Warnings: shamelessly AU, slight unavoidable OOC, occasional crude language, high probability of violence, torture, gore and death as well as other such morbid and dark themes. The story also includes slash which means homosexual interactions between men and most likely whilst Harry is still underage, so be warned! And even though there will be no graphic sex, there's obvious hints of it along the way. There will probably be a great deal of grammar and spelling mistakes but, please, try to bear with them and don't let them stop you from enjoying the story.

If any of these things offend you or make you uncomfortable, refrain from whining because you've been warned beforehand. While whiners will be ignored, constructive criticism will always be welcomed and taken in consideration.

Disclaimer: I write fanfiction which pretty much proves that I own absolutely nothing and make no profit. I just like to play around with other people's playthings.

A/N: I love those stories where, instead of going for the kill, Voldemort takes Harry with him. So, I decided to write one. I hope that this is a bit different than all the other versions and that I've managed to bring something new to the rather used and worn plot idea.

Now, other than that it seems worth mentioning that I wrote this prologue quite a long time ago and though I have bits and pieces of the story written they are nothing concrete. I'm posting this mostly to gain the motivation to carry on writing because I have this burning need of finishing this. I know what I want to do this story, but the problem is that this knowledge is killing my motivation to finish the story. "Why write since I already know what's going to happen anyway?" this has been my excuse and I've really come to hate it.

Another thing I want to mention right from the beginning is that I don't consider anything under eight thousand words worth being called a chapter, so it's likely that most of the chapters will be rather long. Therefore, the writing process can take its sweet time and sometimes the updates may take ages to appear. However, I do intend to finish this. One day.

Enjoy and review!

…o0o…

In Death, Standby

Prologue

The Wayward Child and Scheming Old Men

…o0o…

For the better part of his bizarre early childhood Harry believed himself to be a snake. A rather dreadfully deformed snake, true, but a snake nonetheless.

This theory was supported by small everyday things that marked Harry's small and insignificant life. He was mostly raised by a snake and he lived amongst the other snakes of the Manor. He spoke in the tongue of snakes, sang in those soft syllables that rolled easily off his tongue like honey. Warm spots near fires and human bodies attracted him like a magical garden attracted gnomes. Harry even felt like a snake most of the time and the rest of the time he was called Little Snakeling.

Later, when Harry looked back to this childish belief and his years as a snake, he could never quite pinpoint the exact moment when the seed of doubt—the hesitant, horrifying doubt that he might be a human, after all—was planted into his mind. It had been a long and arduous process, a string of small incidents that shook his faith and his deeply rooted denial.

The earliest of those events that Harry could still recall was the time when the man with red eyes had told him to walk. The request—which hadn't really been a request at all since the man with red eyes never asked for anything, but Harry hadn't yet known it back then—had come as a surprise since Harry hadn't really known that he could walk. They had had a very short but heated glaring contest over the matter until the man with red eyes had snapped, pulled out his wand and given Harry the ultimatum; he would either walk or he would cry and walk. In the end Harry had cried, quite wretchedly and definitely whole-heartedly until small teary rivers had run down his dirty face, but he had also walked, which had been a huge blow to his belief of his snakeish nature, at the time.

Another time Harry had failed to dislocate his jaw and had very nearly choked on a blackbird he had dried to swallow whole. The man with the red eyes had been absolutely livid after that and had firmly forbidden Harry from eating anything he hadn't approved first. The curse Harry had been dealt as a punishment paled in comparison to the discomfort of coughing up feathers all week.

Harry had happily babbled in the tongue of snakes, until the man with red eyes had forced him to learn another much cruder and harsher language, an ugly human language, which the man with red eyes called English. Harry used this English willingly only when he was angry and cursed at the man with red eyes with words he didn't completely understand.

