Chapter 12: Darkness Reveals Plans Unfolding

Dismayed, Harry threw his bamboo wand against the wall of the Room of Requirement. It bounced off the marble masonry and clattered to the ground with only a whisper of a sound, indicating something Harry knew he should have been aware of earlier. Compared to his old holly and phoenix feather wand, the bamboo wand was much too light. It even felt that way in his hand. Casting spells with it made him feel like he wasn't using a wand at all. He drew his pine wand, which felt a little better, and drew a deep, calming breath.

"Easy does it," he told himself, trying to center his attention on the spell he was trying to cast. Closing his eyes and counting to ten seemed to help a bit as he imagined himself standing next to the far wall of the room. Willing himself to suddenly be next to the wall, Harry furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried to avoid apparating there on pure reflex. Feeling like he had a decently good grip on his mental image, Harry opened his eyes and flicked his wand. " Ego exertus !" he intoned.

A wave of vertigo washed over him, and the room suddenly started spinning violently. Harry clenched his eyes shut, but doing so didn't help the nausea growing in him one bit. He fell, crashing to the floor, just barely managing to prop himself up with one arm until he finally stopped trying to force the spell to work. Dropping the pine wand in exhaustion, Harry rolled over onto his back and stared listlessly at the ceiling for a few long moments until he was reasonably certain he could stand up without his breakfast making a repeat performance.

When he finally did manage to get to his feet, it was only to fall back into a cushy armchair that the room had conveniently placed there for him. With a weary sigh, Harry reached down and picked up his wand before leaning back again. Staring at the piece of wood in his hand, he felt tempted to discard it for firewood because it wasn't good for much else, anyway. Maybe Bellatrix was right, it was time to get a proper wand, no matter how much he didn't want to talk to Ollivander. If he was going to face Voldemort, he wasn't going to do it with a flimsy piece of junk. The wand worked well enough for simple things, like light charms and stunners, but even they didn't come with the ease that Harry remembered from his holly and phoenix feather wand. Incidents had piled up over the last few weeks that had reinforced Bellatrix's comments that he needed a new wand: misfired charms, accidental hexes, spells that had had unexpected results-and not always good ones, either. Minor things had become issues of major concentration for Harry.

And attempting the spell that Bellatrix had challenged him to learn? Not a chance. All of his attempts so far had failed miserably, and in the weeks since their first practice duel, Harry had made the intimate acquaintance of the floor more than once because of it. Most attempts left him dizzy and feeling nauseous, except for the few times when he had gotten stubborn and had kept trying to force the spell to work-as he had done just now. Those cases had left him on his knees with a burning throat that felt as though he was about to cough his lungs out and a headache that several bottles of firewhiskey would be hard-pressed to reproduce. Any sane wizard would've given up on learning the spell by now-or at least would have gotten a new wand before trying again-but Harry had remained stubborn and kept on trying, if only to show up Bellatrix.

Thinking of Bellatrix made Harry check his watch. At this point, he didn't even trust his wand to do a time charm right. When he saw the time, he frowned. She was late for their practice session. Usually, Bellatrix arrived early. It was strange to see her so… not quite energetic but eager to test herself against him. For some reason that eluded him, she seemed to enjoy their dueling sessions, and though Harry had to admit it was good to keep his skills sharp, he didn't really derive any enjoyment from their duels. But she's a heck of a lot better than I gave her credit for, he added silently. However, she still hadn't been good enough to beat him… yet. As much as he hated to admit it, Bellatrix was by far the better duelist, at least when it came to technique and variety. She knew spells both mundane and arcane and had a sharp intellect that made her a potent adversary in combat, and Harry, mainly because he had never formally concluded his higher education, couldn't match that.

The only reason he had the upper hand on her was the experience he had gained during years of warfare and his unorthodox fighting methods. Wizards were woefully unprepared for someone who fought with their bare hands, or fought dirty, and Harry had a lot of experience fighting dirty. During the latter parts of the war, fighting dirty was often the only way for the Order members to stay alive. Etiquette in combat was a luxury they couldn't afford. As a result, he had defeated her in each of their practice sessions, and had thus been able to exercise the option of spacing the sessions out more than Bellatrix would have liked. He didn't hold any illusions that it would go on for much longer, though. Beating her became progressively harder each time they faced off. Apparently, she was adjusting her tactics to his way of fighting and had simply pulled more spells from the myriad she seemed to know. He suspected that she put in extra time studying in an attempt to find a way to beat him.

When several more minutes passed without Bellatrix showing up, Harry turned his thoughts to the book from which she had obtained the image projection spell. He tried to remember if there was anything specific in the text that he had missed. With a brief flicker of his mind, the book appeared in his hands. Harry opened the book and thumbed through it until he reached the correct page. The spell description was brief and limited itself to a couple of lines about the spell's effects and the required wand movements. Just by glancing at it, Harry could tell that he hadn't missed anything; the section was barely a paragraph, if that. With a heavy sigh, Harry rose from the chair. The book vanished when the room figured out that he wasn't going to need it anymore. He was heading for the door when it opened, admitting Bellatrix.

"I thought you'd forgotten about tonight," Harry said.

"I didn't," the young witch replied curtly, dropping the bundle she was carrying on the floor. "Something came up."

"What's that?"

"Lestrange."

Harry's full attention was focused on Bellatrix in a heartbeat. Harry's intense gaze nearly caused the Black heiress to recoil from him. Whatever it is that he's expecting, he thinks this might be it, she thought to herself. "I figured you might be interested," she continued, trying to act nonchalant.

"What'd you find out?"

"I've received an… invitation, of sorts. Along with the Lestrange brothers, Malfoy, and a handful of others. We're going into the Forbidden Forest for a little meeting tonight. It's all very hush-hush." At least it would've been if Rodolphus had ever learned to shut his big mouth, Bellatrix thought with a hidden smirk. As it was, she almost hadn't been invited, but after Lestrange had let it slip, she had managed to worm her way into the group. She could almost see the gears turning in Harry's head. Gotcha! This was definitely what he'd been looking for.

"I see," said Harry.

His poker face was terrible, Bellatrix mused, even as he desperately tried to hide how much he was interested. She decided to humor him and play along. "Do you think this might be what you've been looking for?"

"Yes." Harry abruptly returned from his thoughts, almost reflexively bringing up his occlumency shields. It was too early to let in Bellatrix on what was going to happen and what he had planned. Bellatrix watched with interest as his face drained of all expression, as if an invisible wall had suddenly slammed into place and his features turned unreadable. She noted with interest that it seemed more a reflex action than a conscious decision, as he'd been very easy to read at times, whereas sometimes she had no idea what he was thinking.

"I was afraid you'd say that." Bellatrix shook her head and began pacing. "You haven't been invited. I wasn't even invited until I managed to convince Lucius that it would be in their best interest to extend an invitation to a member of the House of Black."

"Can't I just tag along and pretend I got an invitation?"

"Without arousing suspicion? No." Bellatrix shook her head, raven tresses flying. "But I might be able to bring you as a friend."

"And you think that'll be any less suspicious?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"It'll be less so than you just showing up unannounced," she shot back.

Harry opened his mouth to retort when an idea struck him. "I can polyjuice as you and go."

"No. You will screw up if you do." Bellatrix held up a hand to forestall any comments Harry might have made. "Look, you don't know these people, at least not the way they are now. You don't know me very well, and you're likely to blow your cover if you say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Besides, we're partners, so I'm going."

