Chapter Thirty-Two of 'His Darkest Devotion'- Burns

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Thirty-One.

Chapter One.

Title: His Darkest Devotion (32/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Tom Riddle, background James/Lily, Molly/Arthur, Ron/Hermione, possibly others
Content Notes: Extreme AU, soulmate-identifying marks, angst, violence, torture, gore, minor character deaths
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Harry Potter has been hiding in plain sight all his life, since he carries the soul-mark of Minister Tom Riddle on his arm—and a fulfilled soul-bond will double both partners’ power. His parents and godfather are fugitives, members of the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry is a junior Ministry official feeding the Order what information he can. No one, least of all him, expects Harry to come to the sudden notice of Minister Riddle, or be drawn into a dangerous game of deception.
Author’s Notes: This is a long fic and an extreme AU, as you can see from the summary. The different facets of the AU will be revealed slowly, so roll with the differences at first; in time, all should be revealed.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Thirty-Two—Burns

The sharp knock on the door of Tom’s office startled Harry, particularly since Tom wasn’t in. He sat back and opened his mouth to tell the person standing there that, then closed it again when he saw the person was Aelia Malfoy.

She remained there, staring at him, and Harry finally realized that she wouldn’t take the implied invitation. It probably wouldn’t be “proper.” Harry checked his sigh as he nodded. “You’re welcome to come in, Madam Malfoy.”

“I have learned what you wanted me to learn.”

Harry tilted his head as she spread out a clutch of parchment on the small desk Tom had placed for Harry next to his. He’d wanted to make it bigger, and Harry had said that “Minister’s soulmate” wasn’t either an elected or a paid position, so he would take the small one. As he watched Malfoy arrange things so that the papers were overlapping the least, he thought it was the first time he’d wished for a bigger one.

“The power levels vary. The Muggleborns sometimes show the highest power levels, depending on the year. Sometimes the half-bloods.” Malfoy’s hands hovered for a second over the largest piece of parchment, which Harry could see was a list of high OWL scores for what looked like the past five years. Students’ parents had to give permission for the publication, but they usually did, as long as the scores were Exceeds Expectations or above.

“Yes.” Harry said it quietly, but Malfoy glanced at him. “Do you see now why trying to run this society based on blood politics is ridiculous?”

“The Muggleborns and half-bloods still do not have as much knowledge as we do.”

Harry shrugged. “It depends on what you mean. I never heard that half-bloods raised by traditionalist parents are any different than pure-bloods, at least as far as ridiculousness goes.” Malfoy narrowed her eyes, but Harry kept on. “And the Muggleborns have all sorts of knowledge about the Muggle world that pure-bloods lack.”

“Why do we need knowledge about the Muggle world?”

Harry tapped the parchment. “Because none of this would be a surprise to them. They’ve done tests that prove humans have the same kind of blood. That heredity relies far more on unpredictable combinations of—traits from each parent than it does on a strict account of power levels.” At the last moment, he decided not to say anything about genes, which would just entail more explanation. “And they’ve also done studies that show children are influenced by who raises them and their peers at least as much, and in some cases more, than by their blood parents.”

Malfoy stared at the parchments with a frown. “You’re saying that if I had adopted my Muggleborn daughter, I could have raised her into a powerful Malfoy.”

“You were going to adopt a Muggleborn child?” Harry blurted out, and then cringed a little. Wonderful, Harry, think about how that must have sounded.

But for once, the pure-bloods’ obliviousness to other people served him. Malfoy took no notice of his tone, only nodding a little. “I was thinking of it. There was a particularly appealing little girl whose parents knew about magic and who placed her on the steps of the Leaky Cauldron to give up because her accidental magic was violent against her relatives. She was blonde, and she had a personality I could see myself sculpting.”

“But?”

Malfoy glanced at him. “My brother reminded me that it was not proper, and that nothing could ever wash away the taint of her dirty blood.” She glanced at the parchments again, her face blank and smooth as glass. “But perhaps something would have.”

“Yes,” Harry said faintly. Now wasn’t the time talk about “dirty blood,” either. “What happened to her?”

“Someone else adopted her and moved out of Britain.” There was no emotion in Malfoy’s voice. She swept her nails lightly back and forth along the list of names. “So you want me to speak about this.”

“Yes, please. In the Wizengamot.” Harry leaned forwards. He probably couldn’t talk about regret, either. She would see admitting it as a weakness, and she hadn’t sounded regretful. “Imagine the way that other people would feel if they knew that adopting young Muggleborn children could increase the numbers of people who believe like them.”

