2

CHAPTER TWO:

Harry landed with an impact that knocked all the air out of his lungs, and when he skidded to a stop he stared up at the dark ceiling in incomprehension. He had recognized the spell – Voldemort had begun casting it after his Avada Kedavra had failed to kill Harry for the second time – and it was a terrible curse that slowly dissolved your brain within your skull. He had seen it used often enough to know that it took the victim several agonizing minutes to die, and there was no way that he could have died so swiftly and painlessly.

Frowning, Harry realized that he didn't feel dead at all – he still ached as much as before, and when he raised his left hand he saw that it was still bleeding sluggishly. Staring at it in incomprehension, he eventually realized that wherever he had landed, it wasn't as perfectly silent as he had assumed. Immediately on the tail of that realization came his reactions, honed over the years until his body nearly moved without his volition, and a moment later he was in a crouch facing the front of the hall he was in, wand in hand and eyes scanning the room. What he saw there made him gape, all coherent thoughts forgotten.

"I-" he choked out before his brain caught up and he cut off whatever he was about to say. He was in a room full of enemies, and he knew that not all of them were dead yet. His eyes however were locked on the one person at the front of the hall: For there sat Lord Voldemort in a throne, looking as he had in Harry's fourth year when he was newly resurrected.

Hand trembling, Harry whispered, "Tempus totalus," and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the glowing numbers.

10:34 PM, Friday 23rd February 1996.

Then his brain caught up and a grin spread on his face as he realized that if he was in the past, then that meant that his friends were alive and that there was time to save it all. But first I have to get out of here alive, he realized, leaving the grin on his face as he looked up to meet the red gaze of his nemesis, a plan already forming.

"My Lord!" he crowed, letting his triumph flavor his voice as he carefully hid all the fury and despair he felt at the sight of Voldemort. Rising and taking several steps forward, extremely aware of all the wands pointed his way, he knelt before the man and raised his face to look into the white face, his eyes shining.

"Your power knows no bounds, my Lord!" he enthused, knowing by the look on Voldemort's face that he had caught him off balance. Good. "I should never have doubted that if any man could perform such a feat, you alone would succeed where others failed, my Lord," he continued, seeing the annoyed confusion in the wizard's face and knowing that he would soon run out of patience.

"But of course, having succeeded in sending me back in time," there were several sharp intakes of breath, and Voldemort's eyes sharpened as he began to understand, "you would no longer know me." Bowing until his head nearly touched the floor, hating the feeling of leaving his back exposed but knowing it was necessary, Harry spoke to the floor. "My name is Harry Potter, my Lord."

A deathly silence fell, and it took everything Harry had not to raise his head but to stay in that vulnerable position. It wasn't as though he could defend himself against the full Inner Circle in his current state anyway, he thought tersely.

"Explain," came the hissed order, and Harry finally raised his head to look Voldemort in the eye once more. It was as he breathed in to speak that he wondered why Voldemort wasn't simply using Legilimency – he had never learned to use Occlumency well enough to block the wizard, and with the state he was in it would be laughably easy to break through his shields. Sending a silent thank you to Lady Luck he began spinning his tale.

"It wasn't until Dumbledore died," he said, spitting out the name, "that I realized that for years I had been drugged and brainwashed." Oh, he remembered it well – the day he had realized that the Headmaster had kept him under compulsion charms and fealty potions since the day he had first met Hagrid. The fealty potions were obvious – to keep him loyal to Dumbledore above everyone else, and lesser potions keyed to Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Professor McGonagall, and even later, a love potion keyed to Ginny. The compulsion charms had been to ensure that he'd dislike all Slytherins, but especially Snape, suppress his more Slytherin tendencies (such as actually thinking before rushing into danger), and keep him from making friends apart from Ron and Hermione. There had also been additional spells including one to keep him from standing up to the Dursleys and a rather complicated one to make him more reckless. When he had found out about everything the Headmaster had done to him he had gone into a rage that had lasted for several days, and it was with no particular surprise that he realized he was shaking just thinking of it.

Taking several deep breaths, Harry forced himself to relax – as much as was possible in the Dark Lord's throne room.

"I apologize for my behavior towards you in those years, my Lord," he said, his voice once more calm and his gaze level. When the spells and potions had faded his Slytherin side had come back with a vengeance, leaving little of the Golden Boy everyone had come to expect. It had saved his life several times since, and he was relying on it to get him through this as well.

