6
The letters Harry had been expecting came the following morning along with the new edition of the Daily Prophet.
Harry opened the newspaper first, sipping the coffee he was developing an addiction to and scanning the front page for interesting news.
When his eyes roamed over the title he had to concentrate very hard not to choke and splutter on the mouthful he had just taken.
"Prisoners involved in the ministry fight to get a trial" was written in bold, black letters. Harry read the article, carelessly skipping the parts in which the Minister praised himself and his work. It was only a matter of time before Fudge would be replaced: with the news of Voldemort’s return in every paper, all the lies he had spread during the last year had come to light.
Rita Skeeter had had a field day dragging the Minister through the mud.
Harry didn't know the name of the reporter who had written today's article, but even with all the praises they had filled the article with, Fudge had no chance of being reelected ever again. Towards the end of the page there was a mention of a trial to be held that very evening in which the destiny of the unjustly convicted’ Death Eaters would be decided.
Well, the Ministry had moved faster than what he had anticipated.
Of course they wouldn’t risk keeping a possibly innocent Lord Malfoy in prison for longer than necessary. Not when Fudge still seemed to be convinced that with his fast acting he would be able to keep his position. As if.
Harry set the newspaper aside, looking at the letters he had received, instead. One had the Ministry seal on it. Another one, a black envelope addressed simply to 'Potter’, had no sender. Finally, the third one -which was more of a note folded in half rather than a letter- was the one he opened first. It was from Dumbledore.
Harry, meet me in my office as soon as breakfast ends. You are excused from classes for the day.
P.S. I am partial to lemon drops.
Dumbledore.
Harry set the letter aside. He had thought the headmaster would have confronted him the previous day, when the article about his friendship with the Slytherins had come out. Instead, Dumbledore had kept to himself and Harry had thought -hoped- he had gotten away with it.
He should have known better. He really didn't want to meet again with the headmaster, but he knew he had no choice. He would go to his office right after breakfast, after reading his other mail.
The letter from the Ministry turned out to be just what Harry had been expecting: apologies for the whole affair, an official invitation to attend the trial of that evening as a witness, some words of praise (that were probably intended to help endearing the Minister to Harry), along with the request of doing a joint interview in which they sided together and condemned Voldemort’s doing.
Harry snorted. He would attend the trial, but nothing more. He didn't trust himself to behave when in the same room with the man that had set Umbridge upon them.
Harry briefly wondered what had happened to the woman. The last time he had seen her, centaurs had been dragging her away to the depths of the forbidden forest.
Nobody had heard from her again since that day. Harry secretly wished they would never hear her name or see her face ever again.
The third letter, the one without sender, was the one Harry was feeling the most uneasy about. He had a fair idea of who it might be from and since the man had never bothered to write to him, Harry didn't really know what to expect.
He didn't even know how to check the parcel for harmful spells or curses. Really, it was a miracle he had survived so long in the wizardry world with so many people out for his blood.
He scanned the Slytherin table looking for a friendly face. There was no way he would open the letter before checking its harmfulness first. He would have asked Hermione for help, but his two best friends were doing their best to avoid him since the previous day.
Eventually, Harry's eyes landed on his most favorite snake.
He went to the Slytherin table, ignoring the whispers that doing so always provoked, and sat next to Blaise.
The Italian boy eyed him in amusement. "Like me so much you can't go half a day without sitting next to me, eh?" he joked, but his words had Harry blushing nonetheless.
He lightly smacked Blaise on his arm. "Shut up. I need your help, if you must know.”
The boy eyed Harry up and down, a calculating glint in his eyes. "You require my help quite often, Harry.” he purred. A shiver ran down Harry’s back. "One day I’ll ask you to pay me back, you know?"
Harry rolled his eyes at the antics of his friend.
"Yes, well, keep track of what I owe you and I'll pay you back eventually.”
It was true that Blaise was helping him without asking for anything back but the boy was a Slytherin: Harry had suspected he would be asked for money or something similar sooner or later. Luckily, his vaults were filled to the brim with galleons, so he didn’t worry much.
Lost in his thoughts, Harry completely missed the mischievous glint in Blaise's eyes.
"So,” the tanned boy said, resting his elbows on the table. "What can Blaise Zabini do for you?"
Harry decided not to comment on the Slytherin's strange way of speaking, pulling out the black letter and putting it in front of him, instead.
“I need help checking this letter for curses, jinxes, hexes, spells, potions and the like. Standard check, in short.”
