Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter universe.

"dialogue"
"mental dialogue"
"parsel"
"mental parsel"

AN: Stubborn stubborn chapter. The second half of this chapter gave me all sorts of issue. It was like trying to beat a tin can back into shape after it had been run over by a semi. I knew what it needed to look like, but it just would not come out right. Ah well.

Thanks as always to my lovely reviewers and everyone who follows my little corner of fanfic. Until next time folks.


It was late. Tom sat in his library reading a book and winding down from an exhausting day. He had spent much of the day finalizing plans with all the death eaters who would play an active part in the political arena during the next few months. The final battle was just over a week away and everything needed to be confirmed and last minute details solidified.

As a whole his death eaters were largely taken care of for the upcoming events. Some of the more troublesome and sadistic members had been obliviated of any sensitive information and were slated to be captured either during the battle or during the cleanup afterwards. They were unaware of this of course, but ultimately they were little more than canon fodder. The group consisted mostly of people who had joined for sport and the promise of power instead of any real true determination to see their society improved. They would be nothing more than a hinderance and he would not lose any sleep over their detainment.

The rest had been prepared as necessary. Most member's identities were still unknown to the populace at large. They would be going about their daily lives and send in monthly reports of any pertinent information unless otherwise called upon. They did not know the details beyond his plan to take a more subtle approach. They had been given instructions to continue sending in reports even if he should appear to fall. He had returned once before and this time had assured that his ambitions would be realized even in the face of another temporary absence. Or so they had been informed.

The true challenge that remained was what to do with his loyal followers who had gone to Azkaban after the last war and could not simply integrate back into society. They were almost as notorious as he was, but unlike him, their faces were well known to the public. He would not send them back, but he could also not leave them as they were. Perhaps he could have Potter consult those twins on a more permanent method of disguise. As minister, he should be able to falsify some identities easily enough considering the ministry's current state of disorganization.

Tom looked up at the sound of the door opening to see a haggard Potter walking in. Typically the energy surrounding Potter belied his appearance. It was easy to overlook how underweight and unhealthy the boy was beneath his constant motion and general disposition towards mischief. Tonight that was not the case.

Potter looked as worn and tired as he occasionally claimed he was. The contrast was so stark that Tom wondered how much of that cheeky demeanor the brat often wore was merely a front. While Tom could feel the boy's emotions when he focused on them, that did not mean that he could always fully interpret what they were. Potter remained as much an enigma now as he was when he first contacted the Dark Lord.

"Potter what has brought you here? It is unusual for you to appear so late at night."

Potter looked at him with dull eyes and tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. He sat down heavily in a chair across from him and replied, "I met with the greater part of the Weasley family today. It was not an easy conversation. Three years of absence is difficult to explain."

Tom narrowed his eyes at the boy, "How much did you tell them Potter?

Potter let out a halfhearted huff, "Not everything of course. However, they know me and they would not settle for some weak excuse. Especially not after we've been missing for so long. I couldn't just return in such a spectacular and public fashion without talking to them first. I owe them too much to blindside them like that."

"They don't know who you really are or that the battle is staged. They think it's a trap for Voldemort and they promised me that they won't try to interfere. Of course they wouldn't hear of it until after I told them about the prophecy. They very begrudgingly accepted to stay out of it after that. They also know that the current Lord Gaunt has been discreetly helping with the preparations and planning."

A faint glimmer of his usual humor entered Potter's eye, "As Lord Gaunt, you might find yourself under interrogation from an overly protective matriarch of a certain red headed family as soon as she gets a hold of you. She threatened as much anyway. I have no doubt that she'll follow through either. So look forward to that. I'm sure it'll be a grand time."

The humor was short lived though and Potter sent Tom a slightly accusing look, "At the very least, I managed to head off Ginny. She would have recognized your appearance after spending so much time with your horcrux her first year. You do look just like an older version of your sixteen year old diary self. Except the whole red eyes thing, but that's a giveaway in and of itself for entirely different reasons."

The boy fell silent after his explanation. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back tiredly. Everything in his posture spoke of exhaustion.

Tom narrowed his eyes while studying the figure across from him. Potter wasn't lying, but he was leaving something out. If that's all they had talked about then he doubted the conversation would have left the boy in such a state. Something else must have happened.

