A/N: Yes, yes. I know it's been forever...

Chapter 15: Revelations

"Elizabeth, you need to come to me," Harry said, keeping his wand ready but holding out his hand.

"Harry!" Grander hissed from behind him. "What's going on?"

"I think we need some privacy, don't you?" Voldemort, in the image of his younger self, waved a hand. All noise behind Harry vanished. Harry risked a look back. Grander was gone.

"If anything's happened to him—" Harry snarled.

"Relax," Voldemort said, smiling slightly. "I haven't come all this way to kill your favorite pet." He looked down at Elizabeth, who was watching the exchange with confusion. "What about you, Lizzy? Ready to go home?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. She gave a very small nod, as though she couldn't believe it. Voldemort placed a hand on her head. The next second her eyes rolled back and she started to fall. Voldemort caught her and lowered her to the floor, where she vanished.

Voldemort straightened and went to sit down. Harry hadn't noticed the chair before. He hadn't noticed much of the room, truth be told, but he was fairly sure that the chair was new. They seemed to be in some sort of sitting room, with bookshelves full of interesting trinkets lining the beige walls. Heavy curtains framed windows that looked out onto nothing, just an endless white expanse.

"Please, sit down. I've been waiting an extraordinarily long time for you to get here."

Harry's attention landed on a chair that was now suddenly at an angle, as though someone had pulled it out for him.

"You can put that wand away. I'll admit, I find your vigilance flattering, if entirely unnecessary."

"You'll forgive me if I find very little reason to trust you," Harry said coldly.

Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. "Times have changed, my dear boy, in case you haven't noticed. I haven't gone through the trouble of getting you here only to kill you. What would be my motive? Anger over an ancient and now meaningless feud?" When Harry didn't look convinced, Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "The way I see it, you have two options. You can stand there forever with your wand pointed at me—a meaningless gesture, as the wand has no power here that the mind does not—or you can sit down and we can discuss my proposition like grownups."

Harry felt anger rise in him. He hated being treated like a child. He was the same age as Voldemort, if not older by this point. Voldemort could see the anger flare in Harry's eyes and smiled. The jab had been calculated.

He did not notice immediately, but at Voldemort's words, Harry seemed to age visibly. Without consciously maintaining his youthful appearance, the dream world allowed him to resume his own mental image of himself, as an older man, well past one hundred years of age.

Reluctantly, Harry lowered his wand. But he did not sit. "What proposition could you possibly have thought up this time?" he asked coldly. He was faintly surprised to hear such a deep voice exit his throat, but it made sense to him. Strangely, he felt as though a weight had been lifted.

Voldemort did no more than glance at Harry's new appearance before pouring himself a cup of tea from a pot that most certainly hadn't been there before. He poured another for Harry. It vanished and appeared in front of Harry's proffered chair. "Please, sit."

Feeling that no information would be forthcoming before he sat in the blasted chair, Harry finally sat. In a final gesture of defiance, he left his tea untouched. Voldemort did not comment.

"It was no easy task getting you here, you know," Voldemort said vaguely, gesturing around. "I mean, I knew that putting little Elizabeth under so early in the game would require an extended period of wait, but I thought perhaps a year at most. Certainly not five. I was beginning to wonder if you would never think of going to get the books. And I had my minions place the advertisement so prominently on the internet." He sipped his tea.

"Finally I worried that you wouldn't put yourself at such risk for a girl that you'd never met, especially as she grew older and lost some of her 'lost child' appeal. I was forced to sweeten the pot."

"Grander," Harry growled.

"And voila!" Voldemort said, raising a hand in the air. "Here you are, less than twenty four hours later. Like magic."

Harry glowered at him.

"You get so attached to these people," Voldemort mused. "You just open yourself up to these types of things. I wonder that you maintain such an obvious weakness after all these years."

"Friends aren't a weakness, Voldemort," Harry said coldly. "Though you've never understood that. I'm not surprised to see you still scratching your head over it. I pity you, but I am not surprised."

