me a guard. Which he knows, but needs must; the fewer people who know about my particular abilities, the more comfortable everyone is." He looked over his shoulder and offered his eternal servant a smile, giving Bellatrix a moment. "Anything interesting happening in Russia?"
"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Master," Death replied mildly. Which Harry took to mean that there was absolutely shit going down in Russia which, were he to hear about it, he might well care a little too much; likely, it was best he not hear too many specifics until there was no longer something he could do about it.
"Hmm, good. Thank you."
Death inclined its hood and stepped back through the open doorway, which closed behind it.
Bellatrix still looked a little off-balance, but her gaze had sharpened on him, something that look suspiciously like respect in her stare. "I see it, now," she said.
"See what?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side.
Bellatrix smiled, wide and a little bit unhinged, and then she bowed down low, murmuring, "My Lord."
Harry swallowed hard, a bit thrown off-kilter himself. "Stop that. I'm not anyone's lord."
"As you say, little lord."
Rather than trying to argue with someone he knew was more than a bit crazy, Harry stepped past her and returned to his book in the library, determining that the best option was to simply ignore her as best he could.
"You have history with Bella," Tom guessed that night, after they were curled up together in the comfortable expanse of his bed, the only light that of the waning moon through the half-closed drapes.
Harry sighed. "Yes. In my first reality, she killed Uncle Sirius in front of me."
Tom hummed, his long fingers combing through Harry's hair. "I trust her, so you will simply have to make do."
Harry huffed and poked the dark lord's side under the covers. "I knew you were going to say that."
Tom snorted and tugged gently on his hair in retaliation.
"I warned her," he offered once they'd settled back down. "About my having some measure of control over Death and having access to some abilities through him. I didn't specify, but..."
"Better she be aware she can focus more on fighting her own opponent, than worrying about needing to protect you," Tom murmured.
"Yes."
"I would never have insisted you inform her about any of your abilities–"
"But you're exceptionally glad I decided to trust her?" Harry guessed.
Tom chuckled, low and warm. "She is one of my most trusted; I have no interest in seeing you so at odds with her."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying. It took me years to be able to see past the versions of you and Severus I knew as a child; cut me some slack."
"Oh? Whatever did Severus do to you?'
"If you can, imagine attending Hogwarts with a version of Albus who was perfectly obvious about how much he would rather you didn't exist, and seemed to take pleasure in verbally abusing you in class."
Tom was very still for a moment. "Ah," he said in a rush of air.
"I snapped his neck during my last life," Harry commented. "It was rather cathartic."
Tom laughed outright at that. "So violent, my Scythe."
"I have no regrets."
"As it should be," Tom insisted, before adding, "But I do request you resist the urge in this life."
Harry shrugged. "I like this Severus. Anyway, Mum would never forgive me."
"True enough," Tom agreed, only a little bit of resignation audible in his voice.
Grinning, Harry closed his eyes and let himself drift off.
The next afternoon, two Russian agents caught loitering in the ministry were brought to Voldemort's base and thrown in the dungeon. Which Harry didn't discover until, in the middle of dinner, a third agent was brought in after he'd been caught by the Weasley twins.
"It's almost a pity those twins are so enamoured of their tricks," Yaxley commented after Voldemort ordered the agent taken down to the cells with the others.
"Laughter is just as important to the survival of a nation as the laws that give it structure and security, Minister," Harry returned mildly. "Please don't belittle something so rare and precious as smiles worn in dark times."
Yaxley blinked at him, clearly startled. "I apologise, Mr Potter. I only meant that they are truly brilliant minds, and would be an asset to any number of departments within the ministry."
Harry coughed and turned to Voldemort, mostly to keep from saying something potentially insulting. "There are Russian agents being held in the basement?"
Voldemort nodded, narrowing his eyes on Harry. "Why?"
"I've been meaning to run a test, but I can't guarantee my test subject will survive it," Harry admitted.
Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow. "With death magic?"
Harry nodded.
"Have you any complaints about my observing?"
Harry quirked a smile at that, rather unsurprised. "I don't know how much you'll be able to see, but I don't mind."
Since Bellatrix went home with her husband after dinner, Voldemort and Harry were the only two to visit the cold stone cells the three Russians had been thrown into. Voldemort sent the Death Eater guarding the prisoners to watch the stairs, which left no other witnesses to Harry's tests.
"I've told you I can protect anyone I bring into the Realm of Death with me," Harry said to the dark lord in Atlantean while he considered his options.
"I recall you explained it requires skin contact," Voldemort agreed.
Harry shrugged. "That's certainly what should be required. However, due to a number of factors, my particular abilities with death magic are no longer quite so beholden to the rules I originally learnt. Death is capable of gifting his protection, for a time, to those within his realm without physical contact; we both wonder if I can do the same."
