Unofficial Portkey Archive

"It's fortunate that you made such a quick return to health, Alastor," said Dumbledore, who had returned from the Ministry early that evening. Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat in seats by the fireplace with the headmaster while Moody paced incessantly.

"I suppose I took enough of those Stunning Spells to build up a resistance," Moody said. "So where should I start? I take it from Potter that you already know most of the story."

"Begin with when you left the house," said Dumbledore.

"Well, nothing was really unusual until I came to the side of the house across the street," Moody began. "It was then when I saw Samson leaning against the rear wall. Nothing seemed wrong with him, I figured he was sleeping on the job. He'd done it before," he added with a tinge of annoyance.

"So you simply went up to him?" Dumbledore asked, sounding surprised.

"Of course I didn't," growled Moody. "I checked around for Death Eaters, but all I saw was a couple of muggles sitting inside the house - at least I thought they were muggles. They were wearing muggle clothing, and neither of them bore the Mark. Didn't think much of it. Later I would." He gave a slight, grim smile.

"So I went up to Samson," he continued, still pacing. "I didn't want to call his name since there were muggles around, so I went up to him and pulled off his invisibility cloak. That's when I saw he was dead and had wounds that had been mended together with a crude charm. The next thing I know I was hit with a Stunning Spell by the wizards I thought were muggles. I was taken in, captured. They were damned lucky and clever to pull off a stunt like that." He turned to Harry. "That's why you have to be vigilant, Potter."

"What happened next, Alastor?" asked Dumbledore.

"They revived me," Moody said, coming across the room. "And asked me questions. Asked me about the password. One of them I didn't recognize, but the other I did: Nori Katashi. I didn't tell him a thing, but he ended up digging the password out of me anyway. After that they stunned me again and I woke up in St. Mungo's. It's lucky you arrived when you did, Albus- how did you arrive anyway? I thought you weren't to return till later in the evening."

"I had a suspicion," said Dumbledore vaguely. "Can you tell us anything more about the second man? Neither I nor Harry have seen him, much less know his identity."

Moody paused by the fireplace. "They had just revived me from a Stunning Spell, so my memory of that moment isn't too clear. He had a heavy French accent, and smelled like tobacco smoke...that's all I can remember."

Dumbledore frowned. "Can you describe to me how Katashi acquired the password?"

"Easy," said Moody gruffly. "He shoved Veritaserum down my throat. I was still recovering from the Stunning Spell and couldn't put up much resistance. Surprising thing is that he didn't waste any time, he already knew that there was a password involved."

"He has the Sight," said Dumbledore. "Undoubtedly he would know."

"It'll be hard to counter the Sight," said Moody. "If it's even possible at all. Katashi will be able to See our future plans and raids…"

"But he isn't interested in any of that," said Hermione slowly, speaking for the first time. "Voldemort didn't summon Katashi to do that type of work, did he? After all, he's not even a Death Eater."

Dumbledore looked at her and smiled. "Miss Granger brings up an excellent point. It is likely Katashi is separated from Tom's main forces, and is working towards a very separate goal."

Moody seemed to catch on immediately. "The Death Eaters spread terror and fear, while Katashi goes after something else entirely…" His magical eye centered on Harry. "We won't have to worry about him disrupting our raids, because he'll be focusing on killing you, Potter."

"But he can't, can he?" Ron said. "He can't kill Harry because of the prophecy."

Moody's one eye switched between Dumbledore, Harry and Ron. "I take it this is about the full prophecy?"

"Yeah-" Harry started.

"Then I don't want to hear it," Moody cut in, going towards the heavy oak doorway. "Only a few should know it."

"No, stay-"

"Absolutely not," growled Moody. "You need to learn caution, Potter. I was captured once, it could happen again. It could happen to anyone here. No one in the Order would willingly give up the Prophecy, but there is no defense against Veritaserum."

Harry nodded, letting him go. Once he had left, Dumbledore said, "To answer your question, Mr. Weasley, we believe Katashi would be able to kill Harry, or at the very least capture him for Tom. Seers such as Nori Katashi can operate outside the bounds of Prophecy. They are not held rigidly to it, as their own ability of True Sight gives them power over such Prophecies."

"So any Seer in the world can alter a Prophecy?" asked Harry, dubious in spite of himself.

"It would require a conscious effort, but yes," said Dumbledore. "However, Seers are extraordinarily rare, and even while the Seer may have the power to declare Prophecies, they may not have the power of True Sight. Think of them as two different abilities of foresight that are almost opposite of each other. The Power of Prophecy will give a Seer the uncontrollable ability to establish the future, while True Sight allows a Seer to view and even manipulate the future."