"Would you have me make friends with rats?" Voldemort asked, raising his eyebrows. "And yet because of these rodents you've placed yourself entirely at my mercy. You can't honestly think," he smiled over his tea. "That you can beat me in a battle of the minds."

Outside, the white world became a roiling mass of black clouds, surrounding the space as though they were in an airplane in the middle of a lightning storm. Lightning flashed, illuminating the suddenly darkened room as Harry and Voldemort matched stares.

"You've got a lot to learn if you think a light show is enough to intimidate me," Harry said coolly. "And you've brought me here to speak of more than just a hypothetical battle of the minds."

"Quite right," Voldemort said airily. The lightning stopped, but the clouds outside continued to boil. Harry eyed them curiously but said nothing. Voldemort put down his tea and leaned back in his chair. "I am proposing an alliance."

Harry snorted. "You've gone senile in your old age, Voldemort. For what reason would I ever form an alliance with you? And who against? Surely you've not gone and started a war with New Brazil."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. "Against technology. I've declared the same war that you have."

Harry laughed. "A war against technology? Why not just declare war against the whole damn world?"

Voldemort frowned. "Of course we've declared war on the world. Why else have you been teaching magic? Why else have we been trying to save these fools from themselves?"

"To defend against you," Harry said, frowning.

Voldemort was silent for a moment, his cold eyes staring very hard at Harry. "Let us be perfectly clear, Harry. If I was not here and you had simply awoken to find yourself in this time period, with its moving sidewalks and its electronic people—so completely devoid of magic that it is no different from the world of Muggles—you would be doing exactly the same thing that you are doing now."

Harry frowned, thinking over Voldemort's words. He was not so prideful that he could not see the truth in them.

Voldemort saw Harry's understanding in his eyes and he nodded abruptly. He stood up and walked to the window. "You cannot be lifted from the world of drudgery into the world of magic, and not feel that way. We are much the same, you and I."

Harry stared hard at Voldemort. There was something different about him. Something extraordinarily different.

Outside the world had resumed its white wash.

"I propose an end to hostilities," Voldemort said, his back still turned to Harry.

"I would love an end to hostilities," Harry said carefully. "But I think that we have different definitions of that term."

Voldemort turned to look at him, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sure that you're aware of my policies. No murder. No torture."

"Only forced compliance?" Harry said coldly. "Curse or be cursed? I've seen your handiwork first hand."

Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. "They made the choice, not I. You can only lead a horse to water, after all."

"There will be those who do not choose magic," Harry said. "You can't force them."

"There is no place for them in our new world."

"Our new world?" Harry shot. "Try your new world."

"Their minds have been poisoned," Voldemort said. Behind him the white world was darkening again. "The Muggles have left their taint on this world, however much they no longer live in it. There are more than enough people willing to make the switch that the opinions of a very small minority are meaningless."

"Not to me."

Voldemort's eyes flashed. "Compromises will have to be made, Harry."

"On both sides, Tom."

"I have bargaining chips," Voldemort said threateningly.

"I expect Ms. Roaden to be returned to me as a gesture of goodwill," Harry said coldly.

Voldemort frowned and was silent for a moment, surveying Harry closely. He had clearly not expected the blunt demand. "Of course," he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair and wrapping his thin fingers around the ends of the armrest. "But there is more on the table here than you realize."

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Voldemort was staring at him very intently.

"Do you know why you are here, Harry Potter?"

Harry was silent, his wrinkled eyes narrowed, trying and failing to read Voldemort's expressionless face. He knew instinctively that Voldemort was not talking about the room they were sitting in.

"Dark magic," Harry said quietly, the words scratching his throat as they came up. Yes, he had long ago discovered what had brought him back. "Magic of death and fire."

Voldemort's thin lips curled into a smile and he leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Harry's. "I am a perversion." He said the word softly, caressingly, as though it were a title or a bestowed honor. "Everything about me is against nature. What is dead should stay dead, Harry Potter."

Harry rose to his feet angrily. "This is your doing, Voldemort. None of mine. My presence here cannot be helped. It was entirely unasked for."

