A Deeper Connection: A New Beginning

A Deeper Connection - Part II

The first thing the Dark Lord felt when he arrived at Spinner's End were two strong arms pulling him closer to a warm body, "I missed you so much."

Burying his head deeper in his shoulder, his Equal slowly inhaled the comforting scent of the Dark Lord.

"I missed you, too," Tom said after a moment of silence, gently patting Harry's back.

Just then, the Potions Master arrived in a cloud of green flames. Stepping out of the fireplace, their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Despite Severus' impressive Occlumency Shields, it was more than obvious how uncomfortable the situation in front of him was making the Potions Masters. Mumbling something about overseeing the House Elves in the kitchen, the dour man fled. Rolling his eyes, the Dark Lord returned his attention to his equal.

"-cannot explain how happy I am that you are back. Do not ever leave me like that again, Tom," Harry mumbled, luckily oblivious to Severus' previous actions as his face was still firmly buried in his shoulder, "promise to me that you will never leave me, please."

Given the quite substantial amount of desperation in the words of his equal, the Dark Lord answered without thinking, "I promise."

Once the words had left his lips, Tom felt something tugging at his soul, although not unpleasant. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as his and Harry's soul were tied a bit closer together by the Dark Lord's promise. Given the primordial nature of the magic he had experienced, the promise must have been recognised by Magic herself, most likely due to the sincerity of the Dark Lord's words since he had never intended for his promise to be magical, and certainly not binding to begin with. Still, he was not upset with the situation. Tom rather welcomed it. It simply felt right. Deciding to not focus too much on the involvement of Magic herself for now, the Dark Lord pulled his Equal closer, every atom of his body enjoying the peaceful closeness between the two of them.

"Are you certain that you do not want to visit Diagon Alley tomorrow, my Lo... Thomas?" Severus asked much later, looking up from his plate, although carefully avoiding questioning the behaviour of the two wizards opposite him.

"Most certainly, Severus," Tom answered, trying to cut the piece of chicken with the fork in his left hand since his right hand was currently otherwise occupied, being held by his Equal who was shovelling a mixture of vegetables and rice into his mouth with his right hand. Since their reunion, Harry had made it quite clear that he would not let go of Tom any time soon. For now, this also seemed to apply to shared meals, too.

"You think that he will confront you so soon after the debacle at Gringotts?" the Potions Master enquired.

"I have known Dumbledore for longer than I like," the Dark Lord sighed, abandoning his attempt to cut the chicken into something bite-sized, "he will not just accept me getting off so easily at Gringotts today. Without question, he will spend the entire evening recapitalising the entire afternoon, obviously without finding any faults with the confirmation of my identity apart from the slight disruption in the Inheritance Ritual. Since the problem with the Adansonia Leave Extract is in fact not made-up and something the Goblins have been complaining about for quite some time, he will look for something else, leaving him with only two options. Investigating Thomas Prince's past is without doubt the most obvious, but also the most time-consuming option. Therefore, he will confront me directly. Knowing the old fool, he will visit me as soon as possible, probably under the excuse of enquiring about Thomas Prince's education. Maybe, I will even be invited to Hogwarts to have my supposed skills evaluated."

"Evaluating transfer students usually takes time," Severus objected, "tests have to be prepa-"

"You will be surprised how fast the dear old Headmaster can act if it suits his needs," Tom chuckled darkly, "how about next week?"

"Next week?" the Potions Master asked incredulously.

"Early next week even," Harry inserted, "since he does not want me to spend too much time with his nemesis. Once Thomas ' skills and knowledge have been evaluated, of course with him hitting another dead end, Dumbledore will leave for France as well as continue his hunt for Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone."

"How can you possibly know that?" Severus asked, having lost all his interest in the plate in front of him.

"As Tom said before, he has known the old goat lover for quite some time. Thus, we know his mechanisations," Harry began to explain, "besides that, we have studied his every movement for the last year with the help of our map. First of all, the Headmaster tries so hard to be unpredictable in his daily routine, that his movements are predictable. Secondly, he likes to control everything and everyone around him while simultaneously holding his cards desperately close, trying to be two steps ahead of everybody else. The current situation with him not being in control will undoubtedly lead to rash actions, like the urge to confront Tom again as quickly as possible."

"We will see," the Potions Master answered.

"You will," Harry smiled before turning to the Dark Lord, "shall we retire?"

"Of course," Tom chuckled, knowing only too well that his equal certainly was not tired, but over-eager to get the Dark Lord all to himself.

"Are you sure that he will visit today?" Severus asked, looking up from his Potions notes, "it is almost time for dinner."

"Are we impatient, Severus?" the Dark Lord chuckled, averting his eyes from the Charms textbooks that were scattered on the floor between himself and his equal, "you are just in a foul mood because you cannot work on your less public-friendly projects you do not even dare bringing to Hogwarts. Am I correct?"

In answer, the Potions Master only grumbled, staring angrily at the piece of parchment in his hands.

"You will get back to your more interesting projects," Harry continued, trying to conceal the amusement in his voice, "he will arrive soon."

"If you say so," Severus replied in his familiar drawl.

Choosing to ignore the impatient man for now, Tom turned his attention back to the Charms texts. Although he had spent the last year following Flitwick's teaching and had reviewed a few beginner's texts over the last few weeks, he wanted to make sure that he was aware of the basics. Also, it would paint a convincing picture if it appeared like Harry was teaching Thomas, helping him with the course material he had possibly missed because of his home-schooling.

Not even ten minutes later, the Floo flared up, making all three occupants of the room look up from their reading material. For a fraction of a second, the eyes of the Potions Master and the Glamoured crimson orbs of the Dark Lord met. The corners of Tom's lips curled into a sinister smile as if to say, 'I told you', before it was replaced by an expression of surprise as the boy who had seemingly grown up in the Muggle world stared at the green flames in the fireplace with big eyes.

"Good evening, my boys," Dumbledore said as he stepped out of the green flames, his words accompanied by a fake smile and his trademark twinkle.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Severus greeted his employer as he put his Potions notes on the small, shabby side table next to his slightly tattered wingback armchair, "may I ask for the reasons for this... unexpected visit. Please do not tell me, that you are still doubting the identity of my cous-"

"Of course not, Severus. I believe the evidence presented at Gringotts was very clear in that regard," Dumbledore lied, making the Dark Lord want to roll his eyes and to abandon his masquerade in favour of strangulating the old coot, "although my visit is because of Thomas, it has nothing to do with my original doubt concerning his identity. In fact, I am here in my function as Headmaster of Hogwarts to ensure that young Thomas here receives a proper education."

"I see," the Potions Master said curtly, urging Dumbledore to continue with one raised eyebrow.

"Am I right to assume that your ward is going to attend Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked.

"Obviously," Severus replied with his familiar drawl, "since almost all members of my family have attended the school."

"Splendid," the Headmaster continued, trying to sound cheerful, "I just wanted to make sure that his name is on the list before we send out the letters of acceptance to all of our new first yea-"

"First years?" Harry asked, an expression of confusion on his face, "Thomas is twelve already just like I am going to be in a few weeks, and he was taught by his parents. Should he not be placed in my year?"

"Is that true?" Dumbledore asked, his attention now solely on Tom.

Squirming under the intense gaze, the Dark Lord tried to make himself smaller, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

"It is alright, Thomas," Harry said after a few seconds of silence, putting a reassuring hand on his trembling arm, "you do not have to answer, a nod will be enough. Did you parents teach you?"

Encouraged by Harry's words, the Dark Lord nodded his head in confirmation.

"While that is all good and well," Dumbledore said, "I am rather sceptical of the benefits of homeschooling, especially given the lack of practical experience without a proper wand. Therefo-"

"But Thomas has a wand," Harry protested, "and he has practiced quite a lot. His Levitation Charm is very good."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes shining at the prospect of seeing a familiar Yew wand. Again, Tom nodded his head.

"May I see it?" the Lord of the Light continued, reaching out his hand in clear expectation. With some hesitation, the Dark Lord pulled his Apple wood wand out of the left sleeve of his casual, rather worn Muggle jumper bearing the navy-blue logo of Le Havre AC on the front.

For a fraction of a second, the disappointment in his blue eyes was on clear display at the sight of the light-brown, yet warm colour of the wand instead of the desired yew. A blink of an eye later, Dumbledore had sadly gathered himself, "Where did you get this wand, Tom?"

While the Dark Lord stared at the Lord of the Light in confusion, Harry cleared his throat, "Professor, his name is Thomas. Not Tom."

"My boy, you must excuse an old man. My memory for names is not as good as it once was, especially not after being Headmaster for so long," Dumbledore apologised, a faked sheepish expression appearing on his face, "would you please answer my question, Thomas? "

Taking a moment to gather himself, the Dark Lord began to explain, his eyes never once leaving the cherished piece of wood in his hands, "Sh... sh... shortly after my... my tenth birthday, my... my fa... father invited this wandmaker and I selec-"

"What did he look like?" the impatient Headmaster injected, "what was his name?"

"I... I... cannot re... remember the name," Tom stuttered, quickly averting his eyes after meeting the intense gaze of the Lord of the Light for a fraction of a second, "she... she was tall... and... and very pale... with... with long whi... white ha... hair... She..."

"Did she go by the name Aurora?" Dumbledore once again interrupted him. The urgent nature of his words once again forced Tom to look up, nodding his head, " Oui ... I mean ye... yes. That was her name."