Harry took a moment to understand the implications of this. "Wait, you mean to tell me Trelawney created my future, and not just foretold it?"

"Created…" repeated Dumbledore, seeming to taste the word. "If you mean her personally, then no. The Power of Prophecy has been in all known Seers impossible to control, and what causes each specific prophecy to be made is unknown. It was created, but not by her. I could go into the theories made by the Unspeakables, but they would take more time to explain than is available to us."

"Ahh, and I have one last thing I wish to discuss with you," continued Dumbledore. "It has to do with what your parents left you. I'm sure you know what this concerns, Harry."

"Tenbrook's Sphere?"

"So they've agreed then?" asked Dumbledore, then at Ron and Hermiones' nods, continued, "Very good. I suppose you will be wanting your artifact then?"

Gingerly Dumbledore reached into his robes and drew a sphere wrapped in the same cloth that Harry had seen before. He unwrapped it, then handed it to him.

Harry accepted it, surprised at how lightweight it was. To anyone else, it would look only like Hayy was holding a clear glass globe, but he was aware of the immensely valuable resource this globe actually contained: time.

"There you go, mate," said Ron. "You're holding something worth more than most of the vaults at Gringotts. Now just don't go and die and force me- us to give it to the Dursley's."

Harry cracked a smile, then looked up at Dumbledore. "Do you think this would be useful to the Order? I doubt it'll be too useful in Hogwarts."

"I cannot speak for the rest of the Order, but I would never use the Sphere save for absolute emergencies," said Dumbledore. "I trust you have not forgotten the observed side effects of using Tenbrook's Sphere for a prolonged timespan? Only the exceptionally powerful and strong willed can use the Sphere without fear of suffering insanity. I will not lie. I am too old to use such an artifact, and I don't believe anyone in the Order is strong enough to use it."

"But we could stop Voldemort without a problem" Harry said. "I mean, one of us could go right up to the Death Eaters and eliminate them all."

Dumbledore smiled lightly, then said, "Try using it, Harry."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Professor, are you sure that is-"

"Harry will be fine, Miss Granger," assured Dumbledore.

"Yeah," said Ron. "That or he'll end up sharing a room with Lockhart in St. Mungo's."

"There's nothing for Harry to fear. He has accomplished enough at such a young age that I believe he'll be able to withstand a short session of time manipulation without incurring any irreparable damage."

Harry stared indecisively at the Sphere in his hands. It felt unnaturally hot, like there was a flame in the apparently empty center. "How would I activate it?"

"Put both your hands on it, and ask it to."

"What?" Harry was sure he misheard.

"You have to ask it to activate, Harry. Mentally, of course."

"You're saying it's alive?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not in the sense that you and me are alive, no," said Dumbledore. "But it is conscious to an extent. In order to activate, it has to be told. While time does not have eyes and ears, it can sense and understand simple mental requests."

"I never had to do that with the time turner," said Hermione.

"The time in a time turner is far more diluted than the time in Tenbrook's Sphere," said Dumbledore. "It was not in it's pure, conscious form."

"Well, that's simple enough. I'll go ahead then..." Harry said, thinking the Sphere was bizarre beyond words. Hermione looked ready to protest, but said nothing. Harry, noticing, said quietly, "Dumbledore wouldn't recommend it if it wasn't safe."

"Dumbledore has made mistakes before," whispered Hermione back to him. "It just seems rather pointless."

Harry didn't reply, having already made up his mind. The Sphere in his hands, he consciously thought: Please activate.

For a moment nothing happened, and then the world flickered black and his senses deadened.. When the world returned to him, it was completely black and white, as though someone had sucked all the color from the room and left in in grayscale. A sourceless wind slapped at his face, at his clothes, as though he was in a tornado, and an accompanying sound like static from a television threatened to make him deaf from its raw intensity. Low, indistinguishable moans were carried along with the static, giving him chills, and wildly he stood up and spun around, expecting to see a phantom or a ghost of whatever were causing those moans, but instead finding nothing. The wind, he noticed with some confusion, was still blowing into his face, despite his change in direction.

Turning back around, he saw that Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione were still sitting motionless in their seats, their expressions frozen. He stepped forwards, wanting to experiment, and took Dumbledore's hand and move it from his lap to his side. It was strangely simple and easy, and Harry reckoned that he could move Dumbledore all the way across the room if he wanted to without a problem.