"I don't begin to understand that magic," Voldemort admitted wryly as Harry cast a silent unlocking spell on the door of the cell he wanted. "It does seem reasonable, however, to test such when we have subjects no one is likely to miss."
The Russian agent, evidently aware that his doom was approaching, waited until Harry was inside the cell, then pushed off against the wall and made a mad dash for the open door.
Harry caught the man by the throat and held him up off the floor. "Don't do that," he ordered in Russian, while the man grabbed at the hand around his throat. "I'll be back," he added to Voldemort, then motioned open a doorway and stepped through it with his captive.
Once the doorway had closed behind him, Harry set the man back on the ground, transferring his hold to one of the man's wrists and giving him a moment to catch his breath.
When the man started looking around, horror painting his expression, Harry casually let him go and stepped back, focussing on keeping him alive.
The Russian continued breathing – short, panicked breaths – and shivering for about half a minute, before he let out a terrible scream and his flesh began to decay.
"Not quite your level, yet, Death," Harry commented as the man died.
"Not quite," Death agreed in his head; it was clearly busy with other things. "But sufficient for accidents."
"Which is what I cared about," Harry murmured as he leant down and grabbed what was left of the Russian's remains, then stepped back into the living realm. "A partial success," he told Voldemort as he dropped the remains at his feet, bone edges where skin and sinew had been eaten away clicking ominously against the stone floor.
Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow at the remains as Harry stepped from the cell. "You could have left him there."
Before Harry could respond, one of the other Russians spat at him, then snarled, "Unnatural creature! Your soul has rotted the same way you have done to my brother's body!"
Harry smiled at the man, flashing too-sharp teeth, and he stumbled back, away from the bars of his cell. Rather than engage, Harry turned back to his partner, only for Voldemort to snarl, "Crucio."
Harry patiently waited for Voldemort to get through his rage, unbothered by the screaming of his victim. When Voldemort ended the curse, he deadpanned, "My knight in black armour."
Voldemort let out an irritated hiss, then caught the edge of Harry's outer robe and used it to drag him in for a harsh kiss.
"I shouldn't want anyone to think I let one escape," Harry explained once his partner had stopped attempting to bruise his mouth. "And you can always send him back to Golubev as a warning to fuck off."
"And topple us into a war?" Voldemort returned flatly.
Harry shook his head and pulled away. "You realise that there's a very good chance that'll happen as soon as he realises I'm not human."
"We're not borrowing trouble," Voldemort said, then turned and led the way back out of the dungeon, warning the waiting Death Eater on the stairs that one of the prisoners hadn't survived their visit.
Harry rather hoped the man had a strong stomach.
Harry was woken that night by Death calling in his head, "Master!"
"What?" Harry mumbled against his pillow.
"St Mungo's is on fire."
Harry jerked upright. "Voldemort!" he hissed.
"This better be an emergency," Tom grumbled as he sat up himself.
"St Mungo's is on fire."
Tom was still for a moment, then he waved his hand, lighting a handful of candles, and hurried out of bed to find a robe.
"Master," Death said while the dark lord got dressed, "this is meant as a distraction; there is a team of Russians waiting for Tom to leave. They intend to rescue their fellows and, depending on timing and the amount of resistance, hopefully take you along."
Such aspirations, Harry mused as he got up to find one of the robes that were spelled to stay with him when he shifted.
"Stay here," the dark lord ordered as he cast his glamour. "You're best served, not to mention safest, remaining at the manor."
Harry let out a sigh that was all for show. "I'll be good, just this once," he promised.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes, but was interrupted by the sound of someone shouting for him out in the hallway.
Harry followed his partner and the two Death Eaters who had come to collect him to the ground floor, before turning in the direction of the kitchen. Only once he was certain the three humans were gone, did he change direction to the basement.
"Master Potter?" the Death Eater down there asked when she noticed him, immediately jumping to her feet and hiding a book behind her back. As though Harry was really going to blame her for wanting to sit down and read while stuck watching two sleeping men. (The corpse had been vanished.) "Is something the matter?"
Harry cocked his head, uncertain if he was actually hearing the sound of people on the ground floor, or if his mind was playing tricks on him. "There was an incident at St Mungo's. It stinks of a diversion."
"A diversion? For what?" she replied, sounding far too young; he doubted she was much older than he was.
Definitely intruders, he decided. "What's your name?" he asked the Death Eater, because she wasn't someone he was familiar with, though he'd seen her at meals a couple of times.
"Catriona, sir. Catriona Avery."
