Year 6-20: Defector and Deflector

Harry felt like he was somewhere outside his body, floating over the Astronomy Tower, looking down upon the surreal scene from above. Dumbledore, dead at his feet. Harry himself, heaving with mixed emotions at the sight of his fallen ex-mentor. And a score of shocked Death Eaters standing behind him, in disbelief at what had just happened.

"Feckin' hell," breathed Amycus Carrow. "The kid actually did it."

That seemed to break the spell. Snape went in motion, taking charge of the situation. "We must leave at once," he ordered. "Get to the ward boundary and Apparate away before the Aurors arrive."

"Can't we cause a tad more chaos before we go?" asked Alecto Carrow, sounding like a pouting child. "Set some more fires? Play with some more younglings?" Fenrir Greyback nodded eagerly at this last suggestion.

"No!" Snape said sharply, rounding on them both. "We have completed our mission. We must avoid all distractions and return to our master with the news."

"What about him?" demanded Barty Crouch, motioning towards Harry.

"He comes with us," said Snape. "Go, now!"

The authoritative command seemed to break through the shock of the moment. The Death Eaters began to descend the steps of the tower, laughing gleefully at their great success. Draco slunk off after them, looking shell-shocked. Harry remained rooted in place, still staring blankly at the dead Headmaster lying in a heap beneath the parapet.

Then, Snape grabbed him by the collar and dragged him towards the stairs. "Come with me, Potter," he whispered in Harry's ear as they headed back down into the castle. "Say nothing to anybody. We will sort this out once we are in a safe location."

Harry could not bring himself to argue, to resist. He simply followed along after Snape, completely numb and unable to muster any kind of resistance. It was as though his great act of betrayal had drained him of everything: energy, empathy, emotion. He could manage nothing except to put one foot in front of the other and trust Severus Snape, of all people, to guide him out of this mess somehow.

The party exited the Astronomy Tower and swiftly descended the Great Stairwell. As they reached the Entrance Hall, they heard a high-pitched voice confront them, making Harry's stomach turn: "What has happened?! Severus, what have you done?"

Professor Flitwick stood between them and the great oak doors, trembling with anger and dismay. He must have been keyed into the school wards and sensed what had happened to the Headmaster. Flitwick's gaze landed on Harry at the back of the group, eyes widening in shock and despair.

"Avada Kedavra," spat Alecto Carrow, aiming her wand at the professor. But Snape's hand shot out, deflecting her arm and sending the bolt of green death listing off to the right, splashing harmlessly into the wall.

"We kill no one else," Snape barked at her. "Our orders were to get out as quickly as possible." Alecto sneered at him, but lowered her wand anyway.

Her brother, Amycus, was less benevolent. He engaged Flitwick in a brief duel; the older professor was able to parry his attacks easily enough, but when Mulciber and the Lestranges joined in, he was quickly overwhelmed. A well-timed Stunner from Barty Crouch finally toppled the former Dueling Master.

With a flick of Amycus' wand and a laugh of glee, the professor was sent rocketing up to the ceiling thirty feet overhead, crashing into it with great force. Harry cast a silent Cushioning Charm on the man as he tumbled back to earth, ensuring he would survive the fall; Flitwick nonetheless crumpled into a heap in the corner and moved no more.

Snape led the way out onto the darkened grounds. Where are the bloody Aurors? Harry wondered in dismay. He yearned for the group to be caught, yearned for the grown-ups to show up and take charge of the situation. But the Death Eaters were given free reign, laughing and celebrating loudly as they skipped down the grassy hill towards the ward boundary.

A booming voice called out from the direction of the Forbidden Forest: "YEH RUDDY BASTARDS! WHAT'VE YEH DONE?" Hagrid was emerging from the darkness, looking furious, ready for a fight. The other Death Eaters laughed and altered course, heading straight for the half-giant.

"Do not kill him!" Snape barked from the rear. Harry watched numbly as the group of Death Eaters surrounded Hagrid, taunting him and peppering him with minor hexes and curses. Hagrid swung his meaty fists around him angrily, but could not make contact with any of them. Eventually he fell under the weight of their spells, falling face-first to the grass with a grunt of pain.

"Come, Potter," Snape muttered, urging Harry onward. "Nearly out, now. Don't stop moving."

Harry silently obeyed, taking one step after another. He had no idea where they were going or how they were going to fix this. But staying here didn't sound all too appealing, either – not after what he had done. So he followed Snape like a zombie, brain switched off, placing his trust in another since he could no longer trust himself.

As they approached the iron-wrought gate, another voice called out after the group. This one was raw and guttural, filled with pure rage and hatred. And it was addressed at one person in particular.

"Harry!"

Harry turned. Neville was storming down the grounds after them, face contorted in anger.

"Neville?" Harry called out hopefully. "You alright, mate—?"

"Stupefy!"

The red bolt of light erupted from Neville's wand, headed straight for Harry. He lazily flicked his wand to block it; to his shock, his Shield Charm cracked and nearly failed entirely from the simple stunner. He had not expected such raw power from Neville.

A follow-up Stunning Spell came straight after; Harry rolled out of the way of this one, feeling it sizzle past his ear as it sailed off into the night. "Calm yourself, Neville!" said Harry.

"You killed him, you bastard!" Neville roared, still advancing steadily. "He was right about you all along! How could you?"