Harry stared at her for a long moment as he considered whether to press the issue. She had a point-he had no idea how she acted around the other potential future Death Eaters, and his acting skills had never been that good, anyway. And she was competent enough with a wand to take care of herself. Not taking her along might just end up in her asking more questions than he had answers for-or was willing to answer at this point. "All right," he finally conceded, "as long as your parents don't find out."

"I'm seventeen," Bellatrix objected. "I'll do whatever I want."

Harry hoped that didn't involve telling her father what she was up to, because of Cygnus or Orion Black found out that he had dragged their daughter into their little investigation against their direct orders, there would be hell to pay. But if she was going to come along, he was going to put his foot down on something .

"As long as you follow my lead. I've got more experience with who we're going to be dealing with than you do," he stipulated. Holding up a hand to stop her retort, he continued. "If this is about what I think it is, then we're going into a potentially very dangerous situation. You don't know who we're dealing with, what he's capable of. You have no idea of the potential long-term consequences one wrong word or move could cause."

"You sound like you're scared." It was clearly a taunt on Bellatrix's part. Whether it was designed to challenge Harry's authority on the matter or to get him to divulge more information, he didn't know. He didn't care, either. Too much was at stake.

"Like I said, you have no idea who we're dealing with."

"And you do?"

Harry remained quiet for a long while. "Yes," he finally said. "And I dearly wish I didn't."

"Who exactly do you think we're dealing with?" Bellatrix didn't like the haunted look that had briefly flashed across his eyes before it vanished again. She just knew there was a story to this, one she would get to the bottom of. She was just wondering whether she would like the way the story ended when she did find out. Something was telling her she wouldn't.

"You'll see." Harry wasn't about to speak Voldemort's name, not yet, anyway. "Now, how are we getting to this meeting?"

Bellatrix couldn't resist getting in one last barb. "I don't know," she replied cheekily, "I'm following you."

Harry glared at her.

"This cloak doesn't fit," Harry complained in a muted whisper. They were standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, waiting for the rest of the invited guests to appear. From there, someone would lead them to the actual meeting site, at least according to the instructions Bellatrix had been able to garner from the Lestrange brothers.

"It's the right size, isn't it?" Bellatrix replied, peering over her shoulder at the castle. The hood of her cloak hid her expression in the dim moonlight. She shifted, and Harry could tell she was nervous.

"It's the right size, but there's too much cloth in some places, and not enough in others. And it's short." He tugged at the shoulders of his cloak irritably, trying to alleviate the strain of the material there.

Bellatrix snickered, causing Harry to look up at her sharply. I know I'm going to regret asking this, he thought to himself. "What'd you do this time, Black?"

"Oh, it's Black now, is it?" Bellatrix smirked.

"Where'd you get this cloak? And just answer the question," Harry snapped irritably. He could tell she was enjoying this.

"I waltzed into the boys' dorm rooms and went through their things until I found one that would fit." Harry didn't need to see her face to know that she was just about laughing at him. "It's one of my cloaks, all right?"

"A girl's cloak?" Harry's voice rose dramatically. "You gave me a girl 's cloak?" He could only imagine how ridiculous he looked. No wonder it had been tight in the shoulders and only came to his calves.

"Shush! Don't shout!" Bellatrix muttered, indicating at the dark figures that were slowly emerging from the castle, several hundred feet away.

"You could've just had me bring one of mine," Harry complained.

"And have you looking like a bum off the street?" This time, Harry knew she was insulting him. Maybe it was payback for giving her grief about coming along. Whatever it was, she was enjoying it. "I may not know who called this meeting or who or what we're ultimately dealing with, but give me some credit. From what I gather, only purebloods were invited, and only those in Slytherin. Rich kids whose parents frittered away their fortune. Your cloak would stand out like a sore thumb. And for your information, it's a woman's cloak."

Harry bit back a retort as he spied the figures moving closer. "How many were invited total?" He silently counted the approaching figures. Twenty-seven .

"I don't know. The only reason why we had no trouble sneaking out of the castle is because you're a professor. No one questions what they do. Everyone else is going to have to be a lot more careful than we were, but they did tell us to be on time, so I reckon that's all of them."

It only took a few more minutes for them to close in. "Send the signal," Harry whispered.

"And if it's not the right people?"

"It won't matter. They won't even know what it's about and assume it's something else going on."

Bellatrix glared at Harry for a moment, about to retort. Was he really willing to take the risk of some curious soul coming to investigate the signal they were about to send if those weren't the people they were here to meet? With a shrug, she closed her mouth and drew her wand. Seconds later, a small shower of red sparks erupted from its tip, drifting to the ground in front of her. The group coming from the castle halted for a moment, before there was an equally brief shower of red sparks from the person leading the procession. The group changed direction and headed for Harry and Bellatrix's position. As they came closer, Harry was able to make out the three in the lead. He could tell two of them were the Lestrange brothers by their burly gaits. He assumed the third was Lucius Malfoy.

"It's them," Bellatrix confirmed. "I recognize Lestrange's strut. Let me do the talking and stay quiet. Try and act like you don't care about anything."

"I know."

"Then show it!" Bellatrix hissed. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but your acting is terrible. I can tell how much you're interested in this meeting, but if anyone finds out just how interested you are, it could blow this chance."

Then the time for their private conversation was over as the group came within earshot. "Bellatrix," one of the trio in front greeted, confirming by his deep baritone that it was, indeed, Rodolphus Lestrange. "I don't recall telling you to bring anyone else."

Bellatrix tilted her head defiantly. "If you get to bring friends," she gestured towards the group behind him, "then so do I. Besides, who are you to deny an heiress of House Black, hmm?"

Lestrange barked out a laugh. "Heiress of House Black? I don't think so, Bellatrix, at least not for a long time. Your noble house of Black is going down the tubes."

"I don't recall the Lestranges doing any better," she shot back acerbically. "In fact, I don't know how you even managed to worm your way into this, Lestrange, considering that everyone around here except for you is part of one of the Old Families."

Lestrange was about to reply angrily when one of his companions restrained him with a hand on his arm. "Let it go," Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "She's got spunk, I'll give her that. Much more than Narcissa."

"Who's your friend?" the third one asked, revealing that he was the other Lestrange brother.

"You're the one who insisted on all the secrecy," Bellatrix smirked, "so how about you stop announcing to everyone within a quarter-mile who I am and start telling us why we're here?"

Lestrange trembled, and for a moment Harry wondered if he was going to reach out and hit her. Harry felt the inside of his sleeve for his wand, but he needn't have worried. The arrival of another group preempted him from doing anything.

"I think that's all of us," Malfoy announced. "How about we get going?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started into the forest, the rest of the group following him. Harry and Bellatrix waited until they were at the very end of the column and then did likewise. Falling back a bit so that they could talk, Bellatrix leaned over at him.

"You nearly screwed us up," she hissed angrily.

"What're you talking about?"

"You nearly drew your wand!" Admittedly, he'd done so in a rather subtle way, and if she hadn't known that he carried his wand inside the sleeve of his robe, she would never have been able to guess that he was reaching for it, but the fact was that she had been able to tell.

"Reflex," Harry apologized.

Bellatrix eyed him for a long moment. "You better work on that. That must have been an interesting time you came from, if you picked up reflexes and a combat style like that."

"That's one way to put it," Harry replied dryly.

They covered the remaining distance in silence, both of them studying the area around them as they tried to figure out where Malfoy and the Lestranges were leading them. It appeared odd to Harry that the Lestranges seemed to be the ones in the know in all of this, as they hadn't ever struck him as very bright in the future. Malfoy, he could believe, if only because Lucius Malfoy was a scheming, manipulative bastard in the future who, despite his superiority complex and dismissal of muggles and muggle-born wizards, had actually had some semblance of intelligence. Harry suddenly realized that they had passed one particular clearing before.