The cover he had to maintain unfortunately prevented the Dark Lord from laughing at the slightly disgruntled look on the old fool's face at the mentioning of the wandmaker's name. It appeared like Dumbledore was as fond of Lady Aurora as he was of Bridget Hawthorne and himself, something he definitely had to tell the wandmaker at their next meeting. The old fool certainly did not like a rather particular clientele of characters.

"What kind of wood and core does your wand consist of?" Dumbledore asked once he had gathered himself.

"Is that not a bit too private of a question?" Severus' familiar drawl echoed through the room, "this clearly is not Yew wood. Therefore, I do not see the point of your question."

"I merely want to make sure that the wand of my future student is safe to use and compatible to your cousin," the Headmaster explained, although the motive for his actions could not be further from the truth, "since students of Hogwarts usually do not carry unregulated wands from unlicensed wandmakers like Ms. Aurora, and instead rely on the fine work of Garrick Ollivander, this precaution is usually not necessary. In this case, I am afraid I must insist."

"Thomas, please reveal the components of your wand," the Potions Master ordered, carefully keeping his face void of any emotions.

"I... I... selected Apple wood and... and Unicorn hair, sir," Tom answered, shyly looking past his fingers which were still holding his wand.

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable, although the Dark Lord had a very good idea what the man opposite of him was thinking. He certainly was not disappointed, "What an... unexpected combination. May I examine your wand just in case there are any faults with it. Wand-making really is a rather complicated affair, especially if one is not properly trained like the manufacturer of your wand."

"But" the Dark Lord began to protest, "my... my wand has always worked perfec-"

"I am afraid I must insist," Dumbledore said once more, accompanied by one of his more serious twinkles, "for the safety of my students, Tom."

"Sir, my... my name is Thomas," Tom stuttered, squirming slightly under the intense gaze of the Lord of the Light.

"Albus, enough of this nonsense. His name is Thomas," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "Thomas, please pass your wand to the Headmaster to confirm the safety of your wand once and for all."

Reluctantly, Tom handed his Apple wood wand to Dumbledore, watching with great eyes as the Headmaster performed several highly advanced Charms to examine the true nature of the Apple wood wand, most of which were highly regulated by the Ministry of Magic. As always, Dumbledore appeared to be above such petty restrictions.

Deep inside, the amusement of the Dark Lord was steadily growing with each Charm cast. Given Dumbledore's increasing frustration, it was becoming quite clear that Lady Aurora's work was well above average since it even withstood the increasingly aggressive attempts to determine the true components of the wand. Still, Tom had been aware of her skills long before today. Her work simply was exquisite, something Dumbledore soon also had to admit to.

"It seems like this wand is safe to use. A very nice and well-balanced combination of Apple wood and Unicorn hair you have there, Thomas," the Lord of the Light finally said, sounding slightly disappointed as he passed the wand back to the Dark Lord.

"Thank you, sir," Tom relied, trying his best to be as polite as possible, clutching the returned wand to his chest. Internally, it was a different story altogether as he was celebrating yet another defeat of the old coot. The sentiment was clearly shared by his equal given the fragments of amusement the Dark lord was sensing through the weakened link.

"Does that mean that Thomas can start second year with me?" Harry asked, sounding enthusiastic and hopeful at the same time as he looked at the Headmaster.

"My boy, Thomas here having a functioning wand says very little about his skills," Dumbledore explained, "in order to determine which year he will be placed in, we need to properly evaluate Thomas' theoretical knowledge as well as his practical performance, preferably as quickly as possible. Severus, would you mind taking Thomas to Hogwarts next Monday?"

"Are you sure that all teachers will be available by then?" the Potions Master asked, a hint of sarcasm and doubt tainting his voice, "furthermore, it is a rather short span of time to properly prepare an examination."

"Since Thomas is still at the beginning of his education," Dumbledore replied, his twinkle rather pronounced, "it should be a rather straightforward affair. Therefore, I see no reason why a few days should not be enough."

"What about Defence?" Severus asked, his arms locked in front of his chest, "have you already managed to find a new teacher?"

"Not yet, but I am very close," the Headmaster replied swiftly, never once losing his smile, "be assured that I will find a solution to examine Thomas' Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. Severus, would next Monday suit your schedule?"

"Albus, this is not about me," the Potions Master's familiar drawl echoed through the small living room at Spinner's End, "if my ward believes he is prepared to be examined, I am fine with Monday. Still, should more time be required, the examination will wait. Since all of our students get plenty of time to study, Thomas should receive the same possibilities."

Cracking under the intense gaze of the Headmaster, Tom eventually stuttered, "Mo... Monday i... is fine... fo... for me."

"Splendid," Dumbledore replied, stepping forward to pat the shoulder of the Dark Lord reassuringly before excusing himself. Once the old coot had left and a series of Privacy Charms had been cast on the fireplace, all of Severus' masks dropped as he stared at his two wards who were still sitting on the floor, a look of disbelief on his face, "How did you know that he would invite you to Hogwarts so soon?"

"Maybe we have stolen too much of his lemon drops and now think like he does," Harry chuckled while Tom simply enjoyed the expression of the Potions Master as long as he could.

As promised, they visited Diagon Alley the next day. Thanks to Severus' increasingly foul mood given the rather crowded streets, most Witches and Wizards thankfully did not bother them too much while buying the necessities for Thomas, mostly clothes and some of the basics needed for Hogwarts regardless of the academic year.

Under normal circumstances, Tom would have preferred to avoid Madam Malkin's in favour of the superior quality of Gladrags. Since he had a cover to keep, he resisted his temptation and endured the intrusive service of Madam Malkin. The possessiveness in Harry's eyes whenever the Witch nearly poked him with a needle certainly made up for it. Once the selection of standard robes had been finished, Tom followed Severus and Harry to buy a new, although fairly standard trunk, Potions equipment, a telescope, a wand holster, parchment, quills, and ink. Lastly, they visited Gladrags to get some proper boots for the Dark Lord. Since Severus got all of his footwear from there as well, nobody would question the purchase. For the remainder of Tom's wardrobe, they headed to Muggle London. It would be rather amusing to run around Hogwarts with Muggle clothes right under Dumbledore's overlong and overly curious nose. Also, the Dark Lord would much rather wear a Muggle jumper than the itchy equivalent of Madam Malkin's. He still had no idea why that store was still in business.

After a rather quiet weekend, Tom almost looked forward to the next confrontation with Dumbledore. He had a rather good idea what was going to happen and was curious if his predictions were correct.

"How do I look?" Tom asked while checking his appearance in the Conjured mirror in the living room, "do you think Dumbledore will like my new outfit? I know it is quite different from the usual Tarantula silk, but everyone needs a make-over once in awhile."

While Severus was pinching the bridge of his nose, Harry laughed, "I think the old fool will love your Star Wars jumper. Maybe, his new robes will soon be covered with images of Master Yoda. Lemon drops you must have, my young Padawan."

"I think we should leave now," Severus sighed, rolling his eyes, clearly having had enough of the bickering. Lighting up the fireplace with a flick of his wand, the Potions Master soon disappeared in an inferno of green flames.

Once they stepped out of Severus' private quarters, Hogwarts was eerily quiet. Without the students there, the magic of the castle appeared to be even more vulnerable and drained than during the school year. Hopefully, this would soon be rectified once the Goblins had strengthened the wards, although the Dark Lord doubted that this would be enough after decades of continuous depletion of the castle's ancient magic.

On their way to the great Hall, Harry did his best at being a guide, while an seemingly awestruck Tom was busy taking in all the little details of the magnificent castle. Unsurprisingly, they stopped quite a few times to observe some of the moving portraits and landscape paintings, suits of armour, to greet the Fat Friar, and to point out the entrance to the kitchens.

When they finally entered the Entrance Hall, they were already awaited. Given that her expression was neither primmer nor severer than usual, the Dark Lord was rather sure that Dumbledore had not shared his suspicions with the Deputy Headmistress. The curt but not unfriendly greeting moments later supported his hypothesis. Also, the fact that she did not react to his exterior, despite being familiar with his younger self, spoke volumes. Still, the fact that he was standing next to Severus probably had a lot to do with it.

After expressing her surprise at the discovery of Severus' cousin twice removed and the fact that the Potions Master had taken over the mantle of the Prince estate, the procedure of the evaluation was explained. Basically, Thomas would be tested in all mandatory classes by the specific members of the faculty. While the test would not be as thorough as the regular exams, they would cover both theoretical and practical aspects of the specific classes.

"Mister Prince, please follow me," Professor McGonagall instructed him once she had finished her explanation of the proceedings.

Inside the Great Hall, most teachers were already waiting. The merry Professor Flitwick was listening to Bridget Hawthorne's latest journey to Tierra del Fuego. There, she was examining an ancient ritual site which had been discovered on land recently acquired by Lord Magellan. The Magellan line could be traced back directly to the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan, the first European explorer who had sailed around the southern end of the South American continent, trying to find a westward route to India and the Maluku Islands of eastern Indonesia. When Ferdinand Magellan, who did not possess an ounce of magic despite his seemingly magical talent at navigation, left Tierra del Fuego to sail westwards, he left behind his name and a child. Contrary to the explorer's knowledge, the mother of his child was not an ordinary woman. She was a witch and a seer, who, according to legend, was cursed and shunned by her own people, the Selk'nam tribe. Therefore, the seer had waited her entire life for men from far across the sea to gift her with a child. Nine months after the departure of the Portuguese, Temáukel Magellan was born, the promise of change blooming on the horizon. The Halfblood son of the Portuguese explorer discovered that the mountains of the archipelago were full of iron. In an ingenious move, Temáukel had acquired the mountainous land with a Gringotts credit only to sell the mining rights straight back to the Goblins, making the Magellan estate one of the richest within the entirety of South America overnight, something they had maintained until the present day. Since the area was heavily warded, the Muggles remained oblivious to the vast mineral deposits of Tierra del Fuego. From what Tom had overheard, the current Lord Magellan had personally assigned the British historian. The fact that the wealthy Lord had waited more than three months for the school year to finish instead of opting for another available historian once again underlined Bridget Hawthorne's standing within her line of work throughout the international Wizarding community, especially since Lord Magellan was not the only one who had enquired for the service of the Historian. Apparently, she was fully booked for next year's summer holidays already. Meanwhile Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra were inspecting some star charts scattered on a small table in front of the raised platform housing the staff table.

