Chapter 23: Deceptive Measures

Harry continued to sit and stare at the table in shock.

Voldemort thought that he, Harry Potter, was his grandson? Had the world gone crazy or better yet just fate? He couldn't really blame Riddle for assuming that he was somehow related, after all Riddle had no possible way of knowing that his apparent inherited abilities were not so inherited.

He rubbed his scar absently as he continued to think.

And Harry was absolutely sure that he was in the past and not in some alternate version of his home, meaning that Tom Riddle and Cassandra Potter had been romantically involved. Could it be possible that Riddle was partially telling the truth? Did he really send Cassandra into hiding after finding out she was pregnant? Or had the then teen even known she was pregnant?

But it was absurd! Dumbledore was many things…manipulative, yes! But a murderer of innocents and conniving enough to plot this whole supposed 'shenanigan'...absolutely not. The old man really did do what he thought was best for the wizarding world. True, he sometimes got sidetracked and forgot about the people involved but Dumbledore would never kill someone because of their heritage, it went against everything he believed in.

In Harry's original timeline Dumbledore had given his life so that Harry had the chance to beat Riddle. He had destroyed the ring at the cost of his own life…the curse withered away at him until Snape had cast the killing curse, but Albus claimed that it was not an unreasonable exchange for a seventh of Voldemort's soul. Harry may still hold a slight grudge against Albus for being kept in the dark for all those years, but he did not hate the man. Dumbledore had done what he believed was best at the time, and Harry did not believe for a moment that the old man would ever purposely harm him.

Dumbledore's greatest crime was not that he was unfeeling or callous, but rather he felt and cared too much. He believed that the world was on his shoulders and he alone was responsible for it and everyone in it. This belief often gave the respected man the sense that he was somehow entitled to information and knowledge that most would never demand to know. Dumbledore was like an overbearing parent, and the wizardarding world was the headmaster's child. Like most parents Dumbledore cared for the child's happiness and well being, trying to protect and guide them, even knowing that they could not prevent, only prolong, heartache and tragedy.

More likely than not, Cassandra realized the danger she was in and fled from Riddle. It would explain Voldemort's surprise at Harry's existence but accepting the truth all the same. If they had been having relations, it was not out of bounds that a child could have been a product. It would also explain Dumbledore's behavior around Harry. Maybe the old man knew about the teenage romance and came to the same conclusion as Riddle had when he met Harry. Surly, Dumbledore had recognized the ring for what it was and with Harry's claim of Cassandra as a grandmother and Albus' knowledge of the old affair, then it was an obvious conclusion.

And speaking of the ring…how had it ever come into Ollivander's possession? It was obvious that Riddle must have given the ring to Cassandra, but that didn't explain in the least how Ollivander would have it, let alone know to give it to Harry. Clearly, Voldemort thought that Harry had inherited it from his father and not the wandmaker. The more Harry thought on it, the more uncomfortable he became. What or who was Ollivander? The old man knew too much. How had he known about the affair in the first place? It was not something that was common knowledge. And come to think of it, the man had not seemed overly surprised that the ring had worked for him or at his wand choice (either time).

According to Riddle, only a parselmouth would be able to control the ring, obviously Ollivander must have known that he was a paraselmouth. The wandmaker also knew personal things about him: the fact that he could do wandless magic, that he wasn't from 'here,' the odd man even knew his cover story front to back.

Harry felt as if he was missing a large piece of the puzzle, a feeling he despised, but he could not see what it was. He almost felt as if he was willingly walking into a trap. He promised himself that as soon as he could he'd exchange words with the wandmaker, and this time he'd get answers.

It was very doubtful that Cassandra Potter had ever really produced a child, as Dumbledore had never mentioned the fact in the future to Harry. In fact, he had only learned of Cassandra Potter when he looked into his family history, Albus had never mentioned her at all and she had never reappeared in his time line. It was for those very reasons that he had chosen his great-great aunt as the focus for his back story.

So Riddle was using half-truths and Harry's own personal history to construct a picture in which Dumbledore was the real monster. Even Harry had to admit that it was skillfully done. He wasn't surprised however; Tom Riddle had always been a master manipulator, even as an orphaned child. At Hogwarts he had all the teachers and even the Headmaster wrapped around his conniving finger.

