Chapter: 33

A/n: I can happily say that this is the chapter before the storm. Meaning? Only a few chapters left. I don’t know- maybe three? And considering I have spring break next week, I’m sure I can finish it then.

Enjoy the chapter- it’s a long one- probably the longest I’ve written so far.

Thanks for the reviews And sorry for the late update and bad grammar. I’m rather tired to catch everything…

Chapter Thirty Three: I Will See You Screaming

Voldemort stared at the dementors through lowered lids. On the outside, no one would be the wise to his uncertainty, his slight fear. Instead, he appeared calm- almost bored. “My Lord?” one of the Death Eaters questioned, staring up at the swirling dementors. “What would you like us to do?”

Crimson eyes turned away from the dementors and out into the sea. Blood stained the water, giving his stomach an ugly twist. Harrison had yet to arrive. With a swish of his cloak, he snapped at attention, sneering at the Death Eaters, werewolves, and vampires. “Those of you who are able to fight split up into two groups.” He didn’t pause in his orders, but the minions all scrambled on deck, hurrying to follow the orders. “I want those of you who are capable to cast the Patronus spell on the right.”

Four. Four wizards who could cast a successful Patronus.

Voldemort hissed in displeasure, narrowing his eyes. “Fools,” he took an advancing step forward, watching as they seemed to shrink at his proximity. “I want two even groups. Quickly.” The Death Eaters hurried to even out the two groups and before they knew it, Voldemort was urging them off the boat. “Bring Lord Malfoy back successfully.” He turned his back on the group of diving wizards and faced the other group, motioning them stand at the ready.

They looked uncertain as they shakily stood on the deck, pointing their wands toward the sky.

Ignoring them, Voldemort turned his back on his followers and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tried to block out the approaching dementors. Instead, he focused on his Match. Harrison. He had focused intentionally on his Match a few other occasions, sometimes to spy on him, sometimes to look after him. At the moment, he saw through his Match’s eyes as he battled against the Ministry fools.

“What are you doing?” Harry murmured, feeling his presence. “Why haven’t you left yet? I’m holding them off for you to escape.”

“You must be a fool to believe I will leave you in their hands.” Voldemort hissed angrily.

Harrison stayed silent, fighting off three Ministry members at once. “The dementors, I can feel them approaching…” Harrison’s breath was coming out muffled. “Use me as a conduct, Tom. I trust you.”

Voldemort hesitated, feeling Harrison’s magical core. It thrummed and lured him, tempting and enticing him. Harrison, his Match, so powerful, so addicting…. “You’re certain?” He had never taken Harrison’s magic before and used it for himself. It was possible, with their status of being Match’s, but it had to be given freely.

Without words, Harrison pushed at him, urging him to share his magic, his abilities. Immediately, Voldemort could feel the swell of emotion inside his body. He choked, never feeling anything like it before. The raw emotions of happiness of joy… it was never felt by him. Not like this. Subtlety, yes, but never like this. Tearing from Harrison’s mind, he kept his mental grasp on Harrison’s magical core and Seer.

The dementors hesitated, feeling the emotional waves from Voldemort.

Raising his wand, Voldemort shut his eyes once again, feeling a raw emotion of love, lust, affection.

And then the memories assaulted him.

He clutched the small body beneath him, shuddering from the pleasure and desire. Startling green eyes stared up at him, full of trust and affection. Small hands grabbed his face, bringing him down for a breathless kiss.

The memories, they were all Harrison. And they weren’t all of making love. No, they were full of arguments and hate… but every one of those memories were filled with such emotion. His own emotions.

Twirling his wand in the air, he murmured, “Expecto Patronum.” With his memories and Harrison’s Seer inside him combined, he felt a brilliant burst of power escape him and out his wand. Snapping his eyes open, he met eyes with startling green.

The beautiful figure reached out to run his fingers down Voldemort’s cheek before confronting the dementors. Voldemort watched the angelic figure chase off the dementors, every last one of them. As soon as the dark figures flew away from Azkaban Island, a large explosion erupted from the sea. Death Eaters, who had been watching the Dark Lord in amazement, all stumbled- losing their balance.

Voldemort whirled around, his magical grasp with Harrison disappearing. The silver Patronus of his lover dissolved in mid air.

Something was not right.

--SSC--

Harry grinned manically as the blood stained the water. So easy… and so fun…

His body slumped slightly as he felt Voldemort drain his magic and use his Seer. Of course, he knew and accepted that it would happen, but he wasn’t prepared for the oncoming attack from the Ministry.