All conversation stopped when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat to inform her colleagues about the arrival of Thomas Prince, who was staring at the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling in wonder. Before the stern professor could more than utter the name of the Potions Master's ward, Dumbledore swept into the Great Hall, once again becoming the centre of attention, "Severus, I am glad that you brought young Thomas to Hogwarts. Harry, my boy, as always it is a pleasure to see you."

Once the greeting had been reciprocated, the Headmaster turned to the Lord of the Prince estate, not even bothering to ask whether Thomas felt well and prepared for today's examination, although his eyes stopped on the Muggle football jumper the Dark Lord was wearing for a brief second, "Severus, have you already conducted the Potions examination?"

"Yes," the Potions Master's familiar drawl echoed through the Great Hall as he reached for one of his pockets, producing a stack of parchments as well as two small vials, "I actually had Thomas answer the same questions I used during the last examination of the first years as well as asked him to brew the Forgetfulness Potion. Since I was rather pleased with the results, I also asked him to brew the Strengthening Solution, despite it being a second year Potion. The results were quite impressive, the scores far above average. Therefore, I see no reason why he should not be placed in second year."

"I see," Dumbledore finally said, while inspecting Thomas' test results.

"What did you expect?" Bridget Hawthorne chuckled, "he is a Prince after all."

While most professors in the Great Hall appeared to agree with her, the sour expression on the Headmaster's face clearly indicated that he neither believed that Thomas was indeed a member of the Prince family nor did he appreciate the comment of his least favourite employee.

Being oblivious to the tension in the room, Professor Sprout placed two plants on the small table in front of her, carefully avoiding the star charts, before turning to the Dark Lord, a genuine smile on her face, "Congratulations on your performance in Potions, Mister Prince. I am Professor Sprout and I teach Herbology here at Hogwarts. It always warms my heart to see young Witches and Wizards excelling in fields of academics they feel passionate about. Since much that we teach in Potions and Herbology overlaps, I think that it would be a good idea for me to start. But before we start, I must ask if you feel well and are sufficiently prepared for today?"

"I... I am ready, Professor Sprout," the Dark Lord answered, his voice slightly trembling as all eyes in the room were suddenly glued on him, his fingers nervously fumbling with the hem of his jumper.

"I am glad to hear that," the Herbology professor smiled, signalling Thomas to step closer to the table.

Before Professor Sprout could continue, the Headmaster had once again made himself the centre of attention, his voice laced with insincere concern, making the Dark Lord want to roll his eyes as he was addressed, "My boy, would you not prefer a more private setting for the examination? I know you must feel nervous with all the strangers around. With all the classes being tested, it will be stressful enough as it is. I just want you to have the best possible environment for your examination. Maybe with only the professor of the subject and myself present?"

Knowing very well what kind of plan the old coot had in mind, the expression of Thomas Prince morphed into one of horror as his meagre frame began to shake, "I... I... No... please... I... I do not want to... to do this alone... Can Ha... Harry and Severus at least stay?"

"Dear, if you do not object, we can all stay here," Professor Sprout smiled, trying her best to calm the trembling child in front of her. Once Tom had nodded his head in confirmation, the Herbology teacher pointed towards the two plants on the table, "Now, dear, do you know which kinds of plants these two are? I have a pair of Dragon hide gloves here for you. You may step closer to inspect them more thoroughly. Take as much time as you like."

Taking a few unsure steps forwards, the Dark Lord pretended to inspect the two plants, although refraining from touching them since Thomas Prince had never really handled plants, only used parts for his Potions brewing. After a while, he finally looked up, correctly identifying them as Dittany and Wormwood. Then, Professor Sprout asked him to elaborate on the growth conditions and magical properties of the two plants. Given that Thomas Prince was supposed to be a Potions genius as well as a bookworm much like the rest of the ancient Prince line, he began to ramble about the use of Dittany in a variety of Healing Potions and how it had to be added in the ordinary as well as the Grand Wiggenweld Potion. While he also elaborated on the geographic range, the plant's preference for salty sand or clay soil, the required exposure to light, and the general usage of the plant in Healing, it was very clear that Thomas' interest in Herbology mostly extended to the overlaps of the discipline with Potions. His explanation of the usage of Wormwood in the Draught of Living Death, the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, and the Shrinking Solution only underlined that. Still, Professor Sprout seemed to be rather content with his performance so far. This however changed when he was asked to replant the Dittany. While he managed to replant the healing plant in the end, it was obvious that Thomas had only read about the process but never done so before.

"Mister Prince," Professor Sprout finally said once the Dark Lord had finished with the Dittany, "I think the both of us know that you could do with a little more practice, which you will get once you start at Hogwarts. Given your theoretical performance and your enthusiasm, I do not see a reason why you should not be placed in second year. Congratulations, dear."

Since there were also quite a few overlaps between Astrology, and Potions, Professor Sinistra opted to test him next. After he had correctly identified two celestial constellations, he curtly pointed out the most important stars as well as their movements before once again focussing on the influence, the movement of the specific stars had on the harvesting of Potions ingredients and the brewing circles of several Potions, like the Felix Felicis and the Polyjuice Potion. Overall, Professor Sinistra was pleased with his results.

Afterwards, Thomas was quizzed about the theory behind the Levitation Charm, the Unlocking Charm, and the Knockback Jinx, which he was then asked to demonstrate. While Professor Flitwick seemed rather satisfied by Thomas' theoretical knowledge, the merry professor was almost ecstatic about the practical demonstration. Failing to contain his excitement, Professor Flitwick enquired about the textbook Thomas had used. Upon hearing the title of the French Charms manual, the one which Tom had found in the Département de la Famille', the Charms professor's eyes immediately lit up, " Charmes pour les curieux is an excellent beginner's text. I wish Adélaïde Bayard would finally agree to an English translation. I would gladly use her textbook since I think it is much more advanced than most comparable Charms manuals while simultaneously containing an excellent theoretical framework. Would you like to demonstrate a few of the Charms you have learned from Madame Bayard?"

Encouraged by the merry professor, Tom first cast a Freezing Charm at the glass of water Professor Sinistra had previously offered him, before demonstrating the Disarming Charm and the Tickling Charm on Harry, who had graciously offered to be the test subject. As opposed to the French Charms curriculum, all three Charms were considered second year material in Britain. Much like before, all Charms were flawlessly executed, which the merry professor happily pointed out much to the displeasure and suspicion of Albus-to-many-names Dumbledore. While he could have pretended to be struggling, the Dark Lord had no intention to dumb himself down too much. Since most members of the Prince family were rather gifted and skilled scholars and magic wielders, his talent at Charms and Potions would be easily explained.

There would be exceptions though.

When Professor McGonagall told him to elaborate on the theory behind the Avifors Spell and the Switching spell after a quick lunch, his explanations once again left nothing to be desired. This however changed when he was asked to transfigure a small white mouse into a snuffbox. It was becoming apparent rather quickly that Transfiguration was not one of Thomas Prince's strong suits. While the body of the mouse turned into a sort of box shape, the legs and tails simply refused to integrate themselves into the snuffbox, which was still covered in the fluffy white fur no matter how much Thomas tried to transfigure the mouse. After a few minutes, he surrendered. The fur-covered snuffbox was still twitching as three legs tried to jump off the table. His attempt at the Avifors Spell was not much better.

"Mister Prince," Professor McGonagall sighed, looking up from the array of twitching feathered objects on the table, "while I see that you understand the theory behind both Transfigurations, you obviously lack practice. Under normal circumstances, you would not have passed your practical examination given your performance. Normally, I would argue in favour of placing you into first year for you to have more time to catch up. Having seen your previous performance, I think it would be counterproductive as it would only halt your development in other classes. Therefore, I will allow you to be placed in second year under two conditions. Firstly, that you do not fail any of the remaining classes of your examination. Secondly, you must promise to practice during the holidays and after the start of the school year. If you need help, I am sure Mister Potter can assist you as long as he sticks to the proper Spellwork. Is that acceptable, Mister Prince?"

"Ye... yes, Pro... Professor McGonagall," the Dark Lord answered, staring at his feet, clearly not satisfied with his performance.

Sensing the disappointment of the child in front of her, the stern Transfiguration professor stepped forward to pat his shoulder, obscuring a slightly puzzled Dumbledore from view, "I am certain if you put enough time and effort in your Spellcasting, you will catch up in no time."

"Tha... thank you," Tom mumbled as Professor McGonagall cleared the stage.

In her stead, Bridget Hawthorne stepped forward, a warm and encouraging smile on her face, "Mister Prince, I am Professor Hawthorne, your future History of Magic teacher. As far as I am informed, you grew up mostly in France. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Professor," the Dark Lord answered, sounding slightly less nervous and relieved that the Transfigurations exam was over, "I... I grew up mo... mostly in Le Havre."

"Not one of the countless cities and towns with a long history of magical residents, yet a city with an interesting History nonetheless, especially with what happened during the last Muggle world war," the Historian said. Tom nodded his head in agreement, slightly nervous what the pale witch might ask him next. Out of all teachers, Bridget Hawthorne probably was the most unpredictable one.

