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Chapter Seventy-Three—Mum and Dad, Meet My Voldemort

"I'm not scaring you, Mum, am I?"

"You're disturbing me a bit," Lily admitted, as she sat down at the table outside the house where Harry and Jonathan had spent so much time reading and playing and eating before they went to Hogwarts. "You said that you had someone disturbing for me to meet. I'm just trying to be prepared."

"Well, I mean, it's not someone entirely unexpected." Harry gave her an anxious smile that reminded her of the lives he must have lived where he was a child and nothing more, and Lily wondered abruptly if he was manipulating her. But she put the thought aside. She'd learned to live with this. "You know a lot about him."

"As long as you haven't freed Albus from his confinement at St. Mungo's and brought him here."

"No. Remus said he had an idea how he might be able to distract Dumbledore if I set him free of the curse, but he hasn't told me what it is yet."

Lily held back a scowl. Remus had told her and James no such thing. "All right, darling. Please bring out your surprise."

Harry continued watching her for a moment, as if making sure that she was sufficiently disturbed, and then turned and hissed over his shoulder. Lily blinked. Was his surprise a snake? That would be—

No. His surprise was a tall, dark-haired man who came walking across the grass more gracefully than Lily would have thought he could walk, but whose paper-pale skin and red eyes were still very familiar. Lily found herself reaching for her wand, and then remembered that Harry had asked her to leave it in the house.

"I told you it would be disturbing."

Lily, who couldn't look away from Voldemort, found herself unable to reply. Voldemort looked at Harry and said something in Parseltongue. Harry shrugged at him with a motion that made him seem younger than usual and replied in English, "She has to get used to you sooner or later."

"I don't see why," Lily said, and winced when she heard the shrill tone her voice had taken on. But she was mere meters away from the man she'd fought for years, the man who had kidnapped her younger child and was now in some sort of weird alliance with him. "I can know that you're working with him without meeting him."

Harry sighed. "He has changed. I told you that. Do you think I would have allied myself with him if he hadn't? No matter what? I've spent so many years and lives fighting against him that I would never have thought he could muster a shot at redemption, and yet here he is."

"You fought against me so many times because you were foolish," Voldemort said, though not in the high voice of the monster who had taken Harry from the house. Lily had heard that voice in her nightmares for years on end. This was deeper, smoother. But he was still a monster. She held her shaking hands to her mouth.

"I was not," Harry said, turning to stare at him. It sounded like an old argument, which only made Lily feel more faint. How had her son come to have old arguments with You-Know-Who? "In those other worlds, you were too far gone to be redeemed."

"You could have offered to teach them magic the way you did me."

"I didn't offer, as I recall. You hunted me down and forced me to agree."

"When was this?" Lily interrupted. Sweet Merlin, how could she have missed something like that?

Voldemort bowed his head a little to her. "Harry is exaggerating, Mrs. Potter. I'm sorry to disturb you." He turned back to Harry. "All you would have had to do was offer to teach them magic and be yourself, and one of them would have accepted your offer."

"And then would have backstabbed me. Yeah, no thanks."

"You don't know that. They could have become fascinated with you as I have, and then perhaps you would not be so resistant to the idea of—accompanying me in my journey through life."

From the sidelong glance that Voldemort was giving her, Lily had the impression that he'd meant to say something quite different. At least it gave her the conviction to say firmly, "Fascinated? Harry Potter."

Harry sighed. "Voldemort is exaggerating, Mum," he said, in the exact same tone Voldemort had used to accuse him of it. "What you need to know is that we're allies, but also—friends. Voldemort is one of the people who managed to convince me to come forwards as the Master of Death, and that it's not so bad to be known that way in this one world."

Voldemort's lips narrowed, as if he was going to say something else, but in the end, he didn't contradict Harry. For her part, Lily was just trying to adapt to the idea that Voldemort had lips, and would make such a human gesture with them.

"Then I'm glad that you are allies," Lily said faintly. "Even friends." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes and concentrated, hard, on the misery Harry would have felt if he'd been forced to hide so much of himself from his family, because she knew that was the truth. "I—welcome you to our home and give you thanks for what you did for our son." Even though you also kidnapped him.

Voldemort gave her a sharp glance that Lily was sure hid knowledge of exactly what she was thinking. For all she knew, it might; he was a skilled Legilimens. She averted her eyes from his face, even though it was compelling enough that it was hard not to stare, and motioned both of them in with a nerveless hand.

"My thanks, Mrs. Potter," Voldemort murmured, and walked in, glancing around as if he was remembering the kidnapping, too, and comparing it to his current memories of the house. Lily clenched her jaw and was grateful that both Remus and James were gone from the house for the moment.