"Standard check, he says." Blaise muttered, raising his eyes to the ceiling. He immediately took out his wand and began casting, though, a thing Harry was grateful for.
A few minutes passed: small pearls of sweat were beginning to form on the boy's brows, his lips were pursed in concentration. Had he found something concerning? Was he stuck?
Harry really couldn't tell. At last, Blaise lowered his wand with a loud sigh. "Well, there is definitely some kind of charm on this letter, but I couldn't detect which. I can tell you it is nothing harmful, though.” He said, wiping his forehead with a pristine handkerchief he had produced from the pockets of his robes.
Harry thanked his friend profusely and took the letter back.
Could he trust his spellwork? Would the charm really not harm him? There was only one way to know and Harry, despite spending much of his free time with the Slytherins, was still a Gryffindor at heart.
He opened the black envelope, heart racing ten miles a second, and then waited for a few seconds, just in case.
When nothing happened he dared touch the letter, discarding the envelope on the way. The paper of the letter, too, was black, but a shade softer than the envelope.
Golden ink shined on the page, reflecting the light of thousands of candles that were floating above their heads.
"Oh, now I get it!" exclaimed Blaise, who had craned his neck to be able to read the letter alongside Harry.
"Get what?" he asked, mindlessly leaving his eyes roam to the end of the letter, when the sign was.
Lord Voldemort.
He felt blood completely drain from his face.
"The spell I couldn't place," Blaise continued, oblivious to Harry's state of shock. "It's to make the letter readable only for the intended receiver. I knew the spell existed, but I’ve never seen it in person. It’s fascinating!”
Blaise took the envelope and began studying it, giving Harry the time he needed to recollect himself.
The fact that nobody could read the letter or the name of the sender was a relief. However, it still was something his sworn enemy, the man Harry was prophesied to kill, had sent him.
He would have to trade with care from now on. Since he had already touched the paper and nothing had happened, though, he deemed it safe enough to read.
Dear Harry,
l am glad to see you overcame the guilt and managed not to kill yourself.
I trust you found a way to dispose of the pent up energy, did you not? If you require any further guidance do not hesitate to contact me.
I have to confess the actions you took in the last few days surprised me to no end. First the use of the unforgivables, then you free three Death Eaters and very well known inner circle members.
I am pleased with the outcome of the interview you gave. If I didn't know any better, I would say you are trying to impress me. You were successful. If you continue along this path I might consider you an ally rather than an enemy.
The choice is up to you, Harry. All my followers willingly took the Mark and I find myself looking forward to the day you will come to me.
Because you will, in the end.
Until then try not to get caught.
Good luck with the trial tonight: I am positive you will succeed in freeing your friends’ fathers, but you need to keep your eyes open. Dumbedore and Fudge might want to dose you with veritaserum before you testify. If that's the case, keep your answers as generic as possible.
If you cannot avoid saying something incriminating, hiss it out in parseltongue. Veritaserum does not dictate the language you have to speak.
Included in the letter you will find a small gift. It will help you slip into parseltongue more easily.
Until we meet again, Harry.
Best regards, Lord Voldemort.
Harry blinked a few times. What had just happened? Was it a joke? Why was Voldemort being nice to him? He had so many questions!
He terribly needed to talk to someone about the letter, but the only people willing to listen would be his Slytherin friends and they were too biased to help Harry think, to help him comprehend.
"Hey, Harry, look! " Blaise’s loud voice took him out of his musings. He was pointing at the envelope he had been studying just a few minutes before. "There's something inside!”
Included in the letter you will find a small gift.
Hary gulped. He extended his hand towards Blaise, who slowly tilted the envelope so that its content fell directly into Harry's waiting palm.
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding when he discovered the gift was a small bracelet. A thin, black leather thread with a single silver charm looped into it.
After a brief inspection, Harry realized the charm was in the shape of a small snake with bright green eyes.
It will help you slip into parseltongue more easily.
Voldemort had known about his struggle with the snake tongue, then. Harry hoped he would not have to use it during the trial, but he knew the chances of that were slim at best.
He slipped the bracelet on his wrist, observing how the silver pendant shone under the candlelight. It really was a beautiful gift.
“Who’s the lucky girl... or boy?" Asked Blaise, a grin plastered on his face. Harry lightly shoved him on the shoulder. "You would never believe it even if I told you"
***
Harry lingered at Slytherins table for as long as he could, but breakfast soon came to an end and students slowly began to leave the Great Hall to go and attend classes.