Malfoy’s eyes glinted at him, steely. “You play the game as well as our Minister.”

“Game?” Harry asked, a little startled by her phrasing, but not thinking she meant the same thing as Tom did. Why would the pure-bloods have danced to Tom’s political tune for so long if they knew how he regarded them?

Malfoy leaned back in her chair. “The Minister only wants power for himself.”

Harry waited. He was hardly going to deny that. The part where Tom was willing to share power with his soulmate was, well, private.

“He doesn’t care about blood purity. He doesn’t care about preserving our traditions. He cares about staying in power. And he knows that people like me are the ones who can keep him there.” Malfoy stared at him. “But you want justice for Muggleborns and the like. So you pursue the path that will allow us to invest in your dream with you.”

Harry said nothing. That was dangerously clever, more than he had thought any pure-blood could be. It wasn’t that all of them were stupid, it was that they were so invested in believing themselves superior that they had to ignore contrary evidence lest their worldview start crumbling around them.

“The path that will lead us to power. Where did you learn to play that game, Harry Potter?”

Dangerously clever. But it hardly meant that Harry needed to spill all his secrets, even so.

He let his lip rise a little, his eyes bore into Malfoy. “Where do you think I learned it, growing up in an Order of fanatics who wanted to destroy my soulmate?”

“And you wanted to prevent them,” Malfoy said, apparently overlooking the possible complexities of the situation, which was fine with Harry. “Yes, I can see how that might teach you some intrigues.” She stared at him with those pearl-like eyes and then asked, “How much?”

“For what?”

“What amount of money, or favor, would convince you to turn the game in our direction? Your soulmate was not meant to be Minister forever, but he seems to intend it. And you know that while your desire to protect Muggleborns is sincere, his is not. I have told you that I nearly adopted a Muggleborn girl. Why can we not use this information, this alliance, to pry the Minister from power?”

Honestly, to Harry’s shame, he did consider it for a moment. He didn’t really enjoy politics or being the soulmate of the Minister.

But it wasn’t as though a pure-blood like Malfoy in the position would be any better, or would continue the “reforms” for Muggleborns without someone to push them along that path. Harry was only achieving what he was because he was sleeping in the Minister’s arms. So he met Malfoy’s eyes and shook his head a little.

She lowered her voice, until it sounded more like a humming harpstring than anything else. “There are ways to block the soulmate bond. Perhaps no one ever taught them to you because they were so bent on keeping you from reaching that destiny, but I can teach you. You can lie to him.”

“I don’t wish to,” Harry said, and that was true. He would have to talk to Tom about his dislike of politics if he wanted to change his mind, not go around doing something about it behind his back. “Now, will you bring up this information about Muggleborns in the next Wizengamot session, or shall I bring it up and you’ll back me?”

Malfoy’s eyes widened a little. Then she said, “I was lying about adopting a Muggleborn girl. I was trying to get you to empathize with me more, to see things from my point-of-view.”

“Perhaps you were. But I can tell you the Wizengamot that you told it to me anyway.”

“They will never believe you.”

Harry had to snort about that. “Are you so sure? You don’t think they’ll eagerly seize on any evidence that could weaken you in their eyes?” And of course the pure-bloods would think it was a weakness, to be sentimental over the fate of a Muggleborn, even to care about raising one in Malfoy’s own image.

“It is a lie.”

“And we both know, of course, that you are so beloved in the Wizengamot that everyone would believe you were telling the truth about that.”

Malfoy clenched her hands and stared at him in silence. Harry just raised his eyebrows, with what he had to admit was mockery.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Malfoy whispered. “I know you grew up entirely in the wizarding world; why do you care so much about Muggleborns and Muggles?”

Harry shrugged. “My parents taught me that they were people, too. One of my best friends in school was Muggleborn. I saw no reason to think that half-bloods were less powerful than pure-bloods, or that you were right about Muggleborns, either. If you want people to believe your propaganda, perhaps you should make it more convincing.”

Malfoy looked away from him. “We are prepared to offer you a place in whatever government we will form after Riddle is removed as Minister.”

“Whatever government.” Harry fought for a second against the laughter bubbling up in him, then let it go. Malfoy’s lips pinched down until they were invisible, but that wasn’t Harry’s problem. “You don’t even know who would take his place, do you? You hate him, but you also can’t form a strong faction to oppose him because you hate each other, too. Merlin, this is funny.”