With a raging yell, three Unspeakables attacked. And as soon as they attacked, Voldemort used his magic, successfully making him vulnerable to their onslaught. A spell caught his bicep and ripped a good wound deep in his skin while another cut deeply in his chest. It burned. The salt water and the blood… Merlin.

Tipping back his head, he gave a pained scream. Subconsciously, he was aware of Tom’s success with the dementors. They had fled the proximity once again. And subconsciously, he was also aware of the fact of approaching Death Eaters.

Greyback’s claws were out, easily shredding his enemies. Knowing the werewolf, he was probably disappointed he wasn’t able to taste the blood of his enemy through the Bubble Head Charm. His amber eyes were glowing in the dim sea and as soon as Harry screamed out, the Alpha swung around, eyeing Harry.

The Unspeakables chuckled lowly, their wands already shooting more hexes with Harry’s hesitation. His whole body shuddered with the loss of blood and the wand between his fingers slipped from his grasp. Around him, the water was stained with crimson blood, obscuring his vision. It was fun when it was his enemies’ blood. But his… it looked horrible. His magic lashed around him, tearing at the water and toward the Unspeakables.

Greyback roared, swimming toward the three enemies and pouncing on one. Flesh broke from the light wizard as the Alpha wolf unleashed his vengeance.

“Malfoy, I’ll have your head.” Mad-Eye Moody growled, his body looking oddly amusing in the water. Harry grunted, the world spinning before him. Through lowered lids, he watched Mad Eye and a whole lot of wizards escape from the hole of the prison. They all had him in their sights…

He wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

With that last desperate thought, his magic tugged through the link of Voldemort and drained his Match’s own core. The amount of power was too much… it hurt…

Giving a desperate scream, Harry focused his magic onto the prison. And with a loud eruption, the tunnel leading out into the sea exploded. The bodies inside and outside were flown apart with the impact. But the bottom of the prison was not the only piece of building affected.

Because the foundation exploded, the rest of the prison seemed to shudder and tremble, on the verge of collapsing.

Harry didn’t get a chance to observe his damage, for a heavy piece of debris slammed in his head, knocking him out.

--SSC--

Greyback stirred, waking up to arms pulling at his body. He snarled, snapping to conscious. Above him, Death Eaters were trying to pull at his arms. Further above, he could see a boat rocking with the waves. “Come on, wolf,” the Death Eater grunted. “You’ve been buried alive.”

His body cut itself on the sharp rocks around him, making him realize the foolish wizard had been right. He had been knocked out by the explosion, by the avalanche of stone and rocks. Who knew how long he’d been out? Luckily enough, the Seer’s underwater charm was still in place over his mouth and nose.

He tugged his arm back, snarling at the Death Eater. “Get off me, fool.” The Death Eater stumbled back. As he should.

Full of aches and wounds, Fenrir pushed his body upward, swimming toward the boat. On the boat, he could smell his pack. His pack wasn’t the only smell he could sense. Thick headed wizards were on the boat along with the blood suckers. He felt a sneer deepen his lips. Vampires… the only reason he held himself at bay was because of Harrison. The pretty boy was a decent leader and he treated both him and his pack with respect and equality.

Fenrir truly believed Harrison was something else. Not the power hungry Dark Lord, not the one who used others to their own advantage, but a leader who stayed true to his word and protected his followers.

Not to mention the boy was simply beautiful.

If Fenrir didn’t have the Dark Lord breathing down his neck every time he was around Harrison, he’d make his own move. Who wouldn’t enjoy a few hours in the presence of an Alpha?

And to make this war even more interesting, his pack got to taste the blood of the enemies. There was nothing more satisfying then tearing those bastards to shreds. And after the war, he was certain the Moon Childe would grant his wishes in giving him his own territory. His pack would thrive and expand strongly.

Breaking the water, the magic around his face broke.

The first thing he saw was Black’s ugly mug. The mutt was huffing and puffing, staring into the depths of the water with a desperate look to him. “Greyback,” Black breathed, his lover, Lupin- the other mutt- was staring over his shoulder. “Wasn’t Harry with you?”

Fenrir allowed himself to be pulled up by his beta and pack members. Their presence soothed him, yet put him on guard. Because if he slipped, others would fight for the chance to claim Alpha ground.

The Dark Lord stood on the side of the boat, staring at him through snake eyes. Fenrir felt his lip rise. “You’re telling me he’s not on the boat?” He barked, looking around at the faces of the dark army. As far as he knew, Harrison would have been the only reason someone came back to get him. The others would have cared a less. “Put the charm back on me, I’ll go look.” He ordered Black.