Harry wished he could follow them. Instead, he made his way to the headmaster’s office, whispering the password -lemon drops- to the gargoyle to gain entrance.
Upstairs, he found Dumbladore and Snape waiting for him. He cursed under his breath. With some luck he was pretty sure he could fool the headmaster, but there was no way he would be able to resist a double attack -especially when one of the people waiting for him was the professor that hated his guts more than Voldemort did.
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" he asked politely, keeping his eyes from meeting the headmaster’s. He wasn't so stupid.
Instead, he studied the many trinkets that adorned the room. He grimaced when he realized he didn’t know the name or purpose of any of them apart from the pensive, cast in a corner of the room.
Dumbledore gestured to an empty chair before his massive desk. "Take a seat, Harry. Lemon drop?"
Harry warily sat on the chair, eyes never leaving a spot on Dumbledore's shoulder. With Voldemort's warning still ringing in his ears, he politely refused the candy.
"You must be wondering why I wanted to talk to you before the trial." Dumbledore said, slowly caressing his long heart as if lost in thought.
Harry followed the movement with his eyes. He nodded at the headmaster, hoping the man would just say what he had to say and be over with it. Harry had a very clear idea of what was about to come.
Dumbledore sighed.
"I called you here, Harry, to make sure you know what you are getting into if you decide to attend the trial and free three dangerous Death Eaters from-"
"They're my friends’ family!" Harry bursted out, unable to restrain himself. "And they're innocent. I want to free them."
The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes disappeared in a blink.
"Would you allow professor Snape to administer you a... ah, cleansing potion, my boy?"
Cleansing potion? He had never heard of that. Then again, he was embarrassingly ignorant when it came to potions.
"What does a cleansing potion do, Sir?" he asked, already imagining the answer. The name was very revealing, after all.
"It will clean your body from spells and potions, Potter. We covered it early this year." Snape hissed through clenched teeth. Harry blushed a little, ashamed that he hadn’t remembered something he had studied just a few months before. No wonder Snape hated him: he was probably his second worst student in his long teaching career -right after Neville.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I seem to have forgotten it." Better apologize now than further anger his professor, he reasoned.
"Obviously." Muttered Snape, but his tone wasn't as biting as it had been seconds ago. Strange.
"'So, Harry, will you take it?"
Harry shook his head.
There was no way he was going to drink it. He knew he wasn't under any spell and he knew his friendship with the Slytherins had been a farce at first.
The idea of freeing Mr. Malfoy and two other powerful Death Eaters didn't thrill him, but it was the only way for him to get the training he needed to hopefully live long enough to see his seventeenth birthday. And it had been the Headmaster's neglect and refusal to help him that had caused this whole unpleasant situation.
"I am sorry, Sir, but I won't drink it. I am under no spell. Me and the Slytherins are friends, and I am sorry that you cannot accept that. You should be happy that we are working together to get along instead of lunging at each other’s throats, headmaster."
He knew he was risking a lot, but he needed to prove his point. If the headmaster was set on finding proof of their friendship before the Ministry fiasco he wouldn't find any, obviously.
It was fundamental that Dumbledore believed his story now, but how to do it? How to convince him-
“He is not lying, headmaster. I have caught Mr. Potter multiple times outside Slytherin’s common room after curfew in the last few months. Many points were deducted and detention assigned for his suspicious behavior." Snape said, glaring at Harry.
What was the potion master up to?
Harry gulped. Snape’s eyes were boring holes into his own, but for some reason Harry couldn’t find the strength to look away.
"Mr. Potter never told me the reason for his wanderings," Snape continued. "but I think it is safe to assume he was meeting with his friends, right, Potter? If I recall correctly, you were caught sneaking around for the first time right after the start of term."
Harry bit his lower lip, looking at his clenched fists resting on his knees. "Yes, Sir. I was meeting with them." he whispered, trying to look as ashamed as possible.
Snape had indeed caught him multiple times and assigned him detention after detention, but... it had never been in the dungeons and surely not close to Slytherin's common room. So, Snape was lying to Dumbledore, lying to protect Harry.
But why?
"Are you sure, Severus? All this time? And you said nothing until now?" The headmaster asked.
Finally Snape’s eyes left Harry's downcast face to focus on Dumbledore's concerned one.
He must be a very good Occlumens to be able to face the headmaster without breaking a sweat, Harry mused. Then again, they were talking about a man who regularly met and fooled the greatest Dark Lord of the century, the fact that he was sitting beside Harry breathing and alive was proof enough of his occlumency skills.
