![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
batsutousaiTitle: Broken
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
batsutousai
Beta:tsuki_no_suzu
Rating: T
Pairings: HPLV, others
Warnings: Dumbledore bashing
Summary: Dumbledore knew before Harry Potter came to Hogwarts what he needed the boy to do, and he knew exactly how to make him do it. A twist on the normal manipulative!Dumbledore story.
Disclaim Her: Card games are, by far, not my forte. (In fact, I tend to suck at them.) So I'm just making shit up about Exploding Snap. Not like Jo ever gave us rules for the game or anything, anyway. XD
-~/\~-
Chapter Eight - Magic's Story
-~\/~-
The Death Eaters never got the blow-up many of them had bet on and, as far as they knew, the confrontation that should have happened after the show in Diagon Alley never occurred. Instead, life continued as it always had, with Harry spending most of his day in the library and his evening with one of the Death Eaters. Voldemort spent his day in his study, having meetings and apparently getting lost in thought about the paperwork on his desk. In reality, of course, Voldemort was thinking about everything Harry had brought up the night before, and some of his meetings were with experts on the subject of bloodlines and the strength of the magical gift.
Late that evening, as Harry was just finishing losing another game of Exploding Snap against the Lestrange brothers, Voldemort stepped into the library where Harry and the Death Eaters played games. The brothers immediately bowed to their lord and Harry turned to smile at him, smudges of black all over his face.
Voldemort cocked one hairless eyebrow and said, "I would have thought you'd be better at that game, Harry."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Not when playing against those two," he replied, shoving his thumb at the two Death Eaters, who were watching the interaction curiously. Harry and Voldemort rarely interacted outside of the Dark Lord's study, so most people in the base weren't aware how amiable the two were.
Voldemort eyed the two brothers, then glanced at Harry. "What's wrong, Harry? Are they cheating?"
Harry rolled his eyes again. "No, they're brothers. They know each other so well that they can avoid traps and help each other out. It's a lot of fun watching them play each other, though." The brothers hid smiles behind hands at the statement. Most of their games lasted far longer than a game played between anyone else, since they were quite capable of avoiding any traps.
Voldemort smirked and pulled up a chair at the table, chuckling when his Death Eaters both stared at him in surprise. He looked at Harry and said, "Would you like to try teaming up on them?"
Harry's eyes lit up at the prospect of finally taking the brothers down and agreed.
The game was far more gruesome than any Exploding Snap game Harry had ever played in Gryffindor Tower, but playing with Voldemort was rewarding, as the two trounced the brothers, and not just because the two Death Eaters had stopped their dirty tricks against their master. In the end, Harry and Voldemort faced off, resulting in a tie when Harry set a trap that they both, amusingly enough, set off.
Chuckling, the two parselmouths cleaned off the other's face and sat back in their chairs. The Lestrange brothers, sensing that the two powerful wizards needed some time to talk, said their 'good night's and left for bed.
Voldemort threw up some wards around the room and watched Harry as the teen smiled easily. After watching each other for a few minutes, Harry said, "You didn't come here just to stare."
Voldemort sighed, all signs of amusement disappearing. "No," he agreed, "I didn't."
Harry nodded and settled himself more comfortably, resigning himself to a long talk.
Voldemort gathered his thoughts and said, "I've been speaking to some people from the Department of Mysteries about your findings, and they agree with you. With everything you've said."
Harry's eyes widened briefly. He honestly hadn't expected Voldemort to go to the Department of Mysteries and have them back him up. The Ministry as a whole, Harry had found during his years in the wizarding world, tended to hire the sort more inclined towards Voldemort's way of thinking. Harry didn't think he'd ever met a Ministry worker who was willing to consider the bigger picture, and look past their own beliefs. Even the Ministry workers that Harry knew from the Order had one set of beliefs about the world and weren't inclined to consider the other side; it was what had made Harry's choice to be neutral so difficult for them to comprehend.
Voldemort seemed to read the disbelief in Harry's eyes, for he said, "The Department of Mysteries has always sought to hire people more inclined to look at the unusual. You may be unsurprised to learn that more than half their staff are muggleborn."
Harry blinked, then smiled. "That would make a certain amount of sense," he commented. "After all, muggleborns already have to put many of their life-long beliefs to the test when they join our world. And they have a lot of ideas about things that purebloods would never question, as the purebloods grew up with those things, and the muggleborns didn't."
Voldemort sighed and nodded. "I must agree with you there," he admitted.
Harry pulled off his glasses to clean some soot off the right lens that he'd missed. "What have you decided, then?" he inquired as neutrally as he could.
Voldemort eyed the boy for a long moment, then said, "It pains me to admit that you may be right."
Wisely, Harry did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at the man.
Voldemort scowled at him. "But I cannot suddenly change the meaning of this war, Harry."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "Tell your people to leave the muggleborns alone; that's the first step, yeah? And maybe the Department of Mysteries could release their own findings on the matter."
"The Department of Mysteries doesn't release findings," Voldemort replied sharply. "And I can't just turn around and say, 'We're not killing mudbloods anymore, we're going to try and bring them more fully into our community'!"
Harry snorted. "So maybe you can't change everything at once. Maybe your people are just too bull-headed to listen to reason – Merlin knows the rest of our world is! – but that doesn't mean there isn't something to do. Maybe I'll release my findings instead. My name is well-known enough that people might just read it."
Voldemort considered Harry's comment. Harry was known by practically everyone in their world. If the boy released his findings, and somehow got the Department of Mysteries to back him, the people would have to listen. Hell, the Death Eaters would have to listen. And after nearly two months in the base, most of the Death Eaters knew Harry was a clever boy, despite his age and what others might have said about him in school – Voldemort made a point to ask his people how Harry was doing, and had received nothing but positive responses.
"Do it," he finally decided. "I'll see if I can get the Department of Mysteries to back you up with their own, much more in depth findings."
Harry nodded, tugging a lock of hair thoughtfully. If he wanted people to listen, he'd have to be persuasive, yet open. It would be difficult to get the voice right, especially since he was, by no means, a good paper-writer.
Voldemort read his concerns on the boy's face and said, "I can read it over once you've finished, if you'd like."
Harry looked at the Dark Lord in surprise, then smiled. "I think that would help."
Voldemort nodded, then stood. "We'll have a long few days ahead of us if you want this out by Christmas."
Harry's face broke into a smile. "You think we can manage that?"
Voldemort eyed the boy with a faint smile. "Of course we can, you stupid Gryffindor."
Harry laughed and followed the feared Dark Lord from the room, heading for bed with a much lighter heart than he'd had for weeks.
-0-0-0-
The morning of the twenty-second, the editor of The Daily Prophet received an interesting letter, borne by an angry-looking owl. He read the attached letter and fell out of his chair in surprise. The Dark Lord wanted him to post some findings that went completely against everything his cause was about? He briefly skimmed the article and smiled as he saw the name of the author. "Harry Potter," the man murmured, picking himself up off the floor. "Somehow, I knew you wouldn't fail us."
-0-0-0-
The Weasley household was quiet during breakfast. The twins had been trying to get Harry invited for Christmas, but no matter what they told their family about the boy's actions in Diagon Alley, their family wouldn't agree to it. Ginny was completely on their side, but after Harry had disappeared into Voldemort's base, Arthur and Molly had taken a hostile stance when it came to the boy, and Ron was all too happy to spread his lies about his one-time best friend. Hermione seemed unable to decide how she felt about Harry, so ended up staying silent about the matter, leaving the twins and Ginny to fight against their parents and youngest brother alone.
The uneasy silence was broken by the arrival of an owl bearing the paper. "Bit late this morning," Arthur noted, taking the paper and giving the owl the required money from a jar on the table. He opened it around his breakfast and set to reading it. He'd barely gotten three sentences into the front page article when his spoon clattered to the table.
"Arthur?" Molly asked, while the five kids around the table all looked up in surprise.
Arthur glanced around the table nervously, then cleared his throat and read, " 'Most of you know my name, and those who don't have been living with their heads in the sand. I've heard a lot of people say I've thrown my lot in with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters – even my two best friends – but that's not true. As hard as it might be for you all out there, fighting against Vol-' " Arthur choked on the Dark Lord's assumed name, " 'Voldemort to believe, I'm right there with you, I just have a different way of fighting.
" 'One day, sitting in the library and reading a Potions book, I happened to overhear some Death Eaters discussing the issue that started this entire war: the superiority of pure, magical blood. Now, my mum was a muggleborn, and I've been told more than once that I'm nearly as magically powerful as the late Albus Dumbledore, so I, of course, can find no reason to believe this to be true. I ended up doing a lot of research on the topic.
" 'I'm not the first halfblood to be more powerful than his parents: Albus Dumbledore himself is a halfblood, as are his two siblings, and at least two of the three are more powerful than their parents. A charismatic and powerful Slytherin named Tom Riddle in the forties was the child of a muggle and a witch who was little better than a squib. You all know Tom by a different name now, but he's told me that if I tell you all who he is, I might just be killed in my sleep. (That should give you a hint, at least.)
" 'Any well-known pureblood family will find a muggleborn somewhere in their family tree, and that muggleborn's blood is helping supply that family with magic. Lucius Malfoy's seven-times great grandfather was muggleborn, while Arthur Weasley's three-times great grandmother had a muggle mother and a halfblood father. My own five-times great grandmother on my father's side was muggleborn.