Looking at Hermione, he moved a few strands of hair that had fallen from behind ear back into place, thinking of how strange it was for her face...her eyes...her shirt to all have become various shades of gray in whatever world or place he was in now.

Increasingly, however, Harry was becoming aware of another presence. It was almost physical in its strength, as though it was standing in the very same room but Harry was too blind to see it. Harry felt it, and became conscious that he was not in the same plane of existence as he was before, and that he was practically in another world...an alien world. Except the aliens didn't want him there.

He felt anger there, like heat, strangely akin to the heat that he had felt earlier on the Sphere itself. It was menacing, warning him, wanting him out of its place and its home.

Strangely, Harry felt a vague pain in head and ears, like there were needles being worked directly into his brain. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he looked around again, the static, the wind, and the grayness beginning to inexplicably anger him. Suddenly he had bizarre, unbidden flashbacks on his childhood, vague images of him with the Dursley's. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, trying to rid himself of his migraine, but it only intensified.

At last, the right words became clear to him. Please deactivate.

The world went black again, and, a moment later, he opened his eyes and realized that he had returned. The wall tapestry that he had been leaning against had color again; and, most significantly, the pain in his head was gone. All that was left was a slight ache.

"Wow," was all Harry could mutter.

"I take it you understand why it would be unwise to attempt to use Tenbrook's Sphere to fight Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, the static, and the moans," Harry said, looking around again. The vibrancy in the color of the world was astonishing to him, with Ron's hair appearing even more fiery than ever and Hermione's seeming, well, browner than ever. "You can't stay in there for too long..."

"You have experienced what few other wizards have," said Dumbledore. "Did you feel the hostility? The resistance?"

"Something didn't want me there. It's difficult to stay."

"That's why you shouldn't use it against Death Eaters," said Hermione as if just realizing something. "If the member using it were to lose control, then he might get killed and the Sphere would go to Voldemort."

"Excellent deduction Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "I only wanted Harry to use the Sphere to impress on him the difficulty of using the Sphere. While I daresay you and Tom are equals in terms of power, Harry, he is far more disciplined, and discipline is key to control. Tom could use it to destroy us all. I don't doubt that he could use it for an entire day of no-time without any ill effects if need be."

"But you also mentioned more than one person can use Tenbrook's Sphere," said Harry. "Couldn't more than one member go?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "But the effort of maintaining the Sphere's influence is dependent on the person that first activated it. While others may join, the stress lies on the activator alone."

"So if I were to activate it, and bring Hermione and Ron under the Sphere's influence," said Harry. "Then they could go ahead of me without having to bear any of the, err, stress?"

"Yes, but you'd never be able to support them for long."

"Then it looks like I won't be getting too much use out of it," said Harry. Truthfully, he was not at all eager to use the Sphere again. He could remember the foreignness of the place, the overwhelming sense that he didn't belong. And the menace.

"For now," said Dumbledore. "But in the future, however, the Sphere could become quite useful to you."

But where can I store it in the meantime? Harry wondered. Again, he felt the heat in his hands, though this time the heat had new meaning.

"Is Gringotts still safe?" Hermione asked, as though reading Harry's mind.

"The goblins, as they have always been, are staying carefully neutral," said Dumbledore. "The vaults should be safe. I don't think Tom wants to give the goblins any reason to get involved in this war."

"Then maybe I could keep it in my vault," said Harry slowly.

"Keep it in Gringotts? Mate, that's a bad idea," Ron said. "Bill has been talking to the goblins on and off for a year now, and they haven't so much as hinted as to what side they're on."

"That's not exactly unusual, Ron," said Hermione lightly. "It takes goblins years to make any sort of long-term decision."

"Well until we know for sure where the goblins are headed Harry should keep the Sphere to himself," said Ron sharply. "They've never liked wizards, and You-Know-Who convinces them to come to his side, the Sphere will come right with them."

"They'll probably just stay neutral like they always have," Hermione said.

Harry looked between them, wondering if this was about to explode into a full-blown argument. It seemed unlikely with Dumbledore there.

"Then why are they in negotiations with Bill then?" retorted Ron. "They wouldn't be talking to Bill if they weren't planning to take sides. They just want to see who will give them the better deal." To Harry he added, "If I were you, I'd withdraw everything and store it somewhere else. That's what some of the Order members have already done."

Harry said nothing, impressed with Ron's shrewd interpretation of the goblins' actions. Ron had always outdone him when it came to strategy, and perhaps the spark of insight was simply chess taken to another level.

"What you say is a real possibility, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "Though Bill has told me that the goblins have no inclination to join Tom, we cannot entirely rule out the possibility."