"Do not worry. I will not drill you with questions about the Muggle word," the Historian smiled, "were you taught about Wizarding history and if so, did they follow the French History of Magic curriculum, and use Rochechouart's Notre Magnifique Histoire ?"

" Oui... Eh... Yes," Tom finally answered, "that is the book my parents used..."

His voice broke after that. Much to her credit, Bridget Hawthorne did not simply ignore the emotional distress of the child in front of her. Instead, he felt a strong hand on his arm, squeezing him reassuringly, "If you need a moment to gather yourself, Mister Prince, please let me know."

"I... I am... fine," the Dark Lord stuttered, trying to suppress the tears he was about the shed as he shook his head.

"If you are sure, Mister Prince," the Historian said, her hand never leaving his scrawny arm, her concerned expression clearly indicating that she did not believe his words, "still, do not refrain from asking should you need a break."

Once Tom had nodded his head, Bridget Hawthorne carefully waited a moment until she continued, "Mister Prince, would you mind telling me what you know about the impact of the International Statute of Secrecy on French Wizarding society?"

Grateful for the previous talk with Henry Capet, Tom began to outline how the great French pureblood lines like the Carolingians, Capets, de Valois, and Bourbons had become the absolute rulers of Wizarding and Muggle France while a myriad of smaller houses, like the Delacours, de la Roches, and the Rouvres, had become dukes or counts of smaller regional subdivisions of the country following the rule of Charlemagne, the first Wizard to be crowned the King of both the Wizarding and the Muggle world. Despite the feuding between the most powerful pureblood lines, this status quo had remained until the official establishment of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692. At first, the French had refused to accept the Statute of Secrecy with the House of Bourbon ruling for almost a hundred years past its establishment. Due to the increasing pressure from the International Confederation of Wizards, the French pureblood lines had been forced to abandon their positions of power over the Muggle world, orchestrating a rather clever manoeuvre that had led to series of Revolutionary Wars resulting in the rise of power of their marionette, Napoléon Bonaparte, a descendent of a French Squib (although I wrote Squid at first) who had relocated to Corsica. Unfortunately, the ICW was not pleased by the move either. Therefore, the French purebloods were forced to cut all ties with the Muggle world just as Napoléon was about to seize Moscow.

When Thomas had finished, the Great Hall remained quiet, only to be broken by Bridget Hawthorne, "That is quite correct, Mister Prince. What a good textbook, proper teaching and a bit of personal interest can lead to. Given your accurate account of your homeland, I think you will have no problem catching up with the rest of your future year. Since all of your future classmates have answered this question in their end-of-the-year exam, I think it is only fair to ask you as well. Why do you think we should study history?"

"I... I think it is vi... vital for us, all Witches and Wizards, to th... thrive," the Dark Lord answered, not even having to lie, while his voice grew steadier and steadier, "without recollections of the past, we are nothing. Before Madame Delacour and Auror de la Roche took me to Gringotts to conduct my Inheritance Ritual, I... I did not have a family, no home, no one to care for me, but also no real future. Nothing. Now, I thankfully know who I am, and I will soon be allowed learn here at Hogwarts about all the Spells, Charms, and Potions our ancestors invented, which also would be lost without proper documentation."

"While it is a rather short explanation, I think you grasp the importance of history," Bridget Hawthorne smiled, "congratulations, Mister Prince. I cannot wait to see you in class together with the rest of the second-year students."

With History of Magic out of the way, only Defence against the Dark Arts remained. Since no new teacher had been appointed yet, Tom simply waited, having a rather good idea in mind what was about to happen.

He was not disappointed when Dumbledore stepped forward, "Thomas, my boy, I am glad that you performed so well. Sadly, our Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers left before the end of the school year due to some unfortunate circumstances. Therefore, I am going to test you if you do not object."

"No, sir," the Dark Lord answered curtly, although there was a bit of uncertainty to his voice, hinting at the previous behaviour of the old goat lover.

"Splendid," the Lord of the Light said, before once again asking Thomas if he would not prefer to conduct this part of the examination in private. Again, the Dark Lord politely declined. Afterwards, Dumbledore also not so subtly offered the teachers to leave since their presence was no longer required. Thankfully, none of the professors did accept the offer. The more witnesses in the Great Hall, the less the old coot could risk.

Once his flawless theoretical knowledge had been tested, Dumbledore informed Thomas that his practical skills would be tested in a short duel. Opting not to comment on Thomas' rather naïve, childish duelling posture, the Headmaster started to fire off the first few offensive Spells, Charms, and Curses at the Dark Lord, all of which were part of the first-year curriculum. Tom easily side-stepped most of the attacks, although without his usual grace and fluency, while also blocking the remainder of the offensive moves with a few weak Shield Charms, while sending off a few attacks of his own, mostly underpowered Knockback Jinxes or Disarming Charms. Clearly dissatisfied with the results of the duel, Dumbledore soon moved up to second year repertoire, much to the same results, although the Dark Lord's movements and Shield Charms were becoming even less fluid and less steady, and his counterattacks less frequent.

Still not satisfied with the skills Thomas was displaying , third year attacks soon replaced their lower year counterparts. Barely evading the Spells and Curses of the Headmaster, Tom waited for the beam of red light that was undoubtedly still to come, continuing to evade the attacks of the Headmaster.

"Stupify!" the Lord of the Light eventually shouted, his wand slashing through the air.

Ignoring his instincts while adjusting his defences, the Dark Lord moved, although intentionally not fast enough. The red beam of light hit him straight in the chest, rendering him unconscious.

The first thing Tom noticed when he was Revived was the pounding of his shoulder, followed by seeing a pair of blue twinkling eyes once he had opened his eyes. Fractions of a second later, he felt a slight pressure as someone was trying to invade his mind. While they had talked about the possibility of the old coot using Legilimency on Thomas Prince , Tom had not expected him to try something as reckless in public. Luckily, he was prepared.

Given that the Prince family was renowned for their skills in both Occlumency and Legilimency, the slight resistance when Dumbledore entered his mind would not raise questions, especially not in comparison to his usual defences. Under normal circumstances, no one would be able to enter his mind, a fact which Dumbledore was well aware of since he had tried himself shortly after the death of Myrtle Warren. Therefore, the successful invasion of Thomas' mind would be rather unexpected and certainly very out-of-character.

The surprises did not stop there.

Instead of the usual empty void guarded by thick, impenetrable walls, the surface of his mind was filled with vivid memories of Thomas' life. The baffled Headmaster found himself in a vortex of emotions and memories, as a myriad of scenes out of Thomas Prince's life flashed past him. One moment, Nero Prince would be teaching Potions to his son, while his mother Madeleine would be laughing with her son when he had managed to cast his first Levitation Charm. Despite the happy memories of his childhood, the events of the last few days continued to break to the forefront, clearly troubling the young Wizard.

While Tom trusted in his defences, he was rather reluctant to let the Headmaster, who appeared to be coming back to his senses, roam free for much longer, or dig any deeper. Ejecting Dumbledore was not an option since a normal twelve-year-old certainly did not possess the skills nor the power and determination to do so, leaving Tom no choice but to wait and hope for Severus to interfere, as he continued to throw memories at the enemy.

"You know that entering a minor's mind without permission is illegal," a voice cut through the silence of the Great Hall like a knife, forcing the presence in his mind to retreat.

"Miss Hawthorne," Dumbledore said, his eyes having lost most of their usual faked warmth as Tom looked up to the old coot, blinking, making a great show of slowly regaining consciousness, "I was merely Reviving Thomas and checking if he is unharmed after the fall he too-"

"I know Legilimency when I see it," the Historian laughed darkly, her voice lacking any humour as her eyes pierced the lying Headmaster, "I also saw the wand moving under the sleeve of your robe."

"You are mistaken," Dumbledore tried to defend himself, "your accusations lack any evidence since you clear-"

"I know what I am talking about since I am a practitioner of the Mind Arts myself," Bridget Hawthorne sneered, her eyes never once leaving the Headmaster, "although I refrain from invading the minds of others, children and adults alike. Also, I was not the only one to notice. Severus saw it as well."

In the background, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sinistra, but also Professor McGonagall were clearly shocked by the Headmaster's actions.

Refusing to comment on the mental invasion for now, the Potions Master first ensured that his ward was well, "Thomas, are you hurt? I looked like you landed on your left shoulder."

"I am okay," the Dark Lord mumbled, as he slowly sat up, massaging his left shoulder, "I... I have been worse."

"Should you require a Pain Reliever Potion, or anything else, let me know," Severus said, before focussing on the Headmaster, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Albus, what were you thinking? Please, do not tell that you are still questioning Thomas' identity. The Inheritance Ritual was performed thrice, and the French Ministry also confirmed that Thomas is who he claims to be."

For a moment, the Headmaster appeared to be unable to respond to the accusations, as he simply stared at the group of horrified teachers in front of him, before he once again tried to deny his actions, "Neither do I question the service of the Goblins nor the work of the French Ministry and I would never perform Legilime-"

"You can deny it for as long as you want. I certainly know what I saw," Bridget Hawthorne spoke up, before turning to the Dark Lord, "maybe we should ask Mister Prince here what he felt after he was hit by the Stunner, which I must point out is not first-year but third-year Defence Against the Dark Arts material."

For a moment, the Great Hall remained quiet as all eyes were glued on the slightly trembling form of Thomas Prince.

"Thomas, it is alright," Harry finally said, kneeling next to him, patting his back, carefully avoiding his aching shoulder, "just tell them what you can remember."