However, the last and most devastating blow against Harry's inner snake hit him on one beautiful autumn day when he was still quite young. Nagini, Harry's most trusted friend and protector, had been cranky for days, nearly weeks, when Harry finally gathered his courage to ask what was wrong. Nagini first complained about itching, scratching and nosy little hatchlings, but finally grudgingly explained that she was shedding her skin which was apparently very uncomfortable but also unavoidable. It was a confusing explanation, but any further questions Nagini hissed off rudely and told Harry to go entertain himself somewhere else.

Harry pondered carefully over what he had heard, turned the new information around in his childishly simple mind and came up with only one conclusion. As a snake, it was his job to do the same as Nagini did: he had to shed his skin. The first few days of his attempt he tried the same as he had witnessed Nagini doing. He rubbed himself against furniture, rocks, and corners of the walls, every suitably rough surface and a few not so suitable ones in hopes of getting his ghostly pale skin to peel off. It soon turned out to be useless. It hurt a little after a while and his skin turned pink and then angry red, but there were no signs of it getting any looser than it was before. When thinking it over again, Harry realised that it had to be because of his faulty scales. Whilst Nagini had beautiful, large and symmetrical scales covering her skin all over, Harry had no scales at all, just ugly even skin that was useless in every sense of the word. It was too soft, too smooth and way too colourless. And apparently way too tightly attached to his flesh, too.

The next evening Harry nicked a sharp table knife from the dinner table and hid it in his sleeve. The cold press of the metal against his wrist distracted him while he ate, but he didn't let it show, just slurped down his meal quietly and escaped from the dining hall as soon as he could. He ran through the familiar dusty halls until he was enclosed in the safety of his bedroom and crumpled into a heap on the floorboards. He laid there panting for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm his nerves, before pulled the knife from his sleeve and stared at the glimmering blade anxiously.

With a deep breath to brace himself, he set to work.

The first cut hurt the worst.

Or perhaps it was the second?

Or maybe the ache was worst where Harry bit into his lower lip to keep from whimpering and the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth. However, it was the first tear that escaped his eyes and dribbled down into the gaping wounds that made him cry out. It only got worse when Harry had enough single cuts crossing up and down his arms and legs, so that he could grip a shred of skin and pull. He had to stuff his small fist into his mouth to keep from screaming, but he managed it in the end.

And yet, all the caution was useless. Harry had barely gotten properly started and most of his skin was still tightly in place, when the man with red eyes already emerged from the shadows of the room just as silent and intimidating as always. Harry first suspected that he had failed to be quiet enough and that the man with red eyes had somehow managed to hear his quiet whimpers all the way across the Manor. But maybe that was not the entire truth. Such things as whining and crying had little to no effect on the man. It was more likely that he had caught the faint scent of blood and that the metallic tang had lured him through the halls to investigate.

Whatever it was, it didn't really matter at this point anymore, for Harry knew the game was lost. The expression on the man's pale face predicted the Armageddon to rain on Harry the moment the man had composed himself enough to form proper words for incantations. Harry stared frozenly for a while, the man staring right back, before he slowly pulled the crimson coated knife from his flesh and set it carefully on the floor. He hid his stifled tears and fixed an expression as innocent as possible onto his face. Of course the man with red eyes didn't much care about innocence or guilt when he was in a mood, but it was worth a try.

The man with red eyes crossed the room in a flash, grabbed a good handful of Harry's dark hair and pulled, forcing the child to look up to him. Harry didn't let a whimper escape, only stared defiantly right back. The man with red eyes didn't like crying, whining, or complaining. Well, he rarely liked it when Harry opened his mouth at all, and being as deep in trouble as Harry already was, he wasn't about to egg the man's infamous temper on.

"What do you think you are doing, you foolish child?" the man with red eyes snarled, voice thick with ire. Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat, sniffed to clear his runny nose and wiped the tear tracks from his cheeks before forced himself to speak.

:No English,: he pleaded, :Snake's tongue.: Even the silky syllables of his own language seemed to hitch in his throat. Harry couldn't even imagine how the sharp and cruel sounds of English would squeeze the last breath out of his weary body. He wished that the man with red eyes would understand, even without an explanation.