He pressed, "How can you be sure she will remain silent? Even if most don't believe her, we cannot afford the doubts such an accusation would plant in the minds of others."

Irritation and guilt flashed across the other's face, "I know because she no longer remembers."

Tom raised his brows in surprise, "You obliviated her Potter? With as abysmal as Severus says you are in the mind arts, I would have thought you would avoid such courses of action."

A dark look stole over Potter's face, "Normally you'd be right, but I've had plenty of practice with that particular spell. I'm not happy about it, but she never would have let it go. You really did a number on her, you know. I only removed the details of what you look like so I didn't need to change much. It should just be a fuzzier image now. She barely saw you in truth, but those kind of impressions tend to stay with a person."

Tom commented with a vaguely impressed tone, "The Boy-Who-Lived skilled at obliviation. I never would have expected to discover that. It might not be classified as dark due to its usefulness in maintaining the statute, but best make sure it doesn't get out that you would manipulate the minds of even your close friends Potter. Careful, lest you tarnish that Gryffindor Golden Boy image of yours. Your public would be most disappointed."

Tom was confronted with the coldest glare he had ever seen from Potter.

The boy responded with hissed venom, "The public sheep can go choke on one of Dumbledore's lemon drops for all I care. The golden boy was as much a farce as any other title thrust upon me and you know that perfectly well. They held me up to an impossible standard before I ever stepped foot in Hogwarts. When I failed to meet their expectations or did something outside of their views of acceptable they turned against me without a second thought."

He gave a humorless smile with far too many teeth, "I was twelve when they collectively reviled me for speaking Parsletongue. I was shunned by the entire student body and the staff did nothing to intervene. I won't even start on the reactions of my fourth and fifth years. I shudder to picture what would have happened had I let the hat sort me into Slytherin like it wanted to when I was only eleven and had known I was a wizard for barely a month."

Green eyes bored into red, "I am long past the days of striving to meet their impossible standards. I am not a messiah, not a savior, not Merlin incarnate. I refuse to be a martyr for a people who will not fight for themselves. Do not fall into the same trap Tom and believe me to be anything other than human."

It was ironic that in that moment Potter had never looked more inhuman to Tom. Those Avada colored eyes almost seemed to glow in the low lighting of the library at night. His hair faded into the shadows with no discernible edges. For a moment Potter looked timeless, neither old nor young, yet at the same time ancient.

The impression was fleeting. In the span of the shortest moment, Potter was back to looking tired, worn, and agitated and Tom almost doubted that he had seen anything at all. However, he was not in the habit of questioning himself or allowing his mind to play tricks. He filed away the image for later inspection.

He also grudgingly acknowledged that he had perhaps pushed a bit too far with his comment. Potter's emotions had been a maelstrom of negative feelings since he arrived, not the least of which was self loathing. He came in already on edge and Tom had admittedly been somewhat callous in his statement. Although he had known that Potter held no love for his fame, he had not been aware just how deep the resentment of his status in their society ran.

He did not outwardly react to Potter's outburst except to quietly summon Nimsey to provide them with tea. Potter was obviously not in the mood for much conversation so he returned to his book and left Potter to his brooding. The boy turned to stare absently into his full cup and the library lapsed back into silence.


The chimes of a clock striking midnight rang through the room. Harry visibly startled at the sound and came back into himself. He had let himself get drawn into the comfortable atmosphere, the quiet, and his own thoughts. His frayed nerves from earlier had settled some and he no longer felt so strung out.

Having company that didn't badger him for answers or ask about his feelings while he tried to sort himself out was admittedly a nice change. He loved Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't deny that he felt much calmer now than he generally did after they tried to help. He looked back down into his empty cup, he didn't remember drinking it, and felt a bit guilty for snapping at Tom earlier.

"Sorry."

Harry watched the man slowly pull himself out of his book. Tom turned to him with a tiny hint of confusion, "Pardon?"

Harry looked to the side, "Sorry. For snapping at you earlier. I was in a poor mood and took it out on you."

Tom raised an eyebrow at him, a look of amusement crossing his features, "Potter I have cruciod people for less than catching me on the wrong end of a foul mood. I am hardly going to go wallow in self pity and hurt feelings because of your little tantrum. I'm almost offended that you think me so susceptible to your dramatics."