Sirius fumbled for his wand and grey paler as the Dark Lord brushed past him. Before they knew it, the Dark Lord Voldemort dived gracefully into the crimson water. “Cast it, you mutt!” Greyback snarled, pushing at the fool.

Sirius bent down to pick his wand up, but the wand was taken by pale fingers. All eyes shot toward the figure of Lucius Malfoy.

The man looked like a pale skeleton, his glow and radiance- gone.

Cold silver eyes stared emotionless at Black and Greyback. His tatty grey prison robes washed him out considerably and the dark circles under his eyes gave his silver eyes an odd shine. His arrogance was lost. Instead, he appeared cold and impassive.

“Just find my damn son,” his voice was raspy as he cast the charm on Fenrir.

Greyback backed away, giving the man a glare. How dare that aristocrat-

Malfoy then cast the charm on Black and a few other wizards. “Find my son!” Lucius snarled, throwing the wand at hitting Black on the forehead. “Find him!” And Fenrir knew, the man was so very close to breaking.

The Death Eaters shrank back from Malfoy, both wary of his power and influence he held from both the Lords. Lucius calmly turned his back and sunk on the ledge of the boat. Underneath his robes, Fenrir could see the shaking legs- weak from the many months in Azkaban.

Fenrir pushed Black off the boat into the bloody sea, diving in after him.

--SSC--

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he gave a shocked breath. Eyes, so cold and shocked, stared down at him. Only when he realized his enemy was a dead corpse, did he allow himself to relax. Everything on him was sore and torn. He couldn’t move and his magic was only a small flame. He had overused his core in battle and it would take a few days to recuperate back to his old self.

There were bodies upon bodies on top him. Not only were corpses laying on him, but stones- rocks. He was having difficulty breathing with the weight on his wounded and torn chest. He groaned, closing his eyes.

Hopefully Tom had left. The Order was bound to be arriving shortly and he was positive the Ministry members who weren’t blown away were just as vengeful. Perhaps a few days from now, he would have enough strength to push the rocks off with his magic. Until then, he needed sleep… hopefully he hadn’t lost too much blood.

“Harrison,” he heard the voice. Keiran. “Harrison!” It was so far…

“Master Keiran,” Harry whispered; his voice hoarse and too quiet. He called for his Master, to the vampire. Hopefully the Assassin Hand could hear in the water as well as on land. “Keiran…”

“Over here,” it was a different voice. Merlin it was that damned fool… Tom.

Harry didn’t have the time to complain about his Match’s foolishness, for the weight on top of him seemed to lessen before the body on top of him was thrown off. He laid on the sandy bottom, staring into the crimson eyes of his lover. The Dark Lord held both their wand in his grasp, his own eyes searching Harry.

“Merlin, Harrison,” Voldemort murmured, scooping him up in his arms. Those arms… as sappy as it sounded, they felt secure. Harry nodded off, watching above as Greyback and Sirius came swimming down to them.

--SSC--

He was walking stealthily through the train station. There were no students, no wizards, no parents… it was desolate. The isolation sent him on edge and he gripped his dagger as a security blanket. The brilliant red train sat still, the engine quiet and whispering.

Harry frowned, not realizing what was happening. It was obviously a vision… but…

“Harrison.”

He whirled around at the childish whisper. And on the floor, near a pillar, sat a crouched form of Tom Riddle. He was an adorable child, looking up at him through wise and old eyes. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“You’re trapped here. Of course I had to come.” Harry found himself saying. “Let’s get you out of here and into another Horcrux.”

Tom’s dark eyes assessed him obsessively. The look made him shiver. It was difficult seeing such a stare on a little boy- around ten or nine. “I knew you’d come for me.” Tom gave a breathless whisper. “You foolish little boy.” He went on scolding, but a small smile tugged the edges of his mouth. “Show me what damage you can do, my love. Because he’s right behind you.”

Harry whirled around, getting a brief glimpse of Dumbledore before he was lifted off his feet.

Harry blinked his eyes open, calm and collected. His thoughts were raging. What the bloody hell had that been? It was Tom, yes, but he was a small child who looked incredible weak and vulnerable. And Dumbledore was there, guarding over him. And he had mentioned bringing the small child into another Horcrux.

His stomach tugged painfully.

Tom was going to die.

A deep frown marred his features as he stared up at the canopy. But Tom couldn’t die. He had countless of Horcruxes… perhaps… perhaps that was the place he went to between worlds- between transformations. But why was Dumbledore there? No, he knew what the old fool was there for. He was making sure Tom couldn’t go back to the world. He was guarding over Tom, preventing him from entering another Horcrux.