Perhaps the man did, since after a barely audible sigh, the familiar hisses filled Harry's ears. :Fine. But you will explain this nonsense, nonetheless, no matter what language we use.:

Harry nodded weakly and shifted closer, closing his hands around the man's black robes. It took him a few tries, but finally his explanation got articulate enough for the man with red eyes to catch on to the general gist of it. Then he asked a few more questions, all very difficult to answer and each answer making Harry feel more foolish, as he described his life as a snake. Somewhere along the rather long and complicated story the man with red eyes had started and then again ceased with his healing spells and just listened intently. Harry wished to tell him to continue with the spells because his arms and legs were still aching all over, but decided against it and just hurried through his explanation. When he had voiced all there was to be told, he quieted down and just waited for the man with red eyes to comment on it.

:You are not a snake, child,: the man with red eyes told him and there was a strange undertone in the words, as if the man wasn't quite sure whether he should be angry or amused, or perhaps something else altogether.

:Wh-What?: Harry asked quietly, his breath hitching.

:I cannot even fathom what made you believe you were a snake,: the man with red eyes muttered, more to himself than to Harry. :Although, this does explain certain things. I need to have a word with Nagini.:

:But I. . . : Harry began, prepared to defend his status as a serpent, but the words melted on his tongue and refused to emerge. None of his explanations or excuses sounded right even in his mind. Now that he really thought about it; what did makehim believe that he was a snake? No snake could walk, run or skip like Harry did. There was no snake that could speak in human tongues like Harry could. Neither did snakes read like Harry was learning to do.

:You are stopping me from being a snake,: Harry realised and raised his wide accusing eyes towards the man he had always thought he could place his trust upon. :You make me walk on legs like a human. You don't let me talk in snake tongue, my tongue, anymore! You don't let me eat what I want, but make me eat at the table and use knives and forks! You make me sleep in a bed and I can't bask by the fire all night. You're taking it all from me. You're forcing me to stop! Just how mean are you?:

A peculiar expression crossed the man's face, but it faded quickly as the man raised a hand and rubbed his eyes tiredly with his long, slender fingers.

:Listen to me, you brat. . . Harry. . . If you truly were a snake, I'd let you do whatever you believe it is snakes do day in and day out. You could eat all the blackbirds and pixies you wished and I'd let you sleep on the floor by the fire every night, but you are not a snake,: the man with red eyes said, as the crimson eyes bored into Harry in the most unsettling manner. :And I think you know that much already. Clinging to your foolish hopes will not turn you into a snake, no matter how much you wish it would.:

Harry swallowed around a thick lump of despair in his throat and stared right back at those distressing red eyes before told quietly, :But I'd be a really good snake. I promise.:

A corner of the man's thin lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. :If that was you asking me to transfigure you into a snake, I am afraid that I will have to decline. You are much more valuable to me as a human.:

:But I'll make a really awful human,: Harry tried one more time, but the man with red eyes just shook his head.

:There are too many appalling humans in this world. Useless and weak ones. Inferior ones that should not be allowed to live in the first place,: the man with red eyes explained. :Trust me, I shall ensure that you will one day make an exceptionally good human being when compared to those pathetic creatures. Nothing of mine will be anything less than perfect and you will be no exception to the rule.:

Harry slowly mulled this over and found the words surprisingly comforting. There was truth hidden in the words, after all, since anything and everything the man with red eyes did, he did precisely and perfectly. If he intended to make Harry into an exceptionally good human being, then he would do it, no matter how terrible subject Harry would appear to be in the beginning.

Harry's fingers curled tighter around the black fabric of the robes, clinging to the man with red eyes nearly desperately, as he nodded his acceptance. :Alright then.:

The man with red eyes offered a satisfied half-smirk before concentrated on his magic again. Harry watched how the tip of the wand run precise patterns over Harry's arms and legs, while pale and flawless skin grew over the wounds and slashes where Harry had managed to rip it off.