"I was not myself in that time," he continued truthfully. "Had Dumbledore," as much as he tried, he couldn't say that name without spitting it, "not meddled, I would have been sorted into Slytherin, where I belonged." It was true, too – he could still remember putting on the Hat and suddenly feeling a strong dislike for Slytherins and their House, when before that moment he hadn't had any strong feelings about any one House. Voldemort actually has remarkable composure, Harry thought idly as he took in the impassive face of his nemesis. But Harry had always been able to read the man's emotions in his eyes, just as Voldemort had always been able to read him like an open book. But that was before Dumbledore died, he thought with some satisfaction. Since that moment, Voldemort had only been able to read him when he lost control over his emotions. The red eyes, on the other hand, held emotions that encouraged Harry to continue: An equal mix of disbelief and intrigue.

"As soon as Dumbledore fell, I left Hogwarts to join you, my Lord," Harry said, knowing that the difficult part would be convincing the Dark Lord that he was indeed a faithful Death Eater. Oh my God, the Dark Mark, he realized with a start, and let a scowl cross his face.

"Unfortunately, I was unable to take your Mark due to my role," he said, pushing up his left sleeve with jerky movements, "but," and here he smirked, laying his wand on the floor and pushing up the other sleeve to expose a tattoo, "it wasn't out of character for the Golden Boy to get a tattoo of a lion…" Picking up his wand once more, he tapped the tattoo once and its form changed, elongating and morphing until a green and silver snake had replaced the red and gold lion on his wrist. Raising his face, he smirked at the Dark Lord. "In your wisdom," he gagged inwardly at the phrase, "you tied the tattoo not to yourself but to a ring you wore, thus ensuring that you had marked me in a way that no wizard would suspect." And thus ensuring that this Voldemort doesn't have that tie to me.

"Then I returned to Hogwarts and began converting the students to your world view, my Lord," he said, forcing a rather feral grin onto his face. Waving his hand negligently, he said, "The Mudblood Granger had to die, of course, and the Blood Traitors in the school I drugged; Severus assisted me with the potions," he inclined his head towards the Potions Master, who met his eyes with an intent gaze. It was then that Harry felt a pressure on his mind, and he forced one thought at his former Professor: "Not right now; I need to convince him not to kill me." A second later he added, "It is good to see you alive, sir." The pressure disappeared and a flash of emotion crossed the Potions Master's face before it was once more blanked of emotion. Harry turned back to Voldemort.

"It was all going well," he said bitterly, remembering times when it had been going well for the Order and not Voldemort, "until we realized that there were traitors in our midst." It was with a sense of great satisfaction that he turned a cold gaze on Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. This could either get him killed or them, and the possibility of the latter was too great to pass up on.

"Malfoy," he spat, "was actively working towards your downfall, my Lord. Surely you have already discovered how he gave the book you had entrusted him with to a Blood Traitor in the hope that Dumbledore would find it and know it for what it was?" To his satisfaction, a hint of fear colored Malfoy's outraged reaction, and Harry negligently waved his wand to silence the man before turning back to Voldemort, a grimly satisfied look on his face.

"And that was before you discovered that he was researching ways to create his own, as well as searching for other such objects," Harry said, keeping his words deliberately vague. He doubted that Voldemort wanted his Death Eaters to know about his Horcruxes, after all.

Shifting his gaze to Bellatrix Lestrange, he let some of the hate he felt for her creep into his voice. "She, on the other hand, was not so much a traitor as absolutely insane." She hissed at him like a cat, and his gaze hardened. "Dear Bellatrix, a top member of the Inner Circle, decided that Muggles and lower class wizards were no longer a big enough challenge. Oh, no," he said, his voice icy cold. "She decided that other members of the Inner Circle would make far better playthings."

Silence gripped the hall once more, and Harry was once more satisfied with a Death Eater's reaction. Bellatrix wasn't good enough at masking her emotions to hide that fact that she had indeed thought about using her fellow Death Eaters as playthings before. He, however, was quite good by now at masking his emotions, and he eyed her coldly as he asked, "Tell me, Lestrange, how often have you considered torturing the Dark Lord's right-hand man to death?"

"I have never considered torturing Lucius," she hissed at him, and he shook his head with a look of disgust.

"Not Malfoy – were you not listening when I named him for the traitor he is? I meant Severus, of course. The most loyal of all the Inner Circle, the most trusted by our Lord, and you played with him for three days before finally killing him." A feral snarl curled his lips. "I ensured that you suffered for twice as long for what you did to him."

Lestrange looked taken aback at his words, and Harry looked to Snape to see that the Potions Master had gone deathly pale. "You were not the only member of the Inner Circle to fall to her, but you were the most wronged. As I have already had the pleasure of killing her once," which was unfortunately not true, "I would be happy to let you at her," he said, a wicked smile on his lips. Then he remembered that he was not the one in charge and looked to Voldemort once more. "If my Lord wills it, of course," he said deferentially, bowing his head.