" 'But there's something far more insidious about these findings. Have any of you ever heard of the Alians? I sincerely doubt it, as they died out sometime in the early nineteen-twenties. The Alians were one of the most well-known purebloods of the time – most purebloods today will be able to find one in their family tree – but they eventually hit a point where they birthed nothing but squibs. The man of the house had fifteen children by ten different wives, but they were all squibs. The most recent muggleborn or muggle on their tree was twelve generations before. An estranged sister married a muggleborn and their grandson was Florean Fortescue.
" 'These are only a few of the names I researched, but I can assure that everything I've written is true. Voldemort has the wrong of it, yes, because we need muggleborns if we are going to survive. I ask you, fellow wizards and witches, to consider these findings. Please, do your own research if you must, but don't ignore what I've found. If you can believe this, perhaps Voldemort can believe this. And perhaps, just perhaps, we can end this war.' "
The breakfast table was silent.
-0-0-0-
The Lestrange brothers hurried into the library, where Harry was dozing at his usual table. Voldemort was sitting next to him, reading a letter from the Department of Mysteries, which said they'd agree to putting out their own statement to back up Harry's. The boy jerked up when Rodolphus knocked into a chair and blinked up at the brothers sleepily while they bowed to their lord.
Rabastan nervously cleared his throat and said, "Might we borrow Harry, my Lord?"
Voldemort eyed Harry with amusement dancing in his red eyes. "What have you done now?" he asked.
Harry rubbed sleepily at his eyes and rose. "Haven't the faintest," he said with a shrug, then followed the two men to the other side of the library. There, Rodolphus shoved the paper in his face and said, "If our Lord gets wind of this, he'll kill you."
Harry blinked at him sleepily, then said, "He helped me write it," before walking back over to the table he'd been sitting at, saying, "You owe me four sickles."
Voldemort eyed him with amusement. "I thought the bet was for eight?"
Harry shrugged and said, "I bet it would be Rabastan, but Rodolphus was the one who warned me off." He fell back into his chair and dragged the letter Voldemort had been reading over.
"Then neither of us win," Voldemort replied.
Harry waved his hand negligently. "Rabastan still came with him to warn me. They're practically the same person, anyway."
Voldemort considered that comment with a grunt while the two Death Eaters in question crept back over to the table with wide eyes. After a moment, he pulled four sickles out of the pouch at his hip and slid them over to Harry. "Should have known better than to bet on Wormtail."
Harry snickered and put the coins away and reached across the table to steal Rodolphus' paper. After a moment, he chuckled and said, "They kept your name in there."
Voldemort cocked a hairless eyebrow at the teen. "You did specify."
Harry grinned at him. "Yeah, but I didn't think they'd actually listen. Usually our world has such a fear of the name that they avoid all mention of it. Even in the paper."
Voldemort moved his head in faint agreement, then stood. "I have some work to see to. And you, Potter, should sleep," he said, then turned and left the room.
When the brothers turned to Harry questioningly, he said, "We were up all night working on the letter. And you know the Dark Lord wouldn't admit to having lost sleep." He grinned when the Lestranges covered smiles, then stood himself. "Sorry to miss our promised game, but I am rather knackered. Can we make a rain date?"
"We'll play when you get up," Rabastan promised while both brothers also rose.
When Harry frowned at them, Rodolphus said, "Some of the Death Eaters are very displeased with you over the article. I doubt our Lord would be happy with them if you were hurt, but no one yet knows that he agreed to the article. Normally, we wouldn't worry about you in the halls – you're more than capable on your own – but you're tired..."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Good point. Well, let's go, then." He smiled and led the way out into the hallway.
"Some of the Death Eaters who really don't like you are going to need more than just an article with a few findings to make them change their minds, you know," Rodolphus said, just to have something to say in the empty halls. It was still a little early for a number of the Death Eaters, as many had become slightly nocturnal during their stay with Voldemort.
Harry nodded. "Your wife."
Rodolphus winced, but it was no secret that Bellatrix hated Harry with a passion. Not even Voldemort had been able to punish her enough to curb her hatred. So Harry just made a point of avoiding her after she'd been released from her punishment and, after getting Crucioed a few times for seeking the youngest member of the base out, Bella had also started avoiding him.
Harry shrugged. He'd never held Rodolphus responsible for Bellatrix's actions. "The Department of Mysteries has been doing studies on this for a few centuries," he commented. "They've agreed to release their own finding in the next Prophet to back me up. Any disbelievers should be convinced with that."
"You got the Department of Mysteries to agree to release their research?" Rodolphus said disbelievingly.
"How are you so sure it will be enough?" Rabastan asked.
"I didn't get them to release it, the Dark Lord did," Harry said with a mischievous smile. "And their findings were what got him to believe my findings. If they worked on him, they should work on everyone else." He touched the knob of his door, which they were standing in front of. "Well, goodnight."
"Sleep well," the brothers chorused, looking a little gobsmacked.
Harry rolled his eyes and walked into his rooms. There, he relieved himself in the loo, then slipped into his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
-0-0-0-
Voldemort sighed at the letter in front of him. Harry didn't know it, but all of his incoming mail went through the Dark Lord's office before it got to him, even his loyal Hedwig and the distrustful Fawkes, didn't seem to mind and even, Voldemort thought, approved of the security. Especially early on in Harry's stay, it was necessary, as the boy got more cursed letters than even Voldemort. Impressive.
Once again, Voldemort was glad for the security, because his house guest had, once again, caught the attention of the public that couldn't seem to decide if they loved or hated him. But this letter had nothing to do with curses and everything to do with the apologies and offer in it.
Voldemort had not been blind to how much Harry's estrangement from his friends had hurt him, though he had often ignored it in favour of being disgusted at how childish they were. He knew that Harry craved their love and needed that support to keep going. The boy had managed, for a while, with the few friends he had left and the first years who had flocked to him after he'd protected them – Severus had told him as much – and after coming to Voldemort's base, the boy had made friends with a few Death Eaters.
Now, here, in front of him, was a letter written by Harry's two best friends. They had tripped all over themselves to apologise and then had ended the letter asking if Harry would come to the Weasleys' for Christmas.
Voldemort realised he didn't want Harry going anywhere else for the holidays or, worse, going back to Hogwarts when it started again. He didn't like that he felt that way – Dark Lords don't form attachments, especially not to boys prophesied to kill them, even if said boy had a part of his soul – but he couldn't deny it. He couldn't make himself magically reseal the letter and hand it back to the excitable owl who'd brought it so it could take it to Harry. He couldn't.
"You're Voldemort, most feared Dark Lord in centuries. You can hand a letter to a bloody owl," he growled at himself.
:What's wrong now, Tom?: Nagini asked from her warm corner.
Voldemort glanced at his familiar with mild irritation at his birth name, but had long given up on ordering – or even asking – her to stop it. :A letter for Potter.:
Nagini rested her head back on her tail coils. :So toss it in the fire.:
Voldemort snorted and considered the fireplace. :It's not that kind of letter. It's an apology and an... invitation,: he replied with distaste.
:Then why does it matter? Send it to him,: Nagini decided.
Voldemort shook his head. He loved Nagini, but emotions were not either of their strong points, and human matters were even more inconceivable to her than they were to him. He tried to figure out the best way to put his problem into snake terms, but the only one he could think of, he already knew her answer to: If you and another snake came across the same rat and the other snake was more hungry, what would you do? Hope you were faster.
But what if being faster wasn't in your character?
Voldemort sighed and looked back down at the letter. Human matters were so troublesome. And he didn't even understand why this was bothering him. The only other person Voldemort might consider talking to about the matter was Harry himself – and when had that happened? – because Harry wouldn't think less of him for being questioningly human for five minutes.
As if thinking about him summoned him, Voldemort felt the boy's presence in his mind. He glared at the letter one final time, then shot a spell at his office door to keep people away and sunk into his mind.
"Potter. What brings you here?"
Harry glanced at him from his red chair. "You woke me," he said simply, then glanced back at the fire, apparently willing to let Voldemort decide whether to dismiss him or sit down and talk.
Voldemort wasn't sure what to do, so he sat in his own chair and turned to the fire, hoping to find some genius in the dancing flames.
"I don't suppose I've gotten any mail from my friends?" Harry finally asked.
Voldemort blinked and turned to look at the teen, but Harry was still looking into the fire. He hadn't thought the boy knew that his incoming mail went through Voldemort's office, but Harry was probably used to the thought that his mail was watched. "One," he admitted.
Harry nodded. "Ron and Hermione?" he guessed.
Voldemort stood to get some tea, just for something to do. "Yes. They would like you to come visit them for the hols."
Harry hummed. "Well, that would be awkward. I don't think any of us has gotten the others gifts."
Voldemort looked at the teen incredulously. "You're worried about gifts?"
Harry smiled. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I'm also thinking it would be strange to visit with them again when we've had such a falling out." He glanced back at the fire. "I'm not sure, yet, how I feel about them. There were some... very hurtful words spoken before I left. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive them. Especially Ron."
"They spent an impressive portion of the missive apologising," Voldemort offered.
Harry smiled at him knowingly. "Did you mock them?"
Voldemort held a cup of tea out to the boy and retook his own seat, choosing to stay silent. He had, of course, mocked the teenagers and their angst at their own stupid choices.