"We'll be going to Diagon Alley next week, right?" Harry asked Ron.

"Yeah, we'll be needing new books for the classes," said Ron. "Did you see what we'll need for Defense Against the Dark Arts? Fundamentals of Necromancy."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't a copy of that kept in the restricted section in the library?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "It's about halfway down the last aisle on the second shelf. But isn't it a sort of strange subject to be teaching?"

"Indeed it is, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "But, given the times, it is most appropriate."

"But it's also illegal too," added Ron. "I mean, that book is in the restricted section for a reason."

"The new professor has assured me he will take great care when covering the subject matter. He is an...expert in that field, and there is no better teacher I could've hired for that topic than him."

That's not saying much, Harry thought. Nobody wants that job in the first place. "So who is he?"

"Ahh, I cannot say," said Dumbledore apologetically. "I promised him that I would not announce his name to anyone until the day Hogwarts opens. I confess, secrecy saves us both a great deal of trouble. I am the only one that knows his identity."

"Albus," interrupted a voice. Harry turned his head and saw Arthur Weasley standing in the doorway. "Minerva just floo'd us. She says she's ready to put the finishing touches on the new wards."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. Then, to Harry, he said, "I'm afraid I must return to Hogwarts briefly...we're in the middle of installing new wards around the castle. As last year showed, the existing ones are inadequate."

"But before I go," continued Dumbledore. "I believe it is necessary to continue your Occlumency sessions with Professor Snape. Your training in that area is of the utmost importance, and while I an able Occlumens, Professor Snape's skill surpasses mine. For him, Occlumency is necessary for his very survival, and you will find no better teacher than him. But, ultimately, it's up to you. Do you wish to resume your Occlumency lessons?"

"Of course," said Harry. While he was not excited at the prospect of spending an hour each week during the evenings in Snape's dungeon, he understood its purpose. Voldemort would pillage his mind the instant he had the chance.

"Good," said Dumbledore, pleased. "Then you also might be open to the occasional lesson with me? Not with Occlumency, of course, but I feel it's time that you began learning some of the spells more specialized for combat. I cannot say how often we can have such lessons, as time has become scarce for me."

"Yeah, absolutely."

Dumbledore's face lit up, a gentle twinkle in his eye. "Then we'll start as soon as Hogwarts opens," he said. "In the meantime, learn what you can."

Once Dumbledore had gone, Harry got from his seat, feeling ready to practice a few more curses.

"You're so lucky," said Hermione. "Personal lessons with the headmaster...I don't think it's been done before."

"Well, I'm going to see what's in the kitchen," Ron said to Harry. "I'll see you later."

"I'm fairly hungry too," added Hermione. "I wonder-"

"On second thought," said Ron instantly. "I need to finish up a report for Care of Magical Creatures. I'll eat later..." A second later and he was through the door and around the corner.

Harry shook his head, sighing, beginning to tire of the giant elephant that was in every room they ever went in, and left without saying a word to Hermione. He went to his room, saw that the gifts from his birthday party were in a bad by his nightstand, and suddenly recalled something. He searched through the bag, looking for a leather chest, the same one Dumbledore had advised to open privately. Ron had just come in the room, and when Harry had found the gift he was searching for, he left wordlessly as he had done with Hermione. He wasn't irritated with either of them, but just didn't feel like talking to them.

He remembered the brief exchange of words before he had left the study. Ron stating his hunger, Hermione stating the same, then Ron's sudden, inexplicable change in appetite. He couldn't understand how this was happening between three if them. The falling out.

Harry felt strangely out of the mood for conversation, and wandered through Grimmauld Place until he found an empty room. It didn't take long.

He took a seat, and then set the leather chest on a cleared table. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what was in it. It had come from someone anonymous...someone he didn't even know. Gently he released the brass lock, and peered inside. Lying there, surrounded in velvet lining, was an aged scroll. Harry broke the seal and read it.

Dear Harry Potter,

This anonymous letter is the only chance I have to be honest with myself. It scarcely concerns you personally, but perhaps it will help you understand why I am sending you this letter, and why I have the undying belief that it will be you who defeats Voldemort for a second time.

I have spent my life fighting the Dark Arts. I am beginning to reach the end of my ability, and I feel myself weakening a little more every day. I have no heirs, and know only a few people who I can truly call close, personal friends. I'm sure you understand the difficulty of allowing people to get too close to you in times such as these...in times when you have powerful enemies.