"Leave him, Potter!" Snape demanded, grabbing Harry's arm. But Harry wrenched his arm away – anger had rushed back into him, fueling his adrenaline once more as he turned fully to face Neville.

"You absolute moron," Harry snarled, standing firm against Neville's advance. "You think you know me? You think you understand half of what's going on here?"

"Don't lie to me, Harry!" Neville retorted. "I saw it all, beneath the Invisibility Cloak! You attacked him, taunted him, and then you killed him!"

Neville fired another salvo of spells at Harry, who was forced to flatten himself to the earth to avoid them. He had never seen Neville cast so quickly, so accurately, and so powerfully before. Was this righteous anger fueling him, or something else?

"He was dead already!" Harry shouted back. "But you'll never believe me no matter what I say, so why bother?" He spun out of the way of another series of hexes, sending nothing back in return, which seemed to infuriate Neville more than anything.

"Fight back, you coward!" Neville screamed.

He dares call me a coward? Harry thought hotly. He dares assume the worst in me? After all I've done for him?

"If you insist," Harry snarled.

And he launched himself into a rapid assault, throwing everything he had at Neville. He did not hold back, unleashing years of pent-up frustration at the boy. Neville's eyes widened in shock, but to his credit, he held strong, Shielding the most direct spells and ducking away from the rest.

Steal my family's cloak? Harry thought, glaring at Neville through a haze of red rage. Spread malicious rumors about me? Play with my sister's emotions? Assume I'm your enemy when I've done nothing but save your arse time and time again? Well, no more. My patience with the Boy Who Lived has run out.

Harry and Neville fought ferociously, spellfire illuminating the night sky with dazzling colors. Harry held nothing back, and neither did Neville, somehow keeping up with Harry's blinding speed with a furious tempo of his own. Was Neville simply better when angry? Had he improved more than Harry anticipated in the Dueling Club meetings? Or were his recent private lessons with Dumbledore more combat-oriented than Harry was led to believe? In any case, he had not expected Neville to put up such a fight.

Even so, there was no doubting who was the superior fighter. Neville was fast, but lacked finesse; Harry spotted predictable patterns in his defenses, redundancies in his attacks. His repertoire was nowhere near as vast as Harry's, who had spent the past six years expanding his combat vocabulary far beyond his age. He slowly but surely put Neville on the back foot; the boy looked no less angry, despite clearly losing ground in the fight.

Harry flicked his wand to summon snarling vines around Neville's feet, threatening to root him to the spot. Neville carefully stepped outside their clutches, but was unable to devote attention to both his footwork and his defenses. One of the vines managed to wrap around his left ankle, and he stumbled, his Shield Charm flickering and then faltering as he struggled to wrench his foot free—

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted. The red jet of light connected with Neville's wrist, sending his wand flying high into the dark night air. Harry snapped his fingers to summon it to his free hand, as the vines wrapped themselves tightly around Neville's entire body, pinning him to the earth. Neville hollered with rage as he fought against his bindings, but they held firm.

"That will be all from you, Longbottom," Harry spat, panting from the effort of the fight. "Now, are you willing to listen to reason, or are you going to throw another petulant tantrum?"

"Bugger off, Potter," Neville growled. "You were supposed to be the best of us. Now look at what you've become."

"What I've become?!" Harry roared. "You've no idea who I am, and what I've been through to get there!"

"Course I do," Neville spat. "Blood rituals? Communing with necromancers? Dumbledore knew exactly what you were up to. I bet it pissed you off that he saw straight through you the whole time. It tore you up inside, seeing him hold you at arm's length while you tried in vain to impress him."

"You think that's what this is about?" Harry laughed hollowly. "Me craving Dumbledore's praise and acceptance? I couldn't care less if he was impressed by me or not! But I suppose that's something you craved, since you've been praised your whole life for something you had no control over."

"Shut your mouth," Neville growled.

"How does it feel, knowing I'm ten times the wizard you are?" Harry taunted. "Outperforming you year after year? Taking the shine off of your precious fame and reputation? And you know what? I earned it. I worked hard for what I have, unlike you, who has coasted by on mediocrity your whole life."

Neville looked hurt by this remark; Harry could tell his words were hitting home. But he didn't care – being the nice guy had gotten him nowhere with Neville. Only blunt honesty and harsh reality seemed to get through to the boy.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Neville said glumly, his body slumping as he gave up the fight with the vines wrapped tightly around him. "You win, Harry. Now, just kill me and get it over with."

Do it, a nefarious voice whispered in Harry's ear. Kill him. Get rid of the horcrux once and for all. What has he done to deserve life, after all he's done to you?

Death is too harsh a punishment for him, Harry thought, pushing back against the dark thoughts swirling around his brain. It's too cruel, too permanent.

He's had enough time to change. And he's a liability in the war. Kill him now, and you get one step closer to killing Voldemort.

Where were these murderous thoughts coming from? Harry shook his head to clear it, along with the fatigue settling in as his adrenaline wore off. He couldn't believe he was seriously contemplating killing Neville here and now, as he lie defenseless in the grass. That wasn't him – he could never bring himself to commit cold, hard murder like that. Dumbledore was different – his fate had been sealed. Neville still had room to grow, to change.