Harry expected she was Farquhar Avery's elder child, the one who had been in the twins and Cedric's year. "Can you cast the killing curse?"
"Yes," she whispered, her eyes flickering towards the hallway that led to the stairs to the ground floor. "Do you think–?"
"There are intruders in the manor?" Harry interrupted. "Yes. They haven't found the stairs yet, but they will soon. I need you to stay back by the cells. If anyone gets past me, use the killing curse."
"B-but you–!" Catriona whispered, her eyes wide and terrified.
"Despite what the dark lord would have everyone believe, I'm more than capable of handling five Russian idiots," Harry said flatly. "Cells. Now."
She went, but she didn't look happy about it; Harry just hoped she listened and stayed out of the way.
There were two ways he could handle things, he knew: He could go straight for death magic, giving away that secret to yet another person, or he could shift into his wolf form and rip out a couple of throats.
He was feeling rather more inclined towards ripping out throats.
The Russians, when they came, seemed as though they were attempting to move silently, but he suspected that even Catriona could hear them long before the first one came into view down the long, narrow hallway between the stairs and the cells.
"Looking for me?" Harry called out, stepping forward, into one of the rings of firelight cast by ever-burning torches.
"The squib whore," the man in the lead said in accented English, his face splitting with a mean grin. "It's our lucky day."
"And look, a little girl watching his back," the next man said. "Maybe I will take her; I can use another wife."
Harry snarled, rage curling tight and hot in his belly at the implication; these men dared to come into his mate's home and threaten his people? They dared think to use another British witch the same way they had tried to use his mum? The same way they had thought to use Ginny?
Over my dead body.
He was halfway through the change when he reached the lead man, whose eyes were only just widening in shock, and he caught the man across the face with his claws, sending him reeling out of the way, so he could sink his teeth into the second man's throat.
A spell washed over his fur – a shield spell, part of him recognised – as he let the second man go, twisting and pushing off against the ground to jump at the third man, catching his forearm and biting down hard enough to break bone.
A different spell splashed against his side, sliding harmlessly away from the shield, and Harry let go of the third man's arm to go after the fourth man, who was backing away with his hands held up, the scent of piss so very strong. When another spell splashed harmlessly against the shield, Harry decided to let off on biting the fourth man, instead letting himself get close enough that, when he pivoted to face the fifth man, he could kick back with his back feet and send him flying into a wall with enough force to hurt.
The fifth man's next spell, now he was Harry's focus, was a desperate, "Avada kedavra!" and Catriona screamed, "NO!"
Harry was too close to dodge, but he also didn't particularly fear that spell, so he let it wash over him, siphoning off the touch of Death from the spell and letting it strengthen him. And then, using that strength, he clamped his teeth around the fifth man's throat and yanked his head to one side, ripping away enough flesh and sinew to reveal the man's spine.
"Monster," the fourth man whispered, scrambling to his feet and making his way back down the hallway to the stairs.
Harry caught up to him barely a fourth of the way down the hallway, slamming into his back hard enough to topple him forward and changing his hand to be just human enough that he could shove it through his back and yank out his heart. Because, honestly, that was the easiest way to take someone out from behind.
"Avada kedavra!" Catriona shouted behind him. "Ava–" She cut herself off with a scream.
Harry spun to look, halfway between man and wolf, finding the third man, whose arm he'd bit, fallen dead not far from where the first man, the one who he'd caught with his claws, holding Catriona tight, wand shoved against the underside of her chin. "Come any closer and I'll kill her, monster," he snarled in accented English.
Catriona was clearly terrified, tears glinting in the torchlight as they slid down her cheeks, but she didn't try begging for her life or making any deals, just looked straight at Harry with a smile that was somehow both sad and forgiving. As though she knew there was no way she would survive, and she didn't want Harry to feel as though she resented him for it.
In response to that smile, the only thing Harry could possibly do was step into the doorway that opened next to him, using the Realm of Death as a shortcut to step out behind the Russian and rip out his heart through his back, resulting in a shocked gasp that ended in a death gurgle.
Catriona didn't need to be told she was safe to step quickly from the man's grasp with a gasped, "Blessed Morgana."
And then she turned and stared at Harry with something that looked a little too much like reverence for his comfort. He cleared his throat, looking down to watch as the man's heart fell from his hand, hitting the floor next to him with a gentle splash of the spreading blood. "Incidentally," he murmured, "the dark lord isn't the only one to have gone looking for immortality."
She let out a shaky breath. "You saved my life."
Harry peeked up at her and was comforted to find her expression had eased to gratitude. "Yeah, well, you cast a shield on me. And you listened and stayed back. I'd say we're even."