Malfoy locked her hands together. “You could have a position of power that you do not even understand if you worked with us.”

“Because I don’t understand it, it’s less temptation for me.” Harry smiled with only his lips. “But I understand two things.”

“What?” Malfoy’s voice sparked, and Harry wondered that anyone had ever thought her cold mask was unbreakable.

“First, I know that you’ll always despise me for being a half-blood.” Harry gave her a full smile this time. “And second, I already have power that you don’t understand.”

He let it pool and flow around him, rising through the office and changing the walls as it passed. Some of them became constructions of shells; some turned to wood; one sprouted another enchanted window that twisted like an open eye and showed a vision of underwater kelp forests. The hovering magic reached the ceiling, and it became pearl and gold with a huge chandelier hanging from it.

Malfoy sat where she was and stared at him.

“It would all be real, if you touched it,” Harry told her softly. “I’m stronger than you are. You’ll have to live with that. Take your research with you when you leave. And remember that you’ll still need to present the information in the Wizengamot as we agreed, or you don’t want to see what will happen.”

Malfoy stood up and walked out of the office. Harry watched her go, then pulled his magic back into his body.

“You enjoyed that,” Tom said mildly as he stepped out from behind the door that led to a small anteroom where he’d been having his own meeting with Arcturus Black.

Harry shrugged. “Yes. And she probably thought it was illusion. If she’s so dedicated to staying in power that she thinks I’d betray you…”

“It’s real.” Tom reached out and pushed a little on a corner of the wall that had been made of shells until a moment ago. “I know that. Harry, I know you better than any of them, and I hope that you wouldn’t think I’d require you to remain in a position of political power given how much you hate it.”

“But you love it.” Harry relaxed back into his chair and studied Tom. “I wouldn’t want to make you give up being Minister, either.”

Tom inclined his head, a barely-noticeable nod towards the fact that he preferred to remain where he was. “But you can step back. You can work behind the scenes. And if you ever grow to hate being so much in the political eye to the point that it interferes with our bond…”

“Yes?” Tom had deliberately suppressed the bond during Harry’s meeting with Malfoy, because he’d wanted to see how Harry did on his own and they needed to practice being in their own minds more, as he’d told Harry. But Harry felt it quivering on the side of his mind now like a butterfly in a cocoon.

“Then we’ll leave.”

Harry swallowed. “I told you that I didn’t want to make you give it up.”

“But if you ever start hating it that much, then you’ll hate it more than you like giving me what I want.” Tom’s voice was soft as he leaned over and traced a fingernail up the corner of Harry’s face, around his eyesocket. “You and our bond matter more to me than the Minister’s position. It’s only that if you can tolerate my being in the office, then I would prefer to stay here.”

Harry nodded and reached up to clasp his hand around Tom’s wrist. “How would I ever accomplish my grand plan to make you betray your own political principles and champion mine if we left?”

Tom smiled, and then he laughed. He bent down and captured Harry’s lips. Harry gave in to the bond surging between them, in colors as bold and deep as a summertime meadow streaked with sunlight.

Tom pulled his head back with a little sigh, and murmured, “I must admit that I would at least like to stay in power until the Dumbledore situation is settled.”

Harry nodded. “Of course. We need to bring him down, and we need to know where in the world Grindelwald went.” That had been one thing Pettigrew hadn’t accounted for, since he’d sensibly left the tunnel as soon as he could. It was incredible that he’d managed to capture Dumbledore’s wand at all.

“At least he doesn’t seem to be cooperating with his soulmate. That’s something. But Dumbledore’s doubled powers worry me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, because the bond was vibrating and jumping between them, but the emotions that flooded down it were too warm for worry. “Tom? Did you have something you wanted to ask me?”

Tom touched his hands lightly. “I know that you’ve done remarkable feats of magic, and each time, I was there, which means that I could have been feeding into your power passively. But we need to start training together. To have the skill to oppose Dumbledore with those fourfold powers that we’re destined to have.”

Harry listened to the bond for a moment, and then laughed. “The notion of those powers makes you excited, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does.” Tom gave him a brief smile. “But I’m serious about the need to train. And that means that we both need to do our part. You need to keep visiting Healer Laufrey. And I need to introduce you to someone I’ve been putting off the introduction of. I was worried that it might go badly.”