Harry knew one thing. He needed to talk to Pythia. Somehow, Harry had to get between worlds…but how?

“You’re awake.” Green eyes turned toward the Assassin Hand. “You should still be resting.”

His surroundings appeared to be that of the camp. He was inside Voldemort’s tent, upon the bed he gave himself to his lover not too long ago. “How long have I been unconscious?” Harry grounded out, frowning at his voice.

“Only three hours, mind you.”

“Three hours too long, Master.” Harry replied, sitting up slowly. The deep cuts on his chest and arm were healed nicely. Nothing but soreness pulled at his muscles. “What were the casualties?” Turning back toward the vampire, he frowned at the intensity of the stare.

“The south side of the prison was destroyed. The remanding prisoners inside escaped… or attempted to, at least. The dementors came back after our departure, as did the Order and the Ministry forces reestablished. Luckily enough, our casualty wasn’t even near the number of casualties on the Ministry’s side. A good part is because of your explosion in the sea.” Keiran cocked his head to the side, his yellow eye intense. “You did a good job, apprentice.”

Harry grinned lightly, his feet hanging off the side of his bed. “Is everything alright?” Harry ventured. “You seem… distracted. And that’s not like you, Master. You’re always focused and clear to read.” His Seer reached out and touched Keiran. The vampire was feeling uncertain and his emotions were conflicting. They were hard to read, hard to see…

“Akira is still at large, he wasn’t at the breakout. Some of his assassins were, though.”

Harry grimaced. “That’s not all that’s wrong.”

Keiran stood up abruptly, brushing his gloved hands down his black attire. “You frightened me for a moment, Harrison. For just a moment…” Keiran paused, looking down. “I thought you had died.” The vampire looked back up at him. “But I had a feeling you were strong enough to stand against the attack. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

The two stared at one another, both silent.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Master.” Harry attempted to lighten the mood, feeling something twist in both his stomach and chest. “You taught me too well.”

“That I have,” Keiran agreed, his face closing up. “Your lover is eager to see you. He just recently left your side to attend to his army.”

Standing up slowly, Harry grabbed the heavy cloak at the end of the bed. “I’d better help him out.” He’d rather not appear weak and damaged to the rest of the army. Throwing his cloak on, he turned to see Keiran appearing hesitant, almost troubled as he stared at the bedside. Pursing his lips, Harry watched the vampire. “You know, Master… I never did thank you for everything you did for me. You are one of the only people I’ve trusted this much. Thank you for showing me that not everyone destroys such a fragile thing as trust.”

Keiran stayed stiff.

And then he became animated again. The vampire whirled around smoothly, appearing across from Harry within seconds. He laid a hand on Harry’s cheek, tilting his head slightly. “And I will do nothing to ruin that trust, Harrison. Nothing.” He said fiercely, as if he’d come to terms with something.

Keiran than let him go and escaped the bedroom. Harry stared at the vacant space in front of him, hoping beyond hope that Keiran understood his meaning. There was something wrong with Keiran. Whatever it was, he was debating on whether to act on it or not. And hopefully Harry had given him a good enough warning… a disguised warning.

Breathing deeply, Harry calmly exited the tent.

His lips quirked when he watched official Death Eaters bark out orders to the students. It appeared as if they were training the younger men and women, not allowing any room for failure. Standing there, watching, Harry was proud. They looked like a solid army, working together and trying their best to appear strong and unified. No, they didn’t try they did look unified. All of them wore dark cloaks of the Death Eaters and all of them had a mask attached around their necks.

The army looked strong and willing… willing…

“They were pathetic during the battle,” a voice hissed to his left. “I’m having them shape up a bit.”

“They were rather pathetic, weren’t they?” Harry murmured, watching as a few of his classmates were knocked off their feet for slacking. “Nonetheless, it was their first battle. They will do better next time.”

“With the help of the Death Eaters.” Harry smirked, looking up at Tom. Crimson eyes were hooded as they watched their army. Merlin… he was going to die… “You were foolish to do such a thing today. Stupid.” His words were so like his child’s form in Kings Cross. Harry refused to allow it to affect him.

“I could say the same about you, Tom.” Harry murmured softly, knowing the man was watching him from the corner of his eye. “You should have left without Greyback and I. The Order could have gotten there quicker and you all would have been sitting ducks.”

“But they didn’t show until we left, did they?” Voldemort pressed back. The Dark Lord’s arm slyly moved and cupped Harry’s thin neck. Soothing caresses were planted across the skin, branding him. “Alas, everything turned out to our advantage. We gained more followers and the light side suffered a major loss.”