If Harry really had been the grandson of Cassandra Potter and Tom Riddle, then he would have been one hundred percent convinced that Albus Dumbledore had not only killed his father and godparents, but had been manipulating him as well. But he was not that boy; he knew that Dumbledore had done no such thing as of yet. So how should he proceed?

He couldn't very well go ahead and kill Riddle so soon. He had no idea where the rest of the Horcruxes were at this time. The ring, and diadem he could easily take care of as he already knew where they were, but he had planned on doing that later incase Voldemort had alarms to alert him of their destruction. As for the diary, he had no clue where it was. Riddle hardly trusted the seventeen-year-old Malfoy enough to hand him one of his Horcrux, and Lestrange was currently a fourth year. The boy wouldn't even join Voldemort's rank for another few years, so there goes Hufflepuff's cup. Nagini had yet to be made or even born for that matter, and the locket had yet to be put in the cave. Nagini could be discounted since she had yet to be made, but Harry was not sure when the locket was made.

Finally, he himself was still one. He still had visions from Voldemort, but that still puzzled him. How could that be possible? How could he still have a link that had yet to be created? Did that piece of soul still exist inside him? And why did he not burn when Riddle touched him earlier?

His mother's protection should still work here as Voldemort did not have his blood. It stood to reason that if his connection with Voldemort was still valid then his mother's protection would be as well. He would have to find someone who meant him harm to test it out on. But what would it mean if the protection was still there and yet he neither hurt nor hurt Riddle when he was touched? Would that mean that the man meant him no harm?

The very concept was foreign to Harry; there had never been a time in which Riddle wasn't after his blood, both figuratively and metaphorically.

If Voldemort truly meant him no harm and believed he was his grandson then what should he do?

Riddle had never had much regard for family, but then again seeing to whom he was related and knowing the Dark Lord's mindset…they weren't even worth claiming, other than their heritage. So why claim a grandson?

Harry could only come to the conclusion that Riddle considered him worthy because he was both powerful and reminded the man of a younger version of himself. A young, powerful, half-blooded orphaned Slytherin, who was a parselmouth.

While he pondered his predicament a sudden burst of flame appeared in front of him on the table.

Harry blinked in surprised at the bird, "'lo Fawkes."

The phoenix chirped a greeting in response before dropping a letter on the table.

"Armageddon then, eh?"

The bird nodded his head in agreement.

"I suppose you're waiting for a response?"

Fawkes nodded again.

"You could just flame me out of here if needed, right? I mean, I've seen you flame Albus before."

The phoenix let out a regretful trill which Harry took as a negative.

With a sigh Harry quickly opened the letter, the flowing letters easily recognizable as the headmaster's.

Dear Thanatos,

I hope this letter finds you well. Harry snorted, very well indeed. I understand your wish not to be contacted, however a grave event has occurred. A first-year Hogwarts student was snatched from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by one of Voldemort's followers. This boy, Harry Potter is an innocent in this war, another snort at that, he had rarely been called innocent in his lifetime, and is in dire need of help. I am begging you to give us information once again my friend. Where is Harry Potter? Any information relating to his whereabouts, condition, and security would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

He looked up at the bird and began to talk to him, "Oh this is just perfect two of the three are easily answered, but security? I have no idea. I suppose I could break out but it would look extremely suspicious to Riddle if I did. He'll believe that I am fearful of the old man, so why would I attempt to escape to go him? I am a Slytherin first and foremost. Currently it appears as if Albus is my enemy and Riddle the only direct family I have left. Perhaps, if Albus sent one person in…Tom may think that I was forcefully taken. Decisions, decisions. Any suggestions?"

Fawkes let out a series of trills as the boy stared at him.

"Of course you're right. But who?"

More trills.

"No, Riddle really wants to kill him. Who's really good at infiltration?"

A slightly higher trill.

"Who is Dorcas Meadowes? The name seems familiar."

Harry closed his eyes in concentration. Meadowes, Meadowes? A smiling witch's face came into his mind. He was looking at the middle-aged face as a finger pointed to her and a gruff voice declared, "Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally."

For Voldemort to take a personal interest in her meant that she must have been good, but good enough to enter Voldemort's stronghold and rescue a prisoner? Given, he didn't seem to be under high security, but surely Riddle had security in place all around this manor?

Time was also an issue. If they thought he was in trouble they would rush in, much more likely to make a fatal mistake from hurried planning.

"Unfortunately Fawkes I seem to be lacking parchment and a quill. Could you just pass along a verbal message?"