"They're going in circles," Bellatrix muttered quietly.

"No, he's doubling back. But he's doing it very well, I almost didn't notice." Harry glanced up. "Wherever we're going, they don't want anyone to follow us."

"Or they don't want any of us to be able to get out," Bellatrix suggested. She really didn't like the look that passed through his eyes at that statement. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's too early for this to be a trap. I reckon it's a… recruitment drive."

"Then why'd you freak when I said we might not be able to get away? And don't tell me it's nothing, because I saw that look, Ashworth."

Harry mulled over what he was going to tell her for a moment. "Let's just say that you might not like the… initiation into this particular group."

Bellatrix looked at him oddly. "Then we better hope there won't be any of that tonight."

It was only a short while later that they arrived at their destination. Harry felt himself pass through the wards surrounding the Hogwarts grounds, which indicated that they had traveled quite a ways. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing. It meant they could apparate away if they needed to get out in a hurry, and that they could defend themselves. It also meant that everyone else was free to throw whatever spells they wished at them, and no one would know. They stopped in a dark clearing, and the occasional peek of moonlight as it shone through the thick cloud cover overhead did little to illuminate the darkness.

The robed figure standing in the center of the clearing, however, was clearly visible to all. The moment Harry saw the figure, he didn't have to feel the prickling of his scar to know that it was Voldemort. The poise with which he held himself could belong to no other, and Harry hastily erected all of his occlumency shields. Part of him had known that he would meet Voldemort tonight, though part had also been hoping that wouldn't be the case. It would be much easier to deal with one of his lieutenants trying to recruit students than the dark lord himself, but then again, Voldemort had never been one to leave his recruitment to others.

Harry fervently hoped that Voldemort either wasn't as well-versed in legilimency as he would be in the future, or that he wasn't going to probe very deep. If he learned that Harry was from the future, and was planning on stopping him… For a brief moment, Harry reached for his wand, entertaining the notion of killing Voldemort right now, ending the fight before the dark lord even knew there was an enemy in his ranks. An elbow to his ribs stopped him, as he glanced over at Bellatrix next to him, grateful for once that she had brought him back to reality. There was no way he could hope to face Voldemort with his piece of rubbish wand. Besides, Harry wasn't putting down good odds on him succeeding in taking down Voldemort right now, even with a good wand. Even now, decades before they would first meet, Voldemort had years of experience and dark rituals that gave him abilities Harry couldn't fathom-especially since he was still human. Dumbledore had once speculated that his resurrection had actually weakened Voldemort, his makeshift body unable to channel the same energies that his original one could.

Following everyone else, the group arranged itself into a single row facing the dark figure who was watching them attentively, but silently. Harry made sure that he was at the end of the line, down from the Lestranges and Malfoy, so that if he had to make a break for it, the only thing standing between him and the deep forest were a dozen feet of open ground. Bellatrix positioned herself next to him. When the chatter had quieted and everyone taken their places, Voldemort took a few steps forward, eyeing them carefully. Eventually, he spoke.

"Welcome, scions of our race's noble houses."

Harry was surprised that his voice, while unmistakably Voldemort's, lacked the unearthly quality and the hissed, drawn-out syllables that the future Voldemort spoke with. Then again, the Voldemort he knew had been resurrected, and was more snake and demon than man. In fact, he sounded suspiciously like the memory of Tom Riddle from the diary Harry had encountered during his second year. He sounded… human.

When nothing else came after that brief greeting, Harry glanced up to see that Voldemort was approaching Rodolphus Lestrange. Looking straight into the Slytherin student's eyes, Voldemort inclined his head. "Look at me," he spoke, quietly, but with enough authority that everyone stilled immediately. Lestrange cooperated, and looked up from beneath his cloak into Voldemort's eyes. The dark lord held the contact a moment longer, then moved on, apparently satisfied. Lestrange's brother seemed a bit intimidated by the entire thing, but obeyed, as well.

Malfoy, on the other hand, smirked and stared back into Voldemort's eyes proudly, his spine straight and shoulders squared. Voldemort almost seemed to smile at that, and Harry had to wonder if this was where he was going to sort out the grunts from the brains. As the dark lord made his way down the line, Harry fought to contain his growing nervousness. He could tell that Bellatrix had sensed that he was getting agitated, which in turn increased her anxiety. Harry realized too late that he had no idea whether Bellatrix knew occlumency, and if she did, whether she was good enough at it to keep Voldemort at bay. If she wasn't, and he found out that she was up to something and that he was involved…

Before he could formulate a plan, an excuse, anything that might divert attention from his and Bellatrix's investigation, Voldemort had come to a halt before the young witch. She, too, looked straight into his eyes, almost defiantly. Her face was expressionless, but her posture was straight, and she had drawn herself up to her full height, looking every inch the aristocrat the Old Families claimed to be. If Voldemort discovered anything, he said nothing, and simply moved on to Harry.

And then Harry found himself staring into a much younger Voldemort's face. The first thing Harry noted was that the snake-like qualities that so distinguished the dark lord's appearance in the future were not present, yet. Whether they were a result of future rituals, or a remnant of his revival, Harry didn't know, but the person staring down at him right now could have been a carbon copy of the elegant, graceful seventh-year student Harry had originally met as Tom Marvolo Riddle, if slightly older. The only thing that was different were the eyes… where Tom Riddle's eyes had been blue in his seventh year, now they were a shade of red so dark Harry almost thought them black. Their eyes met, and suddenly, Harry felt a sensation he had nearly forgotten as his scar began to prickle.

Voldemort must have felt something, as well, because the dark lord stared at Harry for far longer than he had at anyone else. Finally, he raised a hand to Harry's forehead and brushed away his hair. Catching a glimpse of the pale white, bony, almost malnourished-looking hand and wrist told Harry that despite the normal appearance of his face, Voldemort had clearly already begun his transformation by ancient rituals. "Interesting," Voldemort muttered as he caught sight of the lightning-bolt shaped scar.

Harry was almost ready to make a break for it, his occlumency shields raised and reinforced in anticipation of the dark lord's probe, but it never came. He held himself still and maintained Voldemort's gaze by sheer force of will, hoping that if he acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, Voldemort would merely dismiss the sensation they were both feeling. Eventually, it turned out Harry didn't have to act on his instincts, as Voldemort turned around and walked back towards the center of the clearing. Facing the crowd, he spread his arms dramatically.

"You are all here today because of who you are. You are the heirs to the most powerful wizarding families in Great Britain. Through your veins runs the purest of wizarding blood, descended from the Old Families. Magic is your birthright. This world is your heritage. Your ancestors fought and laboured for a better world, elevating themselves in the eyes of the wizarding world. Once, they ruled this land, theirs by right. Now, the world they fought for, the world they crafted for their children, and children's children, has been corrupted. Slowly but surely, the taint of muggles creeps into our world, diluting our pure blood and heritage. Our culture is being lost to the masses, to those who could never understand, because they were not born with the same powers as you."

Voldemort glanced at each of them in turn. "They seek to strip you of your birthright. They seek to strip you of your titles and wealth, the titles and wealth your ancestors earned, the titles and wealth which are yours by birth. Our leaders seek to make us all equal. They would have you believe that you are just the same as muggleborn and squibs. In truth, you are not. Does the heritage of the Old Families run through their bloodline? No! Do they have any claims to the same riches and titles that you, who are descended from the Old Families, have? No! They do not know our world . Even many of your parents now sit idle while those who deserve nothing, who have earned nothing, who have rights to nothing, take everything . You have seen the streets of our wizarding world. The streets filled with the muggleborn and even those without the gift of magic. Those who would eventually abandon our world for their own. We cannot let this continue, we cannot let the future of the wizarding world rest on those who would abandon it so easily if it was convenient to them!"