"When... when I woke up... I... I... all I saw where blue... blue eyes," the Dark Lord stuttered, his nervousness once again having returned, "the... then, I... I felt this... weird pre... pressure in my head... li... like an... an advancing headache..."

"The clear symptoms of experiencing a Legilimency attack," Bridget Hawthorne pointed out, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared at the Headmaster, "which could easily land you in Azkab-"

"I think this is just a misunderstanding," Dumbledore tried to worm himself out of the situation, sensing the danger the Historian, who would certainly not surrender, posed, "it must be the aftereffect of the Revivi-"

"Liar," Bridget Hawthorne spat, her wand now in her hand, "maybe we should call the Aurors and have them determine whether Thomas here experienced the aftereffects of your Spellcasting, or of you illegally invading his mind. Shall I?"

Internally applauding the fearlessness of the pale witch, the dark Lord's Glamoured eyes darted between the Headmaster, twinkle absent and looking furious, and the Historian, fearlessly standing tall, wondering what would happen next.

"Headmaster, while I can understand your suspicion and will excuse the breach of privacy once," Severus sighed, trying to defuse the situation as he stepped between the hardened fronts, "the least you can do is apologise to Thomas."

For a moment, Dumbledore looked like somebody had stolen all his lemon drops, exposed all his secrets, and changed the lavish patterns and colours of his robes into something utterly dull, as he was trying to process the words of the Potions Master.

"Albus, we can resolve the situation. You simply Revived Mister Prince. You did nothing wrong," Professor McGonagall stepped in. When she did not receive an answer from her mentor, her jaw dropped, although not completely as she whispered, "Or... Or did you really perfo-"

"Mister Prince, I am sorry for the magic that was used against you," Dumbledore said, cutting short the Transfiguration professor and one of his biggest devotees, lying through his teeth, "also, I am glad to announce that the results of the examination are sufficient for you to be placed in second year, although you certainly must improve your practical Transfigurations work. Congratulations on your performance. I hope the remainder of your holidays will be pleasant."

After that, he fled, effectively ending the examination.

"Unbelievable," Bridget Hawthorne and Professor McGonagall said at the same time once the lavender robes of the old coot had fully disappeared. For a fraction of a second, the two witches stared at each other, clearly surprised by their identical reaction. Meanwhile, the remaining teachers were leaving the Great Hall, desperate to get away from the rather awkward situation, quietly talking amongst themselves.

"I still cannot believe that he performed Legilimency on a minor in public," Bridget Hawthorne said, shaking her head in disbelief, "he makes it seem like the Dark Lord is posing as your cousin, Severus. Why do you refrain from taking legal acti-"

"Apparently, Thomas reminds the Headmaster of him when he was still a student," the Potions Master sighed.

"Now that you say it, there are similarities, particularly their bone structure," Professor McGonagall gasped, her head slightly tilted to the side, reminiscent of her Animagus form, "still, he looks much more like you, Severus, than You-Know-Who."

"Really?" the Historian asked, sounding not quite convinced, "a lot of magical lines share similarities concerning their appearance as we all know."

"True. Off the top of my head, I could name at least seven former students who also look rather similar to You-Know-Who before his appearance started to... change," Professor McGonagall replied, sounding far less threatening than usual when conversing with her colleague, "may I ask why you are referring to him as 'Dark Lord'? Also, where and why did you study the Mind Arts?"

"I am merely using his official title," Bridget Hawthorne shrugged, "there is nothing more to it. Also, I think this whole You-Know-Who moniker is rather silly. As for the other question, let us just say that other educational environments can be rather resourceful at times, especially since it is rather advantageous in my line of work to be able to shield one's mind. Just imagine trying to unravel an ancient Ritual sight when a bunch of Cursed sentinel objects are trying to get into your mind. Occlumency and Legilimency certainly have their benefits in situations like these."

"I see," the Transfiguration professor answered, lacking the usual venom in her words, "if you would not mind, I would like to hear about some of the obstacles you have encountered. Of course, only if you want to."

"Minerva, I would love to once I have returned from Tierra del Fuego," the Historian said, successfully hiding the smugness in her voice at finally breaking the ice with the stern witch, especially since it was all due to Dumbledore's rash and reckless actions, before turning to the Dark Lord, "I am sorry that I cannot stay longer, but I really must get back to my current assignment since Lord Magellan is not known for his patience. Before I leave, I want you to know, Mister Prince, that you can always come to me should Professor Dumbledore or anyone else try to invade your mind. You are still so young and should never be subjected to such a stark breach of privacy. It is against the law."

When the Dark Lord stepped out of the fireplace into the living room of Spinner's End, the corners of his mouth curled into a gleeful smile as he thought about the behaviour of his adversary, while Harry by his side was chuckling.

"What was he thinking?" Severus' familiar drawl echoed through the small room, his arms raised in disbelief once he had Vanished the ash off his black robes as he stepped out of the Floo and cast a Privacy Ward, "has he gone mad? Performing Legilimency in front of most of his staff?"

"Shows you how paranoid he truly is," Harry continued to chuckle, "I think it was fantastic. Bridget Hawthorne is one fearless witch I would not like to mess with."

"Were you aware of her... skills?" the Potions Master asked, his eyes on the Dark Lord.

"I never asked her personally," Tom answered, "but I suspected since I know the Goblins and her line of work. Also, I think she would not have survived so long directly opposing Dumbledore without mastering the Mind Arts."

"What do you suppose are the aftereffects of your examination?" Severus asked, "is she going to do anything."

"I do not think so. Then again, Bridget Hawthorne can be quite unpredictable," the Dark Lord shrugged, clearly amused by the situation, which had developed into something far better than he had hoped for, "still, she respects Pureblood customs. Unless you, as the Lord of the Prince family and the affected party, press charges, she will not get involved, although she is willing to do so if one of us were to ask for it."

"What do we do now?" the Potions Master asked, graciously letting himself down on his favourite high wingback chair.

"My boy," the Dark Lord said in a voice reminiscent of the old twinkling coot, making Severus opposite of him roll his eyes in clear annoyance, "all we do now is wait until the Goblins contact us."

They did not hear from the Goblins until Wednesday morning.

Tom was just about to drop a cube of sugar into his otherwise black coffee, when the beak of one of Gringotts' majestic eagle owls tapped against the milky kitchen window. Once the letter had been untied from her leg, the owl immediately flew off. Upon scanning the letter, the corners of the Dark Lord's mouth once again curled into a sinister smile. Everything was going according to plan. Just as the old coot had fooled him and used him as one of the many puppets in his grand schemes, Dumbledore had become a puppet. The tables had turned.

"Has he arrived in France?" his Equal asked, spotting a similar expression of pure glee.

Nodding his head, their eyes met, "Yes, according to the French Goblins, he was seen snooping around the orphanage in Le Havre today as the sun was rising. Some of their Wards tipped off. He should be busy for the next few days."

"Wonderful," Harry smiled, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"But will that be enough?" the Potions Master injected, "what if he decides to return to the British Isles before the next Wizengamot session?"

"I doubt that," Harry chuckled, his smile turning even wider, "with all the leads he will be confronted with, he will be quite busy. Additionally, his wanted Defence Against the Dark Arts professor might make a few unexpected reappearances."

"Quirrell?" the Lord of the Prince family asked, one eyebrow raised, "I thought he disappeared."

"He is currently hiding in a shielding in the Swiss Alps behind the Fidelius Charm," his equal swiftly explained, "there is a Tracking Rune hidden inside the fake Philosopher's Stone. Since it was done with Parselscript, it is nearly impossible to find and remove unless you are a Parselmouth. We will know once he has left the Fidelus Charm, which he will. A few days ago, an anonymous letter reached him, or better one of his post boxes rented under a false name, advising him that he might get help unravelling the magic of the stone with the help of some shady Alchemists in Liechtenstein. He will probably seek them out over the next few days. That should be enough of a distraction to keep Dumbledore a busy, busy bee."

"But is that really enough time?" Severus asked, sounding concerned, "it will be rather suspicious if neither of you attend the trial of the Lestranges, or if the two of you enter Courtroom Ten with strong remnants of Dark magic still detectable."

"The trial is still ten days away," Tom explained calmly, "thus giving us enough time to conduct plenty of Cleansing Rituals. Under normal circumstances, I would prefer to spend two weeks out of public, but from experience, I can say that one week will suffice to dispose of the majority of the excess Dark magic. Therefore, we should be fine."

Looking rather doubtful, Severus' onyx eyes bore into the Dark Lord and his Equal, "So, you plan on going through with this today, are you not?"

"Today will be the perfect opportunity," Tom said, as a dark smile was making its way on his face, "according to Ragnok, their schedule has not changed."

"Then," the Potions Master began, his attention now solely focussed on Harry, "I must ask you one last time: are you ready?"

"Yes, I am," his Equal answered without the slightest bit of hesitation, "inform Corvus and Lucius that we will depart soon."

When Tom stepped out of the fireplace into the lavish entrance hall of Malfoy Manor later that afternoon, both Lords were already waiting for them. With a fair trial of his sons on the horizon, it seemed like a massive weight had been taken off the shoulders of his old friend. During their previous meetings, Corvus certainly had not appeared to be as relaxed as he was now. Meanwhile, the Lord of the Malfoy family looked much different. Lucius seemed rather tense.

"Lucius, I hope the Ritual Chamber has been properly cleansed," the Dark Lord said once the customary greeting had been exchanged, his voice bearing a steely undertone that left no room for errors and disobedience as he was fishing for the reason of the tension of the blond lord.