“Not only that, but you cast your first Patronus. Congratulations, Tom.” Although he said it snottily, he was proud of his Match. And he allowed Voldemort to feel his pride through his Seer. The fingers around his neck tightened.

“Little minx,” Voldemort hissed out softly, crimson eyes warming. “You have a few eager guests in the recovery tent. I’d suggest you hurry and see them.”

“Hurry?” Harry grinned. “Why is that?”

The Dark Lord leaned down and ran a tongue down the shell of his ear. “I find it rather aggravating sharing you so much.”

Harry gave a hum, feeling his arousal heighten. “Well then, I’ll hurry back.” He left the arms of the Dark Lord, giving the man a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “And do me favor, Tom. Don’t push them into the ground. They need rest.” Voldemort sneered at the students.

“Perhaps,” the Dark Lord turned his heel and went to torture a poor soul he saw fit.

Rolling his eyes upward, Harry swept off toward the recovery tent. He knew who he was going to confront in there; countless of indebted survivors, countless of grateful werewolves and wizards… but only one father. Lucius. Harry’s lips thinned as he hesitated at the front of the tent. The man had suffered enough. There was no punishment Harry couldn’t think worse than a half a year in Azkaban, reliving his mistakes and wife’s death through the dementors.

Before he could enter, the tent flap moved aside, emitting Draco. His taller brother looked down at him, his silver eyes dull. “He’s changed.” Draco murmured.

“Does it surprise you, Draco?” Harry questioned, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“No,” the blonde shook his head and looked off into the distance. “It doesn’t surprise me. We’ve all changed since her death. Since the war.”

“We’ve all grown up.” Harry supplied.

Draco scoffed, shrugging his shoulders quickly. “I suppose you could look at it like that.” He brushed past Harry but paused a few paces. “She’s pregnant, you know. Pansy. She’s pregnant with your niece or nephew.” Harry remained silent, studying Draco’s forlorn face. “Take care of my child, will you? I know you’ve never asked for a child and you never wanted one. I’m not asking you to raise him or her. Just guide them.”

Silver clashed with green. “You aren’t going to die.” Harry spoke hopefully. “You won’t. Don’t think like that. You’ll be here when your child is born.” It was odd, knowing Draco was a father. Knowing he was an uncle.

“Did you See that, Harrison?” Draco seemed peaceful enough. He wasn’t throwing tantrums or walking away red in the face. Instead, he faced death ready. Draco smirked at Harry’s silence. “I didn’t think so.”

His brother turned to walk toward the other students his age. Despite their age similarities, Harry knew Draco was far wiser, far older in experience then the rest of them. “No I didn’t See you survive,” Harry spoke softly at Draco’s back. The blonde paused. “But I also didn’t See you die. Hold on to that hope, Draco. Survive for your child.” Before his brother could respond, Harry ducked inside the tent.

It was a magical extended tent. And rows upon rows of beds sat against the tent’s sides, allowing a long aisle down the middle. The beds weren’t all full, which was a good sign. Healers ran amongst the patients, easily taking care of the sick and wounded. Harry felt a strong burst of pride in his chest. This was his army. This was Tom and his army… and they were strong and willing.

Heads turned in his direction and Harry made certain his face was crafted emotionlessly. One by one, the patients stood up from their bed. Some of the struggled, but their determined faces held off the help. They all fell to their knees, bowing their heads in respect of Harry.

The sight took Harry aback. Most of the patients were werewolves from Azkaban, but there were a few wizards and vampires within the tent. And all of them were bowing in respect and submission.

Snapping himself out of his foolish daze, he took a couple strides inside the tent and down the aisle. “You may rise and return to your beds,” his voice was soft, yet commanding as he watched a few struggle to follow his orders. “I’m sure many of you understand what’s happening now. We have declared war on the Ministry, on the ‘light’ side.” Harry sneered the last word, eyeing the werewolves and patients. “They have imprisoned most of you because of your status. Because you are werewolves. Will you stand with a side that discriminates you? That throws you away in prison on whim?”

Countless of werewolves shook their heads, while others bowed their necks, mourning their lost beliefs. “I vow to you, that when we win this war, you will have just as much rights as the next wizard or witch. You will never have to fear being thrown away just because of who you are. We will overpower the light and return your honor.” He kept eye contact with many of the werewolves.

He caught sight of Lupin and Sirius. His cousin was sitting beside Lupin’s bed, watching Harry with a pleased air about him. “We will serve you willingly, My Lord.” Remus spoke up, lowering his chin. “I speak for everyone when I thank you for your dedication, for your willingness to free us.”