Harry swallowed. “A past lover?”

Tom stared at him. The bond turned a sickly yellow. “You think I would be that crass? Or that any past lover could matter compared to what I have with you?”

Harry shrugged and turned his face away, a little embarrassed. “I mean, you would keep someone like that around if it was for a practical purpose. You would expect me to get over my embarrassment and any feeling that I was inadequate. So I don’t think it’s as terrible a suspicion as you—will you stop laughing at me?”

“No one could compare to you,” Tom murmured, and kissed his forehead, while the bond still coruscated with laughter. “I had other lovers because I wanted to make sure that I had the skill to make my soulmate feel good, but I kept none of them. Most of them were the kind of people who wanted absolute devotion, anyway, and I could never have given that to them.”

“For the same reasons that you were telling me that you would stay with me until your soulmate made you leave.”

“Yes. That it turned to be you is the greatest gift of my life.”

He’s an evil prick, and then he says something like that. Harry leaned on Tom’s arm, and it was only a few minutes later that he stirred and said, “You have someone you want me to meet? Or something you want to show me?”

“Both.” Tom’s hands closed on Harry’s shoulders and drew him gently out of the chair.

*

“Nagini, come forth.”

Harry started at the Parseltongue words and gave him a strange glance. Tom ignored him, eyes still on the shadows stirring around the doorway that led into the drawing room. And then she slithered out, all the gorgeous meters of her, and came straight towards Harry, who was staring at her in—

Fascination. Good. Tom relaxed. He had been worried, despite Harry’s understanding of Parseltongue, that it would be revulsion.

“She’s beautiful,” Harry breathed, and Nagini, who recognized that word well enough, turned her head and flickered her tongue out as she showed off the scales on the side of her neck to Tom’s bondmate. “She’s your familiar, right?”

Tom nodded. “I didn’t dare let most people know about her. They would know what I realized when I bonded with her.”

“Which is what?” Harry knelt down on the floor, fearless, and Nagini slithered over and entwined herself around his arms. She made approving comments about his warmth in Parseltongue, which caused Harry to smile.

“I had a living soulmate.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t understand. I mean, either part. Why you had to be careful not to refer to Nagini around anyone else or why anyone would assume that you didn’t have a living soulmate. You were searching for me so devotedly.”

Tom nodded and sat down beside Harry. Nagini deigned to drape part of her tail in his lap, but she was busy smelling Harry and demanding that he scratch her behind the head, where her skin was beginning to split.

“Bonding with a familiar on a level as deep as I did with Nagini couldn’t be done by someone whose soulmate is dead, or who has broken the bond,” Tom said. “I actually thought that Dumbledore might have broken his bond with Fawkes because he rejected his bond with Grindelwald, at least until I came upon the theory about phoenixes being servants of fate instead and seeking the people who can help them achieve that fate. And many people assumed that my bond was broken when my soul-mark was burned off.”

Harry blinked at him for a second, then at the phoenix of onyx and diamonds hanging around his neck. Tom had thought of taking it off, but after this long, it felt part of him almost in the way Harry’s mark was. “But you were still searching…”

Tom nodded. “There were others who assumed that I was a fool, however. They would have been much more dangerous if they knew about Nagini and realized I was right and they were wrong. And they might have had the resources and time to search more openly for my soulmate, and destroy you if they found you.”

“How? You had all those spells and counters all over the Ministry…”

Nagini shoved her head at him. “Talk about boring things later. Scratch now.”

Harry did with a helpless smile, and Tom took up the conversation again as much as he wished he could just sit there and watch his soulmate rejoice with his familiar. “What if my soulmate had been born in another country? Or had died? It’s not like I would have known for sure, not with my soul-mark gone. Oh, yes, I had the bond with Nagini, but all that proved was that my soulmate had been alive or unborn when I bonded with her. It didn’t guarantee they still were.”

Harry reached over and took his hand, while the bond throbbed as if the hooting of an owl were echoing through it. “I’m sorry I made it so difficult for you. I just—the Order—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom said, and drew Harry back to rest against him. Nagini came with them and curled up around them both, distracted even from the itching of her old skin by the fact that they were together, at last, and Harry had taken to her so easily. “You are here now.”

Harry sighed and relaxed. But the bond remained alert in the way that meant he wasn’t going to sleep, and finally he asked mentally, as soft as new dawn, Was there a particular reason that you wanted me to meet Nagini now and not later?