Harry spluttered for a moment. Was the git was trying to be comforting or condescending with that? He sighed. Knowing Tom, it was probably both. Stupid Slytherins and their roundabout ways and backhanded tactics. It irked him even more when he realized that he actually felt a bit better.

He glowered petulantly, "See if I try and be nice again."

If anything Tom looked more amused than he had before. Harry's scowl deepened. He tossed his mind around for something, anything, to change the subject with. A stray thought flitted through his mind and he latched onto it.

"Why do you have a grandfather clock anyway? I can't really see a wizarding household having much use for one. Also how did I not know you had one? I've never heard it here before."

Tom sent him a knowing look at his abrupt subject change, arrogant sod, but he followed along with the new topic, "As you are aware this house belonged to my father's side of the family who were muggles. The clock was already here when I moved in. As much as I generally despise them as a whole, I will admit that muggles have the occasional individual capable of ingenuity and art. Grandfather clock's happen to be one such invention that I can appreciate. I find the chimes soothing."

"As to why you did not notice before now, the room is silenced from the outside. The clock can only be heard while inside the library itself."

Well that made sense. The information about Tom appreciating something muggle wasn't as surprising as it would have been a few months ago. Harry had noticed that Tom actually utilized a few muggle items during the day to day. The enchanted manila folders being only one example. Even his library had a fairly comprehensive selection of many of the classics of muggle literature.

Harry didn't share the view on muggles as a whole, but he understood where the personal resentment stemmed from. The difference between them lay in that Tom faulted them for being muggle and Harry faulted them for being human. He doubted that being wizards would have made the Dursleys better people after all. His aunt would have found different reasons for her jealousy and his uncle would probably have been a male version of Umbridge. He mentally recoiled at that comparison. His uncle in a fuzzy pink cardigan was not a pleasant image.

A bit more surprising than the knowledge that Tom could appreciate anything muggle, was to hear the man admit it out loud. Something that could possibly be attributed to the late hour. Harry paused in his thoughts. It had finally sunk in that it was after midnight. He had come by rather late and he was probably lucky Tom had still been awake. For some completely unfathomable reason, he just couldn't picture the man being a ray of sunshine if he was suddenly pulled away from his sleep. Yes he decided, he was very, very lucky Tom had been awake.

Harry stood, "I should go and probably attempt sleep or at least pretend to sleep. You should probably get some sleep too. I don't want your death eaters to come blaming me for you being extra grumpy and curse happy due to fatigue."

He considered a moment, "Unless it's the rat. In that case, go crazy."

Tom actually rolled his eyes at him. Now Harry knew the man must be tired. Or possibly Ragnorak was starting and they would all be eaten by a giant snake in short order. Tom's more causal mannerisms occasionally slipped through his dark lord facade, but eye rolling was a shocking new development for the normally reserved man. His bet was on the world serpent eating them.

He decided a tactical retreat was in order, else he be accused of starting the apocalypse, and made a beeline for the library exit.

"Potter."

Harry froze in place like he had just been caught out of bed after curfew at school. He hesitantly turned back to Tom only to see a small object come flying towards his face. He reflexively caught it and realized it was some kind of small package.

He looked back at Tom, but the man was already returning to his book. Tom spoke dismissively, "Congratulations on surviving to see twenty brat. Now leave."

It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall that the meaning of Tom's words clicked in his mind and Harry remembered the date. July 31st. His birthday.

He snorted, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. Slytherins.


Severus was unnerved. They had gathered once more in Minerva's office to finalize the plans for the battle in two days time. Everything was prepared. The dark army was mobilized and awaiting their Lord's command, the Order had been 'tipped off' about the large attack that was being ordered, the ministry was to be called in at the last minute to provide witnesses if nothing else. None of this had Severus worried. No what had Severus so on edge was the almost gleeful amusement practically radiating off the dunderhead sitting to his left.

That look on Potter's face never bode well for anyone. With the possible exception of Potter himself. Minerva simply looked at the boy with fond amusement. She had not spent enough time around this new Potter to recognize the danger signs. She was probably drawing connections to the many times the boy's blasted father had been called to her office after yet another worthless prank. He almost envied her the blissful ignorance. Instead, he took some small consolation in that the Dark Lord seated on Potter's other side was watching the boy with equal wariness.

Ever the meddling fool, it was Dumbledore that made the mistake of querying over the brat's obvious delight, "Harry my boy, may I ask what it is that has you in such high spirits this day?"