:You're really good at this,: Harry complemented the man with red eyes and received back a small half-amused snort and a thank-you. Harry was quite sure he was being mocked, but didn't care because a more important thought rose into his mind.

:Did I come from an egg?: Harry asked curiously.

:I thought we established already that you are a human? So no, you didn't. Humans don't come from eggs,: the man with red eyes sighed, annoyed again. He grabbed Harry's thin wrist and told him to spread his fingers, so that he could heal the rather shredded digits as well. Harry obeyed quietly, thinking about what he had just been told.

:Then why don't I have any parents? I read from a book that humans have parents because someone has to take care of the hatchlings. Human children are quite stupid, you see, so they can't take care of themselves,: Harry explained and felt quite proud for knowing so much. Then he paused, realising that now he was a human child himself, and wondered if he was stupid as well.

He didn't notice that the man with red eyes had paused, too, frozen in the middle of a spell and now stared down at Harry with a slight frown.

When Harry noticed the stare, he quickly shook his head in a reassuring manner.

:It's alright, I suppose, since I have you and Nagini,: the child told, not wanting to annoy the man with red eyes any further than he already had. And besides, Harry quite believed that the man with red eyes, and Nagini, too, could stop him from being stupid a hundred times better than any parents ever could.

:You don't have parents because I killed them,: the man with red eyes said coldly and went back to patching Harry up with an unfazed look on his face. Harry, in his part, was quite startled by the admission and stared at the man with red eyes with wide emerald eyes.

:Oh,: Harry commented finally. :Why?:

:Because I wanted you,: the man with red eyes said simply and his wand flicked the final finishing touch on Harry's now healthy fingers.

:Me?: Harry asked and his eyes only grew wider.

:Yes. Preferably dead as well,: the man with red eyes said. When the realization of what exactly the man meant dawned to Harry, he twitched nervously as if to pull away from the man. He didn't, though, just pulled back enough to take a good look at the man's serious face.

:But I'm alive,: Harry said hesitantly. He was a bit worried that if he pointed out the truth the man with red eyes would realise it as well and he would then kill Harry on the spot. After all, the man wanted Harry preferably dead, which did sound rather alarming in Harry's humble opinion.

:You refused to die,: the man with red eyes replied and tucked away his wand, before faced Harry's curious and slightly scared look with a unreadable stare of his own. The crimson eyes searched over Harry's face, before a hand rose and one long finger traced the strange lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Harry had had the scar as long as he could remember, but this was the first time that the man with red eyes had acknowledged its existence. Harry's peered upwards, trying to follow the finger tracing the scar.

:I cast the curse and it hit you right here,: the man with red eyes said. There was an almost absent look in his eyes, as if he was gazing through time into the night when it happened and recalled it all very clearly. :But you lived and the only sign proving that the curse had worked at all was this mark.:

Suddenly sharpness was back in the red eyes and all their crushing attention concentrated onto Harry, staring him down. :I marked you as mine, and as long as this mark stays here, you belong to me. Do you understand?:

Harry gulped but nodded, nonetheless.

:I understand.: And he did understand, perfectly.

The man with red eyes nodded, as well, indicating that he was satisfied with the answer, before stood up and pulled Harry along with him. Neither of them spoke again, since everything worth saying had already been said, but it was then and there that Harry realised that it didn't matter what exactly he was. He was Harry and the man with red eyes could mould him with mere words into whatever he wanted Harry to be, be it a snake, a human or a flobberworm. And in all honesty, it was an arrangement Harry had absolutely nothing against.

"Good night," in the tongue of humans, was the last thing Harry whispered, before sleep claimed him that night. If the man with red eyes wanted Harry to be a human, then a human he would get. When Harry received a silent "sleep, child" right back, he knew that the man with red eyes knew it as well.

…o0o…

After Harry became human, everything started to seem much more logical. Suddenly the things he had hated doing before, such as using forks and knifes, bathing regularly or learning to read and write, were the most obvious things to do. The weird things he had read about began to make sense. The strange words the man with red eyes sometimes spoke to him became comprehensible. It was all so clear, so terrifyingly and magnificently human, that Harry could barely believe it. It beat being a snake by far, and after a few weeks of adjustment, Harry could only look back and wonder how he could have been so stupid.