Voldemort had begun pacing, his cloak swirling around him. "This world is yours by right. This world is yours to protect. Our leaders seek to deny you the study of the ancient magics, claiming that it would be too dangerous, claiming that it would tear our world asunder. But what they have really done is cripple our means of defending ourselves against all threats, inside and out. We can no longer stand for the desecration of our world, of our rights as the firstborn families of magic. We can no longer stand for this infestation that permeates every part of our society, festering, rotting away at us from the inside until we are so weak that we collapse. If you neglect to stand up now, to stand up for what is yours, to stand up for what you deserve, then it will be too late. And everything that we have, will be gone."

Harry found himself surprisingly captivated by Voldemort. He could clearly hear the passion in the man's voice, which wasn't something he had ever expected. It was no wonder that Voldemort had managed to collect so many followers for his first war. He was a charismatic orator, and if he was already tainted by madness, then it wasn't showing. Considering the crowd they were in, Voldemort knew just which chords to strike.

"You may be wondering who I am," Voldemort resumed after a long silence. "I am the one who has delved into the most ancient of magicks. I represent what we once were. I have dedicated my life to learning the art of magic, every facet of it, every spell, every incantation, even those deemed too dangerous by the Ministry. I would be an outcast, because of my beliefs, because of what I know. And yet, here I stand, knowing what power is in the ancient texts. That power is yours by right. I am the one who will return to you what is yours. I am the one who will make our world strong again. I am the one who will purify our world and restore it to its former glory. I am Lord Voldemort."

The clearing was quiet for a long moment, before the cry rose into the midnight air. "Voldemort!"

It wasn't long before it was being picked up by every student present. Harry joined in as much as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself, but it was hard for him to feel the same intensity. What Voldemort had just said would resonate with many wizards, he realized, and would earn him many sympathizers. Sparing a sidelong glance at Bellatrix, Harry found her following the chant only half-heartedly, as well.

"Thank you," Voldemort offered after basking in the chanting for a few minutes. "You do your world proud," he announced grandly. "By taking up the fight, by standing up to our leaders when they are wrong, you have taken the first step towards the reclamation of our world. In time, you will learn many things, things that will prepare you for the coming struggle, when we finally end our leaders' oppression. You will learn spells that the world has not seen in centuries. You will be shown the magic that your ancestors created, the magic that the Ministry is too afraid to teach you. I will show you. I will teach you. And when the time comes… we will take back our world!"

The cheer arose once more, and Voldemort held up his hands to quiet the crowd. "Now, it is time for you all to return. I want you all to separate. Take alternate routes, make sure you are not being followed. You must keep the events of this night secret, for enemies are everywhere. When the time is right, I will contact you again." With a final, satisfied smile, Voldemort gestured grandly, pointing into a seemingly random direction. "The castle is in that general direction."

Harry made sure to move slowly, despite his eagerness to get away from Voldemort. Trying to blend in with the others who were leaving proved difficult, as they split up into groups of two and three each, taking different directions to head towards the castle. He finally found Bellatrix, spotting her as she entered the forest, and hurried to catch up with her. Silence hung between them for a few minutes. It was Bellatrix who finally broke it, her voice wavering just a little. She hid it well, but Harry could tell something was wrong.

"Is he a genuine dark lord?" she asked quietly.

"Why else would he call himself that?" Harry replied noncommittally.

"Maybe he's just trying to fit in? Maybe he's trying to show everyone that he's from a noble house, that we've got rights to titles that no one really gives a damn about anymore?"

Harry wondered about that for a moment. "I didn't know the wizarding houses had lords. Or even titles, for that matter. I didn't even know they were considered noble."

"They used to be," Bellatrix answered, almost sullenly. "Technically, the older houses base a lot of their wealth and influence on the fact that they are aristocrats. The Ministry hasn't recognized them as such in decades, however. But technically, since there are no laws abolishing nobility, they still may claim the title. You know, I never thought about it before, but you-" she stopped abruptly. "Did you hear that?" Bellatrix asked quietly.

"No." Harry glanced around. "Why? Did you hear anything?"

"I thought I heard a twig snap."

"Probably an animal." Harry really hoped he was right. "This forest certainly has enough creatures living in it."

"You act as if it doesn't matter. Some of those animals are dangerous, you know."

Harry shrugged. "In my experience, they don't bother you unless you bother them." Most of the time, he added silently, the incident with the giant spiders coming to mind. He resumed walking, and Bellatrix followed after a few seconds of intent listening.

"So," he continued, "the Ministry doesn't acknowledge the families' nobility anymore?"

"No. They've decided that being one of the Old Families doesn't get you anymore than any other family. Of course, we still have a lot of influence, so a lot of us end up in the Wizengamot, or other important places. The rest, though, is filled with either Ministry appointees or elected delegates."

"I like the elected delegate idea, but in my experience, Ministry appointees are no good."

"You can say that again," Bellatrix muttered. "What Voldemort promised us is to restore the old order, where the only ones in the Wizengamot were representatives of the Old Families. Their right to govern was linked directly to their bloodline. Changes had to be made once there were more and more muggleborns. They wanted to be part of government, and there came a point where there were so many of them…"

"That it became necessary to change in order to avoid rebellion," Harry finished.

Bellatrix nodded. "You know, you never answered my question properly. Is he the genuine thing? Is he a real-"

Harry suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth and hushed her. "You hear that?" he whispered hurriedly. Her eyes widened as she nodded. Another twig had snapped, and this time, Harry had heard it. He was certain it wasn't an animal this time. They both scanned the area around them, but it was much too dark to see anything.

"Told you so," Bellatrix whispered. "Something's following us."

"Maybe a centaur or a unicorn," Harry said, trying more to reassure himself more rather than Bellatrix. He had been afraid that he had roused Voldemort's interest, but he had hoped that Voldemort would just dismiss it.

Bellatrix stared at him skeptically. "It could still be dangerous. We're still outside of the wards, we could apparate to London and return tomorrow morning. It's Saturday, no one will notice anything."

Harry glanced around as he heard another twig snap. He really didn't want to remove a student so far from the school for no good reason. Figuring that spending the night away from school with a female student would rouse more questions than he was prepared to answer, Harry shook his head. "No, let's just-"

And then his scar began to sting. With speed born of years of fighting and running, Harry's wand slipped into his hand and with a muttered word and a muted pop, he and Bellatrix vanished from the forest. They reappeared at the edge of the forest, just outside of the Hogwarts wards, close to the Quidditch field.

"Ashworth!" Bellatrix hissed.

"Voldemort is following us." Harry shook his head to stop her from asking. "I'll explain later. Apparate somewhere, run at least fifty yards, apparate again. No less than ten miles between apparitions. Repeat at least five times. Meet me in the tube station closest to No. 12 Grimmauld Place. And get rid of that cloak."

Bellatrix was about to ask if he wanted a glamour with that, but the seriousness in his tone and eyes stopped her cold. He was afraid, she realized, and that scared her. With a curt nod, she drew her wand and disappeared. Once she was gone, Harry let out a brief sigh. Hoping that she would be fine, he apparated again, aiming for the coast of Wales. A second apparation took him to Glasgow where he discarded the cloak he had been wearing. Sprinting away from the point he had appeared, he raced down the hill he'd ended up on, then apparated on the run to Dover. Locales blended and blurred around him as he tried to shake whoever might be following. Lancaster. Oxfordshire. Dublin. Some tiny village at the northern coast of France, close to the English Channel. Finally, he appeared in London.