The red phoenix nodded his head in consent.

"Harry Potter is well. Voldemort has taken a special interest in him and has forbidden any harm to befall the boy from his followers. He is located at Riddle Manor and security is tight, therefore an open attack should be highly discouraged. If you can bring an operative in, I can move the boy from his rooms to a meeting spot. Take your time and plan things carefully. I will only help if you have a well thought out plan. Contact me once you have a time and date set up."

Fawkes trilled his approval before nuzzling Harry's cheek and then flaming away.

With a sigh Harry went back to his thoughts.

Now the wait begins.

Three days had passed and Harry had not yet received an answer from Dumbledore, however, he wasn't overly concerned. If push came to shove, he could still escape if he felt that he was endangered, even if it meant revealing how powerful he was.

However, as time passed he concocted and fine tuned a new plan. Voldemort not only believed that he was Harry's grandfather, but he also seemed unwilling to kill Harry right away. It was clear that Riddle wanted him for something, but Harry would want something in return.

"Have you reached a decision?"

Harry looked over at the seated wizard giving him a calculating gaze.

"Before I agree to anything you will answer some of my questions."

"Agreed."

"You promise that you will answer truthfully?"

The Dark Lord glanced over at the boy in amusement. "You'd take the word of the Dark Lord?"

Harry glared over at the man, "No, but I would take the word of Tom Riddle."

Voldemort's glare intensified while Harry bit back his amusement.

"I will answer to the best of my abilities." Riddle finally hissed.

Harry nodded, well aware that Riddle had not agreed to answer truthfully. If anything he just promised to be as conniving as ever. However, this question session was not about getting answers, but rather about letting Voldemort think that he was controlling Harry.

"Do you want to kill me?"

"No."

"If I chose to stay with you, you wouldn't make me do anything that I did not want to do?" Harry asked staring intently at the older wizard.

Voldemort studied him for a moment, "You do not yet believe in my cause. I will not force you into anything until you believe. While I may wish you would follow my orders, I will not treat you like one of my followers and make you do my biding." Riddle paused and looked Harry over, "There is a reason why I wait until my followers are at least sixteen before I mark them."

Harry nodded, apparently relieved somewhat by the Dark Lord's answer, "Were you being truthful about Dumbledore?"

At the headmaster's name Voldemort's eyes narrowed and a look of loathing crossed his face, "Yes."

"You're serious about training me?"

"Correct."

"So that I can kill Dumbledore?"

Voldemort shot him a calculating look, pleased to see that Harry didn't seem discontented with the idea, "The idea had crossed my mind."

"To do that I would have to be close to him."

Reaching forward Voldemort grabbed the front of Harry's robes and pulled him forward until they were nose to nose, "You seek to betray me boy!"

The two glared at each other and Harry felt strong mental probe. He battered it away with a snarl.

"I do not seek to betray you. I was stating a fact." Harry spat disdainfully, "How else would I kill the great Albus Dumbledore?"

Riddle glared as Harry continued, "Why not dose me with Veritaserum if you are so suspicious?"

Voldemort released his grip and pushed Harry back slightly, "Veritaserum will come later. First we will continue our conversation."

The boy nodded his head.

Riddle stared at him in interest, "Who taught you how to shield your mind?"

Harry shrugged slightly, "My godparents. My godfather in particular taught me the most. It really wasn't that hard, I picked up on it almost right away. Zach thought I was a natural." He'd rather have Voldemort believe that he was naturally skilled at the mind arts, rather than having them from years of practice.

Voldemort nodded his acceptance, easily believing that his grandson would inherit his natural skill at the art. He smiled quietly before asking, "You hold no qualms about killing the old man?"

Harry snorted, "I had no qualms about killing you a few days ago either." 'Still don't.' He added mentally. "But-things have changed."

Voldemort gave him a calculating look, "You are nowhere nearly strong or trained enough to defeat the old fool. It will be years before you could even hope to kill him. You must stay here and train, only then could you hope to beat the old man."

He glared at the Dark Lord, "I'm not nearly as weak as you believe! I'm far ahead of my year mates, and besides, I do not need to be more skilled than Dumbledore to kill him. I already have a plan that will work. I've thought of little else for the past three days. I will kill the one who took my parents away from me, and I will do it my way!"

