lomonaaeren

“Lord Voldemort cannot be courting you.”

“I mean, I agree with you, sir, but he is.”

Dumbledore puts an aged and shaking hand over his face. It’s the one that was scorched black by the decoy Horcrux. Harry sighs a little. He wishes things had worked out differently and he and Dumbledore could still be allies, even friends.

But it seems more and more like that’s not going to happen.

“He cannot be courting you because he cannot come to the school and interfere with the lives of other students,” Dumbledore tries to explain.

“I do actually agree with you there, sir, but Sirius told him to do that. So it’s really Sirius’s fault.”

“This cannot go on, Harry. If it does, I will have to rethink my decision to allow you to attend Hogwarts. You cannot act the Lord Slytherin and command your classmates, and you cannot—you cannot allow Voldemort to visit. They deserve to have lives free of him, and of you if you encourage him.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. But Ahalam wanders out onto his shoulder from under his robe collar and says, “Cheese?” And that, of all things, gives Harry the chance to relax, breathe, and think this through.

After a second, he shakes his head. “You can’t stop me from attending Hogwarts, sir.”

“Harry, as the Headmaster, my duty must be to the students as a whole before any particular one—”

“No, I mean that you can’t stop me from attending Hogwarts because the school herself would support me coming back,” Harry explains patiently. “I do it favors, like defending it from the attempt Voldemort made to enter through the Chamber of Secrets, and it protects me from things like having to go to the Yule Ball.”

Dumbledore shuts his eyes. “I would find a way around that.”

“Do you really want to? Or do you want to listen to my plan to stop Voldemort from courting me?”

Dumbledore visibly wavers. Ahalam peers at him, then looks at Fawkes on his perch. “Shiny,” he hints hopefully.

“You can’t have the phoenix. He’s not made of cheese, and I don’t think he would give you a feather, either.”

Harry stops talking as Fawkes reaches back, plucks a shining gold-and-crimson feather from his tail, and drops it on the desk in front of Harry. Ahalam promptly winds down Harry’s wrist and around the feather.

“Mine! My shiny!”

Harry stares back and forth between Fawkes and Ahalam. Fawkes spreads his tail and coos at Ahalam.

“Well, shit,” Harry says at last. “Maybe Voldemort isn’t the only one who’s made an inappropriate courting decision.”

“Harry, please,” Dumbledore says, with his hand over his eyes again.

“I do need to stay in the school, sir. But you have my word that I’ll keep Voldemort from coming back. And I’ll do something about him, too.”

“Something about him courting you?”

Harry smiles. “Just something in general.”

“Harry, it would please me if you would tell me.”

“But it would please me to get to be the one who makes cryptic statements for once.”

And no matter how much Dumbledore wheedles, Harry won’t tell him. He really does have a plan to deal with both the statue and Voldemort courting him, though.

Maybe it will also deal with Voldemort in general, but part of that will depend on how many Horcruxes he has left. Harry will just need to hope he gets lucky.

“The bird is very wise,” Ahalam says contentedly when they leave Dumbledore’s office, “to recognize the beauty of the prettiest snake and give me a shiny thing. I do not think his human is as wise. The bird has made a strange choice there.”

Harry laughs softly and touches the end of Ahalam’s phoenix feather, watching it spark and spit. He’s obviously not the one it’s meant for. “Well, we can all excuse a few strange choices, I suppose.”

Ahalam abruptly writhes around on Harry’s shoulder and stares at him in worry. Harry blinks back, not understanding the vibrating tension that has flooded his familiar. “Ahalam? Are you all right?”

“What if the phoenix does not like cheese?”

Harry has to snort. “I think he probably does, but either way, you can still accept shiny things from him.”

“But if he does not.”

“Then you have to make your choice as to whether you want to give the shiny feather back.”

“I will be keeping the shiny feather,” Ahalam says, after what seems to be a real struggle. “But I must speak with the phoenix soon on whether he likes cheese. Perhaps he will have to give me two feathers if he does not.”