Severus caught a flickering scowl cross Potter's face as he glanced towards the portrait. However, he quickly regained his gleeful light as he returned his gaze to it's previous position. A position that Severus belatedly realized was aimed precisely at a very specific object. He inwardly groaned as it registered.

"Hey Tom! How do you feel about being killed with Gryffindor's sword? The same sword that has been imbibed with the poison of Slytherin's own basilisk!"

A far too bright smile that simply oozed wicked amusement stretched across Potter's face as he turned towards the man in question and cheekily chirped, "Just think of the poetic justice! The papers will eat it right up!"

It was a true test of his self control to remain impassive in his chair. He had the strong and regrettably familiar urge to try and strangle that cheery demeanor right out of the imbecile. The Dark Lord had closed his eyes in a sign of practiced resignation and was massaging his temples. Minerva had gained a wide eyed shocked look that Severus derived dark satisfaction from. Serves her right to think Potter could be anything resembling normal.

These moments with Potter would be far less painful if the outlandish suggestions he often made weren't also decent ones. If he could vent his frustrations with mocking the boy for his idiocy, he would have saved himself all those headache draughts. As much as he hated to admit it, the brat was right. He could picture the headlines. Boy-Who-Lived triumphs over Slytherin's heir with Gryffindor's own sword on Hogwarts grounds. The public would eat it up faster than a ravenous dragon would consume a goat.

Potter hopped up and grabbed the sword from the shelf. He looked down at in in thought for a moment before giving a decisive nod and returning to his seat, sword and hand.

"Potter you are the last person I would entrust a sharp, deadly weapon to. Especially a weapon that is coated with the most potent snake venom known to man. Do not so much as think about coming near me with that or I will not hesitate to cut off the hand holding it in the name of self defense."

Potter looked at him in mock affront, "Why Professor, it sounds like you doubt my skills with the sword! I'm hurt. Don't worry I think I figured it out well enough in my second year. Pointy end through whatever is trying to kill me. I'm practically a sword master already."

Potter grinned madly at his declaration. Severus was not convinced and kept his hand on his wand just in case the idiot boy tried anything.

Potter chuffed a laugh and lightly stroked the pommel turning to looked at it in thought, "In all seriousness though it makes sense to use it. The Headmaster only defeated and then captured Grindlewald and I was an infant for Voldemort's first demise. With things as they are, the public won't settle for anything less than Voldemort's death. However, that puts me in a precarious position. While nobody is likely to protest me actually killing the man, they might have issues with the method I use to do it."

He looks back up and his expression is serious, "If the Boy-Who-Lived were to resort to the killing curse or any magic classified as dark it could potentially backfire on us. You can't blame an infant for killing somebody, but you can blame an adult. They'd probably still heap praise on me for doing their dirty work and it's possible nothing would come from it. However, it's also possible they would finally realize that I'm not their perfect savior and there might be consequences of that knowledge."

"On the other hand I use the sword of Gryffindor. It's almost the picturesque storybook ending. No questionable magic involved. The heroic Godric Gryffindor's own sword that I personally pulled from the sorting hat itself to protect Hogwarts. I won't have murdered somebody. I will have vanquished a great evil. I will be practically above reproach. The embodiment of their image of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Potter sat back in his chair and watched them while his words filtered through their minds. That is what Severus found so utterly frustrating about the boy. When did that idiotic brat learn to make even the most absurd suggestions sound like perfectly reasonable common sense? It was infuriating that even Severus himself had come to expect sound reasoning lurking behind what should otherwise come off as inane prattle. Why couldn't Potter just start with the explanation and save them all the dramatics?

Severus would be glad when his part in this was over. He was going to hide himself in his quarters and stay as far away from the migraine inducing nuisance as he could manage. He would leave the Dark Lord to put up with Potter. Severus would occupy himself with his potions research and ruthlessly shove away any thoughts remotely related to the menace. He would rather be teaching Hufflepuffs than deal with Potter's special brand of rational craziness.

Tom glanced at Severus. The man appeared to have drawn further into himself if that was possible. He quickly dismissed the thought in favor of considering Potter's proclamation. He personally found the idea of Lord Voldemort being felled by an object such as Gryffindor's sword somewhat distasteful. However, he also conceded that Potter had a point. It would perfectly fit the image of the righteous hero swooping in to save the day.