"My Lord," Lucius replied quickly, trying his best to avoid any sorts of negative repercussions, "I have cleansed the Ritual Chamber thrice myself. All remnants of your resurrection should have been removed."

Since the words were delivered with a surprising amount of confidence, Tom doubted that the cleansing of the Ritual Chamber was the true source for Lucius' discomfort. With this out of the picture, he had a good idea what the true reason was, especially the way the blond was eyeing his Muggle jeans and jumper.

"I hope that your words are true, Lucius," Tom hissed, more out of fun than anything else, making the Lord of the Malfoy family flinch, while his Equal was clearly amused, "you know that their presence will not cause you to grow two heads, and you certainly will not catch any untreatable diseases, right?"

The pained expression on the face of the Lord of the Malfoy family clearly confirmed that he did not truly believe in the words of the Dark Lord, not that said Dark Lord had ever thought that his reassurance would ever work. Sometimes, Lucius Malfoy simply was too predictable and way too amusing for his own good.

"Regardless of your unjustified concern, Lucius, the plan has not changed," Tom continued, trying his best to suppress the chuckle that wanted to escape his lips, "we shall depart now."

With that, the Dark Lord pulled out his wand, casting a series of Disillusionment Charms on himself, his Equal, and the three remaining wizards, ensuring that no one could see them while still being able to see each other. Without further ado, he offered his arm to Corvus, while opposite of him Severus did the same to Lucius, before disappearing from view.

The uniformly trimmed grass blades were pleasantly moving in the warm breeze that was moving through the ordinary street with its equally ordinary houses, the sun still high on the horizon.

"Merlin's beard," the familiar voice of Lucius Malfoy had lost all of his silkiness as he stared at the houses of Privet Drive, clearly in shock, "this is where you... lived all those years?"

"Is it not lovely?" Harry asked mockingly, having materialised next to the Dark Lord moments prior.

"Charming," the Lord of the Malfoy family sneered, like this was his personal version of hell.

"Trust me, Lucius, the Muggles inside house number four are even better. Simply lovely folks," Tom chuckled as he stared at the empty driveway of Number Four, Privet Drive, before casting a quick Tempus, "we should place the gemstones now. They will not arrive for another twenty minutes. Severus, Corvus, please follow me."

Invisible to the many watchful Muggle eyes occasionally peering out of the neighbouring houses, the Dark Lord set foot back on the property he and his equal had to call home for the past decade, making quick work on placing and activating the gemstones around the property of the Dursleys. Since he was unsure whether he would be able to return in time, he had shown Severus and Corvus the exact locations of the seven gemstones aimed to hide the usage of magic within the limits of the property from the Ministry of Magic, and how to deactivate and remove them. He had not bothered to include Lucius since he did not trust the Pureblood wizard around Muggles without alerting the Aurors. Once all gemstones had been placed and activated, and they had reunited with Harry and Lucius, the driveway of Number Four, Privet Drive was still empty.

This however changed soon.

At precisely 4:40 p.m., just like the Goblins had predicted, the grey Rover 200 of Mrs. Polkiss turned into Privet Drive, eventually stopping in the driveway of house number four. From the distance, the group of wizards watched as Piers jumped out of the car and stormed to the front door, eagerly ringing the bell. Behind him, Mrs. Polkiss followed at a much slower pace. By the time she had arrived at her son's side, Petunia Dursley had already opened the door, her suspicious eyes already scanning the empty street, more out of habit than of anything else. A few seconds later, Dudley appeared in the doorframe, seemingly having doubled in size, more precisely width, during the last year, a wide smile etched on his face, carrying a packed gym bag. A few words were exchanged before Petunia leaned down to place a kiss on the forehead of her whale of a son, wishing him goodbye. A minute later, the grey Rover backed out of the driveway, Mrs. Polkiss and the two Muggle boys inside, off to another sleepover.

According to the Goblins, this was a rather common occurrence. They had been observing the Dursleys for quite a while now and ever since the start of the holidays, Dudley had been picked up by one of his friends on Wednesday to spend the night out of the house. Luckily, today was no exception.

Inside of the house, the bony frame of Petunia Dursley reappeared behind the kitchen window, her eyes darting between the pots and pans on the stove and the empty street, clearly waiting for the familiar sound of the engine of her husband's car.

It would not be long now until they would move.

Next to him, the Dark Lord felt that the air was slowly charging up with magic, if the familiar sweet and pungent smell of ozone was anything to go by.

"Are you alright?" Tom asked, concern lacing his voice as he looked at his Equal, "are you sure that you can do this?"

Fractions of a second later, vivid, Avada-green eyes were burning into his Glamoured onyx ones, "Yes, I can, and I will go through with this. There is no way back. Not now. Still, the waiting is killing me."

The last comment made the Dark Lord chuckle. Patience had never been one of his strong suits. At least not until meeting Harry.

Placing a reassuring hand on the shoulder of his Equal, Tom whispered so that only Harry could hear him, "The wait will be over soon."

Once again, the observations of the Goblins were quite correct. Then again, the Dursleys were creatures of habit who valued nothing more than living their by any means ordinary lives by the same old schedule. Therefore, it was rather unsurprising when at precisely 5:05 p.m., Vernon Dursley's treasured silver Vauxhall Vectra estate, the car he had bought after his latest promotion a few years ago, turned into Privet Drive. It was rather amusing watching the voluminous Muggle squeezing himself out of the protesting car. Still, it was even more entertaining to observe the increasing expression of horror on Lucius' face as he, too, was watching the scene ahead of him. It had been a good idea to bring the blond Malfoy Lord along.

When Vernon had finally managed to get out of his beloved Vauxhall Vectra, the front door of house number four had already opened, revealing a beaming Petunia Dursley, who was eagerly awaiting the return of her husband. Needless to say, most of it was just a show, of course conducted in public for all neighbours to see. Even when Harry had still lived there, the Dursleys had never failed to perform this daily spectacle. As always, Vernon placed his signature kiss, involving his massive moustache, on the bony cheek of his wife and started to tell her about the latest negotiations of Grunnings with a Canadian hardware store chain as they were entering the house.

Once they were inside, Harry signalled them to move. On the way to the front door, the Dark Lord modified the Disillusionment Charms so that the two Dursleys would also be able to see them.

A few seconds later, the five wizards had arrived at the front door. Given the noise they could hear through the wooden front door, the two Dursleys were still in the hallway and had not entered the dining room yet. Next to the Dark Lord, Harry stepped forward to ring the bell. Inside Number Four, Privet Drive, all sounds ceased before the quiet cursing of Vernon Dursley could be heard as he ordered his wife to see who dared to disturb their well-deserved peace.

The expression on Petunia Dursley's increasingly pale face when she first lay eyes on her beloved nephew was just priceless.

"Petunia, who is there?" Vernon Dursley called after his wife, the slight vibrations on the ground indicating that he, too, was making his way to the front door. Just like his wife, the fat Muggle froze as his eyes landed on his nephew and the four wizards by his side.

"Hello, dear aunt. Hello, dear uncle. What a pleasure to see you," Harry's voice was laced with sarcasm as his furious Avada-green eyes bore into his relatives, "but where are your manners? Do you not want to invite us inside?"

Much to the Dark Lord's surprise, the Dursleys stepped back, giving the five wizards enough space to enter the cramped hallway. The surprise, however, was short-lived. Once the sound of the closed front door echoed through the hallway, Vernon Dursley regained his ability to speak as he pointed his finger at his nephew in accusation, "You... you told us you... you would never come back."

Given all the years of training, the words 'freak', or 'boy' unfortunately went unsaid.

At least for now.

"Honestly," Harry's words cut through his relatives like fire through ice, "do not tell me that you honestly believed that I would simply leave it at that after everything you did to me."

Opposite of them, the faces of the two Muggles grew even paler.

"We paid for what we did," Petunia tried to defend her family, "and we never did any wrong to another one of your kind. We nev-"

"You are mistaken," the Dark Lord said, stepping forward with a sadistic smile on his face, having wanted to do this for a rather long time.

"We have never met you," Vernon's voice boomed through the hallway, "I have never seen a fre... someone like you here in this neighbourhood."

Ignoring the words of the fat Muggle for now, he addressed the horsey woman next to the beefy Muggle instead, "Tell me, Petunia, did your sister ever tell you about the wizard who was after her family?"

For a moment, it seemed like Petunia Dursley would not answer. Encouraged by the wand which had slid into his Equal's hand and the lack of reaction from the three adult wizards behind him, she quickly answered, "Apparently, this insane evil sorcerer was after them."

"Splendid," the Dark Lord said with a predatory smile that was all teeth, "did Albus Dumbledore ever tell you what happened to said insane evil sorcerer when he found the Potters?"

"He blew himself up trying to kill him," an enraged Petunia Dursley pointed at her nephew, obviously unimpressed that the apparently most evil wizard in Britain had not managed to kill a mere toddler, "according to the letter Dumbledore included when the fre- Harry was dropped on our front step, he fled, or at least what was left of him. Since Dumbledore never contacted us in the past decade, I am convinced he is dead. Incompetent lot."

"Impressive deduction," the Dark Lord sneered, clearly not impressed, "did your sister, or Albus Dumbledore ever tell you how he looked like, should he ever come after you?"

"Why... why do you want to know?" the horsey woman asked, having had enough of the questioning, "and... and who are you eve-"

"Answer his question," his Equal hissed, raising his unregistered Alder wand, "or you will suffer the consequences."