Searching the area around him, Harry hid in the shadows of a nearby alley, shivering in the cold night since he had tossed the cloak Bellatrix had given him. When no one appeared behind him in five long, agonizing minutes, he continued down the streets, making sure his back was always towards a wall. Figuring that there was no point in freezing, he took a moment to conjure up a trench coat, and walked into the tube station. Bellatrix was already there, likewise wearing a long, muggle overcoat. He noted with interest that she was leaning against a pillar that would allow her to see both entrances to the station, while a mirror overhead one of the entrances allowed her to check the blind spot behind her.

When she spotted him, he thought he saw a flicker of fear cross her features for a moment before she hid it behind her usual mask of cool indifference. "Took you long enough," she merely said by way of greeting.

"Just being careful." Harry walked past her and sat down on a bench.

Bellatrix eyed him for a moment, then headed over and sat next to him. "Are you sure it was Voldemort who followed us, and not one of the other students?"

"Yes."

"How do you know? You told me you'd explain, and I just went off on a wild chase of hide-and-seek because you told me there's a dark lord after us, so you better damn well explain, Ashworth."

Harry fidgeted, unwilling to explain the entire story to her. "Suffice to say that due to certain events that occurred in my time, I can feel his presence to some degree. And no, I won't go into any further detail."

"Fine." Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at him suspiciously. "And… can he do the same? Can he feel when you're around?"

Harry's silence was all the answer she needed. "Merlin's beard, he can, can't he. That's why he was looking at you for so long!"

"Yes."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to tell him how colossally stupid his presence at the meeting had been, how he could have gotten them both killed, but no words came to her. The only thing she could think of was that there was a dark lord running around, and that he had apparently marked her. Or, at the very least, he had marked Harry, which marked her by association. Finally, she spoke. "Your plan is to sabotage his rise to power?"

"Yes." Harry fully expected a barrage of questions to that answer, but none came. Her silence scared him much more than her questions; as collected as Bellatrix was, she almost was one to never miss an opening to ask about his plans and poke into his story. The fact that she didn't hinted at how shaken up she was.

"Look at me." She turned towards him. "Look at me," she repeated as he shied away from meeting her eyes. Green eyes met violet, and Harry resisted the urge to raise his occlumency shields again. It took Bellatrix a few seconds to formulate the question she wanted to ask. "How would the Bellatrix of the future feel about your plan?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. It wasn't a complete lie. Harry really didn't know how a sane Bellatrix would have reacted to this whole thing. As far as he could tell, something had happened to turn her into the murderous, violent sociopath that she was in the future.

"I think you do," Bellatrix said evenly. "Dammit, Ashworth, you're a lousy liar. When are you going to stop giving me these half-truths and vague hints? We're in this together, and because of you, I've just been chased around the countryside by a dark lord. Like it or not, I'm your damn partner, so you better start trusting me!"

Harry winced. "In most cases, I could've told you easily. But there's circumstances, circumstances affecting you… I truly have no idea what you were thinking in the end."

"The end?"

Harry swore under his breath when he realized he'd let slip too much information again. Looking into her accusing violet eyes, he knew that she deserved the truth. The entire truth. Because, in a way, she was right. Because he had dragged her into his plans, Voldemort was now interested in the both of them. He owed her that much for putting her in that kind of danger.

"You…" he licked his dry lips and broke eye-contact. "You committed suicide."

"I would never-"

"You did," Harry repeated. "I wouldn't have thought you the kind of person to do it, either, but…"

"What kind of person was I, Ashworth? Whose side did I fight on?"

"The winning side."

"Then why? Why would I commit suicide?"

Harry sighed. This wasn't going to be pretty. "Honestly, I don't know for sure." Though I might have a few ideas, he added to himself, but he wasn't going to tell her about what had happened to her future self in Voldemort's dungeon. "You committed suicide… because your side was winning."

Bellatrix stared at him disbelievingly. "What?" It didn't escape her notice that he'd called it her side.

"Your side had decided that you were no longer needed." Harry raised his gaze to meet hers. "Remember that day when I appeared in the Black family vault? My hands were covered in blood. Your blood. You stabbed yourself with your hair ornament."

He could see her eyes widen in shock as the blood drained from her face. "If I committed suicide, why was my blood on your hands?"

"You tried to get me to kill you. You handed me that hairpin and told me to stab you with it. I refused, so you took it and did it, yourself." Harry idly wondered whether he would be able to cast a memory charm on her. Some things were better left unknown.

"I don't believe you."

"If we can find a pensieve, I can show you the memory."

Bellatrix reached into her robes and withdrew her copy of the hairpin. "I gave you this."

"Yes."

"And I wanted you to kill me with it."

"Yes."

"You still haven't answered my question. Why would I commit suicide?"

At least she wasn't in denial anymore, Harry thought. "You were fighting for Voldemort," he finally told her. "In the end, I guess he decided that you were no longer cutting it, and he had you… decommissioned."

"I assume, then, that that isn't what happened to you?"

"No." Harry sighed, watching as she slumped, her chin propped in her hands. Her face was hidden behind her long tresses, but he could tell she was hurting. "No," he repeated. "I fought against him, and was captured. He was planning on having me executed."

She was silent for a long time, before craning her head to look at him. Harry could see the tears she was fighting to hold back, but her voice only betrayed the slightest hint of a tremor. "It doesn't sound like either side of this conflict ended well for us."

"Not really," Harry admitted. "But at least my side had it a little better. At least we were happy at times. Voldemort isn't very friendly."

"I guess that counts for something," Bellatrix shrugged. "Tell me, Harry, tell me honestly. Was I a bad person? I mean, really bad. Evil. Evil as in actually killing or torturing people."

Harry hesitated, not wanting to tell this young girl what she would become. Because, in the end, that was what she was-a young, impressionable woman who was as of yet untouched by the corruption that would dominate her future in his time. "It doesn't matter. I'm changing the future."

"Dammit, Harry, it matters to me !" Bellatrix exploded with a burst of grief and fury. "It matters to me." As quickly as the anger had come, it was gone, leaving her hunched over and quietly sobbing into her hands.

She deserves to know, he mused. In her position, I'd want to know, too. I'd want to know what I'd become, if I could look my future self in the eye and recognize myself. And she wouldn't. He knew that she wouldn't, because who she was right now, despite all her flaws, despite her arrogance and self-centeredness, she wasn't the same person she was in the future. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he awkwardly tried to comfort her. "Yes," he told her. "Yes, you were evil. I don't know how or why it happened, but you chose to follow Voldemort. And when you did, you changed. You lost yourself. You did things… terrible things. But that wasn't you. That wasn't what you're going to become."

"But that was what I could become. It's still what I could become." She glanced up at him. "I don't want to become her."

"You don't have to."

"Good." She pushed herself away and rearranged her hair, occasionally wiping at her eyes. A few moments later, her mask of indifference was back in place. "And you don't need to lay it on so thick. I'm not going to abandon you. But I'm going to insist that you step up your efforts a little. Honestly, Ashworth, you've been kind of pussyfooting around. Whatever my future self was thinking, she didn't send you here to be lazy."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I doubt your future self sent me here on purpose."

"You think I'm too cowardly to stab myself?" Bellatrix said.

When Harry didn't reply, she continued. "Obviously, I wanted you to be holding that when it came in contact with my blood. It is activated by blood, isn't it?"