The plan had it's downsides of course. It would eliminate much of the perceived moral grayness out of the conflict. The stigma of dark versus light and good versus evil would inevitably be enforced in the minds of the public. This would have happened to some extent anyway. Especially considering the public still believed the boy to be the Chosen One even if he had been missing for three years. Which meant they would also look to Potter to define where those lines are.

He slowly nodded, "Yes, this could work. We will need to tread extra carefully to reign in the backlash against anything labeled dark, but with some well placed interviews it should be manageable."

"Yes well," The headmistress interjected, "be that as it may, how are you going to make it look like you are fighting and killed? I somehow doubt that you are actually going to allow Mr. Potter here to stab you with a sword of all things."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her disinterestedly. This part had actually been one of the easier aspects to arrange.

"Using a ritual, I created a golem in the image of Lord Voldemort. My temporary vessel before my resurrection was actually modified from this method. Although it suffered some ill effects due to not being made from my own flesh and Wormtail's general incompetence. I digress. As I demonstrated with Quirrell I have something of a talent for possession. I will simply possess the golem and fight Potter that way. I will be hidden nearby and will make an appearance as Lord Guant once I return to my body to help procure the rest of the death eaters."

Potter dryly replied, "Only you would talk about creating a golem and not just controlling it from a distance, but casting powerful magic through it like it was as simple as levitating a feather. Do you have any idea just how skewed your concept of difficult is?"

He glared at the brat, "Like you are one to talk Potter. You stumble your way through complicated magics accidentally and don't even realize that it should have been near impossible unless somebody bothers to tell you."

Of course Potter became indignant at that, "That's not true-"

Tom didn't even give him a chance to protest before he interrupted, "The Patronus at thirteen for one. No fourteen year old should be able to throw off the Imperius like you did. Don't even get me started on the Raven Incident."

Potter groaned in exasperation, "Those were all extremes circumstances. Besides I don't think it warrants being called an incident. I told you I had been working on it. It wasn't that much of a stretch. It didn't even work completely."

They had had this argument multiple times now, but Tom was not going to back down, "It shouldn't have worked at all! That's not something you are supposed to be able to just force and then complete at the rate you did. Generally when something like that happens it's a setback. It went badly the first time so your instincts automatically catalogue it as dangerous. That should make it more difficult to achieve not easier."

Potter just stubbornly crossed his arms and glared, "I'm not the one who considers complicated ritual construction as something akin to a recreational pastime."

Dumbledore's portrait did not know when to give up. Apparently that last comment was simply too much for him to overlook, "Harry, surely you realize how dark the magic Tom is using is? Both the creation of golems and possession are highly dangerous and illegal. You cannot condone such a thing."

Potter flatly replied, "I looked over that golem ritual and I don't really see the problem with it. It doesn't require any kind of sacrifice beyond their own blood the castor provides in order to give the magic direction in shaping the form. It doesn't work if you try to use somebody else's blood. It could be used for some questionable things sure, but the magic itself isn't inherently evil."

"Also Headmaster you're being a bit hypocritical. From what I understand possession is part of the mind arts and just an extension of legillimancy. I don't see how a skill that you yourself put to use suddenly becomes dark magic when taken a step further. I agree it should be strictly regulated and if people are caught trying to possess other people against their will there should be severe consequences. However, the old Druids used to possess animals for scouting and the like. There are plenty of applications where it is useful and benign."

Harry shrugged, "Blanket banning whole forms of magic is just stupid. Even if it wasn't, Tom's a Dark Lord. Even if I did agree with your definition of dark magic, I would hardly expect a dark lord to not utilize it. That would be like expecting you to not eat lemon drops just because I thought Gummi Bears were the better candy."

Dumbledore looked both resigned and disappointed. Tom wasn't sure at what exactly. He felt there was more to it than Potter's stance on the nature of magic. It didn't take an observant mind like Severus' to figure out that Potter had strayed from the man's carefully plotted path, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. There was a rift between them that wasn't based on Potter's newly revealed political stance.

Not that it mattered. Dumbledore was nothing more than oil and canvas and memory now. They had a battle to prepare for and a new world order to herald in to the wizarding populace. Two more days and all their carefully laid plans could be put to motion. Britain had no idea what was in store for them.