"What happens next?" Lily asked, and let the door fall shut behind them. The thump turned them both around, and Lily held Voldemort's gaze for a moment, to prove she could, before she turned and faced her son. "You've made your statements by appearing publicly as Master of Death and at his side, but then you went to Hogwarts and acted like an ordinary student for a whole year."

"Because I wanted to," Harry said, with an easy shrug. "And I wanted to be there for Jonathan." He blinked. "He's not here, is he?"

"No, Remus and James took him to have—some time with them." Lily gave thanks every day that her elder son was so well-able to adapt to learning about what her younger son really was, but she was firmly convinced that it was all going to explode some day or another, and Jonathan would show his jealousy. "And you, young man, are going to answer my question."

"I don't know exactly what's next," Harry said, while his eyes shone like candles at her for a moment, and Lily considered that "young man" was probably not what she should call him. "But we've also given the Light wizards and witches under Augusta Longbottom some time to get their act together."

"And have they?" Lily asked. When she looked at his eyes, his speaking about a bunch of Light wizards and witches as if they were children didn't seem so incongruous.

Harry sighed. "No."

"I told you they wouldn't."

"No, you said we should wield them like tools without even giving them free will," Harry snapped, turning to glare at Voldemort. "That wasn't what I wanted to do."

"It would have been more efficient."

"I don't care about efficient."

"There are other methods to achieve what we want."

"You can't use the Imperius Curse on them."

"That's all right. I know lots of other spells that aren't listed as Unforgivables with the Ministry and can have the same effect." Voldemort was not more handsome or less frightening when he smiled, Lily decided.

"Not those, either." Harry stepped forwards, and a breeze Lily couldn't have described the origin of stirred his hair and the sleeves of his robes. His voice remained perfectly calm, though, as if they'd had this discussion before, and Lily wondered abruptly if it was staged for her benefit. "They have to make the decisions for themselves, or what good is it?"

"You took away the decision from Albus," Lily couldn't help pointing out.

Voldemort turned to study her. Lily bit back a gasp. There was an alien mind behind those red eyes, she was suddenly certain. Voldemort would strike her down in an instant if she stood in his way. He was considering striking her down for disagreeing with him—

No. For disagreeing with Harry. For criticizing him.

Faint, Lily remembered an ancient Order meeting where someone had asked Albus if there was any way to restrain Voldemort's actions, and he'd sighed.

"How can there be, when he doesn't know what love is? Or friendship?" Albus shook his head. "Without an internal code of ethics or anyone he wishes to please…"

And the conclusion had gone unsaid. Voldemort didn't have those human things; therefore, he couldn't be reasoned with or appealed to.

Except now, Lily thought, her eyes darting back and forth between Voldemort and the immortal being that was her son, he has someone he wishes to please.

It didn't necessarily make her feel better, of course. Someone who was only chained to goodness because of someone else's conscience wasn't a good person. And she wanted to know what else he would think was a bad thing besides opposing Harry.

But it gave her a reason to breathe and stand straighter, because she knew her son, no matter what he was, and he would never let Voldemort hurt her.

Do you need to frighten her that badly?

Voldemort jumped and turned to him. Harry frowned at him. He had meant to warn him before reaching out with the limited telepathy that could link two people who knew Parseltongue, but then, he hadn't been in a situation before where he wanted to have a conversation with Voldemort that other people couldn't overhear.

What is this?

Voldemort's return thought was sliding, hesitant, like a young snake shedding its skin for the first time. Harry smiled, and did his best to keep amusement out of it. You haven't used this kind of telepathy before?

I only met one other Parselmouth before this, and he was the man I framed for murder.

Harry grimaced at the thought of the Gaunts, and nodded. Fair enough. Anyway, please don't scare my mother.

She sounded as if she thought you were wrong.

There was a pulse like a dying sun in that word, and Harry reared back a little. He noticed that his mother was staring between them, probably because of the movements in reaction to the silent words that she didn't understand, and which he would probably have to explain soon. But at the moment, he was consumed with this new revelation.

You can't scare people just because they think I'm wrong. I'm wrong a lot.

They should not suggest it to me.

And Harry caught a glimpse of the yawning abyss of bottomless devotion that was waiting for him.

Voldemort had admitted that he was in love, and that had opened something in him. It was precisely why Harry had decided to introduce him to his parents. He was different now. He could use words without spitting on them, and without thinking love a weakness, which as far as Harry was concerned was the more profound change.

But this was the other side of the card, Harry supposed. Voldemort would react…badly to someone questioning the person he had found worthy enough to fall in love with.

Just be careful, that's all I ask, he said at last, his voice gentle. Mother is important to me, and so are the other members of my family, even if they're human and not like us.

