Title: Harry Potter and the Fateful Journey
Pairings: HPSS, TRNM
Warnings: No OotP, HBP or DH
Summary: Voldemort's ritual has unforeseen circumstances that results in a journey through time and a strange alliance.

The life of Harry Potter was a strange and unusual one. It was generally assumed that he had little or no contact with the magical world until the arrival of his letter sometime before his eleventh birthday. This would be wrong.

It was also assumed that his relatives were, though muggle, kind and supportive. An idea of a spoilt and attention seeking Saviour had lodged itself firmly in the masses mind. Unfortunately this also is incorrect.

Another misconception was that he was a symbol of the light. This, while mostly true, did not tell the full story. Harry Potter disliked pointless torture and death. He didn't much like torture and death with a point, but he could stomach it if the reason was good enough.

What Mr. Potter really disliked was the fact that, apart from a few instances, every decision he had been faced with had been decided for him. And in revenge he decided to change the world.

His first step was contacting Voldemort.

-0-0-0-

The dark haired man stood watching the house on Privet Drive. As a white owl flew out he whistled gently and smirked happily as Hedwig flew down to him.

"How you doing girl?" he asked the creature gently while stroking her head. "Can I read the letter?"

The owl bobbed in consent and he nimbly removed the letter gave it a once over, nodded and sent the owl on her way.

He smiled widely in happiness that everything was happening as it should and silently apparated away.

-0-0-0-

Two days before Harry’s third birthday Vernon hit him for the first time. The young boy had left wet footprints from the bathroom to the cupboard under the stairs. During the night a strange man came and healed Harry’s broken bones, gave him a stuffed bear and tucked him into his cot.

The next day Harry saw the man talking to his Uncle Vernon. A weird glint shone in his uncle's eyes and Harry got the distinct impression that he didn’t want to know what was going on. The man saw Harry and smiled at him before leaving the house quickly.

Harry was never smacked again.

The morning of Harry's fourth birthday the man appeared at the door and glared at Petunia and Vernon until they handed over Harry. Harry looked fearfully at the taller man with his bright green eyes and clutched his teddy closer. The man just smiled at him and took his hand, leading him towards a waiting car.

Once he had settled Harry comfortably in the back seat the man sat drove them to a small park on the outskirts on London.

Once they were there he turned around to face the small boy.

"Now Harry." he began nervously. "I don't really know how to tell you this so I guess I will start from the beginning. My name is Ash and I was a friend of your parents."

Harry looked carefully at the man as he thought over his words. The man regarded him carefully through his kind eyes, one blue, one green, and waited for the small boy to speak.

"Are you a drunk too?" he asked timidly.

The kind looking man laughed lightly for a moment, slightly startled. "No Harry." he told him gently. "No, I'm not, and neither were you parents."

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told me they were." Harry insisted,

"Your Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon also say that your cousin Dudley is clever and handsome." Ash told him firmly. "Does that make it true?"

Harry looked at his feet then back at the odd eyes. He shrugged. "Suppose not." he admitted.

Ash sighed. "There are many things you do not know about Harry. Things people are keeping secret from you and while I want to tell you everything I have to bare your age in mind." he looked deeply into Harry's eyes.

"Shall we start with the best secret?" he asked, a smile pulling at his lips.

"Please." Harry told him excitedly.

"You cannot tell anyone." Ash told him sternly.

"I promise I wont." Harry told him seriously.

"Will you swear on everything you hold dear?"

"How do I do that?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Like this." Ash pulled a wooden stick from his sleeve "Hold the stick firmly in your hand." he passed it to Harry who shivered slightly at the contact.

"Now, repeat after me. I, Harry James Potter,"

"I, Harry James Potter," Harry repeated in an awestruck voice as he felt a strange sensation running through his body

"Do swear by all that is magical,"

"Do swear by all that is magical,"

"That I cannot and will not reveal anything that Ash McLeod reveals to me."

"That I cannot and will not reveal anything that Ash McLeod reveals to me."

"Unless it is either to someone who already knows or Ash or Rowan have given me permission to."