"When I arrived on this earth," Voldemort said, examining his own fingers and ignoring Harry's comment. "I found myself weakened. My body and mind were built around the soul of another. It has taken years to return me to my full power. Imagine my surprise to have you crop up. Fully intact. Strong. As soon as you sprouted out of the ground. Obviously, I was intrigued."

"No follower of mine would think to summon me through the blood of another," Harry said, his voice icy. His wrinkled hands curling into fists at his sides. "That much I know."

"Please sit, Mr. Potter," Voldemort said, the smile returning to his face. "There's no need to get angry. I'm merely reciting history. It changes nothing."

"I do wish you would have the courtesy to come to a point," Harry said, refusing to sit. "You've gone through a great deal of effort to get me here. Surely it's not simply to talk about what is past."

"I am a perversion, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, rising to his feet and staring at Harry very intently. "You are not. You have come through the fires of rebirth entirely untainted by the magic which brought you here." His voice lowered, but his eyes did not lose their intensity. "I know exactly how you came back, Harry. And I can bring back more."

Harry felt a chill rising inside him. He and Voldemort matched stares, each measuring up the other, searching for clues into the other's thoughts. Harry spoke.

"Your Death Eaters, I suppose?"

Voldemort laughed, breaking the power of the moment. "The thought had occurred to me," he said smiling. "But to what end? They mean nothing to me and would only cause trouble. In this world they would be gods. None of them could resist the lure. No, Mr. Potter, I'm not making a threat. I'm making an offer."

Shock hit Harry like a tidal wave. An offer? Voldemort couldn't possibly mean…

"Your wife, Harry. Your children. Your friends. Any of them. All of them. Pure. Untainted. Young. Just like you remember them." Voldemort left the words sink in. Harry said nothing. Voldemort's eyes continued to study Harry.

"But you would have to do something for me in return."

"I don't make deals with devils," Harry said coldly.

"I think we're beyond name calling," Voldemort said, raising his eyebrows. "I'm offering to give you your pathetic life back."

"It's impossible," Harry said, giving a brief, quick shake of his head. "More would have to die and anyone you brought back would live half lives."

"You're not living a half life," Voldemort pointed out, raising his eyebrows. He sat back down and pulled his tea towards him. He sat back and looked up at Harry through the steam rising from his cup. "I can bring them back. No deaths. No black magic. No tricks. They would be fully restored."

"Impossible."

"That's the second time you've used that word," Voldemort said coolly. "I think you should revise your definition." A self-satisfied smirk flitted across his face. "'Improbable' would be the more exact term. And I am well known for being fully versed in the highly improbable."

Harry did not answer—part of him raging with hope that warred with his suspicion and disbelief.

"The price is more than acceptable, I assure you," Voldemort said.

"An alliance with you," Harry guessed.

"Think about it," Voldemort said, raising his eyebrows, as though Harry's tone was unreasonable. "You'd have very little to do in this alliance. I simply tire of our useless façade. We waste time fighting each other when we have a common enemy."

"Your offer seems overly generous," Harry said, frowning. He was missing something and he knew it. His Auror senses told him that he held some card that Voldemort was very much afraid of.

Fog was filling the room, swirling around Harry's ankles and making its way up the back of Voldemort's chair.

"Think about it," Voldemort said simply. Tendrils of fog snaked over his arms. "Send one of my Death Eaters back when you have an answer. When you do, I'll send Ms. Roaden back to you, accompanied by whomever you'd like."

Thick fog covered him, and Harry found himself staring at only whiteness. Somewhere a light seemed to be going off and darkness was descending.

Harry did not move, his eyes still locked on the spot that had previously held Voldemort. Suddenly an incredulous smile crept onto his face. He tilted his head back and laughed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Grander snapped awake, his sore neck protesting at being held at such an odd angle for hours as he'd slept in the chair the nurse had provided.

He ignored it.

Laughter filled the room. It sounded harsh and biting. Grander had never heard it coming from this particular person before.

"Harry?" he said cautiously, wide awake and ill at ease.

The figure on the bed in the darkened room in front of him was shaking with laughter.