"You are not allowed," Petunia began to screech, "to use ma... your tricks outside of school-"

"Try me," Harry laughed, sounding almost as evil as the Dark Lord himself, "my little tricks were never picked up by any of Dumbledore's or the Ministry's preventive measures. Answer!"

Spurred by her nephew's threat, words quickly began to bubble out of Petunia's mouth, "He... he was said to be really tall... thin... bald... and... and known for... for carrying a white... white wa... wand..."

Her voice broke, uttering the last word seemingly too much for the magic-despising woman.

"What a fitting description," the Dark Lord sneered, internally revelling the expression on the Muggle's face at the sight of the pale Yew wand casually slipping into his hand, "was there anything else, Petunia?"

"He... he had... had... re... red eyes," Petunia eventually stuttered, her eyes still glued on the white wand in the Dark Lord's hand.

Fractions of a second later, the hand holding the Yew wand travelled upwards, eventually stopping at the level of the Dark Lord's eyes. A short series of hisses escaped his lips before onyx irises turned crimson, "I am afraid that you were wrong, Petunia Dursley. I never died nor fled. I was there the entire time, my soul attached to Harry's, as you mistreated him and in turn me, the Dark Lord Voldemort. Now that I have my body back, courtesy of dear Harry here, I will ensure that you will pay."

Opposite of him, Petunia started to scream. Her husband, being the dense Muggle that he was, followed moments later. Before they could do much more, two red beams of light briefly illuminated the cramped hallway. Fractions of a second later, the Stunned bodies of the two Dursleys noisily connected with the hard floorboards.

"You have lost none of your theatrics, old friend," Corvus chuckled as he stared at the two bodies, "while your little show was immensely entertaining, I still do not understand why you did not include at least a bit of torture."

"You know exactly why," Tom sighed.

He and Harry had debated extensively about today's proceedings. Given the tight time frame, the limitations of Harry's magical reservoirs, and the planned cover-up for the two Dursleys, the had refrained from excessive torture, despite how much both of them desired to do so. Both Dursleys deserved to suffer, preferably for as long and as agonising as possible. Still, their plan was more important than the perfect revenge. For now, it was time to get back to Malfoy Manor, despite how much Lucius opposed the idea of having Muggles in his home. Ignoring the silent protest of the Lord of the Malfoy family, Tom reached out for the beefy arm of the Stunned Vernon Dursley. After all, they had no time to spare and a ritual to prepare.

A few hours later, Tom looked up from the finished Rune circle. Outside, the sun was already setting. There was still enough time. Luckily, the Rune circle they were using today was much simpler and less time consuming to create than the one they had used during the Resurrection Ritual. Furthermore, it could also be used again. Especially the latter point was vital for the completion of their plan. Checking the familiar Sumerian Runes for the last time, the Dark Lord rose to his feet, joining Harry, who was standing by the window, observing the vast grounds with all its fountains, gardens, paddocks, white peacocks, and the impressive maze at its centre.

"The circle has been finished," the Dark Lord said, now standing next to his Equal, who only nodded in answer before once again focussing on the vast grounds ahead. For a moment, they simply stood there, side by side, simply enjoying the silence and the setting sun.

Eventually, the silence had to be broken, as Tom cleared his throat, "While I knew that we have a tight schedule to follow, I must ask you, and I swear it will be the last time, if you are ready and still want to go through with this. Be assured that this will be the last time that I ask. I just have to-"

"I can, I will, and I must," Harry interrupted him, deep crimson and Avada-green eyes meeting, the air around them charged with sizzling magic, "you know why. I simply cannot continue like this."

"I know," the Dark Lord said quietly. For a moment, neither of them spoke, both of them aware of the other's motives.

"Did you bring the object?" Tom eventually asked. In answer, Harry opened his right hand, revealing a small silvery tin soldier, a stark reminder of his miserable upbringing.

Like all the meagre possessions of Harry's early childhood, the tin soldier had been a hand-me-down from Dudley; broken, discarded, and fished out of the rubbish bin. Despite that, Harry had treasured the small tin soldier with its missing arm and fought tooth and nail to keep it hidden from his dear relatives. Once the tables had turned at Number Four, Privet Drive and the Dursleys had been shown their place, the tin soldier had been one of the first objects he had tinkered with as he started to experiment with permanent Conjurations and Transfigurations. Eventually, he had managed to permanently Conjure the missing arm, reattaching it to the tin soldier, before turning the tin into pure silver a few months later.

Therefore, the tin soldier was not only a reminder of his miserable childhood, but also a visible proof of progress and empowerment he would never let go of.

"Let us begin," Harry broke the silence, a new-found determination to his words.

"Together," Tom added, causing a wide smile to appear on the face of his Equal.

Without further ado, Harry turned around, inspecting the Rune circle for one last time before placing the tin soldier on its designated place right on top a Sumerian Rune generally known as the 'Receiver'. While the Ritual could also be conducted without the Rune circle, Tom knew from experience that it was a lot safer, easier, and more precise to include one. While Harry took his place within the area of the Rune circle designated for the 'Donator', Tom was taking care of the last vital ingredient of the Ritual, the 'Offering', swiftly ignoring the looks of Corvus, Lucius, and Severus, who were either eyeing the tin soldier, or the magical cage in the corner of the massive Ritual Chamber with scepticism, in the case of the latter two mixed with curiosity. Since the Lord of the Lestrange family had witnessed this specific ritual before, he knew what was going to happen, although he obviously did not approve of Harry's selection of 'Receiver' either.

With a swift movement of his beloved Yew wand, the large, Stunned body of Vernon Dursley was Levitated out of the magical cage he had been spending the last few hours in. Once the fat Muggle had been placed above the Sumerian 'Offering' Rune, which luckily was protected with a layer of magic from getting smudgy, the Dark Lord took his place behind his Equal.

Fortunately, the magic of the ritual would allow him to stay by Harry's side, a rarity amongst most Rituals involving a Rune circle for which he was rather glad for since it would allow him to assist his Equal. Since Harry needed every bit of magic for the things he was about to do, Tom had insisted on performing the majority of the more mundane but necessary Spellwork, like taking care of the Dursleys until now and activating the Rune circle, pushing his magic into the myriad of symbols. Once the last Rune had been activated, he cut off the magic feeding the two Stunning Spells.

Moments later, the two Dursleys began to stir. Given how dense they were, it took them quite a while to realise that they were no longer in the safety of their home but had been taken to a magical property. While Petunia's shrill screams filled the Ritual Chamber as she desperately but fruitlessly tried to escape from the magical cage, Vernon Dursley's beefy fists were banging against the magical restraints keeping the three major components from the Ritual separated. It was another reason in favour of using the Rune circle since it would ensure that the 'Offering' would not escape. The Sumerian Witches and Wizards who had created this Ritual had known what they were doing.

"Let me go!" Vernon shouted, his face an interesting shade of purple as he continued his futile efforts, now throwing his whole body against the invisible barrier, "release me, now!"

"No," Harry said resolutely, his unregistered Alder wand in his hand as he was staring at the Muggle in front of him, hate burning deep inside, increasing tenfold with every word that was spoken by his dear uncle, "your day of judgement has come."

"Let me go!" Vernon screamed again, this time more desperately, throwing his massive body against the magical barrier, "boy-"

The last word had not even completely left the mouth of the fat Muggle but was enough to send Harry over the edge. Fractions of a second later, a beam of vivid green light hit Vernon square in the chest. For the second time today, the fat Muggle's body noisily connected with the floor, although this time, he would not rise again.

Vernon Dursley was dead, and Harry had not even uttered a single word. Besides himself and Harry now, he only knew two other Witches and Wizards who were powerful enough to kill without words.

While Petunia's screams turned into loud and tearful sobs, his Equal had frozen in his movements, his wand still raised at the spot where his uncle had once stood, experiencing the aftereffects of the successfully cast Killing Curse.

Due to their unique, although still weakened connection, Tom, too, had felt it. After all, he had experienced it many times before.

The faint shattering of a soul.

Harry's soul.

Something only intentionally taking a life could cause.

"Take a deep breath," Tom whispered, leaning forwards so only Harry could hear him, placing both of his hands on the broad shoulders ahead of him, "calm down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. Take as much time as you need."

Eventually, the breathing in front of him slowed down, becoming much steadier and more evenly as his Equal got accustomed to the strange, but thankfully not too unpleasant feeling of a freshly fractured soul. Since he had promised to not ask again if his Equal was fine, the Dark Lord remained silent, waiting for Harry to continue. Because of the weak link between the two of them, he knew that Harry was adjusting to the new situation relatively quickly.

Eventually, his Equal shifted, the familiar melody of the Sumerian mantra filling the room.

" Lady Magic, o greatest Queen of them all, take my magic, take my soul as I have killed for you to serve you. For all eternity, I devote myself to thee, to cherish your gift, to protect thine. Mother Magic, I fully offer myself to thee. Accept my offering, I beg thee, please."

As with the Rune circle, the Ritual could be done without the mantra. Still, it was better to ask Lady Magic for her blessing. Otherwise, there was a high chance that the Ritual could go wrong, indicating that the ethereal entity did not approve.

Thankfully, Lady Magic seemed to welcome her latest servant as the Runes began turning darker and darker until they were glowing in a dark crimson as the magic in the room was getting heavier and heavier.

"This should be enough," the Dark Lord whispered, making his Equal go silent, the echo of the mantra still resonating within the currents of magic. Seconds later, his fingers closed around the right hand of his Equal, "Remember, focus on the fractures and find the smallest one. A little piece will be enough. Do not forget to breathe."