It is to you that the responsibility of defeating the strongest dark wizard in known history goes. I trust you will overcome him, I know you will. I have earned some renown for what I accomplished, but none of it matters in the face of what you must do. You fought a grown basilisk in your second year, you fought one of the greatest wizards alive in your sixth. You are brave, you are powerful, and to you I will give what I know you can use.

My great grandfather was a Ravenclaw, and as such he experimented in various areas of magic. He developed spells. These spells are now a part of my family's heritage, but, as I have no heirs, they will be lost with my death. So, to prevent it, I will pass them on to you. At the bottom of this scroll is a description of each of the spells, and how to use it.

Use them with care, and be discrete. If anyone recognizes the curses you're using, it could lead to them asking difficult questions.

As Harry expected, it was not signed. Further down were the curses, and he grinned.

Finally, he would have something new to try out.

OOO

It was freezing. It could only be expected to be cold in an ancient stone underground bunker in southern Scotland, but, with what Katashi was expecting, it felt far colder. The torches in their rusted holders did little to take away the bite from the chill. He dared to suspect that all this was intentional.

One could forget it was the height of summer.

He had been through worse cold, it was true, but never in this body, and the joints in his knees ached from it. His arm, so recently mended, felt the chill even more. He was bordering on asking Pierre to perform a numbing charm to dull the pain, but knew that he shouldn't. The pain was a reminder of his physical limitations, and he needed that.

"Where should I wait?" It was Pierre, a few steps behind. Smoking, as usual. The tobacco smell somehow managed to eclipse the smoke from the surrounding torches.

"Doesn't matter," said Katashi. He watched a group of Death Eaters pass by him, giving him little more than a passing glance. "Outside of the room, I should think. He won't want you to be present."

"As you wish," said Pierre indifferently.

Katashi didn't understand how Pierre could seem so unaffected by the cold, by the swift drafts that ran up and down the sloping corridor. They were wearing the same, simple robes that Katashi reserved for his meetings with Riddle, yet only he was feeling the dropping temperature.

Perhaps it's the fear of meeting Him, uncle, Julius whispered in his ear. His nephew was not in his corporeal form, but rather as a strangely detached voice.

"Ahh, look," said a nearby wizard, two others on either side of him. Death Eaters, all of them, though Katashi recalled the center one's name. Walden Macnair. "So the Dark Lord summoned his pet squib, has he? He's heard of your failing, though it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise…"

Katashi barely glanced at them before he continued on, saying nothing.

Macnair watched him pass, sneering. "I'm talking to you, squib. You know, if the Dark Lord doesn't kill you in there, and just throws you out, you can come work for me. We always need an extra servant around, so maybe you could work with the elves." There was a round of laughter.

Keeping his self-control, Katashi didn't reply. He knew that they were envious of his status in the eyes of Riddle, despite his disability. He ignored the jeers and walked on, remembering their faces, knowing that one day…one day…

But that was for later. The present was what was important.

Riddle had summoned him for a personal meeting the moment he caught word of Katashi's failure. Such meetings were the dread of every Death Eater, and though he did not wear the Mark, he felt the fear as acutely as any of the Death Eaters. True Sight had revealed that there was an alarmingly good chance of him not surviving this meeting, and that Riddle would at some point take insult and put out the life that Katashi had so delicately held for so many centuries. But avoiding the meeting put him in an even worse position, as Voldemort was one who did not take disobedience lightly, and would put forth enormous amounts of resources to ensure that Katashi was tracked down and killed. Not only that, but his own private plan would be thrown astray, and all that he had been building for the past few decades would be for nothing.

He did not feel much like testing the resources of one of the greatest Dark Lords of all time, so, in the end, Katashi chose the meeting, and hoped that his own cunning would pull him through alive.

"Eez everyzing all right?" asked Pierre, looking at him sideways. "Ze Dark Lord won't be...killing you, will he?"

Katashi glanced at him, seeing the concern: concern for future payments of galleons rather than personal attachment. He hadn't really expected to see the latter. Indeed, he would have been disappointed if he had. "He might," he replied vaguely. "There is no absolute answer."

He tried to use his Sight to See the questions Riddle would ask of him, but found he could not. Puzzled, he focused harder.

Nervous, uncle. Too nervous for the Sight.

At last they came to an intersection, and they took the left corridor. It was only a short walk before they came to a sturdy wooden door hinged with iron. Inconspicuous considering what was behind it.

"Wait here," said Katashi. "It should only be a short while."

Pierre nodded, and Katashi knocked twice.

"Come in," rasped a voice. Even through the thick door, Katashi recognized it as belonging to Riddle.