Harry chuckled, taking the silence as an admission. "I'm sure they're very sorry, now that I'm working for what they consider to be the 'good' side again. And that's another reason I'm not sure I want to spend time with them." He sighed and took a sip of tea.
"There is no good and evil," Voldemort murmured, recalling what he'd once said to a much younger Harry in very different circumstances, "only power, and those too weak to seek it."
Harry inclined his head. "It took me a long time to understand what you meant by that, all those years ago, but over the past year, it's started to make sense. But Ron and Hermione..."
"They see the world in black and white," Voldemort offered when Harry was lost for words.
Harry smiled. "Yes. And I don't. I mean, I still see some white and some black, but I mostly see grey. They will see my article as a point for the Light and against the Dark. But it's not. It's a point in the favour of all of us – Light and Dark. I don't know that I'll be able to sit there while they congratulate me for something I didn't do."
"Expectations," Voldemort murmured, then shook his head. "You are welcome to remain here, if you prefer," he said, surprised at how easily the words came to him. "Both for the hols and once term starts up again."
Harry nodded into his tea. "I think I will. I like it here."
Voldemort just nodded in response, unable to voice the impossible joy that welled up at that acceptance.
Harry yawned and smiled a little sheepishly. "Ah. Well, I suppose I should be getting back to bed, then."
Voldemort inclined his head. "I apologise for waking you," he managed, with far too much ease.
Harry nodded and set his cup on a table that appeared at his elbow for it. "Not a problem," he said, then disappeared.
Voldemort remained in his mindscape for a while longer, sipping his tea and looking into the fire.
-0-0-0-
Harry sent back a gracious apology for his inability to spend Christmas at the Weasleys', saying he'd had previous engagements already and didn't wish to insult the person who he'd already agreed to spend the holiday with. He attached a couple quick things he'd magically thrown together for Ron and Hermione, as well the gift he'd found for Ginny and a few things for the twins, which he'd spent far more time on than Ron and Hermione's gifts. Once everything for them had been sent out, he read through his other mail from the article – the ones Voldemort hadn't burned – and responded to the ones that required it. By the time he was done, it was supper time and he left his rooms to find the Lestrange brothers, Antonin and Wormtail, who he often ate with.
He found them in the library, whispering together over the table he often frequented when he was doing homework or playing a game with one of them. When they didn't look up at his approached, Harry shook his head, then cleared his throat.
"Ah! Harry," Wormtail said, nervously twitching his hands.
Harry blinked at the trapped looks on each of their faced and shook his head again. "I don't want to know," he decided out loud, then asked, "Supper?"
They all looked relieved at his first comment and rose in agreement at his second. As soon as they started out for the kitchen, Harry found himself drawn into a discussion about his article by Antonin who, while he seemed to have a valid interest, also seemed to be trying to distract Harry, and yet was distracted himself.
Finally, Harry said, "Either tell me what's got you lot jumping at shadows , or stop it. It's disturbing. And if this is about your whisper session which I walked in on, I will tell you now that I honestly don't care."
The four Death Eaters traded looks and nervous laughter, but stopped acting so suspicious, so Harry let it be.
-0-0-0-
A couple of days later, Harry woke to a room done up in garland and bright Christmas lights. There was magical snow falling and little fairies dancing around, humming and chattering pleasantly. Harry couldn't help but sit in bed for a few minutes and smile. Any upset at not attending the holiday with the two people he'd spent his best Christmases with completely evaporated.
When Harry finally talked himself into climbing out of bed, he pulled on a dressing gown and went out into the small study which was connected to his bedroom. He'd thought he'd heard some quiet chatter in there and when he opened the door, he was met with shouts of, "Happy Christmas!"
Harry smiled around at the four friends he'd made at the base and the six or seven other Death Eaters he occasionally joined for a game of Exploding Snap or chess. "Happy Christmas," he returned, walking over to the open seat between the Lestrange brothers, which Rabastan was pointing demandingly at. "This is wonderful," he said honestly as he sat.
"We had a hard time figuring out how to make a Christmas better than one at Hogwarts," Wormtail admitted. "It's never the same without your friends, but we'd hoped this would help make up for the lack."
Harry shook his head. "What little there is," he said drily. "I got an invite, but I turned it down. I much prefer spending time here, at the base, anyway." He grinned at the various Death Eaters and they all returned the smile. "I can actually win at chess, here."
The ones who had been worse than Harry chuckled ruefully while those who hadn't played the complicated game with him or always beat him just kept smiling.
A light breakfast appeared, brought by a party of house-elves, and they all chattered happily while they ate. Once the food was cleared, they traded gifts around and Harry was only a little saddened that he hadn't thought to get gifts for anyone besides the Lestrange brothers, Wormtail and Antonin, but since the others hadn't seemed to expect anything, he decided not to worry about it.
Most of his gifts were wonderful and showed a lot of thought, but two gifts made him feel slightly disheartened; the bag of candy each from Ron and Hermione. He knew they'd scrabbled for gifts, just as he had. But at least he'd actually put thought into his gifts for them – a bookmark that was spelled to remember the information on the last six pages it had been used to mark and a set of Keeper pads that would help protect Ron more from the Bludgers. (Given, Ron almost always gave candy, but Hermione usually bought him something she thought would be useful, rather than something that would rot his teeth. She'd chosen sugar quills, at least, which could be used for more than a sugar rush. But still.)
But those two gifts were far outshone by the tens of other presents his other Hogwarts friends and the Death Eaters had gotten him. However, there was one gift which outshone them all, a Pensieve. And no one would admit to having given it to him.
Harry left the gift to ponder it more later and went to get changed into something a bit more acceptable for the large Christmas lunch, which was to be held in the larger dining hall, where the Death Eaters always shared supper on Sundays. Harry had been told that many families would also be there, so Harry would finally have some people his own age to speak with. Of course, Harry wasn't sure how much he'd want to talk to his fellow students, especially considering how the start of term had gone, but he was still unable to fully squash the part of him which was excited to be seeing some familiar faces from before his exile.
In the hall outside his room, he found Voldemort. "Happy Christmas," the teen said, still in a good mood from the morning's surprises.
"I take it this has been a good holiday for you," Voldemort replied without inflection.
Harry cocked his head to one side and looked up at the Dark Lord. "You could have joined us," he said, guessing why Voldemort was acting so aloof.
"Dark Lords do not join in on Christmas celebrations with their troops," Voldemort replied, turning to walk down the hall toward the stairs to the main floor.
Harry rolled his eyes and hurried to catch up to the disgruntled man. "Dark Lords are powerful enough that they can do whatever they please and no one will question them for fear of being cursed within a centimetre of their sanity."
Voldemort glanced at Harry with a faintest spark of amusement in his bloody eyes. "True," he allowed. "But that doesn't mean we go to such events."
"That would be the royal we," Harry muttered under his breath, then, louder, said, "You could have come in some form that's not your own, like you do in Diagon, right? No one would ever need to know."
Voldemort sneered. "Everyone would know," he snapped, pointing to his eyes.
Harry rolled his eyes again and grabbed Voldemort's arm to stop him, not the least bit concerned by the death glare the man shot at him for touching him. "You're just vain," he informed the Dark Lord, then performed his own magical half-glamour, half-transfiguration over him. (After the trip to Diagon, Harry realised it would be helpful to know the spell himself and had researched it while the Death Eaters were busy plotting.)
Long brown hair just touched shoulders which were lower to the ground then Voldemort was used to them being. He glanced down at hands which weren't nearly as long and graceful as he remembered and blinked eyes that were strangely shaped. "What di–" he started, only to stop himself at the quiet and very not authoritative voice that came out of his mouth.
Harry smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been practising," he said. "Peter helped me when he wasn't busy with their little plans, so I know it's okay to use on people. And now your eyes are blue."
Voldemort blinked again. "You changed my voice," he hissed in what should have been an angry tone, but which sounded merely disgruntled.
Harry nodded. "Of course I did. Everyone in this base knows your voice and the tones you use when you're about to kill an idiot. It would be silly to disguise your appearance, only for you to be found out when you spoke in anger."
"I sound so..." He floundered for a word for a moment, not sure how he felt at the feeling of being speechless. He finally settled on, "meek." Then he glared at the teen.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Be my guest for a day, okay? You can join it on the festivities and no one will watch their tongue or look nervous. They'll just be a little confused because I conjured you out of nowhere." He smiled. "Come on, Tom."
Voldemort twitched at the name, but admitted, if only to himself, that it would be nice to enjoy the Christmas festivities for once, instead of sitting above them and sneering when someone got up the nerve to offer him half a cracker to pop. "Oh, very well," he agreed. "But I will not be called 'Tom', Potter. Pick something else."
Harry rolled his eyes yet again. "Marvolo?" he suggested.
"...Morfin," he decided. "One or two of the Death Eaters know my real name."
Harry inclined his head, guessing that those were either Snape or one of the first Death Eaters, like Antonin. "Morfin it is," he agreed. "And you'll have to call me Harry, right? Because it seems silly that I would invite you to a Christmas party when you insist on calling me by my last name."
Voldemort tried a sneer, but he wasn't sure how effective it was, since they never phased Harry anyway. "Gryffindors," he muttered, thoroughly displeased with the mildness of his disguise.