Murmurs of agreement and gratitude swept across the tent. Harry didn’t need to use his Seer to feel such appreciation. It was obvious from their expressions. Harry gave a sharp nod, his eyes landing on his father. “You may continue healing,” Harry hinted toward the stunned and motionless Healers. They unfroze, hurrying to do his bidding.

Harry dismissed the patients in favor of approaching Lucius. His father was on the last bed, leaning casually against his headboard. Azkaban had aged his father; it had stripped him of his elegance, his shimmer. Perhaps he would never gain his elegance back, or perhaps it would take time, but it pleased Harry. He was happy to see that, yes, his father had suffered. He had his revenge.

But that revenge was something even Harry wouldn’t have wished upon Lucius.

“My Lord Malfoy,” a woman’s voice whispered hoarsely. Harry hesitated, turning his head to stare at a blonde woman. Her sharp amber eyes told him she was a werewolf and the boy next to her bedside told him she was Matthew Jinkin’s mother.

Matthew, the boy with a head full of blonde curls and eyes a bright brown, stared up at Harry- full of admiration and pride. Harry shuddered to think that he was someone’s hero. Merlin. He had done too many good deeds today… yesterday… his whole bloody life. “Ms. Jinkins,” Harry acknowledge.

Her smile warmed him, reminding him painfully of Narcissa. “My son tells me what you did for him. You gave him hope…” Matthew looked abashed at his mother’s confession, his cheeks staining red. “I want to thank you for what you did for him and for me and my people. Thank you, My Lord.”

He reached over and ruffled Matthew’s curls. “You have a wonderful son, Ms. Jinkins. He expressed such an interest and determination in saving you, I wouldn’t have dared argued with him.” He winked at Matthew, the boy bowing his head.

“Thank you, My Lord.” Matthew whispered.

Harry grinned, feeling sick at his… sappy behavior. Although, he may complain about it, he enjoyed it at the same time. It was odd, having people respect him- having people look up to him. His whole life was spent trying to find his place in the world, trying to fit in. But now he realized he was never meant to fit in. No, he was meant to lead, to direct- to stand out.

He left the mother and son, approaching his own family on the other side of the aisle.

Lucius watched him approach, no doubt thinking on what to say- as Harry was. He stopped at the foot of the bed, assessing Lucius. “Father,” Harry murmured softly in greeting.

“Harrison,” Lucius whispered hoarsely, his eerie silver eyes shadowing over with pain. “Please, sit.” Harry gracefully moved to the side of his father’s bed, sitting down. “How are you feeling?” Lucius questioned, his eyes assessing his son.

How was he feeling? Dizzy, slightly nauseated, and his magic was shocked. Harry would give himself a few days to recuperate before he could cast magic without a wand. “I feel perfectly fine, father. And you?”

Lucius heaved a sigh, looking up at the tent to brace himself. “I’m sorry for what I did. Where we left off the last time we spoke to one another-,” he was true. His words were sincere.

Harry reached over and placed his hand on Lucius’ cracked and far from perfect hand. “I forgive you father. The past is the past. You suffered enough in the cell of Azkaban; I cannot condemn you any longer.”

Lucius’ face broke and he took Harry around the shoulders, embracing him tightly. “You have your mother’s spirit, son. I will never understand how I could sire such perfection, such purity. I don’t deserve another chance with you.”

“Perhaps not,” Harry slumped in the embrace, allowing himself to feel the arms of a parent around him. “But I am entitled to give you another chance, just because I love you. Just because you are my father.” Lucius tightened his hold on him, burying his face in Harry’s neck.

“You’re all I could think of in my hell. The mistakes I’ve made- the pain I’ve caused.”

Harry pulled away, seeing the emotional pain Lucius had gone through. Yet, Draco was right. Lucius had changed. There was an edge to his father, a dangerous glint. A glint one would see in a powerful wizard, ready to avenge the ones that had hurt his family. Harry allowed his hand to fall on his father’s sunken cheek, feeling the inner anguish. His Seer warmed his father, vanishing most of the pain- most of the damage. It wasn’t very difficult. The holes which were caused by Azkaban were filled with lighter emotions, banishing most the shadows.

Lucius’ eyes widened, his gaze landing on the Seer mark on Harry’s cheek. “The past is the past, father. You have another chance, don’t pass it up.” Harry stood, catching a glimpse of a dark skinned woman across the tent. Pythia. “Rest,” Harry turned back to Lucius. “Sleep without the nightmares, we need you on the battlefield.”

As he was leaving, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He turned to stare at his father. Lucius had his eyes closed, perhaps hiding the naked emotion behind closed lids. “Thank you, Harrison. Have no doubt that I will wreak havoc on the battlefield.”