He pulled the handle and entered.

The chamber was small, hardly fit for the wizard that occupied it. But Riddle was not the type to care for extravagances. It was simply lit, with torches on either side of the room, and a carpet spread across the floor. The carpet was old and heavily stained, not the type one would keep to furnish a mansion on the surface, but perhaps an aging castle. A table and a pile of books was shoved in a far corner, barely noticeable, but apparently well used. A long, glistening serpent lay there, apparently sleeping, curled between the table and chair legs.

And Katashi felt the cold more acutely than ever.

But then, most prominently, there was Riddle himself, sitting on a high winged chair cushioned with velvet - the type Katashi would normally consider tacky, but, considering the overall atmosphere and purpose of this room, it seemed oddly appropriate. Voldemort was almost formless in the dim light from the torches, the shadows flickering, the two red eyes the only constant.

"Nori..." Riddle hissed.

"Lord," said Katashi, and gave a submissive bow. He scarcely meant it, but did not want to offend Riddle's ego.

Voldemort stirred and stood, coming into full view, the torch lights, whether by design or chance, suddenly burning more brightly. The robe he wore was plain black, with cut fringes that extended all the way up his neck. Only one hand was visible, the other concealed inside the robes, undoubtedly holding onto the wand. It was scaled and dark, with hard, unnaturally long fingernails that gave it almost a clawish appearance. His face, which had shed its human mask a long time ago, was almost reptilian in nature, with a slitted nose and narrow pupils. One side was dimly illuminated, the scales glistening, the only mark of humanity on it being a curved mouth. Even the ears seemed to be falling away...

What men will do for immortality, thought Katashi, trying to suppress it all the same. Riddle's skill with Legilimency was not unknown to him, and Katashi knew that not even he could risk lying in his presence.

"You failed me," hissed Riddle. "Never again will such a chance be available..."

"Forgive me," said Katashi, going to his knees and not looking up. His cloudy breath rose to the ceiling. "It was a difficult task to perform alone. The drop of blood was just barely enough for me to go through the wards, much less for another as well. I regret that Potter slipped through my hands."

"Potter is scarely more than a boy!" snarled Voldemort, sweeping towards him. Katashi did not dare to move from his bow. "A boy, damn you, a boy! Look at me!"

Katashi's head jolted upwards, and he could almost feel Riddle's red eyes bore into his. A slight tingling sensation told him he was being mentally probed.

Riddle's gaze didn't waver. "How did you fail? Explain yourself."

"I wasted too much time," Katashi said, not lying. "Potter resisted too strongly, and I was unable to finish it. Dumbledore arrived and I had to escape."

There was a flash in Voldemort's eyes, and they suddenly darkened to a deeper shade of scarlet. Katashi knew that flash: fear. Though at what Katashi was unsure.

"I want to know what Potter did," said Voldemort, his face rock-still. "What has he been taught?"

"Nothing exceptional, Lord," Katashi said. "He used standard spells, though they were surprisingly strong. He could become a powerful wizard one day, with the right teaching."

"So how did you fail?"

"His reactions were too fast. I did not expect that from one so young. I will not make the same mistake, Lord."

"Presuming you leave here with your life," said Riddle. "I know you're deceiving me, Nori. You're twisting the truth. I can see it."

Slowly, Riddle took his wand and put it to Katashi's neck, pressing the tip against the jugular like it was a knife point.

"I can kill you and you wouldn't even know it," hissed Voldemort.

Katashi felt himself sweat despite the abomidably low temperatures. "I am loyal to only you, Lord."

"You lie! You take me for a fool?" Voldemort's wand pushed deeper. "Why do I use you?"

This is it, Katashi said inwardly. His Sight told him he had reached a turning point, and that the answer to Riddle's question would determine whether he lived or died. He focused, concentrated, testing answers, Seeing their results, finding them all so far to be failures. What was Voldemort looking for?

He'll kill you, uncle.

Another, almost painful nudge of Riddle's wand told him his time was running out. His heart was thundering in his chest, he felt his lower jaw begin to shake, and the concentration that he had always prided himself on having was beginning to fall away to animal panic.

Two thousand years of existence to come to such an end!

"Tell me!" snarled Riddle.

Katashi's breath hitched, his mouth feeling dry, and he said, "Because I will further you, Lord."

Voldemort's face twisted into a grin, though he did not remove the wand. "None here are loyal to me. They cling to me for the sole reason of having everything to gain by doing it. I allow them to because through their service my plans are executed. But they are not enough. They are masters of chaos, but they are too foolhardy to be dependable in tasks that require a finesse. This is why I allow you to be here."