Harry laughs and walks the rest of the way to the Room of Requirement, where he can request a space to be by himself. He has to think, and he has to make sure that he has safeguards set up in case his plan to take care of Voldemort doesn’t work.

In any case, it should at least take care of the statue.

*

“Your answer, Harry Potter?”

This time, Voldemort has sent some kind of dark grey winged snake to Harry’s Defense group practice. Harry stares at it. It looks almost like a reverse Patronus, coated with a dark grey film of oil, or so it seems.

Harry clears his throat. “I am still contemplating my answer.”

“If you reciprocate my courtship, you must give me a gift in return.”

Harry abruptly stands taller, ignoring the concerned glances from half his people. Yes, in fact, this will work nicely. “I do want to accept. But I must make sure that my gift answers the magnificence of yours. Give me three days, and when I have created the gift that will match yours, meet me in the Forbidden Forest.”

The snake flaps its wings excitedly. Ahalam hisses at it from Harry’s shoulder, no words, just a wordless threat.

“Where shall we meet in the Forbidden Forest?”

“The place that you first showed me your power,” Harry murmurs. “The place that you drank the blood of unicorns and frightened the wits out of me as a first-year.”

“I would never have frightened you had I known what you were to me, darling.”

Harry pulls up a tight smile. “I understand that, but it makes a convenient meeting place. And the more I think of it, the more I think that I fully understood who and what you were then. My youth simply didn’t let me understand all of it.”

The oily grey snake lifts its head and fixes Harry with a look of adoration that comes oddly through the serpentine face and body. Snakes aren’t really built for this kind of thing. “My own. I will await you there.”

The snake flies rapidly away, and Harry turns around to meet the expectant gazes of his friends and followers. Hermione and Gwen are both leaning a little forwards as if they’re at the start of a race. Harry smiles at them.

“I’m meeting Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest in three days to discuss our courtship.”

They explode.

*

“Kiddo, you couldn’t have phrased it differently?”

Harry winks at Sirius as he drapes the warded cloak Theo presented him with around his shoulders. Theo didn’t give him a choice about accepting this as his second courtship gift, just showed up and shoved it at Harry without explanation. But Harry has no problems wearing it. “I wanted them to shout and yell right away so they could get it out of their systems.”

Sirius sighs and casts himself backwards on the leather couch, staring at the ceiling. Harry looks up, too, but doesn’t see anything interesting.

“I would have shouted and yelled if I’d been there, too. And I don’t like the fact that you’re meeting him alone.”

“Hardly alone.” Harry conjures a mirror and stares at the collar of the cloak, which is uncomfortable, with a frown. Then he rearranges it. It settles gently after that, and he nods. He didn’t think Theo would have got him an ill-fitting cloak. “You’re going to be there, and Theo, and Hermione, and Ron, and Gwen, and Ahalam, and—”

“But not with you in the clearing. Waiting beyond it.”

“Close enough to charge to the rescue if anything happens.”

Sirius abruptly grabs his shoulder. Harry turns and throws his arms around his godfather, assuming Sirius wants a hug, but Sirius just shakes him a little and leans down to hiss into his ear. “I just want your life to be normal. With a boyfriend if you want one and happiness and your biggest concern the date when summer holidays start.”

“I know, but it can’t be that,” Harry says, remembering to keep his voice gentle. Sirius doesn’t know everything that Harry does, after all. “My life is equal parts myth and farce. I need to have a sense of humor about it or I’d collapse.”

Sirius gives a helpless chuckle and leans a little harder on him, as if to say that he would gladly do his part to make Harry’s life less of a farce. Then he steps back, shaking his head. “All right. So what are we going to do now? And do you mind telling me what you did to that statue?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I would mind.”

“Why are you keeping this a secret, Harry?” Sirius is practically whining, leaning forwards like a dog being denied a treat. “Why do I have to suffer along with the rest of them? I can understand you making Voldemort want to suffer, and even some of your overprotective followers, but why me?”