"You are and were out of your mind," Harry retorted.

Bellatrix rose and glared at him, hands on her hips. "And how well did you know me in the future?"

"Well enough to know the way you fight, inside and out." Harry got an arched eyebrow from her at that. Of course, he amended silently, that's the way her crazy future self fights, not the way she does now.

"I think I'll be the judge of my actions, insane or not, Ashworth." At least, since he'd hinted that she was insane in the future, it gave her a little hope that her fate could be avoided now. "As long as I'm on your side, what does it matter, anyway?"

"Whatever."

"Don't whatever me." Bellatrix leaned down and grabbed him by the lapel. "We're in this together now, Ashworth. And I have no interest in dying anytime soon. So you better damn well get your ass in gear and step up your plans!"

"Fine." Thought Harry didn't show it, he grinned on the inside. This was the Bellatrix he'd come to know during his stay in the past, the proactive, aggressive young woman who went after what she wanted with a vengeance. He stood and folded his arms, smiling back at her blandly.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well what?"

"What are we going to do next?"

Harry shrugged. "I thought your plan was to stick around London until the morning, and then sneak back into the castle. I'll take this bench. You can sleep on the other one over there."

"No wonder you got captured," Bellatrix sighed in exasperation. "Tell me, were you born this incompetent, or do you have to work at it?"

"I'm kidding," Harry calmed her. "Your father and uncle hired me to poke around Hogwarts and try to find out what was going on with all the recent acts of anti-muggle violence. They had a feeling that something might be brewing among the purebloods, and that the students might be involved somehow. Obviously, I knew precisely what was going on, but I needed proof before I could approach them with answers. I reckon I should start approaching them right about now. They wanted to know as soon as I found out something."

"Are you sure that's the best option?" Bellatrix suddenly appeared worried. "I mean, you've got to consider these things carefully. My uncle doesn't involve himself in just anything."

"I reckon that a dark lord rising is something he'll want to get involved in. Don't worry, it's part of my plan. If all goes well, they'll react the way I want them too."

Bellatrix glanced at him skeptically. "Are you sure about that?"

"You'd be surprised. Like you said, how well do you know me?" Harry smirked. "There's things you don't know about me, Black." He smiled in satisfaction when that seemed to reassure her a bit. "Now, is there a way to get your uncle out of bed that won't let everyone else in the house know that something is up?"

"Not a problem," she replied, and snapped her fingers. "Kreacher!"

The house elf appeared. "Mistress Bella," he crooned.

"Rouse my uncle Orion. Tell him only that Ashworth here needs to see him urgently. Tell him where we are. Go," she ordered him. With a quiet pop, the house elf was gone again.

Harry was frantically looking around, trying to see if any muggles had spotted the house elf. "Are you crazy?" he hissed at Bellatrix. "We don't need the Ministry coming down on our heads for the improper use of magic!"

"Give the little bugger some credit," she replied, rolling her eyes. "He knows that muggles aren't supposed to see him."

It didn't take long for quiet footsteps to echo down the deserted tube station. Harry had one hand on his wand, but relaxed somewhat when Orion Black walked into sight. Despite the late hour and the urgency with which he'd been woken, he was dressed impeccably, albeit in wizarding attire. When he spotted his niece, his gaze hardened a bit. "Bella, Mr. Ashworth," he greeted them curtly.

"I found what we've been looking for, with Bellatrix's help," Harry explained, choosing his words carefully. "We're dealing with an up and coming dark lord."

When he remained silent, Bellatrix decided to enter the conversation. "It's definitely a dark lord."

"I don't doubt him," Orion said slowly. He turned away from them and began to pace. "This is not good. Bellatrix, take Mr. Ashworth to your home and get your father out of bed. Wait for me there."

The young witch winced. "I don't think mother would appreciate company, especially not at this hour."

"It is fortunate, then, that she is in London and spending the night at Grimmauld Place," her uncle responded dryly.

"All right then." She walked over to Harry's side, visibly relieved. With a quick glance to ensure that no one was watching them, Bellatrix drew her wand and apparated herself and Harry away. They appeared in front of a Victorian-style mansion that Harry figured must be at least a hundred years old. It certainly didn't look like the more ancient wizarding dwellings. "So, this is where you live," Harry commented. "Looks nice."

"Yeah," she replied, letting go of his arm. "Father loves it, but mother hates it."

"What about you?"

"It's a house," Bellatrix shrugged.

Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he was reminded of his own childhood home. The Dursleys' house on Privet Drive was just that to him, a house. A building, a place of dwelling where he happened to have resided for ten years until he had left for Hogwarts. He held very little actual attachment to the building, unlike the way the Weasleys were attached to the Burrow, or the way Sirius was connected to No. 12 Grimmauld Place.

As they reached the door, Bellatrix fished a key from her pocket and opened the front door. It opened silently, something Harry hadn't expected. Old wooden doors of this size always made a sound, but apparently, there were enchantments in place to make it more pleasing on the ears. She led him inside and told him to take a seat on the couch in the living room while she left for her father's upstairs room.

"Father!" she yelled moments later, from the bottom of the stairs. "Father!" she called again when there was no reply. With a shrug, she headed upstairs. "I'll be right back."

"Right." Harry wondered why he was sitting in complete darkness when the large chandelier hanging from the ceiling suddenly lit with magical fire, casting a warm glow over the room. Now that he could see, he glanced around the living room. The decor was elegant, but simple. Apparently, whoever made the decisions on furniture around here had good taste, though they did appear to have a tendency for dark colors. It wasn't long before Bellatrix returned with her father. Unlike Orion Black, who had appeared immaculately dressed, Cygnus was wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe and looked rather sleepy.

Upon seeing Harry, Bellatrix's father smiled. "Mr. Ashworth, how are you?"

Harry stood and offered his hand. "As well as can be expected. We're sorry to bother you at this hour, but it's a matter of urgency."

Cygnus waved the apology off. "If my brother thinks it's important, then I don't mind at all. Besides, I don't often get to see my daughter." He smiled at Bellatrix fondly, causing her to blush as she sat down on the couch Harry had just vacated. Before either of them could comment further, a knock on the door drew their attention.

"Orion, no doubt," Cygnus said, covering up a yawn and leaving to open the door. When he returned, both Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy were following him inside. The elder Black's demeanor was rather dark and brooding, which was a stark contrast to Malfoy's relaxed, almost sleepy state. Once settled, he turned towards his host. "I don't suppose you have a bottle of firewhiskey around?"

Cygnus chuckled. "Of course." Reaching over, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a tray holding a decanter of the alcohol along with several glasses. He filled three of them, handing two to Orion and Malfoy, before turning to Harry. "How about you, Mr. Ashworth?"

"No, but thanks," Harry said.

"Oh, very well, then." Cygnus took his own glass and sat down.

Once everyone was settled, Orion spoke. "Mr. Ashworth, have you told my brother any of what you told me?"

"No," Harry replied. "I figured we might as well wait for you, so I'll only have to repeat it once."

"Very well," the elder Black conceded. "Gentlemen," he addressed Romulus and his brother. "As you recall, Mr. Ashworth agreed to inform us of any suspicious activity that might be related to the recent string of violence, perpetrated by our youth." He shot a sidelong glance at Bellatrix, but judged from her reaction that she had apparently figured out that much already-or that Ashworth had already told her.

"Yes, I assume we're here because he's had some success," Malfoy commented.

"Of a sort, though the news is not good, I'm afraid," Orion replied. "We've got a dark lord making a bid for power."