Relief swept through Katashi's body like a wave, and, for the first time in a hundred years, he felt alive. Truly alive. The blood pumping through his system never felt so rich, and he actually welcomed the ache in his joints. It reminded him that he had knees and legs to feel pain with.

He breathed again.

"What else is there, Nori," Riddle said. "Hide nothing."

"Harry has Tenbrook's Sphere," Katashi said. "I saw it in his mind. He's inherited it."

Voldemort was quiet for a long while. "I want that sphere, and Potter..." His voice trailed into a hiss, as though contemplating something.

"Killed, Lord?" Katashi offered.

"I told you before," said Riddle sharply. "Another chance will not be available...the opportunity is gone."

Voldemort whirled away, breaking eye contact, and wandered back to his throne. His back was towards Katashi, and he was staring at the far wall, as though trying to reach some sort decision.

But Katashi knew better. He knew that there was only one reason a Legilimentist would turn away from his subject, and that was to prevent any of his thoughts or feelings from leaking from his mind. However, Katashi had detected a snatch of it before Riddle had turned away, and it was unmistakeable. It was the same as he had seen earlier: fear.

"No, you won't go after Potter," said Voldemort slowly. There was a new sinister tone in it that made the hairs on Katashi's neck stand up. "I came close once before to slaying Potter, and he was only saved by Dumbledore's intervention. To drive him to foolhardiness, you attack his loved ones. I want the girl dead, Nori. Her name is Hermione Granger, and I've seen her in Potter's mind. She is close to him...very close. I want her killed in the most brutal way you can imagine. I want her death to be so violent that when he sees her body he will go intro a rage, and, in his blindness, stumble before me to die." He turned back to Katashi, his eyes flashing. "Do that, but first I want that sphere."

"Yes, Lord," said Katashi, not knowing why the task of the sphere had been assigned to him, but not daring to ask. He knew that Riddle was listening to his voice, interpreting it, trying to detect any hint of hesitation.

At length Voldemort slid back to him, once again standing over him, his eyes boring into Katashi's. "Do this for me, and after this is done and finished I'll give you the power to fulfill what you desire." His scaled hand came down to rest on Katashi's shoulder - a gesture, if it had been made by any other man, could have been interpreted as benevolent.

Think of it, uncle! Power over wizards!

"Yes, think of it," said Riddle. "I will give what has been denied to you."

Katashi's eyes went wide with surprise. He heard Julius? Another moment passed, he wasn't sure if Riddle's words were intentional or simply coincidence.

"You and I know how the wizarding world truly works," continued Voldemort. "It's headed by mewling infants and staffed by incompetent fools. It's destined for a change, and I am that change, Nori. The oppressed, the unjustly prosecuted have flocked to me. The giants and soon the goblins will have joined me. And why? They tire of being second class and tire of being discriminated against. Even squibs have come to me..."

Despite himself, Katashi listened to the words, recognizing them, and felt the appeal in them. They were all lies, his logic told him. Riddle didn't care for the giants or the goblins or for social equality: he cared only for himself. Such injustices couldn't be cured with a war. But still, the appeal was there, and for a moment he wished he could become ignorant and believe Voldemort to be a leader like the deluded others, but experience reminded him of the lies made by wizards in the past, and that, in the end, only he could lead, not follow. There was no hope for change to come naturally. Only he could make change and he alone.

But the very fact that he had believed Riddle's words - if only for a moment - told him how cunning of a serpent he was dealing with. The tall, red-eyed figure before him had no predecessor, no equal to his power. While many before had tried what Voldemort was trying, none had succeeded and held their success for any length of time. However, looking at this one, Katashi was afraid. Unlike any of the others, Riddle had the power to grab hold of the world and keep it in his iron fist. He would lose in the far future, as all inevitably do, but the destruction would be great, and humanity would feel his presence long after he fell from favor.

And it was for those reasons that Katashi had approached Riddle in the first place. Alone, he knew he could not gain such power, but Riddle could. And then, when he had the chance, after Riddle had come to rule the world, he would grab hold of his chance and Leap into Riddle's body. Katashi could do it...he knew he could...but it depended on Voldemort winning and Katashi being close enough to perform the deed.

"And when would my Lord wish all this to be done by?" asked Katashi.

"Before Hogwarts closes for the summer," said Riddle, his voice like ice. "I want the sphere in my hands and the girl dead by that time."

Suddenly it all became frighteningly clear what Voldemort was planning. He bowed his head as an excuse to break eye contact so he could recover.