A jet of light whizzed past Harry's head, followed by three more. A group of students was charging down the dark grounds towards them from the castle, shouting angrily and firing spells in his direction. There would be no reasoning with them once they learned what Harry had done atop the Astronomy Tower. He had to leave, now.

"Quickly, Potter!" Snape demanded from behind him. Harry turned towards the exit, casting one rueful look back at Neville as he did so.

"You can have this back," he said, twiddling Neville's wand in his free hand as he did so, "when you return my goddamn cloak."

And he took off, pocketing Neville's wand and running after Snape to escape the horde of angry students bearing down upon them. Hopefully he and Neville could sit down in the coming days to hash this out when emotions weren't running so high. Snape held out his arm as they passed through the open gate; Harry took it, feeling himself twisted into darkness as they Apparated away.

Harry's feet touched down on a quiet street in what looked to be a run-down neighborhood. Snape guided him past rows of dilapidated buildings to a lone, intact home at the end of the street, the only lit structure in sight. Snape strode through the front door, beckoning Draco and Harry in after him.

The group of Death Eaters sat anxiously in the living room, standing to attention when Snape entered. "What happens now?" asked Mulciber. "Meet at the Manor and report what has happened?"

"Now wait just one moment!" protested Barty Crouch. "I vote that we get our story straight first. How are we supposed to explain that we got upstaged by the Potter twerp?"

"Leave that to me," Snape said coolly. "There will be a manhunt by the Ministry once word of this gets out. Split up and lay low for a while – your service for the evening is fulfilled."

"But what about the other thing?" piped up Amycus Carrow. "The Dark Lord gave us two jobs tonight, didn't 'e?"

"Yeah, 'e did!" Alecto agreed with her brother. "The timing is perfect – should we do that instead?"

Snape contemplated this. "Go, then," he ordered the group. "Pursue the secondary objective, and quickly. Do not linger, and do not get caught."

A devious smile spread across the Carrows' faces. Crouch and Mulciber looked less certain, but at Snape's stern look, they followed the siblings out of the house, followed by Greyback and the Lestranges. Draco moved reflexively to follow, but Snape held him back; a moment later, they heard the tell-tale pops that signaled their departure.

Snape rounded on Harry and Draco at once. "Sit," he ordered, pushing them both back towards the couch. The two boys glared instinctively at one another; Harry felt sorely tempted to hex the boy to pieces for what he had set into motion tonight, but was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, for another fight. Instead he took a seat and looked expectantly up at Snape to hear what he had to say.

"Tonight turned out to be far more complicated than any of us anticipated," Snape muttered, pacing back and forth between the two teens. "However, we can still salvage this, if we play our cards right and get our story straight with the Dark Lord."

"What story is he going to buy?" Draco demanded, still sounding terrified to death. "How was I supposed to know Potter would go rogue and join our side?"

"I did no such thing," Harry said automatically. "I'm not on your side, any more than I was on Dumbledore's."

"That is not the narrative you need to be pushing right now," said Snape sternly. "The story you should be preaching is that you learned of Mr. Malfoy's plans to assassinate the Headmaster, and offered your assistance."

Both Harry and Draco protested this notion at the same moment: "Like hell I would ever do that!" / "I would never let Potter in on our plans!"

"Silence!" Snape snapped. "You two must realize the perilous situation you find yourselves in. Draco, you have failed to complete the mission the Dark Lord has given you. Harry, you have murdered the most revered wizard on the planet. Both of your futures depend on what happens in the next few hours, and your best chance of survival is to claim that you were working together."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Harry demanded. "I want nothing to do with you Death Eaters. The Ministry would never believe that I was working with you."

"The Ministry of Magic is no longer the true authority of the land," said Snape. "The Dark Lord's takeover of Britain is now imminent. If you wish to evade punishment for your actions, it is his favor you must curry, not your father's."

"As if Voldemort would ever grant me favor," Harry scoffed, ignoring the harsh winces of both Snape and Draco at the Dark Lord's name. "He knows where the Potters stand in this war."

"He knows where your father stands," Snape corrected. "You, on the other hand, are a separate matter entirely. You already have a dark reputation, one that I have carefully cultivated for months. Planting seeds of doubt in the public eye, painting a picture of a wayward son, one who has split away from his father's allegiances to carve his own path forward."

"You have cultivated…?" Harry said slowly, the gears churning in his head. "Wait, you were the one planting those stories about me in the Daily Prophet?"

"What have I told you all year long, Potter?" said Snape. "You are being watched. The Dark Lord witnessed your outburst against the Headmaster last year, in the Ministry Atrium, disobeying his orders to withhold the prophecy. It made him curious if you could be turned against the forces holding him at bay. That is why he ordered his followers to leave you alone. That is why I falsified tales about your family to manipulate public perception of you. And that is why I have kept you away from Mr. Malfoy all year: so that you would not tip your hand unknowingly to your true loyalties."

"I...what?" said Harry, frowning at that last bit. "But that's not what you told Dumbledore. I heard you tell him you swore an Unbreakable Vow to Malfoy's mum to keep him safe from me."

"No, you imbecile!" Snape snarled. "It was your mother I made the Vow to."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it again in confusion. "You swore a Vow to my mum?" he said. "When?"