Riddle stared at him in disbelief and displeasure, "I do not doubt you believe that your plan would work, but in the end could you follow through with it, boy?" Riddle asked lightly staring at him intently, "Can you really look the man in the eye and draw up enough hate to end his life?"

Harry let the question hang in the air for a few minutes while steeling his features before lifting his head high and staring Voldemort in the eye, "To end a murderer? I can and I will."

"Then why do you feel you need to be close to him? Getting to know him will only make your task all that more difficult to complete."

Harry let a dark smile cross his features, "Why Grandfather surely you've heard the saying, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'? It's all part of the plan."

"You mean to stab him in the back?" Voldemort asked amused.

The irony was not lost on Harry as he nodded.

"Dumbledore means to use me to kill you correct?" Harry asked, centering in on an unidentifiable flash in Riddle's eyes as the wizard nodded, "He'll have to gain my trust then, and ultimately bring me into his confidence. And then…when he trusts me unconditionally, and only then will I strike. Bringing him to his knees, I'll end his pathetic excuse of a life right after I watch the realization flood his eyes."

Harry gazed off in space, his eyes sparkling with violence and a fierce smile on his face, "He's already approached me and begin teaching me of your past. Don't you see, he is already grooming me to kill you? He already believes that he has me fooled, and honestly he did until recently. My stay here has changed that."

Voldemort looked on with an unidentifiable expression on his face, "You truly are a Slytherin, but you are still too impulsive. Your plans have many flaws."

"Blame it on my Potter side."

"Ah yes, the Potters. What do you plan to do with them?" Voldemort asked with a sneer.

Harry let confusion play over his face, "Do with them? I think they are just as much victims as I am. They do not know the truth about Dumbledore. Why would I do anything to them?"

Disgust crossed Riddle's features, "They are his lap dogs Harry. Did you really think they loved you?" The Dark Lord's voice took on a slightly mocking tone, "That they would replace what you had lost? It is a fool's hope, Harry. They threw their lot in with Dumbledore, the man that took your family away."

"I refuse to kill them!" Harry let his voice crack, "They are my family."

He turned desperate and pleading eyes on Voldemort, "I can't kill family, they have my blood! My magic! It would be an abomination and slight on magic."

Riddle took Harry by the shoulders and stared into his eyes, "They are not your family. I am! They do not have your magic. I do! They do not care for you. I will. You are mine."

"You are my family?" Harry seemed to whisper to himself lost in thought.

"Yes." Voldemort stated, answering the question.

The dark haired boy looked up at the older man, "You will care for me?"

Riddle's eyes darkened and his lips pinched, "I will not cuddle you if that is what you mean. You are my grandson, you have my power. I will give you everything you could possibly need to reach your full potential. When people look upon you, they will know you are mine. All will come to respect you and act accordingly."

Harry turned haunted eyes on Voldemort, "Please, it's the one thing I ask. They will be spared."

Riddle frowned with disgust on his face, but slightly relenting, "In return you will kill Dumbledore?"

Harry licked his lips before answering, "Yes, their lives for his."

"Done."

"Are you sure you are willing to go through with this Dorcas?" Albus asked lightly, not wishing to force anyone into such a dangerous situation.

"Of course I'm sure Albus. I could never live with myself if I backed out and left that poor boy to be tortured to death. I'd rather attempt and fail than know that I did nothing at all." The middle-aged woman declared firmly, "Now stop staling and tell me the plan."

Albus' eyes twinkled slightly, "My dear, why do you believe I have a plan?"

The blond snorted, "Albus you have a plan for everything. I'd say you already had it planned out in excruciating detail before you called me here. Just tell me what to do."

"As blunt as ever my dear Dorcas. I must say in these troubling times your attitude is a breath of fresh air." The old man leaned back in his armchair before looking at her intently, "I need you to infiltrate the manor, where an operative will meet you with Harry. Secrecy is the Key. Our best chances at helping the boy will be stealth. You must not be seen."

Dorcas paled slightly but her face was determined, "Numbers?"

Dumbledore sighed before rubbing his nose, "We do not know. Where Harry is being held security is tight, but our friend is going to get the boy as far away from the security as possible."

She nodded her head in understanding, "Do we know the lay out of the manor?"

"I inquired in the muggle world and have received copies of the original layout of the manor," Dumbledore said while pulling out some papers from his desk drawer, "though I do not know if the manor has been changed by magic or what wards are on the inside. It is best to assume the worst and go from there."