Harry leans forwards, making sure the expression on his face is grave. Sirius leans again, to the point that he might have to transform into a dog to keep from collapsing.

“Because,” Harry whispers, “I thought it would be funny.”

Sirius stares at him, and then gives a thready little chuckle. He throws his arms around Harry again, and Harry leans into him willingly, while his godfather gives a final shaky exhalation above him.

“I love you,” Sirius whispers. “And I promise that I’ll keep you safe, no matter what happens.”

Harry just nods and untangles himself from his godfather’s arms with a final pat to Sirius’s back. He has preparations to make before they enter the Forest, and he knows that Voldemort will be impatient. He thinks that Harry is coming to finally declare his love and give him a reciprocal courting gift, after all.

If only he knew.

On the other hand, he’s going to find out shortly.

*

Harry walks into the Forbidden Forest, making sure to keep the same calm, grave expression on his face that he used when he was talking to Sirius. His followers trail behind him, bickering in low voices. It seems that Hermione has specifically chosen to walk with Theo so she can tell him what she thinks of his and Susan’s grand plan.

“It was Susan’s plan, too,” Harry hears Theo say at one point, almost a whine in his voice. “It’s not something I came up with all by myself. Why don’t you spend as much time scolding her?”

“Because she has apologized.”

And on they walk. Harry smiles up at the half-moon and glances back at the box floating behind him, with the statue wrapped inside it. Sirius stopped sulking long enough to tie a giant green bow on it, along with smaller silver ones. Harry expected to have more trouble floating it along, but maybe because Ahalam is here, he doesn’t.

Ahalam insisted on coming. And where Ahalam goes, lately, so does the phoenix feather, which Harry has made into a little harness that can twine around his body and he can carry with him.

“You are not going to leave me behind. How will the noseless one admire my glory otherwise?”

“I’ll leave you at the edge of the clearing with everyone else. He can still see in the dark.”

“That is all right. As long as he admires the prettiest snake.”

Harry strokes Ahalam’s scales once more, and stops at the edge of the clearing. Gwen tries to take a step past him, but the air between the trees abruptly begins to glow and bounces her away. Harry shrugs a little when she gives him an accusing glance.

“I didn’t suggest that he take precautions to keep other people from intruding, but I thought he probably would.”

Gwen folds her arms and says, “I would feel much better, by your leave, if I could go in with you, my lord.”

“I know,” Harry tells her, as gently as he can. “But it’s just not the kind of thing that Lord Voldemort is going to permit.”

She pouts.

Harry hands Ahalam to Theo, who watches him with a solemn gaze. Harry squeezes his hand once and then floats the box to the front of the gathering. People give it uncertain glances. Harry didn’t tell anyone the outline of his plan, just in case Voldemort was able to read it out of their minds with Legilimency.

Is that likely to happen? No. Will Harry take all the precautions he can against it happening anyway? Yes.

“Be careful, my lord.”

Harry nods to Theo and walks into the clearing with the box floating behind him.

Voldemort is waiting in all his terrible glory. He probably wouldn’t have noticed Ahalam’s phoenix feather even if the little snake did come, Harry thinks, to hold back his rising fear and excitement and a strange feeling of guilt.

“Harry Potter. So you came.”

“I did.” Harry moves a step forwards and gestures with his wand so that the box bearing the statue floats past him and settles on the grass. “And I wanted to return the gesture that you so graciously gave me.”

“Ahh.”

Voldemort sounds—excited? That strange feeling of guilt increases. But Harry shrugs it off and smiles pleasantly as he watches Voldemort wave his hands through the air. All the bows tumble off the box at once, severed.

Voldemort does give Harry a lingering look before he drags the box open. “If you knew how handsome you look in this moment, beloved,” he murmurs.

“Oh, you don’t have to say things like that,” Harry murmurs back, blushing and ducking his head while he readies his wand.

Voldemort smiles one more time and tears the box open.

The smile falls off his face like one of the severed bows when he sees the statue.