His movements were very gentle as he directed Harry's wand arm upwards until the tip of his wand was touching his temple. In front of him, his Equal took a deep breath as he dove deep inside his mind. Given the delicate nature of the Ritual, it was rather handy to have mastered Occlumency and Legilimency. Otherwise, one could easily end up with half of a soul and a doomed and hollow existence. If one were careful and extracted less than a tenth, the soul would easily heal over time. To prevent Harry from making the same mistake countless witches and wizards had made before, Tom followed him. With the help of the weakened link, the Dark Lord entered his Equal's lightly fractured mindscape.

Eventually, they found a promising fracture.

Unaware of how much time had passed, the Dark Lord withdrew from his Equal's mindscape, assisting him from the outside as best as he could.

In front of him, the tip of Harry's unregistered Alder wand began to glow in a vivid green as he began with the strenuous task of extracting the designated shard of his soul.

In the meantime, all that Tom could do was to watch. Since every soul reacted differently in a situation like this, his input would only distract his Equal. Therefore, he remained quiet and simply observed as the green light at the tip of the Alder wand got brighter and brighter, while every cell of his body wished that Harry would succeed.

Without warning, a blinding light illuminated the room, forcing Tom to shield his eyes.

The shard of Harry's soul had been extracted.

Trying to ignore the blinding light as best as he could, the Dark Lord watched as his Equal directed the removed soul shard towards the tin soldier, forcing them to merge. For a fraction of a second, the silvery object was gleaming in the same vivid greenish light the extracted shard of Harry's soul had been glowing. The next moment, the Horcrux went back to looking like the ordinary tin soldier it had been before.

"I... I did it," the whispered words of his Equal sounded oddly loud in the silence of the Ritual Chamber. Even Petunia's noisy sobs had turned silent as she stared at the massive mountain of meat and bones that had once been her husband.

Then, the realisation kicked in.

Harry had managed to create a Horcrux and Lady Magic had accepted his sacrifice.

Unlike what many, especially Light Witches and Wizards believed, the sole purpose of the creation of a Horcrux was not to extend one's life. While this was a rather nifty side-effect of the Ritual, it was much more.

When the Sumerians had first created the Ritual, they had simply called it The Sacrifice . In the Dark Lord's opinion, it was a rather fitting name since the separated part of one's soul represented the ultimate sacrifice to Lady Magic. It was a vow to serve and preserve what had been gifted to the Wizarding community. While it was one of the Darkest, maybe even the Darkest Rituals known to the Magical community, it was not evil like so many Light Witches and Wizards believed. It was a lot more than that and something they would never understand. After all, the soul was one of the most sacred possessions of a magic wielder. To willingly sacrifice a part of it, even for the ethereal entity that was Magic, was an extraordinary decision, not that Lady Magic would accept every sacrifice. The service of only a few had ever been accepted.

When the Dark Lord came back to his senses, he realised that his arms were tightly wrapped around his Equal, leaning forward to whisper, "I am so proud of you."

Before him, the corners of Harry's mouth curled into a faint smile, "Thank you for believing in me. I would not have been able to do it without you."

After a while, Tom pulled back, Harry's expression mirrored on his face, "I am curious. Shall we inspect your work?"

Opposite of him, Harry nodded his head.

The tin soldier felt warm to the touch. After having accepted the silvery object from the raven-haired wizard, Tom could feel the intoxicating Darkness of Harry's magic trapped inside. While it was a strange feeling, it also was rather nice, familiar, like home.

Looking up from the Horcrux, their eyes met.

"Shall we continue?" Tom asked, "or shall we postpone the second part?"

"I am ready," Harry answered, his voice steady, "are you ready?"

A few minutes later, the two of them once again had assumed their positions.

Only that everything was different now. While Harry was still standing in the area of the Rune circle designated for the 'Donator', Tom was no longer standing behind him. The tin soldier was also no longer in sight. In its stead, the Dark Lord had taken the place of the 'Receiver'.

They had debated about this step endlessly. The only explanation about the origins of the weakened link between the two of them had been the Horcrux, which had miraculously stayed with Harry after the successful Resurrection Ritual. Since it was the Dark Lord's Horcrux, it was only natural that he would be able to communicate with the slither of his soul and by extent Harry. After more than a decade of symbiosis, his Equal's soul and the slither of his soul were deeply entwined, thus making the border between the two entities so narrow to the point it was almost non-existent. At least for Tom.

But not for Harry.

At least not yet.

That was the sole conclusion they had reached. It must be the missing link on Harry's behalf that made mental communication with the Dark Lord nearly impossible for his Equal. Hopefully, they were right.

Without further ado, Vernon Dursley's massive carcass was Levitated out of the Rune circle with a mere wave of Tom's hand. They had decided to eliminate any possible interferences. Because of that, both of his wands, the Yew, and the Apple wood one, were currently kept safe by Corvus, leaving Tom to perform all tasks with wandless magic. Thankfully, this would not be a problem for the Dark Lord.

With one hand, Petunia Dursley was Levitated out of her magical cage. Still in a state of shock, the Muggle woman was not struggling but rather looking in the distance, her puffy, bloodshot eyes unfocussed as she was placed above the Sumerian 'Offering' Rune just like her dead husband had been moments prior. Thankfully, her current state made the task of reactivating the Rune circle a lot easier. Once all Runes had been activated, the Dark Lord started to lower his Occlumency shields to the barest minimum possible without risking serious repercussions. While they did not know if this step was truly necessary, it was better to be prepared. After all, this would be a severe breach of his privacy, even if Tom did not oppose the idea but rather welcomed it for Harry's sake.

Once he was ready, he waited for Harry to begin.

Instead of simply firing off the Killing Curse, it seemed like his Equal had different plans.

"Do you have any last words?" Harry asked, his words cold, lacking any sympathy as he stared at his aunt, "anything you want to say? Anything you want to apologise for?"

For a moment, Petunia Dursley did not react at all. Then, very slowly, she looked up from her trembling hands.

"I... I regret one thing... and one thing only," the Muggle woman hissed as her eyes met with the Avada-green ones of her nephew, "I regret that I did not listen to my husband when we found you on our doorsteps. We... we should have drowned you... You ruined everything. We were such an ordinary, perfect family until you arrived, a freak just like your moth-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The air was singing with Harry's magic as the lifeless form of Petunia Dursley dropped to the ground. As he was standing there, his shoulders moving upwards and downwards in tune with his erratic breathing, his wild raven locks having escaped his control, and his eyes shining brighter than ever, Tom could not help but admire the beautiful creature in front of him that was his Equal. While the Dark Lord had been sure before, the sight of his Equal, all consumed in his magic and rage, perfectly underlined why they were made to go into battle together, scheme together, and eventually rule together.

The thought had not even completely crossed his mind when the chanted Sumerian mantra once again filled the dimly lit Ritual chamber. Somehow, time seemed to move faster as the Runes on the floor had already turned a deep crimson as Harry had already started his search for the perfect slither of his soul.

While his soul had already been fractured before, the rules of The Sacrifice were rather specific. One death per Horcrux. It was impossible to use one Offering for the creation of multiple soul vessels. Therefore, it had been rather handy to have two Muggles at hand. Originally, they had also debated about taking along dear Dudders as a backup. In the end, Harry had decided against taking his cousin, stating that he deserved a second chance since he was still a child and probably would have acted differently without the influence of his parents. Despite Harry's decision to spare his cousin, the Dark Lord knew that a big part of his Equal wanted nothing more than to unleash his magic to eradicate the Dursleys family once and for all. For now, reason had won over revenge.

In front of him, Harry had lifted his right hand to his temple, the tip of his wand already glowing as he was starting to extract the slither of his soul designated to be his second Horcrux. Again, time appeared to be moving faster and faster as the light at the tip of the unregistered Alder wand turned brighter and brighter. Suddenly, Tom felt rather unprepared, nervous about the things to come. The books had been rather imprecise about using a human vessel since witches or wizards of the calibre of Tom and Harry rarely if ever trusted another magic wielder enough to carry a piece of their soul. Before meeting his Equal, the Dark Lord himself would have never done so. While he had trusted some of his followers with some of his heirlooms which had been turned into Horcruxes, he simply could not imagine attaching a piece of his soul to someone like Bellatrix.

Only Harry.

Just as this though crossed his mind, a blinding light illuminated the Ritual chamber, forcing all in attendance to shield their eyes. Knowing that he had to see this, Tom kept on looking at the source of the light, even though there was nothing more than he wanted than to avert his protesting eyes.

Thankful for his foresight and persistence, the Dark Lord was not caught off-guard when the freed slither of his Equal's soul was being directed towards his form at high speed. One moment, it was still a few metres away, the next, it was there, trying to get in.

His head exploded with pain.

Truly agonising pain.

Every fibre of his brain was on fire.

Somehow, Tom knew that the slither of Harry's soul wanted to get in, but something was preventing it. Like an invisible barrier that his magic was still keeping up. With horror, he realised that his Occlumency shields were causing the backlash which already were at their barest minimum, blocking the slither of Harry's soul from entering.

He had hoped to be spared from this experience, especially so close after the Resurrection, the last time he had completely lowered his Occlumency shields. Before that, it had been decades since he had last been confronted with his worst nightmares. It seemed like he had once again run out of luck as he lowered his mental shields. He did not know what was worse: the Horcrux violently carving its way towards the centre of his soul, or the demons of his past tormenting the Dark Lord worse than ever, now that they were fully free of their restraints. Not being able to keep quiet any longer, a truly agonising scream escaped his lungs, not even his immaculate self-restraint preventing him from lashing out.

Praying that this struggle would be worth it, Tom's last thoughts were with Harry, hoping that he would be fine.

After that, everything turned black.