The man with red eyes was obviously pleased with Harry's progress, since he slowly and a bit hesitantly started to tell Harry about the secrets. Dangerous, but marvellous arts of magic, the man with red eyes said and looked at Harry just as intently as always, but his tone gained a new softer note, as if even the man with red eyes was left in awe with these secret things.

Of course Harry had known about magic since forever. He had seen spells cast before he could even talk and the library was flooded with books on the matter. The man with red eyes had told him about magic before, taught a few spells even, and talked about theories and different types of magic. But those were nothing like the secrets things. Those were magic, too, but different kind of magic. Something much more fascinating and much more delicate. Just speaking of them was exciting and scary at the same time.

When the man with red eyes talked about them, he used words such as powerful, exceptional and sacred. When he got his most feverous, he spoke about immortality and forbidden. Harry learned new words like legilimency, necromancy and sacrificial magicks, and each time he heard a new one, he ran off to the library to search it out. He always listened carefully, and even though he didn't understand all of it, it was interesting in a way that nothing else had ever been. Given that even the man with red eyes seemed to be so in love with these secret things, they must be something absolutely wonderful. The man always begun one of his speeches by mentioning magic and always finished with another passing praise to magic. Harry quickly picked up a habit to take a deep breath in the silence that followed each lecture and softly sigh out "I really like magic", which sometimes gained him a rare, stiff, half-smile from the man with red eyes.

The only time when the man with red eyes seemed as intent as he was when speaking about the secret things, was when he mentioned Hogwarts.

Harry wasn't sure what exactly this Hogwarts was, except an old castle. The way the man with red eyes sometimes spoke about it made Harry think it was the man's home, but then the discussion would gain a more agitated tone and the name Dumbledore would be mentioned and the image would be destroyed. The man with red eyes could spent hours describing the corridors and halls when he was feeling nostalgic. And Harry always listened, even though he didn't find this Hogwarts nearly as interesting as the secret magic.

Once, speaking about Hogwarts, the man touched very lightly on the topic of 'the Chamber', but then grew rather quiet and thoughtful, leaving it there.

When Harry asked, "What of the chamber?" the man merely looked at him seriously.

"I have yet to decide. If it concerns you, you will know," he replied after a while. The man with red eyes spoke nothing more after that, and Harry didn't dare to pester him. The serious look didn't leave the man's face and he remained deep in thought till the nightfall.

…o0o…

Harry was invisible that night.

Of course he wasn't really invisible, since he knew no spells that could make him appear so and he couldn't get his hands on to one of those fancy cloaks or amulets he had sometimes read about. No, Harry didn't need such things to become invisible. He had learned long time ago that if he was silent enough and stood still enough, people could walk right past him without noticing his presence. It was a useful skill, especially when one lived in a place like this and spent his days surrounded by people like these.

At that moment, Harry stood motionless in a corner of the entry hall, wrapped in the dusky darkness that so often lurked in the halls of the house he called home, and watched how strange black-clad people paraded through the front doors again. Death Eaters, the man with red eyes called them. Each time when he spoke of them, the malicious, smug glint in his disturbing eyes seemed to intensify. Death Eaters, and the words were branded deep into Harry's young and curious mind.

When Harry was younger and more foolish, he had believed that the man had grafted these creatures himself. Surely, only the man with red eyes could come up with something so horrendous and twisted and yet beautifully graceful at the same time. But when Harry had once timidly voiced his thoughts, the man had cackled a nearly delighted laughter and he had told that these people were his followers, his most loyal servants. Harry had not spoken of it again, because that mad laugh had truly terrified him at the time. And yet, even now, when Harry stared in wonder at the dark figures, he couldn't help pondering if there was actually flesh behind those masks, or if these people were just ghosts and nightmares hidden from the prying eyes by black robes and golden masks.