Harry gave him a puzzled look but continued "'Unless it is either to someone who already knows or Ash or Rowan have given me permission to."

As he finished the last words the tingling grew more intense before he giggle loudly at the tickling,.

"All right Harry?" Ash asked him once he had calmed down. The boy nodded and once again rested his enormous green eyes on the older man. "Okay, the first thing I must tell you is that magic is real."

Harry's eyes widened for a moment before he snorted "No its not, only idiots and children think that." he told him dismissively.

"Well I'm definitely not a child." Ash mused "And I don't think I'm an idiot, although I'm sure Severus wouldn’t agree."

"Who’s Severus?" Harry asked curiously.

"Severus? Oh don't worry about him, you'll meet him soon enough." For some reason Ash looked highly amused.

"What about Rowan?"

"Rowan is my twin brother. You saw him on your third birthday."

"You have a twin? Does he have eyes like yours?"

"They are the exact opposite." seeing Harry's confusion he explained further "While mine are green and blue his are blue and green."

"Your green one looks a lot like mine." Harry told him in a serious tone.

"There’s a reason for that." Ash confirmed. "But its one of those things I can’t tell you until your older. Now back to magic."

"But magic doesn't exist." Harry looked into the unblinking eyes of Ash and swallowed "Doesn't it?"

"It does, that what's the funny feeling was when you held my wand. One day you'll get your own and it'll feel amazing. Nothing can really describe the feeling."

"Oh." Harry suddenly looked down at his feet.

"What did Rowan do to my aunty and uncle?" he asked timidly, not really expecting an answer.

"Why? Have they been mean to you again?" Ash asked, suddenly furious.

"No, they have been really nice. Aunt Petunia lets me go to the park sometimes now and I only have to set the table and clear it after meals. They make Dudley clean his own room as well."

"Are you still sleeping in the cupboard?" Ash asked intently.

Harry nodded but smiled widely "Yeah, but I have a nice soft bed and lovely sheets. And Uncle Vernon even put a light bulb in there and moved the switch so I can turn it on and off when I want." he went quiet for a moment.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he whispered

"Of course you can. I promise I won’t tell anyone unless you let me."

Harry nodded "Sometimes I dream about a flying motorbike. Is that magic?"

Ash nodded. "You’re dreaming about your uncle Sirius. He used to take you on his motorbike all the time."

"Where is he? Why do I have to live with the Dursleys when they don't like me very much?"

"I’m really sorry about that Harry. You honestly don't know how much but there is a reason your need to live here." Ash sighed again. "This isn't turning out to be a very good birthday is it?" he asked rhetorically.

"It’s brilliant." Harry told him anyway. "Last year Dudley just laughed at me because no-one bought me a present or anything."

"Well this year is going to be so much better." Ash told him happily. "First we're going to go and buy you a nice lunch, then." Ash lowered his voice to a whisper "Then I’m going to show you some magic."

After a large lunch of fish and chips followed by rhubarb crumble with plenty of dandelion and burdock to wash it down with Ash led Harry across the street a rundown pub with a grotty sign proclaiming to the world in faded black letters that this was the 'Leaky Cauldron'. Uncaring of the name, mostly because he couldn’t read, Harry skipped alongside Ash and looked around curiously as they walked through the grim barroom. Ash did not slow down until they stood in a deserted yard looking at a brick wall. He glanced down at Harry and ruffled the boy’s hair with a smile. As Harry smiled back up at him Ash frowned and bent down to look closer at the faint lightning bolt scar adorning his head.

"I got it in the car crash that killed my mum and dad." Harry told him in a quiet voice.

"You didn't." Ash told him sternly. "But we'll talk about that another time. For now we need to cover it up." Ash smiled widely and waved his stick. A baseball cap like the one Dudley wanted appeared in Ash's hand and he handed it over to Harry.

"Now make sure you keep that on at all times." he told him firmly. "It’s very important."

Harry nodded excitedly and jammed the cap on his head, hard. He watched in mounting excitement as Ash carefully tapped the bricks in a pattern and gasped as the brick wall melted away revealing a strange street.