The woman grinned wryly, "Well Albus you are starting to sound like Alastor."

"Indeed."

"Done."

Harry sagged, relieved, before tensing again when Riddle spoke up, "However, you will stay here until you are trained."

"That will ruin my plan!"

"Surely the great Albus Dumbledore will take you back; just convince him you were my prisoner." Voldemort snarled slightly.

"Technically I am your prisoner." Harry frowned in annoyance.

Riddle waved his hand dismissively, "You're an honored guest. If you were a prisoner I would have you kept in the dungeons."

"How skilled do you consider 'trained'?" Harry asked slyly.

At his tone Voldemort narrowed his eyes, "We will see. Now I must take my leave as I have a prior engagement. Tomorrow I will test your skills."

Harry nodded as the Dark Lord rose, his robes billowing around his body as he gracefully stalked out of the room.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and slumped slightly in his seat, retaining his shields and manipulating Voldemort took a lot out of him, both mentally and physically. He pulled out his wand and cast some locking charms on his door before casting some secrecy charms on the room. If Fawkes returned tonight, he'd rather they not be disturbed.

Harry dozed lightly, curled up in the comfortable bed. He had just snuggled down deeper when a flash woke him. Smiling slightly at the bird on his chest, he sleepily reached out and stroked Fawkes.

"Hmm, 'lo Fawkes."

The bird nuzzled his hand in greeting.

With a larger smile Harry took the letter and glanced through it before sitting up sharply, causing the bird to fall backwards. The phoenix let out an angry shriek while he cursed.

"Blasted man! Could have at least given me a twenty-four hour notice." Harry muttered throwing the covers off his legs and atop the glaring bird.

He took little notice as he threw on his clothing, checked his pockets for all of his possessions before taking the pink journal out and laying it on his desk. Earlier he had penned a letter to 'Abigail' explaining how the journal worked. Voldemort should find the journal after Harry was 'rescued' and be able to contact him securely. Hopefully Riddle would believe that the journal was left in haste as Harry was spirited away. Everything relied on Voldemort's belief that Harry hadn't gone willingly. The Dark Lord must believe that Harry was still under his sway.

Glancing around his room one last time, he finally caught sight of his smoldering blankets. With a jerk of his hand the covers straightened themselves revealing a ruffled Fawkes. The fiery bird glared, his feathers puffed up comically.

"Sorry Fawkes, I was just panicked for a moment. Please forgive me." Harry muttered trying to look repentant.

Fawkes only glared more, his look clearly stating that Harry was an idiot for thinking a phoenix would fall for such a boldfaced lie.

At the glare, the boy simply shrugged before smiling widely, "Alright, that was a lie, but I wouldn't have 'accidentally' covered you if your pet hadn't startled me. Maybe once you're back you can burn a few of his favorite socks?"

The phoenix huffed slightly.

"Oh come on, he'll be clueless as to why you did it, which will make it all worth while. Nothing bothers the man more than not knowing the reason for an event." Harry persuaded.

Fawkes looked thoughtful before nodding his head slightly in agreement, causing the boy to smile again.

"Excellent." He said before casting silencing spells on the room, "You'd think that old Tom would have something to detect the magic going on in here, but instead he only has tracers on the outside of the door. It's a good thing he forgot to lock it on the way out, otherwise he would know that I opened the door."

Fawkes trilled in agreement.

Harry turned and studied the room, "How much damage do you think would be sufficient?"

Some musical trills followed.

"Yes, just enough to make it seem like I put up a fight. Maybe some broken furniture and a bit of my blood? Hm, my blankets are singed, that should count for something." He muttered distractedly.

He added the mentioned additions before a few more random ones. He was sure to leak out extra magic to contaminate the area, making it harder to pinpoint how many magical signatures had been used. Finally he threw some stunning hexes at the wall and bed, leaving scorch marks.

Satisfied he stashed his wand before sitting on the last steady chair.

"And now my dear Fawkes, we wait until I am 'rescued'. I suppose Thanatos should break me out in ten minutes or so, yeah?"

Fawkes chirped an affirmative.

"Well if that's the case, then I guess this is it. I suppose I'll see you back at Hogwarts or headquarters, wherever that is during this time period."

With a trill of good luck the bird flamed out of the room.

"Eight minutes." Harry muttered to the empty room beginning the countdown.