Harry chuckled and grabbed Voldemort's arm in the same manner he might have once grabbed Ron or Hermione's arms and led the disguised Dark Lord, muttering under his breath the whole way, to the dining room.
"Harry!" Rodolphus called out, and the teen wound through the crowd that was filling the hall to where he could see the taller brother's arm waving wildly.
Harry completely ignored the various sneers and disgusted looks he still got from some of the Death Eaters, but Voldemort was a little surprised at how hostile his people still acted towards the Boy Who Lived when their Lord wasn't there to curse them for the transgression. From Harry's lack of reaction, Voldemort got the feeling that he'd been missing a lot from his seat at the top of the table.
"Who's this, then?" Rabastan asked of Harry's guest when they finally broke through the crowd to where Harry's four Death Eater friends stood near the head of the table.
"This is Morfin," Harry said with a grin. "We ran into each other just outside and I invited him along. You don't mind, do you?"
The four Death Eaters sighed and shook their heads, three of them quietly muttering, "Gryffindors," under their breath. Wormtail answered for all of them by saying, "Of course not, Harry. Welcome, Morfin. I'm Peter."
Voldemort nodded to each of them in turn as the other three men who served him introduced themselves. He'd known Antonin in school, so knew what he was like on a more personal level, and he'd seen enough of the Lestrange brothers when they didn't mind his presence that he knew what they were like when he wasn't around. But Peter was so brave when Voldemort wasn't around, and the Dark Lord was surprised at how very much like a Gryffindor the animagus was.
The four Death Eaters and Harry all took seats, Harry waving Voldemort to sit next to him. The Dark Lord just sat back and listened as the five traded jokes back and forth and challenged each other to the various games they played. It seemed so very surreal to Voldemort.
The strangest part was when Voldemort walked into the room and glared at the Death Eaters who scurried out of his way before making his way to his seat at the head of the table.
As the Death Eaters and their families slowly found seats, Harry leaned over next to the disguised Voldemort and asked, "You have a time turner?"
Voldemort was somehow unsurprised that the boy knew of the device. "Of course I do," he muttered. "I never would have allowed this insanity if I didn't. The meal doesn't start without me."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I should stop being surprised by your ego," he said half to himself and Voldemort sneered. "You don't feel left out, do you?" Harry asked, looking faintly worried. "I know we've been sort of off in our own silly world..."
Voldemort sighed and flicked Harry's forehead, getting an amused look out of the boy. "P– Harry, I don't care to join in your inane pratter."
Harry grinned at him, then looked at Rodolphus, who was sitting on his other side, and said, "I think Morfin feels left out."
"I do not!" Voldemort snapped. Or tried to snap. He mentally cursed the mildness of his disguised voice.
Harry just smiled ever so innocently while Antonin, who had chosen to sit on Voldemort's other side, drew him in to a discussion about some magical theory books he'd just read. Voldemort, of course, had read the books before and found himself getting drawn into a lively discussion on the dangers of side-along apparation.
Next to him, Harry silently cheered. Mission accomplished.
-0-0-0-
After lunch, Voldemort got dragged off to a continuation of the Christmas party Harry had woken to. When he tried citing his need to attend the lunch as Voldemort, Harry said, "And eat a second lunch? Come on. You barely manage enough food for me, stunted in growth as I am. No, I think you'll come with me now and, when we start wondering about supper you can leave. Anyway, time turners have a max of twelve hours, unless you've enhanced yours, which I bet you have. You don't need to leave yet."
Voldemort had to admit that the teen had a point, so he let Harry lead him into the boy's rooms and sat through a much more lively party than he'd attended since Slug Club. Even Severus' attendance – he'd been invited by another party-goer at the lunch and had accepted, surprising everyone but Voldemort, who was well aware of Severus' love for Harry's mother and his debt to the boy's father – hadn't dampened the excitement.
Voldemort was, by no means, a social person, but Harry wasn't the most social creature, either, so they spent a great deal of time standing off in one corner and speaking with the people Harry knew best at the party, while everyone else talked loudly in groups elsewhere.
Eventually, Severus came over to their little corner. Voldemort and Harry were alone at the time, as both Lestrange brothers had been pulled away to face down one very disgruntled Bellatrix and both Peter and Antonin had found other acquaintances to speak with.
"Potter," Severus said, glancing curiously at Voldemort, who he'd, no doubt, observed spending time with Harry the entire afternoon and was wondering who he was.
Harry inclined his head. "Headmaster. Are the Slytherins behaving themselves?"
Severus sneered. "As much as ever. Although, I dare say your article this past week will embolden your fellow Gryffindors into acting stupid and drawing them into fights in the hallways."
Harry shrugged. "Not my problem," he said.
Severus shook his head. "No," he agreed, "I don't suppose it is. You won't be returning to Hogwarts for the spring term, then?"
Harry shrugged again. "I prefer it here, personally. Both because of the people and because I learn more." Severus glanced curiously at Voldemort, and Harry chuckled. "Sorry. Professor, this is Morfin. Morfin, Professor Snape. The Dark Lord made him headmaster of Hogwarts."
Voldemort nodded. "Yes, I know," he agreed.
Severus inclined his head, then looked back at Harry, having deemed the disguised Dark Lord as no threat. "And has He been treating you well enough?" he asked the teen, not needing to specify who 'He' was.
Harry nodded, a hand discreetly grabbing Voldemort's hand before it could pull out his wand and curse his Death Eater. "He's been fine. Took me Christmas shopping and everything."
Severus rose a disbelieving eyebrow at Harry and the boy offered him a cheeky grin. Severus snorted. "Very well. If he ever gives you reason to fear, you will be safe at Hogwarts."
Harry nodded again. "I doubt that will occur, but thank you, sir."
Severus inclined his head and walked away.
"How dare he," Voldemort seethed.
Harry rolled his eyes. "He owes my dad a life debt. I'm sure he's only offering because he's still paying it off," he said tiredly. "Merlin's sake, Tom, calm down," he added when the Dark Lord wouldn't stop glaring at the direction Snape went.
Voldemort hissed wordlessly and subsided. "Don't call me that."
"Stop acting like a Dark Lord," Harry shot back.
"I am a Dark Lord, you wretched brat."
"Not right now you're not."
Voldemort huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, because Harry had a point. And he never would have known that Severus was offering to protect Harry from him if he hadn't been here. Anyway, he knew the man had a twisted fondness for the boy because of his mother. It made sense that Severus would offer what protection he could, even at the cost of his own life.
Once certain Voldemort wouldn't go into a homicidal rage, Harry relaxed and knocked a knee against the table leg next to him. The table wobbled a bit and a stone thump made Harry glance over. He blinked at the Pensieve, which had subsided peacefully with the table. "Oh, yeah," he mumbled and picked the stone basin up to look it over again.
"A Pensieve?" Voldemort asked, looking over to see what Harry had picked up. "Who sent you that?"
Harry shrugged. "Haven't the faintest."
Voldemort motioned for the gift and, when Harry had handed it over, cast a quick series of spells over it. "Well, it's not cursed," he announced. Then he cast one last spell and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
Harry frowned. "What is it?"
Voldemort handed it back over to him. "This belonged to Dumbledore."
Harry grimaced and set the Pensieve back on the table. "Always meddling, even in death," he muttered. "Well, at least this time it's something useful."
Voldemort inclined his head. "You might find some of his own memories as ghosts of a sort from time to time when you use it."
Harry blinked. "Really? But it's empty."
"Of memories, yes," Voldemort agreed in the best form of his teaching voice that this body could manage. "But when a Pensieve has been used as much as I would guess this one has been, ghosts of those memories will remain in the stone. You'll be able to view them, once you've begun placing your own memories in there, but they will never be as clear as your own memories."
"Huh." Harry touched the pensive thoughtfully. "Perhaps this will answer some questions."
"Or provide you with new ones," Voldemort replied drily. He had little trust that anything useful would come out of those ghost memories.
"As long as those questions aren't further about myself, I don't really mind," Harry said, then grinned.
Voldemort rolled his eyes and glanced at the time. "It's almost time for supper. Am I released yet?"
Harry laughed. "Oh, I suppose. But, did you have any fun?"
Voldemort paused in the act of leaving Harry to his corner, considering the question. After a moment, he said, "I believe so," then walked off.
Harry nodded to himself. Perhaps Voldemort would pretend to be Morfin again, then. Harry had quite liked having him along.
-0-0-0-0-0-
A/N: The starting of attraction. Because everyone seems so ready for it. XP
Sorry for the delay. A minor case of writer's block coupled with a foray into the HP/FFX fandom kept me from all my fics for a while. But I'm back in the HP world and the writer's block and I are working on things. Perhaps another chapter will come soon. XD
~Bats ^.^x
Chapters:
Pro - The Real Prophecy / 1 - The Summer of Change
2 - A New Term ||| 3 - Confrontation ||| 4 - Betrayal
5 - The Wedding ||| 6 - The Light ||| 7 - The Dark
8 - Magic's Story ||| 9 - Ghosts ||| 10 - A Lifetime Mended
Author:
batsutousaiBeta:
tsuki_no_suzuRating: T
Pairings: HPLV, others
Warnings: Dumbledore bashing
Summary: Dumbledore knew before Harry Potter came to Hogwarts what he needed the boy to do, and he knew exactly how to make him do it. A twist on the normal manipulative!Dumbledore story.