"Last summer, following your reinstatement to Hogwarts," Snape explained. "She feared that you would get yourself into the kind of trouble that would attract the Dark Lord's attention. I swore I would do what I could to keep you and your sister out of the Dark Lord's crosshairs."

"But you failed!" Harry said hotly. "My sister and my mum were targeted!"

"Both unfortunate, unintended victims of your classmate's folly," said Snape, giving Draco a scathing glare. "His bumbling efforts to fulfill his mission only caused undue harm to the innocent, as I repeatedly warned him all year long!"

"It's not my fault Potter's sister happened to walk into the bathroom straight after I Imperius'ed Rosmerta!" Draco protested to Snape. "And you were the one who told me the Potter woman was a teetotaler – it's not my fault she fell off the wagon! I assumed she would pass along her Christmas booze gifts to the Headmaster, or at least her husband!"

"I do not even need to reiterate that your actions were foolish and lazy," said Snape. "The results speak for themselves, and you are lucky I was barely able to protect you from Potter's wrath."

Harry could not even bring himself to be angry with Draco's foolishness at that moment. He was still trying to process Snape's role in this whole debacle. "But...then why were you keeping me away from Malfoy?" he asked the man. "Did you not think I would be able to handle him?"

"Quite the contrary," Snape sneered. "I knew you would rip Malfoy limb from limb if given the chance. Doing so would have flown in the face of everything I have been feeding the Dark Lord about you all year. It would have made clear to him that you are firmly set against him, with no possibility of turning dark."

"You've been feeding Voldemort secrets about me?" said Harry. "Like what?"

"Like the fact that you and Dumbledore did not get along," said Snape. "That you were delving into dark magic the Headmaster did not approve of. That you were jealous of his favoritism towards Longbottom and harbored resentment against him for it—"

"That's not true!" Harry said hotly. "I don't resent Neville—!"

"I couldn't care less what relationship you have with Longbottom!" Snape growled. "I fed the Dark Lord a narrative that you were not Dumbledore's puppet, that you could not be controlled by him. That you may be susceptible to turning against the Light side that your father and now-former Headmaster belong to. And tonight, whether you intended to or not, you confirmed the theory that I have been meticulously planting in his mind for the past year."

"But I didn't kill Dumbledore out of anger, or resentment!" Harry protested. "He would've been turned over to Lockhart, and all of his secrets would've been stolen—"

"I know that, you imbecile!" Snape snapped. "That is not the narrative you should be pushing right now. You murdered your former Headmaster because you were sick of him trying to control you, and you wanted to prove that you are your own man with ambitions far beyond the box he tried to keep you within."

"I couldn't care less what Voldemort believes about what happened tonight!" said Harry, once again ignoring the flinches at the use of the taboo name. "The next time I see him, I'll be the first in line to fight against him!"

"That would be a very foolish decision on your part," said Snape. "And a poor way of repaying your mother, who has gone through hell this year trying to keep you safe. You would willingly throw away your one chance at survival in this coming war?"

"I'd sooner take my chances on the run," Harry said stubbornly. "And continue fighting the war from the shadows."

"The Dark Lord will hunt you down eventually if he suspects that to be the case," Snape said firmly. "And if not you, then your father, mother, and sister. Will you subject them to that fate: forever on the run, constantly looking over their shoulder, awaiting their imminent demise? Or will you accept the protection that I have granted the three of you?"

It took Harry a moment to process that last bit. "The three of us?" he laughed hollowly...his was a family of four. "But of course...your protection only extends to those you truly care about. My dad could die tomorrow and you wouldn't give a damn, would you?"

"Your father's loyalties are too entrenched to sway the Dark Lord," said Snape. "The best I could do to help your family is separate James Potter in the Dark Lord's mind from the rest of his family. That way, if you choose to take the path I have provided, you may be spared."

Now Snape's actions made all too much sense to Harry. In his mind, things had all worked out perfectly...he had found a way to protect Harry and Dahlia from Voldemort, thus fulfilling his vow to Lily and securing her loyalty in the process. As an added bonus, James would be hung out to dry, now the highest priority on Voldemort's kill list, and with him out of the way, Severus Snape might finally have a chance at the woman he desired all along.

"You're despicable, you know that?" Harry said, voice dripping with malice. "You're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart. You're just lusting after my mother, and stacking the deck in your favor to have her all to yourself. I bet you even threw in the bit about her being unfaithful just to improve your chances of it actually coming true."

Snape looked irritated by Harry's sharp words. That was confirmation enough in Harry's mind that his hunch was correct. But Snape did not respond to the barb, instead pressing forward in a business-like manner.

"Here is what will happen next," he said firmly. "We will go to the Dark Lord and tell him what has happened. Potter will explain how—"

"I'm not going to Voldemort!" Harry protested. "He'll kill me!"

"I have worked tirelessly to ensure that will not be the case," said Snape. "Believe me, this is your best chance of survival at this juncture. You will explain how you learned of Mr. Malfoy's plans to murder the Headmaster, and agreed to join forces to ambush him atop the Astronomy Tower—"

"As if I'd let Potter take the credit!" Malfoy scoffed. "It was my mission, not his!"

"Do you realize how bad it will look for you if the truth came out?" Snape demanded, rounding on Malfoy. "Being upstaged by Potter after failing your mission once again? Swallow your pride and think of your survival, Draco. You can claim to have shown gumption by convincing Potter to join your cause. That narrative may allow the Dark Lord to forgive you for failing to complete the task yourself."