He had done the right thing, he knew, in appealing to the similarity they shared together. Voldemort turned to Lily with a suddenly much more interested glance, and gave a half-bow in her direction.

"My apologies, Madam Potter," he said. "Of course you are right. Even a being thousands of years old can make mistakes. I think it would have been more merciful to kill Albus than leave him to suffer a kind of living mind-death."

Harry stared for a second, then narrowed his eyes. Traitor.

What? I really think that.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to his mother. "Um, he does mean that, but he wouldn't just go around murdering people."

"I assumed not." Lily's voice was a bit faint. "Would you like some tea?" And she escaped into the kitchen to make it, while Harry turned around and gave Voldemort a chiding look.

Voldemort shrugged. Exposing her to the full might of my opinions will be a little like exposing her at first to the reality of what you are. But she adjusted to the one. I imagine she will adjust to the other.

Jonathan bounced into the house and looked around curiously. The aura of it had changed, somehow. When he'd left with Father and Remus, it was as calm as early mornings, the way it always was right after breakfast. But now the air seemed to prickle and snap at his skin with little sharp teeth.

"Harry!" he called. He might not know what the change was, but he knew who was responsible.

Harry poked his head out of the dining room and smiled at him. "Hi, Jonathan. Did you have a good time practicing the prank spells?"

"Sure, but it feels like you were practicing the prank spells without me." Jonathan made his mouth pout, and Harry melted the way he always did.

"Sorry, Jonathan. I just thought it was a good idea if Mum finally met Voldemort and realized what kind of relationship we have."

"You mean, that you're in love and going to get married someday?"

Harry's mouth dropped open, and Jonathan choked with laughter. He only did it more when a man who had to be Voldemort, although looking different (with more hair) than the last time Jonathan had seen him, also stepped out of the dining room and frowned at him.

"Jonathan," Harry said, and put his head in his hands.

Jonathan shrugged and followed them into the dining room, nodding to his mum, who was sitting with her hand frozen as she clasped a teacup. "I'm only saying what's real, so that no one has to be disappointed or feel like they were tricked later. Hi, Mum, are there any biscuits left?" It looked like the plate sitting to her left was empty.

"I'll get some more in a moment." Mum's voice was weak, and her eyes flitted rapidly back and forth between Harry and Voldemort and Jonathan as if she couldn't decide who she wanted to look at first. "I—what were you saying about a marriage?"

"Not right now," Jonathan said tolerantly. It seemed Mum had decided that Harry and Voldemort would run off and elope tomorrow. "I mean, they have to wait for Harry to grow up, don't they? And Harry probably has to redeem Voldemort some more." He sighed, because his mother was caught up in listening and frozen again, which probably meant that she wasn't going to go to the kitchen for biscuits. "Just tell me where they are, Mum, and I'll get them myself."

"I—biscuits. Of course." Mum shut her eyes. "Jonathan, can we please stay on topic for a moment more? Why in the world would you think they're going to get married?"

"I've seen how they act around each other." Jonathan got down from his chair and went into the kitchen, glancing hopefully around, but there was no sign of biscuits. "You hide them because you don't trust us, right, Mum? I'm hurt, I really am."

"There are biscuits on the top shelf, Jonathan."

Jonathan ended up waving his wand to open the cupboard and get the biscuit tin down, because he couldn't reach the shelf even if he stood on a chair, which Mum wouldn't want him to do in front of company. Even if the company was a Dark Lord.

By the time he wandered back into the dining room, Dad was sitting bolt upright in a chair on the other side of the table, watching Harry and Voldemort with trembling nostrils and lips. Jonathan nodded at him and began to eat the chocolate biscuit delicately. Scattering crumbs in front of company was something Mum didn't approve of, either.

"How did this happen?" Dad asked, staring hard at Harry and then at Voldemort, as if he thought one of them would give him the answer if the other one wouldn't.

"I am the only one who could understand your son," Voldemort said. "The only one who did not try to force him back into a human box."

"We never did that!" Dad looked as if he was going to stand up and huff fire like a dragon. "We were afraid for him, not of him!"

"That is not what it seemed like in the stories Harry told me."

Harry hissed something sharp in Parseltongue to Voldemort, then turned to face Dad. "Listen, he's going to do anything he can to set himself up so that he seems more important and closer to me than anyone else in the room. But he can be a good ally, I promise."

"What's this about him intending to marry you?"

Jonathan grinned, settled back with his chocolate biscuits, and enjoyed the show. He was pretty sure that no matter how long his little brother had lived, he'd never been interrogated by his parents about his intentions to marry or not marry Voldemort before.

New experiences are good for him, Jonathan thought complacently, and ate.