Snape cleared his throat. "I thought he was up to something and I wanted to catch him red handed. The fact he was secretly befriending my students didn't even cross my mind." He explained slowly, words prolonged to a drawl. "Although I realize now that many of the things my Slytherins told me about make sense."
"What things, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling once again.
But Snape just shrugged, leaving the chair and walking to the fireplace.
"I am not going to tell you what my snakes told me in the privacy of their common room, headmaster." He replied. He suddenly turned around, looking once again intently at Harry. "But if what they told me is right, Mr. Potter here has been befriending them for the majority of the year, which would bring us to the assumption that the article in the Daily Prophet did not contain lies. I do not believe he is in any need of my potion." he added before abruptly leaving the room, robes billowing behind him.
Harry was shocked. Snape had protected him. Him! His least favorite student!
He could have destroyed Harry with only a couple of words, but instead he had helped him create a believable alibi.
...Why?
His questions would have to wait for a while. He was still trapped in the Headmaster's office, after all, and Dumbledore was looking at him, waiting for something.
"Sir?” he asked after a few minutes of tense silence. “... may I go?”
Dumbledore regarded him for another minute and Harry began shifting under his scrutiny.
"Is there nothing else you wish to tell me, my boy?"
Hary shaked his head. "No, Sir. Professor Snape told you the truth, and so did I.” he stated.
"Then you may go. This afternoon Professor Snape will come to collect you and bring you to the trial, wait for him by the Great Hall."
Harry nodded, already darting to his feet and moving to the door of the office, but before it could close completely he heard Dumbledore mutter to himself: “I hope you know what you're doing, my boy.
***
Harry immediately retreated to the secret room in the dungeons, where he would wait for his friends to come and help him make sense out of Snape and his strange behavior.
Since it was mid morning and it would be a while before his friends joined him in the dungeons for lunch, Harry decided to answer Voldemort’s letter. He took a quill and some parchment out of his bag and began penning his reply:
Lord Voldemort -there was no way he was going to start a letter to his enemy with the word Dear.
Thank you for the gift. I hope I won't have to use it right away, though.
About your followers, consider them a replacement for the one you recently lost. Harry Potter.
It was short and concise, but Harry didn't mind. It wasn't like he needed to endear himself to Voldemort.
But what if... what if he did just that? What if he could prove Voldemort he wasn't an enemy? That they could coexist without constantly trying to kill each other?
Harry knew it would be all for naught, once Voldemort discovered the contents of the prophecy. But what if he succeeded, instead? No fight. No deaths (likely Harry's). No blood on his hands.
If worse came to worst, he could still resort to the training the Slytherins would help him with. It was worth a try.
Harry fished in his bag for another piece of parchment. This time he would write a good reply.
Dear Lord Voldemort,
Thank you for the beautiful gift. I hope I won't have to recur to it, but having an emergency plan helps with the nerves. About the pent up energy you talked about, I did find a way to dispose of it. The Slytherins are helping me with... research on the matter, and that is the reason why I decided to help free their fathers.
I didn't even think about their position in your ranks. If you want, you can consider their freedom as a way to replace the Death Eater you recently lost.
Despite not sharing the same ideals, I have no wish to be your enemy. I won't ally with you, either. I am really just trying to survive.
I guess I have to thank you for allowing me to come back safely to Hogwarts and for... covering for me.
On that note, I would really be grateful if you could. teach me the spell to make letters readable only by their appointed receiver. I am afraid of what could happen if further correspondence were to fall into wrong hands.
Yours, Harry Potter.
He eyed the two letters in front of him. He really wanted to send out the first draft, where he all but politely told Voldemort to gently fuck off, but he knew he had to send the scond one, a letter that would throw him in the middle of a dangerous game... but, in a sense, he was already playing, wasnt he? He had been playing since he turned eleven years old.
He carefully folded the lewer, placing it in the same black envelope valdemort's letter had come with. He would wait for his friends to come, then he would ask Draco to call for his house elf and have it bring the letter directly to Voldemort. He couldn't risk sending it off with Hedwig, not when the risk of it being intercepted by Dumbledore was very high.
As soon as the Slytherins arrived in the dungeons Draco snapped his fingers and food appeared. After the rollercoaster of emotions he had felt that morning, Harry was simply starving. He grabbed a couple of sandwiches and began eating in earnest before noticing his friends weren't joining in. Instead, they were staring intently at him.
"What?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee. Malfoy’s elves really made the best coffee in the world, he could swear on it.