Voldemort seemed contemplative as he gazed at this stranger. It went against everything he knew to have a Potter kneeling before him, but everything the young man had spoken had rung true. The reactions of both Lucius and Bellatrix couldn't be denied, and if they truly were traitors, then they would need to be disposed of.

"What happened after the traitors were discovered?" he inquired silkily, not knowing that inwardly Harry was crowing in triumph at the question. It seemed Voldemort was believing his tale.

Assuming an angry expression, Harry let his eyes flick over to Malfoy before answering the question, glad that Hermione had told him about body language in detail when he saw that Voldemort's gaze had followed his and the Dark Lord already understood that it was because of Malfoy that something had gone terribly wrong.

"It was too late, My Lord," he said, letting some of the rage and desperation he had felt mere minutes before seep into his voice. "Between him and Lestrange, a large number of Death Eaters had been quietly assassinated, and Malfoy had managed to bring together both the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix against us; we were forced to retreat from Hogwarts entirely and go into hiding." He could see how little that idea appealed to Voldemort by the flare of his slit nostrils and the minute narrowing of his eyes. Harry let his eyes flick over to Malfoy once more and saw that the man was trying to defend himself but was unable to do so as he was still silenced. It was frankly pathetic that the man had never learned to reverse that spell silently, Harry thought, but it worked out well for him in this case.

"Shall we listen to his defense, my Lord? It should prove entertaining," he said, smirking icily at Malfoy.

There was a brief silence before Voldemort spoke, but when he did it was in a tone that chilled the very air. "No need," he spoke coldly. "I have looked into his mind, and what you say rings true." Harry silently sent another thank you to Lady Luck; Malfoy had never been a traitor, but any true Slytherin would have at least one backup plan and Harry had suspected that with his contacts in the Ministry that would be precisely the route Malfoy would have considered. It seemed that Luck was on his side for once.

"May I dispose of him for you, my Lord?" Harry asked, smiling coldly at Malfoy. Oh, how many times he had wished he could kill the man…

A pause, then, "You may."

Harry felt his lips spread into a grin as he rose to his feet, knocking the cane out of Malfoy's hand with a silent Expelliarmus. "Are you even capable of casting silently, Malfoy?" he asked sarcastically as he walked up to the Pure-blood. "I noticed that you were unable to dispel my Silencing charm, and it wasn't even a strong one." He cocked his head as he considered the blonde. "You're really a pathetic excuse of a wizard, you know?" he asked conversationally. "A good Slytherin, though, I'll admit. That's your only redeeming quality," he said pleasantly as he aimed a silent cutting charm at the man's left ear, neatly severing it from his head. The man's mouth opened in a silent scream of pain.

"Well, it's no fun if we can't hear you," Harry said cheerfully as he dispelled the silencing charm, letting Malfoy's whimpers sound through the silent room. Then the man lunged at him, murder in his eyes, and Harry neatly sidestepped the lunge, sending the man crashing to the floor.

"Sloppy," he commented, aiming another cutting charm at the man's right ankle. This time the blonde's howl of pain rang out clearly, and Harry contemplated the fallen man.

"It's somewhat boring to just cut you to pieces, isn't it?" Trying to come up with a fitting death, he remembered with a pang how he had found Susan after Malfoy had gotten his hands on her. Somehow he didn't think he could stomach raping Malfoy to death, but he wanted to avenge the sweet girl he had known.

Humming in contemplation, he looked around and spotted Malfoy's cane. "Ahh," he said in satisfaction. "That should do it…" Summoning the cane, he caught it in one hand and looked at it for a moment. Then, adjusting his hold, he slammed it down on the blonde's back, a feeling of justice filling him when he heard a loud crack and Malfoy's cry of pain.

"This isn't a bad cane," he said conversationally as he brought it down again, grinding the end against the man's broken spine and ignoring the sounds coming from the blonde. "Maybe I should keep it," he added, crushing his victim's wand hand and tuning out the voice in his head saying that he shouldn't be enjoying torture. He deserves it, he thought fiercely, and the voice couldn't deny that. Just remembering Susan's broken body when she had once been so full of life and fire made him wish for a worse death for the blonde.

He paused to change his hold on the cane and swung it like a golf club, bashing the Pure-blood's skull with the silver head of the cane. Immediately blood came gushing out, and Harry gave a contented hum, a small smile curving his lips as he brought the cane down like a club to hit the side of the man's head. He realized that he probably looked rather scary like that, but decided that it was all to the best in the current company. Best that they realize right away that he was not the Golden Boy they were used to.

Lucius Malfoy was probably already dead by that point, but Harry dealt another few crushing blows before deeming himself satisfied and Susan's death avenged. Spitting on the corpse, he informed it, "You didn't deserve to die by magical means, traitor." That done, he threw aside the cane and turned away, walking back to the spot he had previously occupied and sinking back into a kneeling position.