Tom stroked the nape of Harry’s neck with his knuckles. He had a remarkable soulmate. Later, Harry said, and not earlier, forgiving something that another might not.

“I think we’ll need ritual magic, you and I, to defeat Dumbledore and Grindelwald,” he murmured. “And for that ritual, we’ll need Nagini’s help.” He paused, and Harry shifted so that he could look up at him. “And you’ll need to bond with a snake as well.”

*

“Are you willing to swear the oaths that we’ve asked of you?”

Molly glanced over at Arthur. He gently touched her shoulder. They were in the middle of a long corridor that ran between the Ministry holding cells, which they’d only spent a few hours in. The rest of the time, they’d been, confusingly, in a cozy if small flat, or around Sirius, James, and Lily.

“Yes,” Molly said, and Arthur smiled at her as if the words had ended some private nightmare he’d been having. Their bond twanged gently as he stepped up next to her and held out his hands.

The Auror who had been assigned to be their Bonder nodded, and then the door at the far end of the corridor opened and the Minister stepped out. Molly gently blew out the air in her lungs. For some reason, even though she’d known they would make their oath not to work with the Order of the Phoenix again to some high-ranking Ministry official, it had never shadowed her mind that it would be him.

“Molly and Arthur Weasley,” Riddle murmured as he stepped in front of them. The phoenix pendant around his neck swung a little and then came to a stop. Molly tore her gaze from it and sent her eyes back to Riddle’s face, surprising what looked like a small amused smile there. But then it was banished, and Riddle nodded to her as he held out his own hands. “Clasp one of them each.”

Arthur took Riddle’s left hand in what seemed like intimidated silence, but Molly did have to speak up, if only to find out why things were so different than she’d thought they were. “Why are you the one doing this, sir?” she asked, as she took his right. It was warm and slightly dry, without the chill reptilian texture that she’d imagined it would have.

“There is nothing I would not do to oblige my soulmate.”

Molly sighed a little. Of course. It was hard to realize how much they owed to Harry, after what Ron and Hermione had done to him.

But she could do nothing to reverse that, or for Ron and Hermione right now. She settled back into stillness and waited for the first words of the demanded oath.

“Do the both of you swear that you will never take up arms against the Ministry again, except in self-defense?” Riddle asked. His voice had a slight hiss to the edges, perhaps at the thought of them fighting against the Ministry when he’d gone out of his way—and Molly knew he had—to give them good treatment.

“I so swear,” Molly said, and Arthur was able to say it with her, since they had such a complete soulmate bond. The words flowed from them and formed into a bond of fire around their clasped hands.

The Auror standing next to them sucked in a harsh breath, but Molly wasn’t sure why. Maybe the oath Riddle was asking for was milder than the one the Auror had expected.

Riddle stared into her eyes. “Do the both of you swear that you will never again communicate with Albus Dumbledore except under orders from me or Harry Potter, by letter, mental communication, Floo, face-to-face, or any other way you can comprehend?”

“I so swear,” Molly said, and as Arthur’s voice chimed along with hers, she felt the bond shiver with disgust. Neither of them wanted to have anything to do with the old man again. His fanaticism had got Ron and Hermione turned into Squibs.

Riddle nodded as the second band of fire joined the first. “Do the both of you swear that you will ask Harry Potter the instant you have a question about Ministry procedures or the justice of what you see?”

Molly blinked. That wasn’t an oath she had expected to swear. But she and Arthur spoke it, and the third band of fire, thicker than the others, as if this vow was more important to Riddle, appeared.

Riddle flexed his fingers back and forth for a moment, as if he was getting tired. Molly felt the power burning beneath his skin, and then she saw what the Auror must have noticed, and gasped aloud.

There was no Bonder. Riddle was doing this all by himself, with wandless magic. Fourfold power, Molly thought. It has to be.

She felt stupid as she met Riddle’s eyes and watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a smug smile, but he didn’t taunt her. He only said, “Do the both of you so swear that you will not engage in terrorist activities of the kind that you undertook in the Order of the Phoenix, except at the order of myself, the Wizengamot, or Harry Potter?”

“I so swear,” Molly said, Arthur’s voice only a beat behind.

She was still shaking as the oath finished and tightened around all their wrists in brilliant ribbons that, after a moment, faded. It was one thing to know that Riddle had claimed his soulmate and Harry was happier there than he had been with the Order, something Molly unfortunately had no reason to doubt.