Harry grinned, feeling the emotions Lucius was trying to hide through his Seer. He squeezed the hand on his wrist, a simple acknowledging gesture, and left.

Lucius didn’t deserve any more punishment. Harry’s past hatred of his father dulled significantly over the course of his assassin training and the war. Lucius was his last link to Narcissa, to a real parent.

“Took you long enough,” Pythia remarked, sitting calmly at the end of the tent. Her legs were crossed delicately and the aura around her screamed of grace and danger. “I’m sure you’ve come to ask me about the Inter Universitas?”

Harry stood stiffly. “How do you See so much?” Jealously curled his stomach. “Why do I See so little?”

Pythia opened her brilliant blue eyes, smiling lightly at Harry. “You are young yet. You need to bond longer with your Seer. It’s very common, Harrison, to improve as you grow older. But that is not important right now, what’s important is your question. You want to know how to travel between worlds, to the Inter Universitas. It’s the land between life and death. You want to save your lover.”

“I do,” Harry whispered. “How do I?”

Pythia smiled, her eyes closing again. “I have never told you of our speculation of the ability to travel between worlds. Seer are very powerful creatures, Harrison, you know as such. There were a few recorded incidents of past Seer traveling between planes. It’s a very dangerous road to travel, yet, your desire to succeed will be a helpful ally on your side. Seer are spiritual creatures, we emit spiritual emotions… it would make sense we can transfer our soul into the spiritual form, yes?”

Harry wondered at Pythia. The woman was engaging, her voice causing Harry to hang on to every last word. “But because the Light Lord is standing guard, waiting for your lover’s soul to approach the Inter Universitas, it is possible you may lose your soul to him as you fight for your lover. Your body would remain alive on this plane, yet, it would be in a coma state. Your soul would be gone.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Harry said surely. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save him.”

The Zabini goddess frowned, her eyes opening once again. With a commanding air, she stood up, towering over Harry. “You have been a very smart and bright student, Harrison. Just think on this. If Dumbledore succeeds in taking your soul, you will die. Not only that, but do you suspect the Dark Lord to sit by without you? He will go insane without his Match near him. He will destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t I do the same without him?” Harry wondered. “He’s my Match as well, I would go insane-,”

“No,” Pythia interrupted. “You are a Seer. You are able to live without your other half. And the Dark Lord would never be truly dead if you weren’t to rescue him. He would be stuck between worlds, his soul imprisoned, unable to escape. Never fully crossing between the land of living and the land of death.”

Harry remained silent, thinking of Pythia’s words. She was truthful. If Harry decided to save Tom’s soul from Dumbledore and failed, Tom would go insane with Harry’s death, risking everything in his insanity. But if Harry were to leave Tom there, he would remain trapped. Dumbledore couldn’t destroy Tom’s soul, because he had several Horcruxes linked on earth. And Harry wouldn’t go insane without Tom…

“Still, I find myself unable to let him go.” Harry whispered.

“Think on it, Harrison. And when you decide what to do, I’ll be near to guide you.” Pythia laid her hand on Harry’s Seer mark. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll assist you.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Harry bowed his head, feeling slight tingles in his mark. “But… how is Dumbledore not dead? How is he between worlds? He’s dead, I saw him die… does he have Horcruxes?”

Pythia cocked her head to the side, considering. “No, not exactly Horcruxes. He would never touch something as filthy as a Horcrux. Dumbledore was smart, Harrison. He knew, if he were to die, Voldemort’s Horcruxes would be forever in place. Because of that, he uses magic, magic that manipulates memories and fragments for just a small amount of time. You have to destroy the portraits and you have to destroy the memory of Dumbledore in the Inter Universitas. Then, and only then, will he finally be gone.”

“He never stays dead,” Harry hissed, sneering.

Pythia chuckled, running her fingers lovingly through Harry’s hair. “Think long and hard about your decision, Harrison.” She kissed his forehead, walking proudly out of the tent. Harry watched her go, feeling heavy with the knowledge of what was to come.

He followed her steps out the tent, looking toward the darkening sky. The Death Eaters were mingling about near built fires, eating and speaking amongst each other. Harry watched them interact in the shadows, taking special interest in the way the werewolves seemed confident enough to join with the Death Eaters. There didn’t seem to be any prejudice among the groups. They all had one common factor.

They were in war and they were striving to come out on top together. With the same goals in mind.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” Arms encircled him from behind, pushing his back into a thin chest.

“We did well,” Harry grinned. “Our army is ready.”