Draco glared unhappily at Harry, but eventually huffed and nodded his understanding. Snape turned his gaze upon Harry, who was still stubbornly opposed to the idea.

"I won't do it," he said, folding his arms. "I'll take my chances on my own. You're not the only person who can protect me."

Snape opened his mouth to retort, then suddenly winced in pain. His hand reflexively shot out to grasp his left forearm. Draco did the same, grunting in surprise as he clutched at his arm in the same spot. Snape rolled up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, standing out black and bold against his sallow skin, currently writhing and wriggling in place.

"He is coming," Snape said sharply.

Harry leapt to his feet at once. But as he did so, he felt a deep, unsettling chill in the air – a malicious magical presence lurking uncomfortably nearby. He knew at once what it was, and his stomach dropped with dread. It was the same feeling of unease he got from the horcruxes, only amplified seven-fold. Voldemort had arrived.

"Do not attempt to flee," Snape hissed through gritted teeth, pushing Harry back into the couch. "You will be cut down on the spot. Remember what I have told you. Stick to the story."

That was all Snape managed to say before the front door blew open, and Lord Voldemort glided smoothly through the frame and into the living room. His serpentine red eyes scanned the room coolly, eventually landing on Snape and the two frightened teens looking back at him.

"Well, well...Severus, Draco," Voldemort said smoothly, hand drifting slowly towards his wand as he surveyed Harry with curiosity. "I did wonder why I had not yet received word of the mission's status...this is not the company I expected you two to keep this evening."

"My Lord," said Snape, bowing deeply before the man. "The mission you have given us is complete. The Headmaster is dead."

Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously at this information. "Albus Dumbledore has been killed?" he demanded.

"Yes, my Lord," said Snape, head still inclined in a comically stooped position. "And all on our side escaped with no casualties."

Voldemort looked briefly stunned as he processed this information. "So you have fulfilled your mission after all, Draco," he said softly, sounding in disbelief at his own words. "I confess myself...surprised."

"If I may, my Lord," said Snape nervously. "While Draco was undoubtedly instrumental in our mission's success this evening, it was in fact Potter who dealt the killing blow."

That certainly got Voldemort's attention. He rounded on Harry, red eyes boring into green. "Impossible," he hissed. "Potter is in Dumbledore's pocket. He would never do such a thing."

"As I have advised you all year," said Snape, slowly and carefully, "Potter is no more in Dumbledore's pocket than he is in yours. The friction between them reached a boiling point earlier this very morning, leading Potter to turn against his former mentor."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, still clearly not buying the story. "Explain," he demanded, turning to Draco. "From the beginning."

Draco squirmed uncomfortably in his seat under the Dark Lord's fierce gaze. "I, erm…" he stammered. "I asked Pansy Parkinson to contact me at home the next time Potter left the school. He left this morning at breakfast, after an argument with the Headmaster."

Harry understood now why the attack had happened tonight, of all nights. It was no coincidence that he had left that very morning – Draco must have seen Harry as a threat, preferring to delay his plans until he was out of the way, unable to intervene.

Voldemort turned back to Harry. "You fought with the Headmaster?" he said. "About what?"

Harry hesitated. "He...revoked my weekend privileges," he said honestly, unsure what else to say. "And stole something that belonged to me. So I got angry, and he...told me to leave. So I did."

"Only after threatening Longbottom, and blasted a hole in the front doors of the castle," Snape added. "It was quite the distressing scene for the other students."

"And where did you go next?" Voldemort demanded of Harry.

"Presumably, he left to meet up with Mr. Malfoy to plan their next steps together—" Snape offered, but Voldemort rounded on him angrily.

"I am not addressing you, Severus!" Voldemort snapped, causing Snape to flinch and turn away. "I am asking Potter what happened, not you! Now, Harry, tell me how you came to be involved in this mission. And do not lie."

Harry felt sharp probes of Legilimency prodding at his mind. He knew if he lied outright, the Dark Lord would know at once. Remember your Veritaserum training, Harry thought to stave off the mounting panic. Selective truths.

"I suspected what Draco's plan was throughout the school year," said Harry slowly, trying to find a truthful way out of this mess. "And sought to determine the truth for myself. I questioned his classmates with Veritaserum, but none of them knew what he was planning."

"Very good, Draco," said Voldemort to the blonde boy. "You kept your mission to yourself, as I instructed. Continue, Harry."

"Er…" Harry stammered, mind racing. "I was angry with the Headmaster after leaving the school. And that night I decided to return, to confront him. Draco and I entered Hogwarts and were separated, but reunited atop the Astronomy Tower. I fought Dumbledore there, and subdued him. Then, once the others arrived, I killed him."

All of these statements were true independently of one another. And Harry hoped that their veracity would be enough to fool Voldemort. He considered the boy's words suspiciously, still prodding at his subconscious, but seemed to detect no foul play. Finally, to Harry's relief, the Dark Lord turned back to Draco.

"How did you get your colleagues into the castle?" he demanded. "And why were you unable to do so earlier in the year, when ordered to?"