It was another thing to know that Riddle, the man she was used to thinking of as a fearsome Dark Lord bent on genocide, could love, and that Harry loved him.

“Good,” Riddle said, standing back to his full height. “Now, I have the flat where you stayed last night prepared for you, or Lily and James Potter have invited you to stay with them. It’s up to you.”

Molly blinked, and blinked again. She glanced at Arthur, and he was the one who answered, probably because he’d felt her confusion thrumming through the bond. “We would like to stay with the Potters. Thank you.”

Perhaps only Molly knew how great the bitterness was behind the words that Arthur just barely managed to force out, but Riddle only smiled and nodded as if they were all the best of friends. “Then follow me to the Atrium. The Potters are waiting there to collect you, and they’ll guide you to your temporary home.” He turned around.

“Why are you doing this?” Molly asked his back.

The Aurors shifted as if they thought it was a stupid question, or worse, but she couldn’t help it. Even if Riddle was really capable of love, that wasn’t the same as being capable of kindness. Molly had fought beside and against soulmated couples who were fierce and cruel in defense of their beloved and cared nothing for anyone else.

Riddle glanced over his shoulder. Molly shivered. There was the coldness, the indifference, that she had fully expected to see before this.

“Harry suffered when he lost his best friends from school,” Riddle said. “I didn’t want him to lose his parents, and we negotiated a pardon for them. His godfather is under more restrictions for several reasons, but he’s behaved with some sense. You have even more. Why should Harry suffer when you seem capable of behaving yourselves?”

And he turned and went down the corridor, and Molly started following before one of the Aurors standing beside them could push her.

That single glance was still with her, lingering as cold near her heart. Riddle was like one of those Dark Lords of legend whose only concern was their soulmate, then. Perhaps not ready to wage a war on Muggles and Muggleborns the way they had all thought he was, but deeply ready to do anything he must in protection of his soulmate, or anything that would make Harry happy.

I pray that what makes Harry happy will never be a war.

*

Albus crouched beside the small, cool pond in front of him and splashed water onto his face. Then he sighed. Perhaps it was foolish to linger so close to Hogwarts, in a corner of the Forbidden Forest where he had built a version of the Order’s refuge by himself when he was still Headmaster and had imagined Riddle coming down on the school unheralded some night. But he had to have his wand back, and that was the place where the thief probably still dwelt.

He glanced to the side, and at the small flask that lay there, and then away again.

The effect of the Amortentia had ended, and with it, the love that he felt for Gellert. He could start it burning again, he knew. All he had to do was swallow the potion. He wouldn’t even have to use the rune or the rest of the ritual, now that he had already resurrected their bond. It was in hibernation, not dead.

But with the fading of the potion had come the fading of a veil from his mind.

Did he want to force Gellert into the bond? Did he want to force this war? If Riddle and Potter were going to win and become Dark Lords, what could someone whose bond and twofold magic only worked sometimes do about it?

He sat back on his heels, still staring at the vial, on the precipice of a decision that he knew he wouldn’t come back from.

He glanced up sharply as he heard a trace of sweet song from above him. When he looked up, his phoenix was perched there, a creature of stunning midnight blue and white, head cocked so that one sapphire eye was fixed on him.

“Do you want them to win?”

Albus swallowed. “I’m not sure I’m the right one to fight this war.”

“This is not about you. This is about the innocents who will suffer if you don’t win.”

And the visions flooded out of the phoenix’s voice as it sang, and Albus saw them. Muggleborns in campus, lying dead in trenches. Muggles poisoned and dying by the millions. Muggle leaders controlled with the Imperius, launching their nuclear weapons at each other. Harry reduced to a slave with a collar around his neck, dazed with love and feeding magic to Riddle, who laughed, red-eyed, over a world of the dead.

Albus shuddered, and the song died. The phoenix ruffled its feathers and continued to watch him.

“But how can I win when I have only half the bond?” Albus said. “And that only with the help of a potion?”

“How can you win if you refuse to try?”

And that shamed Albus, at last, into picking up the potion. His hands were shaking, but he was resolved as he watched the phoenix swoop down from the branch and vanish into nothingness.

Someone had to fight Riddle and Potter.

He swallowed the potion, and the burn of it cut through his doubts and pain. Albus smiled, and turned his head.

He could feel Gellert’s pulse now, in the distance. He would go and fetch his bondmate, and then he would get back to his war.