“I don’t think that’s on your mind.” The hands grew bolder as they pressed Harry into him. “You Saw something didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, I’m a Seer, aren’t I?” Harry turned in the arms, feeling his chest tighten as he gazed up at Tom. He grabbed the man’s face and slammed his lips on the taller man’s. Voldemort groaned in the kiss, backing them up into a tent behind them. They never broke the kiss and Harry took the lead and pushed Tom against the wall of the empty training center.

If Voldemort noticed his desperation and uncertainty, he didn’t say anything. He just kissed back just as intensely.

Harry allowed the Dark Lord to turn them, his own back meeting the wall rather harshly. He lost himself in the caresses and bites of Tom, closing his eyes in bliss. It was hazy, how they ended up fucking against the wall. Harry could only remember the intensity, the erotic sensation, and the brutal way Tom took him. Yet, even if it was rather brutal and rough, he was gentle and there.

His lips never left Harry and his hands grasped him possessively, affectionately.

Harry’s legs trembled around Voldemort’s waist as they both came, panting in each other’s face. “Who’s death?” Voldemort breathed in Harry’s face, still buried deeply inside his lover. “Whose death did you See? Mine or yours?”

Harry tightened his legs around Tom, his back anchored against the wall. “None.”

Voldemort hissed, pushing deeper inside Harry and slamming him against the wall. “Liar, I can see when you lie. If it’s your death-,” Voldemort broke off rather hoarsely, yet his face gave no emotion away. “We can create a Horcrux for you.”

Harry laughed, pushing at Voldemort’s chest and disentangling himself from the man. His legs were shaking as he put his weight on the ground. Voldemort held him up, keeping him caged between his chest and the wall. “I thought you’d never offer your help with my Horcrux.” Harry gave a shy smile. “I’d be honored to create one with you, My Lord. But I’m far too weak right now to create one. When you destroy Longbottom, I’ll create my own.”

Spidery fingers grasped his face, lovingly stroking it. “Then sleep and regain your sleep, Harrison. I do not want my consort weak on the battlefield.”

Staring into the crimson eyes, Harry knew, without a doubt, he would risk both of them in order to save Tom. “Everything will work out in the end, Tom.” He grasped the man’s face and peered up at his lover. “That you can believe.” He stood on his toes, pressing a gentle kiss to the man’s chin. “I’ll be waiting in bed for you.”

Voldemort reluctantly let him go. Harry adjusted his robes, flashing the man a snarky grin, before exiting the tent. That was… a brilliant fuck. Just what he needed. He had talked with the people he needed to talk with and secured the werewolves on their side. They would fight, he knew. Everything seemed calm and in favor of the dark. All except for Tom’s upcoming confrontation with Dumbledore.

But Tom would first need to die. Harry hoped he didn’t have to witness the death. It would be painful, seeing his lover fall; doubtless that he had Horcruxes at his disposal. The Dark Lord Voldemort never fell. His stomach churned with the ugly picture it would make.

Up ahead, an unlikely visitor sat at the outside of Voldemort and his tent. “Professor?” Harry smirked, staring at Severus Snape. “What are you doing here?” The Deputy Headmaster stood up, previously sitting nonchalantly on the ground.

He brushed his robes, clearing his throat at Harry approached. “I’ve been waiting for you to return. I’ve brought news of the Ministry and Order and your last blood replenishment potion.” Harry frowned at the steaming goblet in the man’s hands.

“My last blood replenishment potion?”

Snape looked mildly annoyed. “Yes, you lost a significant amount of blood on your excursion. I gave you a potion earlier, when you arrived at camp. But you left before I could give you your last dose.” Harry took the goblet, grimacing at the smell he knew to be the blood replenishment potion. “Drink it quickly, it goes down easier.” Snape watched as Harry drowned the potion. “I’m sure you’ve heard of your success on the Azkaban breakout?”

“Of course, Professor, I was there.” He threw the man a grin.

“Ah, well, the Order is frantic at the large number of casualties the Ministry lost.” Harry blinked slowly, feeling his exhaustion catch up to him. His magic sparked, but extinguished a moment later in defeat. “But, they have their hopes high with the presence of the boy-who-lived.”

“What?” Harry slurred, feeling his pulse quicken.

“Neville Longbottom, Harrison. He is in safe hands now.” The world spun and Harry took a staggering step backwards, falling to the ground.

“Why?” Harry mumbled, trying to stay awake. “Why did you do this? After all I did for you?” The potion… it was tainted with tranquilizers. He tried to stay awake, but the image of Snape kneeling down to pick him up was the last thing he saw.

“Tom!” He screamed, reaching out desperately for his other half.

And then he was unconscious.

Again.