"What’s this place?" Harry asked curiously.

"This, Harry, is Diagon Alley." Ash told him grandly. "And we are going to spend all day here."

Harry looked around in astonishment as they walked down the cobbled street.

"Where are we going?" he asked as Ash walked towards a large white building.

"We are going to the bank."

"The bank?" Harry whispered as he entered the large hall and stared at the small creatures working behind the counter.

"Yes, this is Gringotts, the goblin bank. We need to speak to a goblin called Graphook.”

They were quickly shown into an office amidst a lot of odd looks from the goblins. The elderly goblin sat at the desk and blinked several times before placing his quill carefully on the table and looking at the two visitors.

"Ah." he greeted them "Mr. Potter and Mr. McLeod. Is it so soon already?"

"It is Graphook."

"Then I suppose you wish to begin with the claiming?"

"I would."

"Then Mr. Potter." the goblin turned his attention to Harry who was trying to hide behind Ash. "i need you to write your name on this piece of parchment." he said gently, well as gently as a goblin could, and held out a fluffy white quill.

"That’s all?" Harry asked timidly.

"That’s all." the goblin confirmed.

"And you're not going to try and eat me?"

"No I'm not." Amused, the goblin glanced at a faintly blushing Ash.

"Okay."

The small boy reached out for the quill which he stroked gently before writing as neatly as he could in a glistening red ink.

"Hariy. hmmm." the goblin looked one more time at Ash before turning back to Harry. "Okay Mr. Potter. If you watch the parchment something will happen."

Before the boys interested eyes his handwriting began to run and cover the page in a small, neat hand. Both the goblin and Ash sighed happily as they read the script.

"Mr. Potter. You must try listening very carefully to what Ash and I have to tell you." the goblin told him gently.

The boy sat down on the chair and stared at them with wide eyes.

"Once upon a time there was a very nasty wizard who wanted to hurt people who were like those who had hurt him. He had grown up in a horrible orphanage where he wasn't treated very nicely and instead of trying to get to know other people and forgive them he decided to get his own back." Ash began. "After a while all the children and adults were scared of him and it made him very happy. When he was eleven he received a special letter that invited him to learn magic at a school. Because he didn't have any family that knew of magic a teacher was sent to talk to him and explain the letter. The teachers name was professor Dumbledore."

Ash stopped and the goblin took over. "Professor Dumbledore told Tom all about the wizarding world and then took him to buy his school things from Diagon Alley. At last Tom got on the train to the Hogwarts and began his magical education."

Ash and Graphook looked at the small boy to make sure he understood the story so far. They looked at each other and then Ash continued.

"At Hogwarts there were four houses where the students were sorted. Each is named after the people who opened the school. They were Rowena Ravenclaw who was known for being very clever, Helga Hufflepuff who valued hard workers and loyalty, Salazar Slytherin who liked clever children who worked hard for what they wanted and didn't let anything stand in their way, and Godric Gryffindor who thought that bravery and chivalry was the most important.

"Once Tom was at the school he was sorted into Slytherin House. He didn't really fit in because only his mum was a witch. Many Slytherins think that only those whose mam and dad are magical are worth knowing. Soon it was discovered that he could talk to snakes and the other children thought that this made him special, that it meant he was part of Salazar Slytherin's family. This made him important in the house and all the other students began to look up to him. Soon he ruled the other children like he had ruled his orphanage. This time the teachers didn't notice and thought he was a wonderful student. He became a prefect and then head boy. After he left school he disappeared for a while and when he reappeared he called himself Lord Voldemort."

Again the two adults paused and looked at the dazed looking boy.

"Are you okay Harry?" Ash asked him gently. "I know this is a lot to take in but it's very important that you know this."

Harry nodded slowly and gave them a wide smile. "Go on." he told them calmly.

“Voldemort believed that only those with magical parents were worth living and decided to kill anyone else. He had followers who believed the same as him and he began to fight against those who disagreed with him. Some of the people who disagreed were your parents. Lily came from a muggle family with no magical family at all. James’ family had been magical for a long time and they fell in love. After a little while they had a baby they called Harry James Potter.”

