Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for Quidditch League Competition – Round Seven

Prompt – SEEKER: Potions is one of the most important classes you can take at Hogwarts, so here we are paying homage to the lesson and to Professors Snape and Slughorn. Each position has a specific potion and it, or it's effects must be a major plotline in your story. Seeker – Amortentia

Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps

In Love and War

The silence filling the room was deafening. If Harry couldn't see them breathing he would think they had all frozen. Not that their reactions surprised him. He knew that what he had suggested was outrageous, that it was a crime, but he truly didn't care. Not after losing Sirius.

"Harry, you can't mean that," Remus, always the voice of reason, pleaded.

"I do."

He was thankful for Hermione's and Ron's presence. They had argued with him, tried to make him see reason; but in the end they had given in to his wishes. They didn't agree with his decision, but they would support it.

"Arrogant brat!" Snape sneered. "What possessed you to think such a foolish plan would work? That the Order would accept it?"

"You're the expert, tell me, is it possible to break it?" Harry looked the Potion Master right in the eyes. He already knew the answer, he had studied it extensively.

"It is," Snape replied.

"But only in the beginning," Harry countered. "If it's administrated continuously over a period of one year it will become so entwined with the victim's magic that it won't be possible to break it. That's why it is so dangerous, and why the user gets sentenced to Azkaban if caught."

"Harry... Do you realize what you're proposing? The consequences?" Dumbledore asked, looking older than he had ever seen the man. He seemed so out of place in the homely Weasley kitchen. They all did.

The Burrow was never meant to be a place where war strategies were discussed. Harry hated that it had come to that. That the warmth of the Burrow was being tarnished by war. Which just made him more certain of his decision. He would go through with it, no matter if he had the Order's support or not.

Dumbledore could see the truth in his eyes, and he slumped slightly on his seat.

"Harry, my boy, there are far worse things than death," Dumbledore murmured.

"He doesn't deserve the mercy of death," Harry replied coldly.

"It isn't him I'm worried about, my boy." Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes were beseeching him to reconsider. Just as every set of eyes fixed on him, but he held firm. His choice was made.

"Very well," Albus agreed. In the cacophony that followed no one heard his whispered words, "May Merlin forgive us."

"It's done," Severus informed him somberly. "We'll no doubt see the results by morning, at the latest."

Albus sighed, and closed his eyes. He didn't need to look at his Potions Master to know that the man still didn't agree with the decision they had taken. Actually, most of the Order didn't agree with it; though for completely different reasons than Severus.

"Everything will turn out alright, Severus," he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

"We just gave a sixteen year old, extremely angry teenager the most powerful weapon in the world. Pray tell, how is it going to be alright?" Severus' sarcasm wasn't enough to hide the true fear he was feeling.

"He isn't a weapon," Albus chided. "Besides, Harry is a good soul, a pure soul. He wouldn't-"

"Sometimes, Albus," Severus interrupted, "your faith in people borders on naivety. I was in his mind, Albus, no thanks to you. He may be a pure soul, but he is enraged. The boy's fury left me staggering. In Potter's hands he will be nothing but a weapon, and he will be happy about it."

"Let's pray, Severus, that you are wrong. Otherwise I fear we may have damned the world."

"Harry." Ron nudged him, and he looked towards where the red-head was pointing.

Flying over the makeshift Quidditch pitch in the Weasley's backyard was a pitch black owl, a thick envelope in it's claws.

"Do you think..." Ron trailed off.

"It has to be," Hermione said, putting her book on the ground. She too was following the owl's descend.

It landed right in front of Harry, and held out it's leg. It took a moment for Harry to react. He knew it was coming, of course, but it was still somewhat astonishing to actually see it.

Appearing far more calm than he felt, he took the letter.

He opened it.

No one but his two best friends witnessed the truly sly smirk that stretched over his lips.

'Bodies of Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange Portkeyed into Ministry of Magic'

The headline in the Daily Prophet screamed out at him. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Order members around him. All of them were staring at the Daily Prophet with grim looks. They all realized just what had happened.

They jumped out of their seats when the Floo flared, and Severus stumbled through. Albus had never seen the man that shaken.

"Severus," he murmured, slowly getting up from his seat. Part of him was terrified of finding out what had put the spy in such a state.

Severus didn't reply, he just turned to the seated Order members, and showed them his left forearm.

There, where the Dark Mark used to be, was the Potter coat of arms.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron landed in the entrance hall. The portkey that had come with the letter had taken them through the wards at the Burrow without letting anyone know.

Harry knew that the Order wouldn't agree with what he planned on doing. He was sure that they would try to stop him. They just didn't understand what needed to be done. So when Ron saw Snape step through the Floo, he ran back to their shared room; a moment later they had vanished from the Burrow.

"Harry..." The cold voice still made a shiver run down his spine, and he felt his friends tense beside him.

He looked up and saw the man waiting for them by the doorway.

"Voldemort," he greeted, concealing every ounce of fear he felt.

"Harry." Voldemort glided towards them. "I'm so glad you came."

"I did say I would, if you did what I asked," Harry told him.

He remained perfectly still when Voldemort reached out to touch his cheek. He prepared himself for the pain that was sure to come, only to stare in surprise when there wasn't even a twitch from his scar.

Voldemort gave a hissy chuckle, and something like a smile painted itself on that lip-less mouth.

"My Harry, do not fear my touch. I will never harm you. I swear it." Voldemort assured him. Harry could feel the wizard's magic binding the Dark Lord to his words, and relaxed slight. That seemed to please Voldemort immensely for he gave them another smile. "Will you be staying?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Will you do something for me? For me to stay?"

"Anything!" came the devoted declaration not a second later.

Harry shared a look with his friends. This was it, after this there was no going back. Hermione and Ron looked resolutely back.

"Alright," Harry agreed, "I'll stay."

Voldemort laughed, and pulled him against the tall, lean body. Harry stiffened at the contact but didn't break the embrace.

There was no turning back.

Dumbledore had always told him that Love was his greatest weapon, he had never said that it had to be real.