“You would return my own gift to me?” he asks slowly, but with the feeling of a storm building in the distance. “You do not like it? You do not wish to keep it?”

“I gave it to you so that we would both be certain of our feelings,” Harry says, serene on the surface, while his heart pounds wildly. He wonders if this is the way that Sirius felt sending that letter to Voldemort that said he could court Harry if he brought a gift to Hogwarts. “Please concentrate on the statue, my lord.”

Voldemort turns his head and does.

A second later, he recoils.

Harry keeps his own pleasant smile on his face. He’s imbued the statue with the feeling of a Horcrux. It wasn’t that difficult to do, not when he’s been close to so many of them and the slimy, crawling feeling on his skin was so unforgettable. To Voldemort, who believed that the Horcrux in Harry was still alive, it will seem as if Harry has actually transferred the Horcrux to the marble figure.

“What?” Voldemort breathes.

“I know that you don’t really want to be bound to me, your rival and prophesied nemesis,” Harry says earnestly. “And I know that you didn’t plan to make me a Horcrux. I know it takes a lot of time and sacrifice to make one. I thought it would be best if I returned it to you so you can do what you want with it.”

Voldemort faces him again. His rage is obviously soaring in him, and Harry doesn’t need the dead Horcrux to tell him that. He takes a slow step forwards.

“I offer you a place at my side, and this is how you repay me?”

“You murdered my parents and tried to kill me until you realized I was a Horcrux,” Harry snaps back, and Voldemort blinks at the honest anger in his voice. “Did you think I would forgive that?”

“But you are mine.”

“Not anymore,” Harry says, and nods at the statue.

Voldemort looks one more time. Then he turns back to Harry and opens his mouth to give another one of those dramatic speeches that he likes so much.

Harry is ready, though. He practiced this and practiced this, but admittedly, it’s a little different to have to do it in front of his mortal enemy.

He flicks his wand, and the statue rises into the air.

Voldemort turns to face it, one hand raised. He doesn’t seem to know if he should try to protect the statue or bat it away. Of course, it’s a Horcrux, he would assume that it’s pretty much indestructible.

Harry drops the statue on him.

There’s a long moment when the world seems to waver and an angry screech pierces the air, soaring higher and higher until it sounds like a wounded banshee. Harry covers his ears for a second, and then notices that Voldemort is writhing beneath the statue.

Definitely at least one more Horcrux, then.

Harry flicks his wand again, and the statue rises. He concentrates, carefully, precisely, and then drops it once more so that this time it crushes Voldemort’s skull.

This has the result he wants, and Voldemort’s body jerks and goes limp. As the wraith boils out of it, though, Harry realizes that he didn’t exactly come up with any plans to trap the thing.

“Harry Potter.”

Voldemort’s voice sounds the way it should, again, menacing and full of hatred. Harry paints a regretful expression across his face.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. But I’m just not ready for a man that much older than myself. Maybe if you were younger—”

Voldemort interrupts him with a scream that brings everyone running into the clearing. Of course, the protections that kept them out probably vanished when Voldemort was disembodied. Harry should have thought of that.

Harry steps towards Voldemort, chin up, keeping his attention. The last thing he wants is for Voldemort to possess one of his followers the way the diary possessed Ginny.

“I hate you,” Voldemort says, wavering back and forth, but his voice comes out as clear as sunlight off snow. “I curse you until the end of time, Harry Potter. I will destroy all that you love.”

“So the courtship’s off, then?”

Voldemort hurtles towards him, and Harry lifts his wand, ready to defend. But it turns out that Voldemort’s only thought is escape. He sweeps past Harry and into the Forest, fading into the darkness beneath the trees, his voice left behind him in echoes full of malevolence.

Harry turns and stares at his followers. All of them are staring back as if he’s grown a second head, except for Sirius, who looks blissful. Probably he thinks that no one will ever top the prank Harry’s just played.

“I think the courtship’s off,” Harry tells them.