Disclaim Her: Card games are, by far, not my forte. (In fact, I tend to suck at them.) So I'm just making shit up about Exploding Snap. Not like Jo ever gave us rules for the game or anything, anyway. XD
Chapter Eight - Magic's Story
-~\/~-
The Death Eaters never got the blow-up many of them had bet on and, as far as they knew, the confrontation that should have happened after the show in Diagon Alley never occurred. Instead, life continued as it always had, with Harry spending most of his day in the library and his evening with one of the Death Eaters. Voldemort spent his day in his study, having meetings and apparently getting lost in thought about the paperwork on his desk. In reality, of course, Voldemort was thinking about everything Harry had brought up the night before, and some of his meetings were with experts on the subject of bloodlines and the strength of the magical gift.
Late that evening, as Harry was just finishing losing another game of Exploding Snap against the Lestrange brothers, Voldemort stepped into the library where Harry and the Death Eaters played games. The brothers immediately bowed to their lord and Harry turned to smile at him, smudges of black all over his face.
Voldemort cocked one hairless eyebrow and said, "I would have thought you'd be better at that game, Harry."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Not when playing against those two," he replied, shoving his thumb at the two Death Eaters, who were watching the interaction curiously. Harry and Voldemort rarely interacted outside of the Dark Lord's study, so most people in the base weren't aware how amiable the two were.
Voldemort eyed the two brothers, then glanced at Harry. "What's wrong, Harry? Are they cheating?"
Harry rolled his eyes again. "No, they're brothers. They know each other so well that they can avoid traps and help each other out. It's a lot of fun watching them play each other, though." The brothers hid smiles behind hands at the statement. Most of their games lasted far longer than a game played between anyone else, since they were quite capable of avoiding any traps.
Voldemort smirked and pulled up a chair at the table, chuckling when his Death Eaters both stared at him in surprise. He looked at Harry and said, "Would you like to try teaming up on them?"
Harry's eyes lit up at the prospect of finally taking the brothers down and agreed.
The game was far more gruesome than any Exploding Snap game Harry had ever played in Gryffindor Tower, but playing with Voldemort was rewarding, as the two trounced the brothers, and not just because the two Death Eaters had stopped their dirty tricks against their master. In the end, Harry and Voldemort faced off, resulting in a tie when Harry set a trap that they both, amusingly enough, set off.
Chuckling, the two parselmouths cleaned off the other's face and sat back in their chairs. The Lestrange brothers, sensing that the two powerful wizards needed some time to talk, said their 'good night's and left for bed.
Voldemort threw up some wards around the room and watched Harry as the teen smiled easily. After watching each other for a few minutes, Harry said, "You didn't come here just to stare."
Voldemort sighed, all signs of amusement disappearing. "No," he agreed, "I didn't."
Harry nodded and settled himself more comfortably, resigning himself to a long talk.
Voldemort gathered his thoughts and said, "I've been speaking to some people from the Department of Mysteries about your findings, and they agree with you. With everything you've said."
Harry's eyes widened briefly. He honestly hadn't expected Voldemort to go to the Department of Mysteries and have them back him up. The Ministry as a whole, Harry had found during his years in the wizarding world, tended to hire the sort more inclined towards Voldemort's way of thinking. Harry didn't think he'd ever met a Ministry worker who was willing to consider the bigger picture, and look past their own beliefs. Even the Ministry workers that Harry knew from the Order had one set of beliefs about the world and weren't inclined to consider the other side; it was what had made Harry's choice to be neutral so difficult for them to comprehend.
Voldemort seemed to read the disbelief in Harry's eyes, for he said, "The Department of Mysteries has always sought to hire people more inclined to look at the unusual. You may be unsurprised to learn that more than half their staff are muggleborn."
Harry blinked, then smiled. "That would make a certain amount of sense," he commented. "After all, muggleborns already have to put many of their life-long beliefs to the test when they join our world. And they have a lot of ideas about things that purebloods would never question, as the purebloods grew up with those things, and the muggleborns didn't."
Voldemort sighed and nodded. "I must agree with you there," he admitted.
Harry pulled off his glasses to clean some soot off the right lens that he'd missed. "What have you decided, then?" he inquired as neutrally as he could.
Voldemort eyed the boy for a long moment, then said, "It pains me to admit that you may be right."
Wisely, Harry did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at the man.
Voldemort scowled at him. "But I cannot suddenly change the meaning of this war, Harry."
"Why not?" Harry asked. "Tell your people to leave the muggleborns alone; that's the first step, yeah? And maybe the Department of Mysteries could release their own findings on the matter."
"The Department of Mysteries doesn't release findings," Voldemort replied sharply. "And I can't just turn around and say, 'We're not killing mudbloods anymore, we're going to try and bring them more fully into our community'!"
Harry snorted. "So maybe you can't change everything at once. Maybe your people are just too bull-headed to listen to reason – Merlin knows the rest of our world is! – but that doesn't mean there isn't something to do. Maybe I'll release my findings instead. My name is well-known enough that people might just read it."
Voldemort considered Harry's comment. Harry was known by practically everyone in their world. If the boy released his findings, and somehow got the Department of Mysteries to back him, the people would have to listen. Hell, the Death Eaters would have to listen. And after nearly two months in the base, most of the Death Eaters knew Harry was a clever boy, despite his age and what others might have said about him in school – Voldemort made a point to ask his people how Harry was doing, and had received nothing but positive responses.
"Do it," he finally decided. "I'll see if I can get the Department of Mysteries to back you up with their own, much more in depth findings."
Harry nodded, tugging a lock of hair thoughtfully. If he wanted people to listen, he'd have to be persuasive, yet open. It would be difficult to get the voice right, especially since he was, by no means, a good paper-writer.
Voldemort read his concerns on the boy's face and said, "I can read it over once you've finished, if you'd like."
Harry looked at the Dark Lord in surprise, then smiled. "I think that would help."
Voldemort nodded, then stood. "We'll have a long few days ahead of us if you want this out by Christmas."
Harry's face broke into a smile. "You think we can manage that?"
Voldemort eyed the boy with a faint smile. "Of course we can, you stupid Gryffindor."
Harry laughed and followed the feared Dark Lord from the room, heading for bed with a much lighter heart than he'd had for weeks.
The morning of the twenty-second, the editor of The Daily Prophet received an interesting letter, borne by an angry-looking owl. He read the attached letter and fell out of his chair in surprise. The Dark Lord wanted him to post some findings that went completely against everything his cause was about? He briefly skimmed the article and smiled as he saw the name of the author. "Harry Potter," the man murmured, picking himself up off the floor. "Somehow, I knew you wouldn't fail us."
The Weasley household was quiet during breakfast. The twins had been trying to get Harry invited for Christmas, but no matter what they told their family about the boy's actions in Diagon Alley, their family wouldn't agree to it. Ginny was completely on their side, but after Harry had disappeared into Voldemort's base, Arthur and Molly had taken a hostile stance when it came to the boy, and Ron was all too happy to spread his lies about his one-time best friend. Hermione seemed unable to decide how she felt about Harry, so ended up staying silent about the matter, leaving the twins and Ginny to fight against their parents and youngest brother alone.
The uneasy silence was broken by the arrival of an owl bearing the paper. "Bit late this morning," Arthur noted, taking the paper and giving the owl the required money from a jar on the table. He opened it around his breakfast and set to reading it. He'd barely gotten three sentences into the front page article when his spoon clattered to the table.
"Arthur?" Molly asked, while the five kids around the table all looked up in surprise.
Arthur glanced around the table nervously, then cleared his throat and read, " 'Most of you know my name, and those who don't have been living with their heads in the sand. I've heard a lot of people say I've thrown my lot in with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters – even my two best friends – but that's not true. As hard as it might be for you all out there, fighting against Vol-' " Arthur choked on the Dark Lord's assumed name, " 'Voldemort to believe, I'm right there with you, I just have a different way of fighting.
" 'One day, sitting in the library and reading a Potions book, I happened to overhear some Death Eaters discussing the issue that started this entire war: the superiority of pure, magical blood. Now, my mum was a muggleborn, and I've been told more than once that I'm nearly as magically powerful as the late Albus Dumbledore, so I, of course, can find no reason to believe this to be true. I ended up doing a lot of research on the topic.
" 'I'm not the first halfblood to be more powerful than his parents: Albus Dumbledore himself is a halfblood, as are his two siblings, and at least two of the three are more powerful than their parents. A charismatic and powerful Slytherin named Tom Riddle in the forties was the child of a muggle and a witch who was little better than a squib. You all know Tom by a different name now, but he's told me that if I tell you all who he is, I might just be killed in my sleep. (That should give you a hint, at least.)
" 'Any well-known pureblood family will find a muggleborn somewhere in their family tree, and that muggleborn's blood is helping supply that family with magic. Lucius Malfoy's seven-times great grandfather was muggleborn, while Arthur Weasley's three-times great grandmother had a muggle mother and a halfblood father. My own five-times great grandmother on my father's side was muggleborn.
" 'But there's something far more insidious about these findings. Have any of you ever heard of the Alians? I sincerely doubt it, as they died out sometime in the early nineteen-twenties. The Alians were one of the most well-known purebloods of the time – most purebloods today will be able to find one in their family tree – but they eventually hit a point where they birthed nothing but squibs. The man of the house had fifteen children by ten different wives, but they were all squibs. The most recent muggleborn or muggle on their tree was twelve generations before. An estranged sister married a muggleborn and their grandson was Florean Fortescue.