Pansy cleared her throat and Harry's attention shifted to her. "Blaise told us you received a letter this morning?" she said in a very soft voice.
“A black letter with golden ink?" continued Theo.
Harry nodded, what was the matter? Why were they all acting this weirdly?
“Who was it from?" Malfoy asked in a whisper.
From the wary looks on their faces Harry could tell they had already figured the sender out and were now looking for confirmation.
Well, except for Blaise, that is. He was lounging on the sofa casually eating some fresh fruit directly from the bowl. Blaise's mother wasn’t a Death Eater, reasoned Harry, it was possible that the Italian boy really didn't know who the letter had come from. That, or he simply didn't care.
He sighed. "It was from Voldemort.”
He heard Blaise choke on a blueberry and patted him on the back to help him stop coughing. He hadn’t known then. On well.
The other Slytherins didn't react like Blaise, but they all visibly stilled.
"What did he want?”
Harry took another sip of his coffee. Delicious. "He wanted to congratulate me on not killing myself over grief and kind of asked me to join him. Oh, and gave me a beautiful bracelet." he answered calmly, as if he had just answered a question about the weather.
He watched in amusement as Malfoy dropped his plate.
"He... what?"
"Oh. So there's no lucky girl…" Blaise muttered, a little bit put off. Then his eyes suddenly lit up and he looked at Harry with a full grin on his face. "Well, I guess you are the lucky girl, then... or... boy, well, details." Harry instantly flushed red. Trust the Italian boy to focus on the least significant part of the conversation.
The other Slytherins, though, did not seem to be able to share the mood.
"Explain." Pansy demanded.
Deciding it would be better to tell them everything about what had happened with Voldemort, he began recounting the night at the Ministry, his interaction with Voldemort and the chat with Dumbledore in the infirmary, before finishing by reading aloud the letter he had received.
He didn't say anything about the contents of the prophecy, though. It was too dangerous and he wasn’t foolish enough to believe Voldemort wouldn’t hurt them if he had the barest suspect that they knew something about it.
His friends exchanged worried looks. "That's why you came to us!" accused Malfoy, his voice still slightly shaking. “You wanted us to train you to fight the Dark Lord because Dumbledore refused, you lied to us!"
"No." Harry’s reply was fast, his voice firm. "I wanted you to help me because I wanted a chance at surviving. I wanted to learn how to defend myself, not to attack."
"But helping you would mean betraying the Dark Lord!"
Hamy rolled his eyes. "You were supposed to say you were trying to convert me, if asked. Anyway, I guess Voldemort wants me to join him now, so training me wouldn’t be seen as a betrayal at all. Quite the opposite, really."
He needed them to believe the lie. He couldn't afford to lose their help after he exposed himself to the media like this.
As the Slytherins pondered on what he had just said, Harry produced the black envelope from his robes.
"Malfoy, could you please ask one of your house elves to deliver this letter to Voldemort?" he asked, offering the letter to the blonde.
The boy recoiled at being addressed so suddenly. Instead of taking the letter, he snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared. It looked exactly like Dobby, but was wearing an emerald green uniform with golden rims and the Malfoy crest sewed on its front.
Harry hadn't expected the elf to look so tidy, but again, his only experience had been with Dobby and Kreacher: maybe this was the appearance every House Elf fairly treated ought to have. No, he reasoned, Dobby had been a ‘Malfoy elf’, too, and he certainly did not have any fancy uniform to wear. It was probably because this one was Draco’s personal elf: it would obviously be seen by people and to the Malfoys appearances did matter, after all.
Draco instructed the elf to bring the letter to his father’s office, where the Dark Lord was most likely to be, and in the blink of an eye the elf and the letter were both gone.
Harry thanked the blond, then casted a quick tempus.
He had four hours before he would have to attend the trial. He expected Snape to come and collect him about thirty minutes before the start, which reminded him…
"Have you noticed anything strange with Snape lately?"
"Professor Snape, Harry." Pansy corrected him. In times like this she reminded him of Hermione, but he knew better than to point it out to the girl.
"I haven't noticed anything different." she replied, shrugging.
Blaise nodded. "He favors Slytherins, takes as many points off from Gryffindor as he can, hates you…”
"Okay, way, I got it!”
Harry raised his hands in defeat and the Slytherins laughed together, the tension in the air suddenly dissipating. If his friends hadn’t noticed anything different with the man it was probably nothing to worry about, right? He would keep his eyes open when in the presence of the man, though. Better safe than sorry.