Malfoy paled visibly.

"What?" Cygnus nearly choked on his firewhiskey. "Why have you involved my daughter in this?"

"Perhaps now would be a good time for the full story, Mr. Ashworth," Orion noted.

Before Harry could speak up and explain, however, Bellatrix beat him to it. "I chose to involve myself," she announced. "He couldn't have found out without my help."

"Bella-" her father began, but she cut him off.

"Father, he was trying to recruit me," she told him acidly. "Whether you like it or not, I'm already involved, and in his defense," she glanced at Harry, "it wasn't Ashworth's fault. I came to him after I had been invited."

"Invited to what, exactly?" Orion asked, forestalling any further question Cygnus might have asked.

Harry decided that it was time to take over the explanation. "As per your request, I have been keeping my ears to the ground about certain… recent events. I did hear some rumors about students, specifically, pureblood students, who were apparently being invited into some form of club. I decided that it might be useful to get to know several of them better, and invited them to dinner events in order to do so."

"Continue." Orion nodded in understanding.

"Bellatrix here figured out that I was looking into something very specific. She came to me and informed me that she had received an invitation to a meeting-a rather exclusive meeting-between pureblood wizarding heirs, in the Forbidden Forest. Tonight." Harry glanced at her. If she was surprised that he was lying for her, she didn't show it.

"And this… meeting, what exactly happened while you were there?" the head of the Malfoy family asked.

"We were introduced to someone who calls himself Lord Voldemort. He has been studying old, dark magic, and he made a pretty good recruitment pitch to everyone present. His plan is to rid the world of muggleborns and squibs, and restore pureblood supremacy over the wizarding world," Harry explained. He purposefully omitted the part where Voldemort had followed them after their departure. Seeing the skeptical look on Cygnus's face, he added, "I know for sure that he is a very powerful legilimens."

Bellatrix's eyes snapped to him instantly. "What?" she asked loudly.

"I could feel him probing me. I had my shields up, so I don't think he suspected anything, but the fact alone that he claims to know dark magics…"

Romulus nodded in concern. "It appears that we really might have a dark lord on our hands. We've barely recovered from the war with Grindelwald…" His gaze went to Harry. "And you are absolutely sure that he did not penetrate your shields?"

"Yes."

Cyngus looked worried. "If he's really as powerful a legilimens as you say, then isn't it possible that he did, but you are unaware of it?"

Harry shook his head. "There was no reason for him to probe deeper. I made sure my intentions were well-disguised."

Orion nodded sagely. "We need to decide what to do next, gentlemen."

"I suggest we notify Minister Thornton, herself," Cygnus offered.

"Yes, let's tell Minister Thornton, she'll make short work of this dark lord," Malfoy laughed weakly.

Before Cygnus could voice his irritation at the other man's tone, Orion interrupted him. "While notifying Minister Thornton would have certain advantages, I do not believe she'll be a valuable ally in this."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Minister Thornton is losing her power base. Support for her has faltered, is still faltering. The last thing she needs is a crisis on top of all her political concerns. I doubt that at this point in her career she has the strength to stand up to a dark lord," Orion explained. "No, what we need now is a strong leadership, not a career politician. We need a leader who can unite the country, unite the wizarding world in order to combat this new threat. As much good as Minister Thornton has done, she is not the right person for this."

"What about Dumbledore?" Bellatrix asked.

Orion sighed heavily. "Dumbledore certainly has the power to stand up to a dark lord, but he's getting along in the years, isn't he? There's also the problem that, whoever we're going to bring in to lead, we'll have to stand behind them. Once you do, you're stuck. While I certainly admire Dumbledore's abilities, I do not think he would make for a very good leader. No, it would be best if our society could unite and combat this dark lord in a broader and more organized way. Dumbledore would be a vital asset, but I would prefer he not be the leader of the fight."

Cygnus frowned. "What about the Foxes?" he suggested. "Surely they would…"

Romulus shook his head. "Andrew would rather retreat to France than actually pit himself against a real, live dark lord. I can't blame him-he's always been more bark than bite. Edward might actually have the ability to fight a dark lord, but how do we know he isn't the dark lord, himself?"

Harry was about to interrupt and tell him that Edward Foxe was not the dark lord they were after, but decided to let the man continue.

"Also," Malfoy added, "he might actually believe that having a dark lord roam around free would benefit him. The Ministry always grants the Unspeakables more powers in emergency situation. He might decide that it would serve his interests to leave him be. We can't really trust the Foxes."

Harry's head spun. He had never really considered not following Dumbledore's lead, though he could see the truth in their words. Things would have gone much differently if Fudge had grown a spine and publicly led the fight against Voldemort in his time. It would have deprived the dark lord of many of his followers, and a strong leadership uniting the country would have limited the damage Voldemort's campaign of terror had done. The proverb "united we stand, divided we fall," came unbidden to his mind.

"So," Bellatrix asked after a long silence, "what are we going to do about this Lord Vol-"

Orion held up his hand and stopped her abruptly. "Do not speak his name."

Harry frowned, wondering why on Earth everyone was already afraid of speaking his name, despite the fact that Voldemort hadn't done anything yet. "Is there a reason we should fear speaking his name?" Harry asked.

"It is motivated by wisdom and experience, not fear," Orion explained. "The dark has its way of detecting unwanted attention. If we're going to talk about this person, we need a way to refer to him."

"Saying the dark lord in every other sentence is going to get ridiculous pretty fast," Bellatrix noted.

"I agree, but unless you have a better alternative…" Orion shrugged.

An idea came to Harry's mind that had him grinning mischievously. "Why not call him by a common name," he suggested. "How about Tom?"

Romulus smirked. "I like your style, Ashworth. Not only will it disguise our conversations about him, it'll also be a signal to the people that he's a mortal just like them, that he can be killed. I personally would've chosen Bob, but Tom works just as well."

If only people in my time had thought that way, Harry mused idly. He briefly wondered what had happened to these three people in his time. Judging from the way they were acting now, they would not have taken Voldemort's rise lying down, whether he was there or not.

"Tom it is," Orion said slowly. He glanced at both his brother and the elder Malfoy. While Romulus appeared a little more at ease with the situation, Cygnus was looking decidedly unhappy. Apparently deciding that they needed some time to ponder the situation, Orion rose, and looked directly at Harry. "I think it would be best if we all took some time to carefully consider our next actions. We shall meet again soon to discuss this further."

"Right," Harry agreed. "You know where to find me."

"Indeed. Please see to it that my niece returns to Hogwarts safely. It would be best if you avoided any unwanted attention."

"Of course." Harry stood and offered his hand to Bellatrix. She took it and rose as well.

"I'm going to get a few things while I'm here," she said.

"Go ahead, Bella. We've got a few things left to discuss with Mr. Ashworth," Orion waved her off. Once she had left for upstairs, he leveled his eyes at Harry. "Mr. Ashworth… while I agree that involving Bella likely could not be avoided, I will not tolerate you placing her in unnecessary danger. You have a new added assignment from now on. You will keep her safe, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied on reflex.

"Good. Then I bid you a good night. Bella's room is up the stairs, second one on the left." With that, Orion stood and left the room, Romulus following him. Cygnus remained a while longer, before accompanying Harry up the stairs. Before turning down the hallway towards his own bedroom, he stopped Harry.

"Take good care of my daughter, Ashworth."

"I will."

"Good." He turned around and entered his bedroom, leaving Harry staring after him.

The door next to him opened to reveal Bellatrix. She signaled him to step in. "There you are, Ashworth!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "I thought you'd gotten lost."