" 'These are only a few of the names I researched, but I can assure that everything I've written is true. Voldemort has the wrong of it, yes, because we need muggleborns if we are going to survive. I ask you, fellow wizards and witches, to consider these findings. Please, do your own research if you must, but don't ignore what I've found. If you can believe this, perhaps Voldemort can believe this. And perhaps, just perhaps, we can end this war.' "
The breakfast table was silent.
The Lestrange brothers hurried into the library, where Harry was dozing at his usual table. Voldemort was sitting next to him, reading a letter from the Department of Mysteries, which said they'd agree to putting out their own statement to back up Harry's. The boy jerked up when Rodolphus knocked into a chair and blinked up at the brothers sleepily while they bowed to their lord.
Rabastan nervously cleared his throat and said, "Might we borrow Harry, my Lord?"
Voldemort eyed Harry with amusement dancing in his red eyes. "What have you done now?" he asked.
Harry rubbed sleepily at his eyes and rose. "Haven't the faintest," he said with a shrug, then followed the two men to the other side of the library. There, Rodolphus shoved the paper in his face and said, "If our Lord gets wind of this, he'll kill you."
Harry blinked at him sleepily, then said, "He helped me write it," before walking back over to the table he'd been sitting at, saying, "You owe me four sickles."
Voldemort eyed him with amusement. "I thought the bet was for eight?"
Harry shrugged and said, "I bet it would be Rabastan, but Rodolphus was the one who warned me off." He fell back into his chair and dragged the letter Voldemort had been reading over.
"Then neither of us win," Voldemort replied.
Harry waved his hand negligently. "Rabastan still came with him to warn me. They're practically the same person, anyway."
Voldemort considered that comment with a grunt while the two Death Eaters in question crept back over to the table with wide eyes. After a moment, he pulled four sickles out of the pouch at his hip and slid them over to Harry. "Should have known better than to bet on Wormtail."
Harry snickered and put the coins away and reached across the table to steal Rodolphus' paper. After a moment, he chuckled and said, "They kept your name in there."
Voldemort cocked a hairless eyebrow at the teen. "You did specify."
Harry grinned at him. "Yeah, but I didn't think they'd actually listen. Usually our world has such a fear of the name that they avoid all mention of it. Even in the paper."
Voldemort moved his head in faint agreement, then stood. "I have some work to see to. And you, Potter, should sleep," he said, then turned and left the room.
When the brothers turned to Harry questioningly, he said, "We were up all night working on the letter. And you know the Dark Lord wouldn't admit to having lost sleep." He grinned when the Lestranges covered smiles, then stood himself. "Sorry to miss our promised game, but I am rather knackered. Can we make a rain date?"
"We'll play when you get up," Rabastan promised while both brothers also rose.
When Harry frowned at them, Rodolphus said, "Some of the Death Eaters are very displeased with you over the article. I doubt our Lord would be happy with them if you were hurt, but no one yet knows that he agreed to the article. Normally, we wouldn't worry about you in the halls – you're more than capable on your own – but you're tired..."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Good point. Well, let's go, then." He smiled and led the way out into the hallway.
"Some of the Death Eaters who really don't like you are going to need more than just an article with a few findings to make them change their minds, you know," Rodolphus said, just to have something to say in the empty halls. It was still a little early for a number of the Death Eaters, as many had become slightly nocturnal during their stay with Voldemort.
Harry nodded. "Your wife."
Rodolphus winced, but it was no secret that Bellatrix hated Harry with a passion. Not even Voldemort had been able to punish her enough to curb her hatred. So Harry just made a point of avoiding her after she'd been released from her punishment and, after getting Crucioed a few times for seeking the youngest member of the base out, Bella had also started avoiding him.
Harry shrugged. He'd never held Rodolphus responsible for Bellatrix's actions. "The Department of Mysteries has been doing studies on this for a few centuries," he commented. "They've agreed to release their own finding in the next Prophet to back me up. Any disbelievers should be convinced with that."
"You got the Department of Mysteries to agree to release their research?" Rodolphus said disbelievingly.
"How are you so sure it will be enough?" Rabastan asked.
"I didn't get them to release it, the Dark Lord did," Harry said with a mischievous smile. "And their findings were what got him to believe my findings. If they worked on him, they should work on everyone else." He touched the knob of his door, which they were standing in front of. "Well, goodnight."
"Sleep well," the brothers chorused, looking a little gobsmacked.
Harry rolled his eyes and walked into his rooms. There, he relieved himself in the loo, then slipped into his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
Voldemort sighed at the letter in front of him. Harry didn't know it, but all of his incoming mail went through the Dark Lord's office before it got to him, even his loyal Hedwig and the distrustful Fawkes, didn't seem to mind and even, Voldemort thought, approved of the security. Especially early on in Harry's stay, it was necessary, as the boy got more cursed letters than even Voldemort. Impressive.
Once again, Voldemort was glad for the security, because his house guest had, once again, caught the attention of the public that couldn't seem to decide if they loved or hated him. But this letter had nothing to do with curses and everything to do with the apologies and offer in it.
Voldemort had not been blind to how much Harry's estrangement from his friends had hurt him, though he had often ignored it in favour of being disgusted at how childish they were. He knew that Harry craved their love and needed that support to keep going. The boy had managed, for a while, with the few friends he had left and the first years who had flocked to him after he'd protected them – Severus had told him as much – and after coming to Voldemort's base, the boy had made friends with a few Death Eaters.
Now, here, in front of him, was a letter written by Harry's two best friends. They had tripped all over themselves to apologise and then had ended the letter asking if Harry would come to the Weasleys' for Christmas.
Voldemort realised he didn't want Harry going anywhere else for the holidays or, worse, going back to Hogwarts when it started again. He didn't like that he felt that way – Dark Lords don't form attachments, especially not to boys prophesied to kill them, even if said boy had a part of his soul – but he couldn't deny it. He couldn't make himself magically reseal the letter and hand it back to the excitable owl who'd brought it so it could take it to Harry. He couldn't.
"You're Voldemort, most feared Dark Lord in centuries. You can hand a letter to a bloody owl," he growled at himself.
:What's wrong now, Tom?: Nagini asked from her warm corner.
Voldemort glanced at his familiar with mild irritation at his birth name, but had long given up on ordering – or even asking – her to stop it. :A letter for Potter.:
Nagini rested her head back on her tail coils. :So toss it in the fire.:
Voldemort snorted and considered the fireplace. :It's not that kind of letter. It's an apology and an... invitation,: he replied with distaste.
:Then why does it matter? Send it to him,: Nagini decided.
Voldemort shook his head. He loved Nagini, but emotions were not either of their strong points, and human matters were even more inconceivable to her than they were to him. He tried to figure out the best way to put his problem into snake terms, but the only one he could think of, he already knew her answer to: If you and another snake came across the same rat and the other snake was more hungry, what would you do? Hope you were faster.
But what if being faster wasn't in your character?
Voldemort sighed and looked back down at the letter. Human matters were so troublesome. And he didn't even understand why this was bothering him. The only other person Voldemort might consider talking to about the matter was Harry himself – and when had that happened? – because Harry wouldn't think less of him for being questioningly human for five minutes.
As if thinking about him summoned him, Voldemort felt the boy's presence in his mind. He glared at the letter one final time, then shot a spell at his office door to keep people away and sunk into his mind.
"Potter. What brings you here?"
Harry glanced at him from his red chair. "You woke me," he said simply, then glanced back at the fire, apparently willing to let Voldemort decide whether to dismiss him or sit down and talk.
Voldemort wasn't sure what to do, so he sat in his own chair and turned to the fire, hoping to find some genius in the dancing flames.
"I don't suppose I've gotten any mail from my friends?" Harry finally asked.
Voldemort blinked and turned to look at the teen, but Harry was still looking into the fire. He hadn't thought the boy knew that his incoming mail went through Voldemort's office, but Harry was probably used to the thought that his mail was watched. "One," he admitted.
Harry nodded. "Ron and Hermione?" he guessed.
Voldemort stood to get some tea, just for something to do. "Yes. They would like you to come visit them for the hols."
Harry hummed. "Well, that would be awkward. I don't think any of us has gotten the others gifts."
Voldemort looked at the teen incredulously. "You're worried about gifts?"
Harry smiled. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I'm also thinking it would be strange to visit with them again when we've had such a falling out." He glanced back at the fire. "I'm not sure, yet, how I feel about them. There were some... very hurtful words spoken before I left. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive them. Especially Ron."
"They spent an impressive portion of the missive apologising," Voldemort offered.
Harry smiled at him knowingly. "Did you mock them?"
Voldemort held a cup of tea out to the boy and retook his own seat, choosing to stay silent. He had, of course, mocked the teenagers and their angst at their own stupid choices.
Harry chuckled, taking the silence as an admission. "I'm sure they're very sorry, now that I'm working for what they consider to be the 'good' side again. And that's another reason I'm not sure I want to spend time with them." He sighed and took a sip of tea.
"There is no good and evil," Voldemort murmured, recalling what he'd once said to a much younger Harry in very different circumstances, "only power, and those too weak to seek it."