“That’s me!” Harry interrupted gleefully.

”That’s right.” Ash nodded “Lily and James loved you very much and they were very happy together until one day Voldemort decided that he was going to kill them. You see they had been fighting against him and had escaped three times. Voldemort didn’t like that as it made him look weak.”

“On Halloween he snuck into the house and killed James when he tried to save you and your mum. He went into the nursery where your mam was hiding with you and he killed her while she stood in front of you, stopping him from getting to you. That’s how much your parents loved you Harry.” Ash looked calmly into Harry’s green eyes, his odd eyes gleaming with the passion evident in his voice.

“Your parents put themselves in between a madman and their son, tried with all their might and power to save his life. And they succeeded. You, Harry, are the first person known to survive the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra.”

“Abra cadabra?” Harry asked in confusion, completely ignoring the rest of the tale until he was ready to come to terms with it.

“Not quite. But don’t worry about it just yet.” Ash smiled down at the little boy. “Now, the reason I brought you to see Graphook is to claim the inheritance that your mum and dad left for you. This will allow you to access it and Griphook will make sure that no-one else knows you have it.”

Harry smiled weakly “The Dursleys won’t get it?” he asked quietly.

“No. I wish I could take you away from them Harry, I really do. But there is a reason you are there and I will explain it to you when you’re a little older. For now all you need to know is that your mummy and daddy loved you more then you can ever believe. They thought so much of you that they wanted you to live, to enjoy life and they would be very unhappy if they knew you lived with the Dursleys.”

Harry nodded slowly. Accepting Ash’s words although Ash could see a little doubt in his eyes.

“Now Harry.” Ash continued “We need to make some decisions. While I cannot take you completely away from the Dursleys Rowan and me want to make sure that you are looked after properly and learn what you need to know. What’s going to happen is that every day one of us will collect you from your house and take you to a special place where you will learn how to read and write and other things.” Ash smiled as he saw Harry’s face drop a little “of course you will learn how to play games and to fly a broomstick and all the other things that little boys should know.”

Harry smiled widely and then frowned a little “what about Uncle Vernon?” he asked “he’ll never let me have any fun.”

”What your uncle doesn’t know will never hurt him. Remember that Harry.” Graphook told him sternly. “My son, Griphook, will also be spending some time with you. He will teach you maths and how to manage your inheritance. If you impress him he may even teach you gobbledegook.”

“What’s gobblygook?” Harry asked curiously.

“It’s the language goblins use. Now, we need to visit your vault so you can get some money and then we can go shopping and have something to eat. After that I will take you home and have another word with your aunt and uncle.

-0-0-0-

Over the next few years Ash and Rowan took it in turns to collect Harry and take him to a strange place where time never seemed to pass. Here Harry completed his homework for the muggle school he attended and then would spend a large amount of time being taught the history and politics of the wizarding world, his place and social standing in it and a solid understanding of his finances from the goblins.

His true history was slowly explained to him at a level he could understand and, as he understood the necessity, he began to learn offensive and defensive magic. The other subjects taught at Hogwarts were covered but not extensively as they knew he needed to appear untrained to the teachers at Hogwarts. Ash and Rowan were confident that Harry could pass his skill at DADA off as pure talent – after all he needed to explain his continuing existence somehow.

The years passed quickly and Harry grew from the small, undernourished and nervous young boy he had been to a strong and capable young man. During his tenth year his training changed from that of preparing him for what was to come to hiding how prepared he was. Ash and Rowan patiently taught him how to miscast his spells and how to allow his magic to flair while angry without it betraying his true power. They repeatedly told him how he must keep his occlumency shields up at all cost, especially while around the headmaster but that he must never show his knowledge of occlumency.

Learning to hide his talents was harder on the boy then learning the skill in the first place. He was knew that he could not reveal his understanding of the world he was about to enter, or that through his many trips with Ash and Rowan he knew it better then many of his peers. He had to hide his knowledge and friendships with the goblins and, finally, he had to assume the mantel of Boy-who-lived, saviour of the wizarding world.