"I spent most of the year researching ways to get around the school's transportation wards," Draco said. "Then, one day, I overheard Potter talking to a house-elf about leaving the grounds directly from the castle. I realized that there was a loop-hole in the wards that allowed house-elves to Apparate in and out of the castle, taking people with them if necessary."

"Fascinating," said Voldemort, sounding genuinely surprised and amused. Harry doubted the man had ever considered house-elves to be useful in the slightest, his bigotry not allowing it. "And how did you convince them to help you?"

"I summoned Dob— er, a house-elf I was familiar with, to the Manor," said Draco, catching his slip at the last moment. Dobby was supposed to be dead at his hand, after all. "I placed it under an Imperius Charm and had it bring me back to the kitchens. I bewitched several more elves until we had enough to transport everyone, then we returned to the Manor to bring the rest of the group into the castle with us."

"How resourceful," said Voldemort, sounding begrudgingly impressed with Draco's ingenuity. "And what happened next?"

"We set off a few distractions and searched the castle for Dumbledore," said Draco. "But we couldn't find him anywhere. We got side-tracked fending off Aurors, students, teachers, and the bloody poltergeist. Mulciber had the idea to cast the Dark Mark over the Astronomy Tower to bait Dumbledore. And when we finally all made it up there, we found Potter standing over him."

Voldemort turned back to Harry now. "And what happened atop the tower?" he demanded.

Harry recounted the events honestly, from when he reached the top of the tower, to the fight, to Snape and the Death Eaters' arrival. He left out a few key details, such as the Rotting Curse that had already taken root in the Headmaster's arm, and the initial confusion when Harry realized whom he had defeated. Harry then described the subsequent argument that took place, with the group torn over whether to return him to the Manor or to kill him on the spot.

"I admit, the thought of ripping apart the old fool's mind had not occurred to me," Voldemort said pensively. "Lockhart could have extracted much valuable information before he passed."

"If I may, my Lord," said Snape, "I opposed this plan from the beginning. Too much could have gone wrong in the meantime."

"And yet, it sounds like the vote was in favor of that plan," Voldemort remarked. "So why did you go against their wishes, Potter?"

Again Harry felt the Dark Lord's Legilimency prodding him, and knew he had to be careful. Of course he couldn't explain the real reason: that he wished to protect the secret of the horcruxes from Voldemort. He had to again be selective in what truths to share.

"I felt it was too dangerous to leave him alive," said Harry. "He is a gifted wizard, even when weakened. What if he had awoken, or the Ministry arrived before we could escape the grounds?"

Voldemort considered these words. Again, it seemed that he could sense no deception from Harry. And yet, the Dark Lord did not look convinced.

"You continue to confound me, Harry Potter," said Voldemort quietly, pacing dangerously across the room. "I can see kernels of the truth scattered throughout your story, and Snape's reports seem to hold some water. But I still fail to understand why you would take such drastic action. Why would you wish to kill Albus Dumbledore? Why destroy the greatest obstacle in my path to conquering Britain, when your father has done everything in his power to throw up more obstacles to slow me down?"

"My Lord, as I have advised you all year, young Harry is not like his father—" Snape interjected.

"And yet, he killed my Bellatrix to protect his father in the Ministry," said Voldemort. "Why target my most faithful servant if he is sympathetic to our cause?"

"Potter is highly protective of his family," Snape stammered. "It reflects not how he views the war as a whole—"

"Silence, Severus!" Voldemort hissed angrily. "This reeks of deception, even if I cannot determine the source just yet. I will not hear your slippery half-truths any longer. Nor yours, Potter. I will have the truth, even if I must take it by force."

Harry realized what was about to happen a moment too late. Voldemort lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Harry's hair and bringing his face close to his. For a moment, Harry was granted an up-close look into the blood-red irises of the most feared wizard alive, before the Dark Lord placed his wand to Harry's temple and hissed: "Legilimens."

It felt like a hurricane blasted down the walls of his mind in an instant, as Voldemort burrowed into his memories without holding back. Harry could not scream, could not even breathe, as his mind was torn to shreds beneath the relentless assault of a true master of the Mind Arts. He tried in vain to erect Occlumency barriers to keep him out, but they crumpled beneath the overwhelming might of Lord Voldemort.

Images and memories were conjured, dissected, and tossed aside at frightening speeds. Harry saw his whole life playing out in reverse, starting from his sixth year and moving backwards towards his first. Dull class lessons. Dueling with Dumbledore. Vacationing with his family. Kissing Tracey. Kissing Katie. A montage of his life, played out for the Dark Lord's perusal, sifting through his memories like pages of a scrapbook, searching for anything of interest.

Harry knew he could not keep the Dark Lord out for long. Soon he would reach more buried memories: his visit to Nurmengard, to the Great Pyramid. His discussions with Fleur, Bill and Saul. The time travel secret. The horcrux hunt, laid bare for Voldemort to see, dooming the war effort in the process.

He couldn't stop Voldemort from pilfering through his mind. The only thing he could do was redirect him towards the memories Harry wanted him to see. Feed him a narrative. Selective truths.

So he began to subtly guide Voldemort down a rabbit hole. Feeding him images of Neville and Dumbledore, drawing him away from the more dangerous avenues he wished to keep secret. Voldemort took the bait, following after the Headmaster, curious to see where they went. And Harry knew there was a wealth of narratives to be mined there. He didn't even have to fight very hard to bring them to the surface.