"Lights," Grander said.

The laughter was interrupted as the room flooded with light. Harry had thrown an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the harsh glare. He was breathing heavily.

Suddenly he sat up and looked around, blinking. His face was confused.

"Harry?" Grander asked again, still uncertain. "Is that you?"

Harry's eyes focused on him. He squinted, then reached to the bedside table for his glasses. He refocused on Grander. "Ah!" he said, as though the eerie laughter from before had never happened. "You're awake."

"For a while now," Grander said, still feeling off balance. "You've been under for hours."

Harry swung his legs over the side of the table and got to his feet. He began pacing back and forth across the narrow stretch of hospital room floor.

"What happened?" Grander asked, getting to his feet as well. His body protested loudly, reminding him that he'd been sitting, unmoving, for hours as well. "Who was that man in that room?"

"Voldemort," Harry said, a smile touching his lips again—an unexpected reaction in Grander's opinion. "He was looking to make an alliance of some sort," he waved a hand dismissively. "But that's not the interesting part. Not by a long shot. You didn't see—" He looked up suddenly. "Has Elizabeth woken up?"

Grander's widened, then he shook his head incredulously, "I should have known that you'd already know. Woke up a few minutes after I did. Her grandmother is with her now."

"Good," Harry said, nodding sharply. "We've still got to get Hannah back."

"It's on the list," Grander said. "But we can discuss that in a moment. First tell me what you've discovered."

Harry stopped his pacing and looked at Grander. Then he frowned. "How are you? You just woke up. You've been out for a while."

"Fine," Grander said, shrugging. "No lasting damage. Are you deliberately avoiding my questions?"

"Yes," Harry said, "Well, not because I don't want to tell you. I just want to be sure. But I'm pretty damn sure."

"There's nothing in the history books about you talking in riddles. Why start now?"

"Riddles," Harry repeated, trying the word. Then he laughed again. Grander looked at him incredulous.

"Should I get a nurse?"

"No, no," Harry said, holding up a hand. Then he held his hand in front of his face and frowned slightly. He shook his head and focused back in on Grander. "Riddles. Riddle. That's who you saw in there."

"You said it wasVoldemort," Grander said, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "What did he want?"

"Not Voldemort," Harry said, looking at Grander meaningfully. There was a strange, restless energy about him that Grander never remembered seeing before. "Riddle. At first I thought he didn't want to scare Elizabeth, but he never changed his form. Even after I did. He wanted to look like that."

"Interesting," Grander said, still not understanding the significance.

"Why wouldn't he want to look like himself? He went through a lot of effort to look like that," Harry said. He looked at Grander expectantly. Grander felt like a student that didn't know the right answer.

"Because he doesn't like what he looks like anymore? I don't know."

"Because he doesn't like what he looks like anymore," Harry repeated, his eyes shining with intensity. Apparently Grander had gotten the right answer. "Voldemort's changed, Grander. I mean, I knew he had. I just didn't realize by how much. And I couldn't really understand how he'd returned, so I couldn't possibly have known. But damned if he didn't come right out and say it."

Grander was interested now. He'd spent many sleepless nights trying to understand how Voldemort had managed to bring himself back despite all logic.

"Mr. Potter?"

The door opened and a very relieved looking nurse came in. "Oh, thank God. We were having a time without you."

"Oh, the refuges," Harry said, blinking. "I forgot."

The nurse looked at him incredulously.

"I'll be right there," Harry assured him. The nurse nodded and hurried out, probably back to whatever patient he was tending. Harry turned to Grander, the light returning to his eyes. Grander hadn't seen his friend so happy in all the years he'd known him. "Grander. They took his last remaining essence and grafted them onto someone else's soul."

The words sat in the room for a moment as Grander digested. Despite Harry's mood, Grander did not find the revelation altogether pleasing. "That man they found in the graveyard…"

"Probably his," Harry acknowledged. "But Grander, you're missing the point."

"There's a larger point than that?"

"A soul, Grander," Harry said, the light in his eyes almost feverish. "Voldemort's got a soul."