Harry inclined his head. "It took me a long time to understand what you meant by that, all those years ago, but over the past year, it's started to make sense. But Ron and Hermione..."
"They see the world in black and white," Voldemort offered when Harry was lost for words.
Harry smiled. "Yes. And I don't. I mean, I still see some white and some black, but I mostly see grey. They will see my article as a point for the Light and against the Dark. But it's not. It's a point in the favour of all of us – Light and Dark. I don't know that I'll be able to sit there while they congratulate me for something I didn't do."
"Expectations," Voldemort murmured, then shook his head. "You are welcome to remain here, if you prefer," he said, surprised at how easily the words came to him. "Both for the hols and once term starts up again."
Harry nodded into his tea. "I think I will. I like it here."
Voldemort just nodded in response, unable to voice the impossible joy that welled up at that acceptance.
Harry yawned and smiled a little sheepishly. "Ah. Well, I suppose I should be getting back to bed, then."
Voldemort inclined his head. "I apologise for waking you," he managed, with far too much ease.
Harry nodded and set his cup on a table that appeared at his elbow for it. "Not a problem," he said, then disappeared.
Voldemort remained in his mindscape for a while longer, sipping his tea and looking into the fire.
Harry sent back a gracious apology for his inability to spend Christmas at the Weasleys', saying he'd had previous engagements already and didn't wish to insult the person who he'd already agreed to spend the holiday with. He attached a couple quick things he'd magically thrown together for Ron and Hermione, as well the gift he'd found for Ginny and a few things for the twins, which he'd spent far more time on than Ron and Hermione's gifts. Once everything for them had been sent out, he read through his other mail from the article – the ones Voldemort hadn't burned – and responded to the ones that required it. By the time he was done, it was supper time and he left his rooms to find the Lestrange brothers, Antonin and Wormtail, who he often ate with.
He found them in the library, whispering together over the table he often frequented when he was doing homework or playing a game with one of them. When they didn't look up at his approached, Harry shook his head, then cleared his throat.
"Ah! Harry," Wormtail said, nervously twitching his hands.
Harry blinked at the trapped looks on each of their faced and shook his head again. "I don't want to know," he decided out loud, then asked, "Supper?"
They all looked relieved at his first comment and rose in agreement at his second. As soon as they started out for the kitchen, Harry found himself drawn into a discussion about his article by Antonin who, while he seemed to have a valid interest, also seemed to be trying to distract Harry, and yet was distracted himself.
Finally, Harry said, "Either tell me what's got you lot jumping at shadows , or stop it. It's disturbing. And if this is about your whisper session which I walked in on, I will tell you now that I honestly don't care."
The four Death Eaters traded looks and nervous laughter, but stopped acting so suspicious, so Harry let it be.
A couple of days later, Harry woke to a room done up in garland and bright Christmas lights. There was magical snow falling and little fairies dancing around, humming and chattering pleasantly. Harry couldn't help but sit in bed for a few minutes and smile. Any upset at not attending the holiday with the two people he'd spent his best Christmases with completely evaporated.
When Harry finally talked himself into climbing out of bed, he pulled on a dressing gown and went out into the small study which was connected to his bedroom. He'd thought he'd heard some quiet chatter in there and when he opened the door, he was met with shouts of, "Happy Christmas!"
Harry smiled around at the four friends he'd made at the base and the six or seven other Death Eaters he occasionally joined for a game of Exploding Snap or chess. "Happy Christmas," he returned, walking over to the open seat between the Lestrange brothers, which Rabastan was pointing demandingly at. "This is wonderful," he said honestly as he sat.
"We had a hard time figuring out how to make a Christmas better than one at Hogwarts," Wormtail admitted. "It's never the same without your friends, but we'd hoped this would help make up for the lack."
Harry shook his head. "What little there is," he said drily. "I got an invite, but I turned it down. I much prefer spending time here, at the base, anyway." He grinned at the various Death Eaters and they all returned the smile. "I can actually win at chess, here."
The ones who had been worse than Harry chuckled ruefully while those who hadn't played the complicated game with him or always beat him just kept smiling.
A light breakfast appeared, brought by a party of house-elves, and they all chattered happily while they ate. Once the food was cleared, they traded gifts around and Harry was only a little saddened that he hadn't thought to get gifts for anyone besides the Lestrange brothers, Wormtail and Antonin, but since the others hadn't seemed to expect anything, he decided not to worry about it.
Most of his gifts were wonderful and showed a lot of thought, but two gifts made him feel slightly disheartened; the bag of candy each from Ron and Hermione. He knew they'd scrabbled for gifts, just as he had. But at least he'd actually put thought into his gifts for them – a bookmark that was spelled to remember the information on the last six pages it had been used to mark and a set of Keeper pads that would help protect Ron more from the Bludgers. (Given, Ron almost always gave candy, but Hermione usually bought him something she thought would be useful, rather than something that would rot his teeth. She'd chosen sugar quills, at least, which could be used for more than a sugar rush. But still.)
But those two gifts were far outshone by the tens of other presents his other Hogwarts friends and the Death Eaters had gotten him. However, there was one gift which outshone them all, a Pensieve. And no one would admit to having given it to him.
Harry left the gift to ponder it more later and went to get changed into something a bit more acceptable for the large Christmas lunch, which was to be held in the larger dining hall, where the Death Eaters always shared supper on Sundays. Harry had been told that many families would also be there, so Harry would finally have some people his own age to speak with. Of course, Harry wasn't sure how much he'd want to talk to his fellow students, especially considering how the start of term had gone, but he was still unable to fully squash the part of him which was excited to be seeing some familiar faces from before his exile.
In the hall outside his room, he found Voldemort. "Happy Christmas," the teen said, still in a good mood from the morning's surprises.
"I take it this has been a good holiday for you," Voldemort replied without inflection.
Harry cocked his head to one side and looked up at the Dark Lord. "You could have joined us," he said, guessing why Voldemort was acting so aloof.
"Dark Lords do not join in on Christmas celebrations with their troops," Voldemort replied, turning to walk down the hall toward the stairs to the main floor.
Harry rolled his eyes and hurried to catch up to the disgruntled man. "Dark Lords are powerful enough that they can do whatever they please and no one will question them for fear of being cursed within a centimetre of their sanity."
Voldemort glanced at Harry with a faintest spark of amusement in his bloody eyes. "True," he allowed. "But that doesn't mean we go to such events."
"That would be the royal we," Harry muttered under his breath, then, louder, said, "You could have come in some form that's not your own, like you do in Diagon, right? No one would ever need to know."
Voldemort sneered. "Everyone would know," he snapped, pointing to his eyes.
Harry rolled his eyes again and grabbed Voldemort's arm to stop him, not the least bit concerned by the death glare the man shot at him for touching him. "You're just vain," he informed the Dark Lord, then performed his own magical half-glamour, half-transfiguration over him. (After the trip to Diagon, Harry realised it would be helpful to know the spell himself and had researched it while the Death Eaters were busy plotting.)
Long brown hair just touched shoulders which were lower to the ground then Voldemort was used to them being. He glanced down at hands which weren't nearly as long and graceful as he remembered and blinked eyes that were strangely shaped. "What di–" he started, only to stop himself at the quiet and very not authoritative voice that came out of his mouth.
Harry smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been practising," he said. "Peter helped me when he wasn't busy with their little plans, so I know it's okay to use on people. And now your eyes are blue."
Voldemort blinked again. "You changed my voice," he hissed in what should have been an angry tone, but which sounded merely disgruntled.
Harry nodded. "Of course I did. Everyone in this base knows your voice and the tones you use when you're about to kill an idiot. It would be silly to disguise your appearance, only for you to be found out when you spoke in anger."
"I sound so..." He floundered for a word for a moment, not sure how he felt at the feeling of being speechless. He finally settled on, "meek." Then he glared at the teen.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Be my guest for a day, okay? You can join it on the festivities and no one will watch their tongue or look nervous. They'll just be a little confused because I conjured you out of nowhere." He smiled. "Come on, Tom."
Voldemort twitched at the name, but admitted, if only to himself, that it would be nice to enjoy the Christmas festivities for once, instead of sitting above them and sneering when someone got up the nerve to offer him half a cracker to pop. "Oh, very well," he agreed. "But I will not be called 'Tom', Potter. Pick something else."
Harry rolled his eyes yet again. "Marvolo?" he suggested.
"...Morfin," he decided. "One or two of the Death Eaters know my real name."
Harry inclined his head, guessing that those were either Snape or one of the first Death Eaters, like Antonin. "Morfin it is," he agreed. "And you'll have to call me Harry, right? Because it seems silly that I would invite you to a Christmas party when you insist on calling me by my last name."
Voldemort tried a sneer, but he wasn't sure how effective it was, since they never phased Harry anyway. "Gryffindors," he muttered, thoroughly displeased with the mildness of his disguise.
Harry chuckled and grabbed Voldemort's arm in the same manner he might have once grabbed Ron or Hermione's arms and led the disguised Dark Lord, muttering under his breath the whole way, to the dining room.
"Harry!" Rodolphus called out, and the teen wound through the crowd that was filling the hall to where he could see the taller brother's arm waving wildly.