Hogwarts...he wants Hogwarts. What better way to fight a war than to kill some of the most talented wizards and witches in Britain, as well as the next generation in one fell swoop? More than that, the taking of Hogwarts would be a great symbolic victory...

"Yes, Lord," said Katashi, raising his head, doing his best to conceal the horror within. He had known that Hogwarts would play a role in the future, but he had never thought that the slaughter of children would be a part of that future.

Riddle may have seen something different in him, but if he did, he didn't reveal it. "Then our meeting is finished. You are dismissed." He turned away and went to his throne.

"Yes, Lord," repeated Katashi, and quietly he slipped through the door. Closing it behind him, he leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Hogwarts!

"Sir?" It was Pierre, still smelling of smoke, one eyebrow raised.

Wordlessly, Katashi went past him and practically stumbled down the stone corridor. His knees were aching from kneeling so long, and the full realization of how close he had come to death in that room hit him. And then: Hogwarts, Hogwarts!

Riddle wanted to murder a castle full of children to remove the enemies he would undoubtedly have years from now. It was an unbelievably cunning and cruel move, a masterstroke that would guarantee Riddle's position of power.

By Merlin, children!

And you're going to help him, uncle, said Julius, who had appeared further down the hallway. You're going to help him kill children.

His left hand trailed on and off the wall as he continued, still barely aware of anything else around him, only knowing that Julius was - irrefutably - right. Katashi vaguely heard Pierre rushing after him, asking him questions, but he didn't reply.

All he knew was that if he didn't do what Riddle asked, his plan would ultimately fail, but if he followed orders...

What's wrong? asked Julius. You never had such problems before, did you? You hacked my head clean off when I was only nine years old. And then you were banished from the family, never to return...

He felt a distant tingling of anger working its way through his veins, and he trudged through Julius' ghost, only to see it reappear five meters in front of him.

Oh yes, a total embarrassment, continued Julius. The family had difficulty explaining that one. Yes, they let their mad, insane, horrible squib into their house and it betrayed their trust-

"Get out of my way!" shrieked Katashi, and he drew his sword and blindly lunged at the figment of Julius. He slashed through empty air, and would have tipped over had Pierre not grabbed his shoulders.

Still stumbling, Katashi shook himself free from Pierre's grasp and wandered further down the corridor. He felt the blood rushing into his face and his heart pounding as inside his skull he chanted: Hogwarts, Hogwarts! The Plan or the children!

Then, almost a million miles away, he heard, "So the Dark Lord's pet squib has returned alive? I thought he might've finally been given the Mark. But then, he really isn't fit for the Mark is he? I'd expect maybe just a collar and leash..."

This caught Katashi's attention, breaking him from his thoughts. He stared at Macnair, who was still flanked by two Death Eaters, and was met with an equal stare. Katashi tried to focus the True Sight onto this man, hoping to See and understand something about him...

He could See Macnair, in one string of events, leaving where he stood, going up a dark staircase, then completing his day's duties for the Dark Lord. Then, when he was finished-

Katashi checked the scenario again, not daring to believe himself, and what he saw was so repulsive he wanted to retch. Macnair...a pedophile.

"You better move along, squib," Macnair said, grinning, though there was now a new meaning in his grin. "This isn't the place for your type."

In one, fluid action, Katashi drew his sword and advanced onto Macnair, his rationale gone, his entire body feeling like it was burning. This man he was approaching violated children and killed them. This man was the embodiment of what had thrown Katashi into a confused madness a few moments ago, and killing him would somehow resolve Katashi's internal conflict and end the confusion. Somehow, it all made an incredible amount of sense. There was no style in Katashi's approach, just rage and the vague hope that this was somehow right.

Macnair, seeing Katashi's intent, drew his wand, and just as Katashi's sword lashed out he leaped backwards. "Infligo!" he bellowed, and laughed as he saw his opponent fly backwards and crash to the ground, the sword skidding away.

Katashi had landed on a bad angle, and pain, originating in his back, seared to his skull and legs, making him groan. He tried to get to his feet, but collapsed again and distantly he heard the Death Eaters' laughs. Pierre's voice, demanding that they back off, was mingled with the sounds.

I'll make them pay, he thought furiously, even as the agony threatened to overwhelm him. Every last one of them will pay.

Slowly, Pierre's face floated above him, and he only heard the sounds of more laughter as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

Beyond that, in a wild yet strong possible thread of the future, he Saw Macnair and the boy, and, by all the Gods, he wanted to cry.