"Unnatural monster," the prisoner whose cage they were standing directly in front of hissed. "Gosudar will–"
"Watch out!" Catriona shouted, even as Harry was turning to find a bloody wand pointed straight at him.
Harry was moving before the man could get out a curse, catching his hand around the wand and yanking hard enough to slam him against the bars of his cell, ripping his arm from the socket.
The man screamed in agony, the wand dropping back down into the puddle of blood at Harry's feet.
In Russian, Harry murmured, "I honestly hope your master and I meet; I would very much like the chance to pay back all of the suffering he's brought down on my people." And then he shoved the man back into his cell, watching as he tripped and fell backwards with a cry.
He looked back around at the sound of wood snapping, finding Catriona holding the two halves of the bloody wand. "I don't think," she said quietly, "that anyone will be having any further need of this."
"I suspect the other four are also unnecessary," Harry agreed.
They split up to collect the other four wands, all of which were just as bloody as the first had been. Although, to be fair, there wasn't much left in their part of the dungeon that wasn't splattered with blood; Harry suspected he looked a bit like he'd bathed in it.
"The thing about the killing curse," Catriona informed him as she cast a cleaning charm at her chair, "is that it doesn't leave a mess."
Harry shrugged. "You're not wrong, but I'm afraid my own instincts tend towards a far bloodier outcome. Especially when people are threatening what is mine."
She blinked at him a few times, clearly startled.
Harry heard the distant crack of apparation upstairs and sighed. "I expect that's the dark lord. Or else, he's sent Bella to babysit me. Again."
Catriona giggled. "I don't think you need a babysitter."
Harry looked around the violent display and huffed. "Stay here," he ordered, then made his way up to the ground floor.
It was, in fact, Bellatrix, and she took one look at him, then put on what was probably the most over-the-top pout he'd ever seen on a grown woman and asked, "You had fun without me?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "If you wanted to play 'Bleed the Russians', you should have got here ten minutes ago."
"Shame. Did you leave anyone alive?" Bellatrix asked as he turned back to the stairs down to the basement, her following close behind.
"The two in the cells are still alive."
"Weren't there three at dinner?"
"I needed a test subject."
"Did you make him scream, at least?"
"Of course I did. What sort of person do you take me for?"
Bellatrix was one of the few people he knew who would cackle in response to that question; it was something he was starting to appreciate about her.
When they got down to the violent scene, Bellatrix stopped in the middle of the space and took a slow look around, looking delighted. "I have never," she informed Harry and Catriona, who had stood when she'd spotted them coming, "seen a more perfect piece of art. Would that we could frame it."
"Unfortunately, decaying bodies aren't the most pleasant sight," Harry replied drily, and Catriona let out an unconvincing cough. "Let's clean up what we can before calling the house-elves down."
"Such delicate creatures," Bellatrix commented, even as she waved her wand at one of the bodies, vanishing it.
"Be nice, or I'll bribe them to feed you one of Uncle Sirius' potions."
"You would never," Bellatrix insisted, making a disgusted face.
"Be nice," Harry repeated as he collected the broken wands from where Catriona had set them next to her chair.
Once the place was as clean as human magic could manage, Harry called Bangles, and the team of house-elves in charge of the manor climbed out of bed and made quick work of cleaning the last specks of blood.
Bellatrix and Harry returned to the ground floor to wait for the dark lord once everything – including Harry's robes, because Bangles had insisted – had been cleaned, Bellatrix calling the books they'd been reading from the library, so they could await Voldemort in the sitting room that was closest to the receiving room.
It was nearly an hour before Voldemort returned home, looking tired and covered in soot. Harry wasted no time in running over and hugging him, taking a long sniff to make sure his partner wasn't hiding any wounds. (He wasn't.)
"Tell me," Voldemort said tiredly, but with the air of someone who suspected he was asking the impossible, "that things were uneventful while I was gone."
Harry shook his head. "St Mungo's was a diversion; five Russians showed up shortly after you left. Catriona and I killed them all before they could free either of our prisoners."
Voldemort closed his eyes and stood in silence for a long moment, swaying slightly with what Harry suspected was exhaustion. "Their bodies?" he asked at last.
"Vanished, My Lord," Bellatrix reported from where she had remained back, out of the way. "We do still have their wands, however."
Voldemort nodded. "We have spares."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Are we going to be sending a message after all?"
"In the morning," Voldemort insisted. "I think I would much rather get some sleep before declaring war."
The only response Harry had to that was to say, "Bella, we'll see you in the morning."
"My Lords," Bellatrix murmured, then passed them for the receiving room.
As soon as she was gone, Harry apparated them up to their bedroom and vanished their robes, leaving them free to curl up together in bed and finish their interrupted rest.
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
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 ||
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