It was this final task that gave them so much trouble. Harry’s natural diffidence and reluctance to be in the limelight, taught to him from an early age by the Dursleys, resulted in an odd mixture of the leadership and confidence he believed he should have as a “hero” and his own personality shining through.

Eventually, with much reassurance from Ash and Rowan, Harry settled into his own idea of a “hero”. While he would show the wizarding world the confident, brave, Gryffindorish leader they expected he would keep his own, more Slytherin, personality hidden.

The happy idyll eventually came to an end and the day before his eleventh birthday Harry bid farewell to Ash and Rowan knowing that the two men would only be able to communicate to him the charmed journal that each would carry.

-0-0-0-

The next four years disappeared quickly although Harry was prepared at times to swear they lasted forever. He kept in touch with Ash and Rowan through the journals although he never met with them again. On occasion he found their relationship very strange. When he had gone after the philosopher’s stone in his first year he had expected the two men to berate him; instead Rowan had become very quiet and had quickly left the conversation while Ash had questioned him closely on his actions. He had seemed very satisfied at Harry’s answers and had been laughing so hard as he had replied to Harry’s confession of believing snape to be the one after the stone that his handwriting had been near illegible. When Harry had asked him why he thought it was so funny Ash had given him the same reply he had always given whenever Harry has asked about Snape, or Severus as he now knew the older man referred to him.

When Harry had first found out that Snape’s first name was Severus he had wondered if he was the mysterious “Severus” Ash had talked about over the years he had known him. He had been about to raise the question with his friend when the hilarity of the situation had hit him. As if the fun loving and happy man he knew would have anything in common with the sour puss that was Severus Snape. He had thrust the suspicion from his mind although his stubborn personality had returned to it again and again.

After each of his adventures he had discussed it with one of the brothers. He quickly found that Rowan would be overcome with guilt and, after ensuring Harry was unharmed he would withdraw from the conversation. He had brought this strange behaviour up with Ash who had shrugged it off and told him he would understand one day. Harry disliked this a great deal but knew that the brothers had always explained things to him eventually and they had only with held information when they knew he wouldn’t understand it.

During his third year he had been ecstatic to learn of his godfather’s existence and the first cracks in his relationship with his mentors began to show. While both maintained Sirius’ innocence they discouraged him from wanting to live with the convict. They both tried to explain in their own way, Ash bluntly and Rowan gently, that so many years in Azkaban would probably have affected his mental stability and that he should concentrate on establishing a close relationship with him instead.

Harry had refused to speak to them for a month.

The events of the fourth year brought them back together again although Rowan became agitated and would only ever tell Harry to “remember how much I care for you”. The cryptic message did little to prepare Harry for the traumatic events that unfolded in the graveyard at Little Hangleton…

-0-0-0-

Harry closed the book carefully and frowned as he thought over the information he had just read. The connection he felt at the back of his mind appeared to be changing. It no longer consisted of the red and black angry knots that had been there his entire life, instead they were loosening. In the three weeks since the events of the tri-wizard tournament Harry had felt the connection spring alive with a pain that made the Cruciatus curse look gentle. Then it stopped. The pain disappeared, the enmity that he had felt faded away and then a sense of confusion had descended on him. He knew the confusion didn’t come from him and the only conclusion he could come to was that it was Voldemort.

Harry smirked slightly as he reopened the journal and reread the words scribbled hastily in Ash's hand.

When the connection loosens and becomes more bearable write to Voldemort. He will not hurt Hedwig and will read it thoroughly, hoping you will be able to shed light on what is happening to him. Arrange to meet him in Covent Garden. Before you go we need to meet one last time.

He had felt a fission of sadness at the thought of seeing Ash and Rowan for the last time. The two odd men had been his mentors and almost like parents since he was four. They had taught him about the wizarding world and how to hide his true self from the public.

He grabbed a pen and quickly wrote in the journal confirming that the link had changed and he was going to write to Voldemort.