He showed Voldemort the private lessons he'd had with Dumbledore. The many arguments they'd had. The disagreements over dark magic. The final duel where Harry had cheated with an Imperius Curse. The big argument in the Great Hall, less than twenty-four hours ago. And of course, their final moments atop the Astronomy Tower: "Stop talking like you know me! You haven't the slightest idea who I really am!"

Then, Harry fed Voldemort images of Neville. The famed Boy Who Lived. Resentful of Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, rebuffing his efforts to help. Hiding behind his friends as they taunted Harry in the halls. Suspecting Harry of going rogue, going dark. And of course, their fierce battle on the grounds that very evening: "How does it feel, knowing I'm ten times the wizard you are?"

More than anything, Harry hoped to convey one thing to Voldemort through his subconscience: anger. The deep, simmering frustration, even rage he'd felt towards both Dumbledore and Neville over the years. The murderous whispers in his ear as he towered over Neville's defeated form. The overwhelming, almost euphoric feeling he'd felt coursing through him as the Killing Curse left his wand and struck the Headmaster down—

Harry abruptly felt Voldemort's presence leave his mind, like a roaring flame being extinguished in an instant. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his head in agony. Harry trembled at the Dark Lord's feet, moaning in pain, unable to defend himself. But when Voldemort spoke again, his voice was softer, more sympathetic.

"I see," he said, sounding surprised. "All along I assumed Dumbledore brought young Potter under his wing to train him as a weapon. It never occurred to me that he feared you, that he wished to keep you close to monitor you. Perhaps he was over-compensating for how he alienated me as a youth, seeing how similar you and I were at that age."

Voldemort knelt down beside Harry and placed his slender fingers atop his head. Perhaps it was meant to be a soothing gesture, but Harry had to fight the impulse to recoil away from the slimy touch.

"I understand your pain all too well, Harry," said Voldemort softly. "The resentment at being distrusted. The jealousy of watching your mentor's affections go to others less deserving. The feeling that your ambitions are not being respected and acknowledged. I once stood precisely where you stand now, and arrived at precisely the same conclusion. Albus Dumbledore was a crutch, holding me back from greatness. I only unlocked my true potential after breaking away from his influence. And now, you can too."

Harry said nothing. He could not believe his ears, but it sounded like Voldemort was actually being swayed to believe him. The story that he and Snape had fed him was taking root after all.

"I have watched you carefully since our first encounter five years ago," Voldemort continued. "I knew you had the potential to be great, if only you would reject the passive teachings of your father and Headmaster. I admit, I was threatened by your growing potential in the past, seeing you as a successor to their harmful influence over the wizarding world. But now I see that you are not like them at all. You are willing to do whatever it takes to reach your full potential. And I can help you get there."

Voldemort tilted Harry's chin upwards, bringing them face to face once more. His burning red eyes bored into green, as they had when he ripped Harry's mind apart; but now the Dark Lord spoke more softly, as though seeking to gain Harry's trust.

"Join me, Harry Potter," said Voldemort. "I will take you under my wing and mold you in my image. You will become more powerful than anyone in the world, besides myself. And you will have untold power and influence under my new regime, free of your pitiful father and Headmaster's poisonous teachings."

Harry weighed his options. He knew this was his only lifeline, his chance at survival. He could accept Voldemort's offer, perhaps be branded with the Dark Mark, and be allowed to live. But to what end? There was no chance Harry would join the ranks of the Death Eaters. And once he refused to follow Voldemort's orders, he would be hunted and killed anyway, along with everyone he cared about. Snape's plan may have worked, but it was not a permanent solution – it would only delay the inevitable.

"I cannot," Harry mustered. "My actions tonight were for my own benefit, not yours. I cannot buy into your teachings of blood purity, not with who my family is. I will not aid you in your war against Britain."

Harry could feel Snape's tension building beside him. And he knew he was likely signing his own death certificate with his rebuff of Voldemort's wishes. But he could not bring himself to do what the Dark Lord asked of him. He could not join Voldemort. He would not. All he could hope for was that his family would be spared by his sacrifice, as he waited for the killing blow to end his life.

But Voldemort did not strike him down as Harry expected. Instead, he paced thoughtfully to and fro, contemplating his words.

"You present a fascinating dilemma to me, Harry," Voldemort muttered. "Lord Voldemort rewards those who provide him a great service, and you have done so tonight by removing my greatest enemy. But you also present a potential danger to me as a free agent – I do not feel comfortable knowing someone of your talent is lurking in the shadows, just out of sight."

Harry waited silently as Voldemort decided his fate. It seemed like he was a split second away from seeing the dreaded green light that would spell his end. But for some reason, Voldemort did not seem able to kill him.

"On the other hand," Voldemort said bitterly, "I know precisely what will happen if I kill you here and now. Your father will direct the full might of the Ministry against me, and he will have the support of the international community to do so. I would make you a martyr, and you would perhaps become more dangerous in death than you are in life. Tricky, tricky..."

Harry could see the logic in this line of thinking. Voldemort was right: if James learned that his son had been killed by Voldemort, he would not rest until every last penny in the Ministry's coffers was spent towards destroying the Dark Lord's hold on the nation. Would it be enough to defeat him? Perhaps not, but it would present a tremendous headache to Voldemort's dreams of a smooth takeover. And Voldemort seemed to recognize this, the calculus of war playing through his mind as he considered his options.