"Death Eaters," he muttered quietly to himself and the spell of invisibility cracked under the weight of the words. One of the dark figures caught the silent whisper and his head snapped into Harry's general direction, gaze piercing through the shadows into the corner where Harry stood. Neither Harry nor the Death Eater staring at him moved for a while; Harry unsure of what to do, and the Death Eater obviously weighing the chances that he was imagining the small child in the room. Slowly the dark figure raised his hand and nudged the arm of another Death Eater, before pointed towards the corner and Harry. More heads were turning towards Harry now, but he didn't move, just stared unblinkingly at the scene.

"It's a kid."

"What the. . .?"

"Is it real?"

Harry considered giving negative response to the last question in an effort to distract the unexpected attention he was receiving, but decided against of it. The man with red eyes didn't like it when he spoke without being spoke to, and he especially didn't like it when Harry said things that weren't true. There were many small things like that the man with red eyes couldn't stand, but Harry had learned them by heart and knew how to avoid them. Actually, if Harry was being completely honest, he quite believed that the man with red eyes didn't really like anything at all. He certainly always acted irritable enough.

"What are you doing here? Who are you?" one of the Death Eaters asked and pushed past other people to Harry. There was sharp edge in the tone but it was still strangely soft, a woman's voice. "Does the Dark Lord know you are wandering around by yourself?"

"I'm watching," Harry replied and gazed calmly at the approaching Death Eater, "And the man with red eyes knows everything." That seemed to give a pause to the Death Eater, but she was quick to collect herself. Her slight hand grabbed Harry's thin arm with surprising strength and the child flinched at the contact.

"Do you not understand that it's foolish to come here now? These people wouldn't hesitate twice to kill you," the Death Eater hissed, lowering her voice so that only Harry could hear.

Harry pouted a bit, as he glared up at the Death Eater. He was used to death threats, but he still didn't think it was alright for a complete stranger to hand them out to him. Only the man with red eyes—and perhaps Nagini—had the right to do so.

Harry didn't have enough time to voice his opinion, though.

"Unhand the child, Narcissa," a chilly, familiar voice called somewhere from the front of the hall. The Death Eater holding Harry's arm let go immediately, very nearly flinching back. Harry watched fascinated how all the ghosts and nightmares fell to their knees, as the man with red eyes crossed the room gracefully. He halted to stop right before Harry and stared down at him, those unnerving crimson eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"What are you doing here, brat?" he asked in that dangerously smooth voice that Harry would have probably found frightening if he weren't so used to it.

In fact, the man with red eyes wasn't nearly as frightening as he thought he was. Whilst he was powerful and cruel beyond belief, and therefore, worth fear and respect, he was still more real than almost everyone else Harry had met. He didn't hide behind the anonymity of those soulless golden masks. He didn't disguise his thoughts into meaningless words and long speeches like so many of his Death Eaters did. Harry could always trust the man with red eyes to say and do only what he meant, as well as mean what he said or did, no matter how cruel or vicious his intentions were. His actions and words made sense and his every deed had a reason and purpose. The man with red eyes could no way be a ghost or a nightmare, because he was more alive and present than anyone else Harry knew.

Not that Harry knew many people, of course. He rarely was allowed outside the Manor and the people inside the Manor were hardly the kind Harry would willingly approach even on a good day. But Harry had the man with red eyes, and he was enough people in one person to keep Harry satisfied for a lifetime.

"I'm watching," Harry repeated the explanation he had given mere minutes earlier to the nosy Death Eater.

"And pray tell, why are you watching? Did I not specifically tell you to entertain yourself tonight somewhere else than here?"

"You did," Harry nodded his agreement a bit sheepishly, "but someone has to watch when Nagini is away." It was the obvious explanation, of course, and Harry was slight surprised that he had to voice it in the first place.

The man with red eyes seemed to contemplate over the words, before nodded a little in response. "Very well. I trust you to report back to her once she returns."

Harry blinked. "Of course I will."