Harry completely ignored the various sneers and disgusted looks he still got from some of the Death Eaters, but Voldemort was a little surprised at how hostile his people still acted towards the Boy Who Lived when their Lord wasn't there to curse them for the transgression. From Harry's lack of reaction, Voldemort got the feeling that he'd been missing a lot from his seat at the top of the table.
"Who's this, then?" Rabastan asked of Harry's guest when they finally broke through the crowd to where Harry's four Death Eater friends stood near the head of the table.
"This is Morfin," Harry said with a grin. "We ran into each other just outside and I invited him along. You don't mind, do you?"
The four Death Eaters sighed and shook their heads, three of them quietly muttering, "Gryffindors," under their breath. Wormtail answered for all of them by saying, "Of course not, Harry. Welcome, Morfin. I'm Peter."
Voldemort nodded to each of them in turn as the other three men who served him introduced themselves. He'd known Antonin in school, so knew what he was like on a more personal level, and he'd seen enough of the Lestrange brothers when they didn't mind his presence that he knew what they were like when he wasn't around. But Peter was so brave when Voldemort wasn't around, and the Dark Lord was surprised at how very much like a Gryffindor the animagus was.
The four Death Eaters and Harry all took seats, Harry waving Voldemort to sit next to him. The Dark Lord just sat back and listened as the five traded jokes back and forth and challenged each other to the various games they played. It seemed so very surreal to Voldemort.
The strangest part was when Voldemort walked into the room and glared at the Death Eaters who scurried out of his way before making his way to his seat at the head of the table.
As the Death Eaters and their families slowly found seats, Harry leaned over next to the disguised Voldemort and asked, "You have a time turner?"
Voldemort was somehow unsurprised that the boy knew of the device. "Of course I do," he muttered. "I never would have allowed this insanity if I didn't. The meal doesn't start without me."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I should stop being surprised by your ego," he said half to himself and Voldemort sneered. "You don't feel left out, do you?" Harry asked, looking faintly worried. "I know we've been sort of off in our own silly world..."
Voldemort sighed and flicked Harry's forehead, getting an amused look out of the boy. "P– Harry, I don't care to join in your inane pratter."
Harry grinned at him, then looked at Rodolphus, who was sitting on his other side, and said, "I think Morfin feels left out."
"I do not!" Voldemort snapped. Or tried to snap. He mentally cursed the mildness of his disguised voice.
Harry just smiled ever so innocently while Antonin, who had chosen to sit on Voldemort's other side, drew him in to a discussion about some magical theory books he'd just read. Voldemort, of course, had read the books before and found himself getting drawn into a lively discussion on the dangers of side-along apparation.
Next to him, Harry silently cheered. Mission accomplished.
After lunch, Voldemort got dragged off to a continuation of the Christmas party Harry had woken to. When he tried citing his need to attend the lunch as Voldemort, Harry said, "And eat a second lunch? Come on. You barely manage enough food for me, stunted in growth as I am. No, I think you'll come with me now and, when we start wondering about supper you can leave. Anyway, time turners have a max of twelve hours, unless you've enhanced yours, which I bet you have. You don't need to leave yet."
Voldemort had to admit that the teen had a point, so he let Harry lead him into the boy's rooms and sat through a much more lively party than he'd attended since Slug Club. Even Severus' attendance – he'd been invited by another party-goer at the lunch and had accepted, surprising everyone but Voldemort, who was well aware of Severus' love for Harry's mother and his debt to the boy's father – hadn't dampened the excitement.
Voldemort was, by no means, a social person, but Harry wasn't the most social creature, either, so they spent a great deal of time standing off in one corner and speaking with the people Harry knew best at the party, while everyone else talked loudly in groups elsewhere.
Eventually, Severus came over to their little corner. Voldemort and Harry were alone at the time, as both Lestrange brothers had been pulled away to face down one very disgruntled Bellatrix and both Peter and Antonin had found other acquaintances to speak with.
"Potter," Severus said, glancing curiously at Voldemort, who he'd, no doubt, observed spending time with Harry the entire afternoon and was wondering who he was.
Harry inclined his head. "Headmaster. Are the Slytherins behaving themselves?"
Severus sneered. "As much as ever. Although, I dare say your article this past week will embolden your fellow Gryffindors into acting stupid and drawing them into fights in the hallways."
Harry shrugged. "Not my problem," he said.
Severus shook his head. "No," he agreed, "I don't suppose it is. You won't be returning to Hogwarts for the spring term, then?"
Harry shrugged again. "I prefer it here, personally. Both because of the people and because I learn more." Severus glanced curiously at Voldemort, and Harry chuckled. "Sorry. Professor, this is Morfin. Morfin, Professor Snape. The Dark Lord made him headmaster of Hogwarts."
Voldemort nodded. "Yes, I know," he agreed.
Severus inclined his head, then looked back at Harry, having deemed the disguised Dark Lord as no threat. "And has He been treating you well enough?" he asked the teen, not needing to specify who 'He' was.
Harry nodded, a hand discreetly grabbing Voldemort's hand before it could pull out his wand and curse his Death Eater. "He's been fine. Took me Christmas shopping and everything."
Severus rose a disbelieving eyebrow at Harry and the boy offered him a cheeky grin. Severus snorted. "Very well. If he ever gives you reason to fear, you will be safe at Hogwarts."
Harry nodded again. "I doubt that will occur, but thank you, sir."
Severus inclined his head and walked away.
"How dare he," Voldemort seethed.
Harry rolled his eyes. "He owes my dad a life debt. I'm sure he's only offering because he's still paying it off," he said tiredly. "Merlin's sake, Tom, calm down," he added when the Dark Lord wouldn't stop glaring at the direction Snape went.
Voldemort hissed wordlessly and subsided. "Don't call me that."
"Stop acting like a Dark Lord," Harry shot back.
"I am a Dark Lord, you wretched brat."
"Not right now you're not."
Voldemort huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, because Harry had a point. And he never would have known that Severus was offering to protect Harry from him if he hadn't been here. Anyway, he knew the man had a twisted fondness for the boy because of his mother. It made sense that Severus would offer what protection he could, even at the cost of his own life.
Once certain Voldemort wouldn't go into a homicidal rage, Harry relaxed and knocked a knee against the table leg next to him. The table wobbled a bit and a stone thump made Harry glance over. He blinked at the Pensieve, which had subsided peacefully with the table. "Oh, yeah," he mumbled and picked the stone basin up to look it over again.
"A Pensieve?" Voldemort asked, looking over to see what Harry had picked up. "Who sent you that?"
Harry shrugged. "Haven't the faintest."
Voldemort motioned for the gift and, when Harry had handed it over, cast a quick series of spells over it. "Well, it's not cursed," he announced. Then he cast one last spell and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
Harry frowned. "What is it?"
Voldemort handed it back over to him. "This belonged to Dumbledore."
Harry grimaced and set the Pensieve back on the table. "Always meddling, even in death," he muttered. "Well, at least this time it's something useful."
Voldemort inclined his head. "You might find some of his own memories as ghosts of a sort from time to time when you use it."
Harry blinked. "Really? But it's empty."
"Of memories, yes," Voldemort agreed in the best form of his teaching voice that this body could manage. "But when a Pensieve has been used as much as I would guess this one has been, ghosts of those memories will remain in the stone. You'll be able to view them, once you've begun placing your own memories in there, but they will never be as clear as your own memories."
"Huh." Harry touched the pensive thoughtfully. "Perhaps this will answer some questions."
"Or provide you with new ones," Voldemort replied drily. He had little trust that anything useful would come out of those ghost memories.
"As long as those questions aren't further about myself, I don't really mind," Harry said, then grinned.
Voldemort rolled his eyes and glanced at the time. "It's almost time for supper. Am I released yet?"
Harry laughed. "Oh, I suppose. But, did you have any fun?"
Voldemort paused in the act of leaving Harry to his corner, considering the question. After a moment, he said, "I believe so," then walked off.
Harry nodded to himself. Perhaps Voldemort would pretend to be Morfin again, then. Harry had quite liked having him along.
A/N: The starting of attraction. Because everyone seems so ready for it. XP
Sorry for the delay. A minor case of writer's block coupled with a foray into the HP/FFX fandom kept me from all my fics for a while. But I'm back in the HP world and the writer's block and I are working on things. Perhaps another chapter will come soon. XD
~Bats ^.^x
Pro - The Real Prophecy / 1 - The Summer of Change
2 - A New Term ||| 3 - Confrontation ||| 4 - Betrayal
5 - The Wedding ||| 6 - The Light ||| 7 - The Dark
.
no subject
Date: 8/2/10 06:41 (UTC)smexattraction.And you know I didn't mind the foray ^^
lovely update
"I am a Dark Lord, you wretched brat."
Date: 8/2/10 11:52 (UTC)Re: "I am a Dark Lord, you wretched brat."
Date: 8/2/10 12:08 (UTC)Re: "I am a Dark Lord, you wretched brat."
Date: 8/2/10 21:02 (UTC)Yeah.... I started working on this chapter again a couple of days ago, 'cause I was like, I wanna write something. I should work on something that's half-posted, rather than starting something new. So I decided Broken.
love it!
Date: 22/11/10 00:20 (UTC)You're a really good writer, one of the best on FFN for sure, so keep up the good work :)
Re: love it!
Date: 22/11/10 00:44 (UTC)Cheers!
~Bats ^.^x