Harry knew he had to provide an alternative solution. Some way to get himself out of this mess, and save his family in the process. He could think of only one way to do so.

"What if the Potters were to step aside?" he asked aloud. "And get out of your way?"

Voldemort turned to him, looking suspicious. "You would leave Britain for good?" he asked. "Your father would abandon his post, and leave the Ministry to me?"

"If it means my family's survival, we would," said Harry.

Voldemort contemplated this. Harry knew it wasn't a perfect solution – Voldemort would forever worry about the Potters plotting against him from afar, amassing power outside of Britain. He might even change his mind at some future date and hunt them down anyway. But right now, all Harry cared about was surviving the day, heart pounding as he awaited his fate.

Before Voldemort could say anything, however, a dark, shadowy apparition flew in through the window, hovering overhead with a menacing aura. It was a Patronus – a vulture – but a corrupted one, like Rakhaman's raven and the thestral abomination Harry had conjured in the Great Hall during exams.

"The bitch is dead," said the vulture, speaking in Barty Crouch Jr.'s voice. "The secondary mission is complete. Glory to the Dark Lord." And the vulture dissolved into smoke, leaving them all to consider the message.

Who was he talking about? Harry wondered with alarm. Who else has died?!

"Tonight has gone far better than expected," Voldemort mused. "Well done, Severus, on directing my followers to success – you will be well-compensated for your efforts. And you, dear Draco – although you failed to complete your task, you showed initiative to facilitate its completion at the hands of another. I shall consider the debt your family owes to me repaid."

Draco exhaled sharply at the news, shoulders slumping in visible relief. Snape, too, looked less stressed than he had in quite some time. But Harry was given no such reprieve, as Voldemort rounded on him again.

"I will let you live, Harry Potter," Voldemort finally decided. "But you and your family will leave Britain, today, and never return. Starting tomorrow, the Potter family is never to set foot on the Isles again. You are never to amass support against me, either with the ICW or elsewhere. You and your father will never return to the public spotlight again. If you fail to do any of these things, I will hunt down each and every one of you. Including your mother, your sister, your surrogate uncles, and that Mudblood cousin of yours. Do you understand me, Harry?"

Harry felt the truth of Voldemort's words in his burning red glare. It was a harsh rebuke: permanent exile from Britain, accepting Voldemort's takeover of the nation and leaving the Ministry to fend for itself. But it was better than he could have hoped for. A chance to keep his family safe. To walk away from this horrific situation in one piece. There truly was no other option, no question of what he ought to do.

"I understand," said Harry. "And I accept."

Voldemort nodded, pleased with the outcome. "Albus Dumbledore's wand," he said. "What became of it?"

"Potter has it," Snape answered before Harry could do so. "He disarmed the Headmaster shortly before we arrived."

"Hand it over," Voldemort demanded. "I wish to have a trophy, commemorating this great victory."

Harry hesitated, cursing Snape for his hasty response. He didn't know what Harry knew: that Dumbledore had possessed the Elder Wand. Harry hadn't realized until now that this meant he was its new owner, and it was sitting in his left robe pocket at this very moment. But he couldn't very well say no, so he begrudgingly reached into his robes and withdrew it.

But to his surprise, the wand he procured was not the one he expected. He'd seen Dumbledore's wand many times: slender and brown, with ornate notches along its length and a golden band near the hilt. He did not recognize the wand he handed over to Voldemort – it was crooked and short, made of a light white wood. He had never seen Dumbledore use this wand before.

Based on the suspicion in Voldemort's eyes, the Dark Lord also recognized this discrepancy. "This is not Albus Dumbledore's typical wand," he remarked. "I have reviewed my memories of our fights many times, and he always used a different wand, one of darker wood. What deception is this?"

"That's the wand I took from Dumbledore earlier tonight," Harry answered honestly. "I do not know what became of any other wand he may have used."

He felt Voldemort probing his mind again, trying to catch him in a lie. Sensing none, the Dark Lord huffed in annoyance, pocketing the white wand.

"I will take the wand to Ollivander, back at the Manor," said Voldemort. "He will get to the truth of the matter soon enough."

Harry had heard news of Ollivander's disappearance earlier that year – that was confirmation that he had indeed been kidnapped by Voldemort. But that was the least of his worries at the moment. Was Grindelwald lying all along? he wondered. Did Dumbledore not possess the Elder Wand? Or had he lost it at some point between our last duel and tonight? If so, when, and to whom?

But he wasn't able to contemplate these questions for long. Voldemort had turned his attention to him once more, danger in his expression as he addressed Harry for a final time.

"You have one day, Potter," he snarled. "Lord Voldemort does not show mercy often, so do not squander it. Leave Britain tonight, or your entire bloodline will be exterminated."

Then Voldemort turned on the spot and disappeared in a puff of black smoke, as Harry, Draco, and Snape exhaled sharply in relief at once.

A/N: I am surprised that nobody saw the Snape twist coming, or even suspected misdirection when I first brought up the Unbreakable Vow. Y'all are hard to fool, and I'm glad I managed to pull one over on you with that one. Anyway, one chapter left of Year Six to tie up a few more loose ends before we move into the seventh and final phase of our story!