"It is done, my Lord," he said formally, and saw in Voldemort's eyes that he was pleased with the outcome. A traitor had been dealt with, and he had gained a ruthless new ally.

"Tell me, Harry," he said silkily, "Why is it that I sent you back in time?"

Harry heard the unvoiced question – why didn't I send myself? – and assumed a regretful expression. "I am not powerful enough to attempt such a spell, my Lord, and we were unable to find a spell that would send the caster back in time. Knowing that you alone have the power to attempt such a feat, you entrusted to me the success of your campaign. By that time I was the only member of the Inner Circle left, and the only person capable of infiltrating the Light," he sneered at the term, "and so the only person likely to succeed. You will not regret your trust in me, my Lord," Harry said, bowing his head to hide the fact that it was a lie. Looking back up, he met Voldemort's gaze steadily, hoping against hope that it would not occur to the man to use Legilimency.

The silence seemed to stretch interminably before Voldemort finally answered, and Harry wondered irreverently what it was with him and pregnant pauses. "Very well," the man said evenly. "I would have you go with Severus and infiltrate the Order. Position yourself as Dumbledore's right-hand man, then dispose of him. I assume you have the necessary motivation," he smirked, and Harry's lips curved into an answering smirk. He was enjoying the chance to kill all the people he wished he could have the first time around. When did you get so bloodthirsty, Harry? he wondered, and filed away the question to address at a later time.

"It will be my pleasure, my Lord," he responded, leaving the smirk on his face. And God, I never thought I'd get along with Voldemort so well. At least I can't wait to kill him as well, he consoled himself. Actually, he would have to get his hands on the Horcruxes he knew of as quickly as possible; before Voldemort decided to move them. If he started protecting them better it would be hard to get at them.

The one at Grimmauld Place should be safe for a while yet, he thought, then realized that Sirius must still be alive. Close on the heels of that happy realization came the memories of the battle at the Ministry, and the fact that it had all happened because Voldemort had wanted to hear the prophecy.

Harry must have lost control over his expression, for Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he hissed, "What is it?" in a dangerous tone of voice.

"The prophecy," Harry answered without thinking, then promptly kicked his brain into overdrive to come up with a new wording to give Voldemort. There was no way he would tell him the line "either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives".

"You have not heard it before, I believe," he said, knowing already that Voldemort knew no more than the first two lines and hoping to use that to his advantage. The intensity of the Dark Lord's gaze ensured that he would be choosing his words carefully.

"The full prophecy reads 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…" Harry spoke deliberately slowly, infusing a sense of gravitas into his words. If he didn't get this right, he was a dead man. "And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, and each will have power the other knows not…" He could see that Voldemort didn't like that part, but it was close enough to the original to ring true. "And they will be both allies and foes, and their power will have no equal… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" Harry trailed off, hoping it would be enough. On a whim he added, "Dumbledore seemed to believe that the power I have that you know not is love." At Voldemort's incredulous look he smirked. "That was my reaction as well."

To his surprise, Voldemort actually snorted. "What a fool. Double fool him for drugging you to attempt to keep you from allying yourself to me."

Harry's expression hardened. "Yes, that was foolish of him. I will have to get Harry away from his influence as quickly as possible; Harry will cause us a lot of trouble otherwise, and he is actually quite a useful character." He smirked at discussing himself in that way, and this time it was Voldemort who mirrored his smirk.

"Excellent. Severus, you will take him to Hogwarts and come up with a way to ingratiate him with Dumbledore. Invent a false story, supply him with false memories – I trust you two to know how to go about it." Outwardly both Severus and Harry nodded, but inwardly both were gaping. Voldemort, trusting them to plan such a thing on their own, without demanding to know all the details? Apparently Harry's interference had changed far more than he had expected, and he had just neatly secured their spots at the very head of the pack.

"And Bellatrix…" Voldemort continued, turning his red gaze on his only female Death Eater. "If you kill any of my followers, you will regret it." His eyes were hard, and Lestrange didn't even bother protesting that she would never do such a thing, instead bowing her head meekly. Harry hoped that there wouldn't be any trouble from her, but knew better than to assume good behavior from Bellatrix Lestrange. He would be keeping an eye on her.

"You may go. And Harry? When I next call Severus, join him. We will renew our connection then."

Harry did his very best to look eager as he thanked Voldemort, and bowed low one last time before leaving the hall with Snape. He would need to get new clothing, he realized as he compared his ragged Muggle clothing to Snape's pristine Death Eater robes. Sighing as he wondered whether he would still have access to his vaults in this time, he apparated out after Snape, both of them headed for Hogwarts.