-0-0-0-

Voldemort looked around his bedroom wild eyed. His throat was sore and he knew without a doubt that the echoes of his own screams had awoken him. Shaking with the memories of his nightmares he tiredly made his way to the kitchen hoping a drink of warm milk would settle his scarred body.

He stopped, his feet almost tripping over themselves from the suddenness of the movement, and gripped the stair banister. He was making a cup of warm milk? he had had a nightmare. Eyes widening the darkest wizard in a century slowly sat down onto the stair. he was Lord Voldemort, he never had nightmares, he was the nightmare!

What was happening to him?

The following morning found Voldemort in the library pouring over the books he had used to recreate his body.

At first he had put the strange feelings and behavior on hiding his return and obliviating his loyal followers but after the horrendous nightmares he had suffered he knew it was something much deeper rooted then that. He felt an over whelming dissatisfaction with his life so far and had begun to regret many of the decisions he had been so proud of only a few months ago.

Growling in a frustration he stalked across the room and pulled an ancient book from one of the top most shelves. Quickly flicking through he ran his finger down the page as he absorbed the words.

Choose well the enemy and the servant for aspects of each will be consumed.

He flipped the book shut and placed it back on the shelf and began to swear violently as he ran lightly up the stairs to the bathroom.

He peered intently in the mirror at his features. His blood red eyes scowled back at him but he ignored them in favour of looking at the sickly looking skin, the scales and slits for his nose all remained the same. Happy, for now, that he appeared the same he made his way back to the library and sat in a comfortable armchair looking out the window towards the village below and contemplated the words the book revealed to him.

As he took on Potter's personality his appearance would adjust to reflect it. Knowing Potter as he did he expected the evidence of the dark arts to fade in the face of Potter's inherent goodness. He groaned again, what had he been thinking agreeing to use that ritual?

Moving to the library he opened one of the many books he had been diligently researching from. He was disgusted by his new form and a fierce determination to revive the handsome youth he had enjoyed as a youth had fiercely taken hold. Turning back to the chapter he had read earlier he pondered once more over the words faintly scribbled therein.

A year ago, when he had decided to use the ritual, he had interpreted this to mean that the who ever he used would be consumed by the magic. As such he had instructed Wormtail to use blood from Potter’s wand arm so as to ensure that arm would be useless to the boy. It now appeared that he had been incorrect.

He was assuming parts of Potter’s personality.

-0-0-0-

Harry stared blankly out the window for several moments as he thought through his plan. Seeing no reason to change anything yet he nodded once to himself in confirmation and headed over to his trunk.

Entering the study he placed the parchment down and studied it carefully for any hidden meanings. Satisfied that the document was as clear cut as it appeared he began to compose his own message.

Dear Sir,

Thank you for your kind words regarding the Tri Wizard Tournament. I would be delighted to meet with you to discuss the possibility of collaborating in your latest venture. I must confess that your revealing biography of Gilderoy Lockheart was most enlightening.

I believe the soonest I will be able to meet with you will be the twenty-ninth of June at 6pm. I believe the Café at Coven Garden would be adequate,

Regards

H. J. Potter

Smirking at the letter he carefully scribbled an intricate pattern around the edges.

--

Throwing himself back into his chair Voldemort frowned down at the book. If he was correct the guilt and melancholy he was feeling came from the blood he had taken from the Potter boy. Damn.

He frowned further as he contemplated the other ingredients that he had used in his reincarnation and shuddered at the thought of what he could gain from Wormtail.

Pushing himself roughly out of the chair he paced the length of the study as he contemplated his next move. It was obvious from the guilt he was currently feeling that he could not continue his reign of terror, ‘not that there had been much reigning going on lately’ he snorted to himself.

He threw himself back into his chair as he considered the last few years before his attack on the Potters. He had always been dark, growing up the way he did left little choice, there was little living in war-torn London. It was survival plain and simple and he had not only learnt to survive but even to live a little. Then the letter from Hogwarts had arrived and he found himself surrounded by spoilt, petty children who had no idea of the horrors he had faced just to live another day. It was then that he swore to himself that he would never be in that position again, that he would change the world so that children like him could lie safely in their beds.