"No, just had to talk a few things over with your uncle," Harry replied evenly, staring at the open trunk that was brimming with… stuff. He watched as Bellatrix went to her closet and retrieved a delicate-looking pair of dragonhide gloves which she tossed into the trunk. "Didn't you pack everything you need when you left for school?"

Bellatrix kept rummaging around her closet. "I didn't really expect the extent of our extra-curricular activities," she shot back, poking her head out. "Can you grab that trunk from up there?"

Harry followed her pointing finger to a large trunk that was sitting on top of an armoire across the room. He pinched his nose in exasperation and levitated it down.

Harry stared down at his empty breakfast plate. "When does this shop you need to visit open again?" he asked Bellatrix. They were sitting at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, having just finished a somewhat mediocre breakfast. Harry wasn't all that eager to get underway so early, having spent the night sleeping on a floor. All he wanted right now was to crawl back into bed. Bellatrix, on the other hand, appeared well-rested, which was no wonder considering the fact that he'd let her have the bed.

"Not much longer," she told him. "Actually, I reckon if we leave now, it'll be open by the time we get there."

"Do we really have to?" Harry sighed heavily. His head lolled to the side, and he had to jerk himself upright in order to stay awake.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "How'd you ever get anything done, Ashworth? No wonder you ended up

on the losing side; no one's ever won a war by sleeping the day away."

"For your information," Harry grumbled under his breath, "you snore really loud."

Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at him. "I do not snore."

"Do too."

"Do not!"

Harry abruptly closed his mouth, suddenly feeling too tired to get into their usual verbal sparring. "And you haven't told me yet why we're going to this mystery place and why you can't just tell me what it is. It's not down Knockturn Alley, is it?"

"Calm down, Ashworth. It's nothing illegal. For your information, the place is in one of the more

reputable locations in Diagon Alley. And you'll see when we get there. Now come on."

With a muted complaint, Harry rose and followed her out of the pub into Diagon Alley. They idly chatted about random things as they passed the variety of stores that populated the shopping center. Bellatrix seemed surprised that dungbombs would remain a prankster staple in the future. In turn, she was disappointed when he didn't recognize her favorite potion and tincture shop. As they passed Madam Malkin's and Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry's suspicion began to grow.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" he asked in a tone that made it clear that he

could very likely guess their destination.

"We're going to pay Mr. Ollivander a visit," she replied evenly.

Harry stopped in his tracks. "I didn't realize you were in need of a new wand," he told her quietly, knowing full well that she wasn't going to take the bait.

"I'm not. However, you are going to be getting a new wand today."

"And you just decided this… why?"

Bellatrix glared at him, stemming her fists into her hips. "Listen, Ashworth. Last night I couldn't

stop thinking about how we were facing a dark lord, and all you had was a piece of rubbish for a wand." Her voice rose. "I mean, did you even think what could've happened as you were apparating yourself around the countryside with that thing? You could've splinched yourself, or apparated into a wall, or out into the sea-"

"I get the picture," Harry winced. "To be honest, the same thought had crossed my mind."

"Then why are you still carrying that damn thing around with you?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn't. The excuse that he was afraid of what Ollivander might find out no longer cut it, not in light of the threat they were facing. With Voldemort looming over their heads, going into the proverbial serpent's den with only a junk wand was pure foolishness, something for which Harry almost wanted to slap himself, now that he thought about it.

"Look, Ashworth, I don't know why you don't want to go to Ollivander's. I reckon you probably think you've got a good reason," Bellatrix explained a little more calmly. "Maybe you're even afraid that he'll know something is up, Merlin knows the man is almost freakish sometimes, with the way he can just see right through people. But if you're going to go into danger, then I'm going to put my foot down and make sure you can defend yourself. Especially if I'm coming along. I'm planning on living to a hundred, at least, got that, Ashworth?"

"Sure." There wasn't really much else he could say. It appeared that he would be getting a new wand today. Of course, that still presented him with the problem of the brother wands that he'd had in his original time. Maybe he would get lucky, and Fawkes hadn't donated the second feather and his wand hadn't been made yet. Or maybe he would get a different wand this time around. Getting a different wand would certainly make it easier to fight Voldemort, Harry thought absently as they entered the shop.

The bell chimed, and Ollivander appeared almost instantly from the back room. "Bellatrix Black!" he declared jovially. "Cherry, twelve inches, dragon heartstring!"

"That's me," Bellatrix smiled, pleased at being remembered.

"And I don't believe we've met before, Mr… . "

"Ashworth," Bellatrix supplied helpfully. "Harry Ashworth is his name."

"Thanks, Bellatrix, I can speak for myself," Harry replied dryly.

"I know, you were doing such a good job of it."

"Ashworth, hmm?" Ollivander looked at Harry. The man appeared exactly as he had in Harry's time, and his timeless silvery eyes still made Harry feel as if Ollivander could tell everything about him by a mere glance. "It's been a long while since I've sold a wand to an Ashworth. They reside in Australia these days, if I recall?"

"Right," Bellatrix nodded. "He just got here, but apparently, he's been having trouble finding a decent wand. I was hoping that you might be able to help him out with that."

"Naturally." Ollivander peered at Harry over the rims of his silver-edged spectacles. "What kind of wand are you using now, Mr. Ashworth?"

Harry's hesitation earned him an elbow to the ribs from his companion. Reluctantly, he withdrew his wands from his sleeve. "Err… I've been using these ever since my old wand… backfired."

"Backfired?" Ollivander's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah, it kind of blew up in my hands."

"My word, I would think that whoever matched you with your old wand must have done some shoddy work, indeed. These are your replacements, then?" Ollivander took the two twigs from him.

"Right… temporarily, anyway. I just haven't found the time until now to go look for a better one," Harry said.

Bellatrix sighed dramatically. "He's been making do with these pieces of junk for a few weeks now. Can you believe it? He's actually teaching a class with these!"

The wandmaker hummed to himself as he turned them over in his hand. "Those are not wands," he concluded with a wry smile. "I cannot even begin to guess what was used as a core for these, but my guess is that they use a cheap catalyst instead of a real core. The wood is certainly too light to hold up to the strains placed upon them by a proper magical focus core." He tapped one with his measuring tape, causing it to break apart. "Ah, there we go. Yes, I've seen this construction before. It's a cheap mass-production model that seems rather popular in the East."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay," he said.

Ollivander looked up, as if just remembering that he had customers. "Oh, my apologies. Shall we get started?" At Harry's nod, the wandmaker released his measuring tape, leaving it to flit around Harry much the same as it had the first time he had come to this store. While the measuring tape got busy, the man himself vanished into the back room, searching through the shelves.

It was a much shorter wait this time around until Ollivander returned with a handful of boxes. Once again, Harry touched one wand after the next; this time, though, he had had more experience with foreign wands, and he could feel the subtle differences between them. It didn't take long for him to reach one that felt right. The red and gold sparks that erupted from its tip confirmed his guess.

Harry spared a quick glance for the wand and let out a sigh of relief as he noted that it wasn't his holly wand. Maybe there was a way he could fight Voldemort, after all. The feeling of warmth that spread in him relaxed his earlier tension. Maybe I should've gone here earlier, after all, he mused quietly.

"Excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed, his enthusiasm apparently undaunted by having helped wizards and witches find their matching wand half a million times. "A perfect match! Yew-thirteen and a half inches with a phoenix feather core."

Harry's blood ran cold at the declaration. He had not recognized the wand by sight, but he knew its description well enough. Harry looked down at the wand and then up at the wandmaker desperately. "This must be some sort of mistake…"