What had changed his ideals?

--

Severus Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, walked into his quarters with a lightness to his step that would terrify the bravest of his students. Smelling the bergamot from his favourite tea he quickened his pace. He paused in the doorway to the kitchenette to feast his eyes on the lean body bending over the stove.

“You still like carrot cake with your tea don’t you Severus?” a rich timber asked him without turning.

“You’re back.” Severus greeted him simply.

“I told you I would come back Severus.” The stranger told him gently.

“Yes, but I thought maybe…” the dour man trailed off as he took in the fact his lover had returned.

“Severus, we both know this was necessary.” He turned to face Severus and looked the man over before sighed deeply. “Haven’t you been taking care of yourself at all?” he frowned.

“Well I-“ Severus stuttered and then glared at his companion, who laughed.

“It’s been a long time since your glares scared me Severus.” He told him. “Come, let me layout the tea things and you can refresh my memory with everything that’s happened.”

“How is Rowan?” Severus asked as he took a seat.

”You know Rowan, he’s probably in a library somewhere.” He brought a stand of iced cakes and sandwiches to the table.

“Hmm,” Severus agreed as he eyed the dainty looking cakes placed carefully in front of him. A voice in his head laughed at the domestic scene, wondering what his students would say if they could see it. He roughly shut it up in favour of enjoying the delicious treats and the company of his lover for the first time in almost five years. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back.” He admitted grudgingly.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have me back.” The other man replied. “I didn’t leave you from choice, you know.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be long Severus,” he assured him as he sat down, a pot of earl grey placed carefully between the two. “Just another few weeks.”

“It’s been a long wait.” Severus commented as he sipped the tea, perfectly made as always with a hint of sugar and a squeeze of lemon.

“It has.” His lover nodded, knowing he wasn’t referring to his absence, “Worth it though.”

“Indeed.”

-0-0-0-

Voldemort looked up as he heard the flap of wings echo around the quiet room. A snowy owl descended in front of him and thrust her leg out haughtily.

“So you’re Potter’s owl?” he murmured to the graceful bird. “You’re very pretty. Smart to I reckon.” He reached out and stroked the bird before removing the letter. “I haven’t any treats I’m afraid.” He told it seriously before catching himself and snarling “Leave bird, before you cannot.” He spat.

He threw the letter on the table and paced the length of the room. He no longer felt as he had, although he now believed that was a good thing, the uncertainty of seeing how his personality and temperament would react next confused him and if there was anything Voldemort hated, it was uncertainty.

And what kind of name was Lord Voldemort?

What had he been thinking?

-0-0-0-

Remus Lupin tenderly stroked that spine of the leather clad book he had placed on his lap. Carefully he opened the pages and smiled down at the group of young men grinning back at him.

The photograph was taken the summer after they had left Hogwarts. They had spent the previous year refining the plan that Ash and Rowan had presented to them. It had been a hard few years, those last two at Hogwarts, but he knew without a doubt that it would be worth it. That it already had been.

He closed the book with a soft sigh and stood.

It was nearly time.

-0-0-0-

Voldemort carefully opened the envelope, conscious that the contents of this letter could very well set the tones of his future.

The initial letter was slightly confusing until Voldemort clicked that his new correspondent believed his mail may be being intercepted.

He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at the strange pattern decorating the paper’s edge. His eyes widened as the squiggles danced and seemed to turn into English as he watched.

“Written parseltongue” he whispered in awe. In all his years of research he had been unable to discover a written language of the serpents and had reluctantly concluded that it was a myth.

Eagerly he began to read the slightly growing letters, slowly growing incredulous as he read the message.

Lord Voldemort,

Although I don’t believe you think of yourself that way anymore do you? I know Tom is completely unacceptable to you for fairly obvious reasons so I won’t call you anything for the moment.

I take it from our connection that you have realised the results of the ritual you chose earlier this year and are now probably feeling slightly lost.

Meet me at The Café in Covent Garden and I will explain everything further.

Harry Potter