The man with red eyes scrutinised over his scrawny form, before he slowly pulled out his yew wand and swirled it lazily through his fingers. Harry watched the movement mesmerised, knowing perfectly well what was to come. He could hear the Death Eaters sifting restlessly in the background, but neither of the two paid them any mind.

"Do you know why?" the man with red eyes asked simply, not bothering to amend the question any further than necessary.

"Because I disobeyed," Harry answered straight away and gave a small nod, a tick of his thin neck more than an actual bow. It was an easy question, since disobedience and failures were the only two things the man with red eyes could not tolerate in any circumstances.

"Correct," the man with red eyes said and gave him a small tight smile. Harry was probably the only one present in the room who could see that twisted little smile for what it was: a gesture of approval. He grinned back, his small white teeth flashing in dark and green eyes glowing, and watched how the yew wand halted to point at him.

"My Lord. . ." the nearest Death Eater, the one whose name was Narcissa or something else equally silly, begun uncertainly, but she was silenced by one sharp crimson glance. Harry pondered silently, if he could learn the trick and someday glare like that, too. It could be a handy skill. Harry tested his death glare by scowling at his bare feet, but his toes didn't as much as cower.

"There is also another reason," the man with red eyes continued once he had silenced the Death Eater.

Harry thought it over carefully, before replied more hesitantly, "Because I got caught?"

The man with red eyes let his smile momentarily widen, before the expression died a dreadful death on his face and he murmured the curse into an ear-ringing silence, "Crucio."

Harry didn't scream. He knew from experience that screaming did nothing but gave him a sore throat later on and made eating and breathing uncomfortable. Instead, he bit his teeth together and squeezed his eyes closed, as unbearable pain and burn tore through his small body. He didn't register falling to the hard marble floor or how his limbs trembled uncontrollably. Even after the curse was lifted, after a surprisingly short moment, it took Harry a few moments to come back to himself, as the aftershocks slowly faded away. It took even greater effort to climb onto his shaky legs, straighten his back and look defiantly into those cold red eyes that seemed hell-bent at glaring him down again.

Harry could feel a single tear sliding down his cheek and the taste of blood was thick in his mouth. He hoped silently that he hadn't bitten into his tongue too badly. In the middle of their glaring contest, the man with red eyes suddenly reached over, lighting fast, and run his thumb over Harry's cheek, catching the lone tear before it reached Harry's chin. It took another brief moment, before he pocketed his wand and sighed a little.

"Come along then," the man with red eyes said simply, swirled around on his heels and started to march towards the staircase at the other end of the hall.

Harry lingered behind just long enough to allow himself a small victorious smile, before rushed after the quickly distancing figure. He was certain that he had once again passed one of the man's weird little tests, since he was allowed to tag along to whatever meeting was to be hold. Harry didn't really care for these meetings, for they were dull and lasted too long, but he did like it when the man with red eyes was agreeable enough to let him attend. It made Harry feel important and accepted.

Harry skipped through the swarming Death Eaters, caught up with the man with red eyes and grasped a black sleeve tightly into his small hand. The red eyes glanced down at him momentarily, but as no sharp words followed, Harry hid another smile by bowing his head and grinning down at his bare feel. His toes wiggled, waving happily back at him.

…o0o…

It wasn't long before Harry wished he could be invisible again.

He could feel the chilling glares boring into the back of his head all the way up the stairs and through the second floor corridor. When he once or twice dared to glance over his shoulder, all he saw was golden masks and dark, empty eye sockets directed towards him. Those faceless, hollow stares made cold shivers run down Harry's spine, and he held tighter onto the black sleeve in his grasp. The man with red eyes seemed to be either oblivious or indifferent to the stares. Or perhaps he was used to them. Perhaps he even enjoyed those piercing, empty gazes and the undivided attention. Perhaps it was what he wanted. He was weird like that; always wanting silly things like attention, world dominance, or more faceless ghosts kneeling at his feet.

Harry proceeded to tell the man with red eyes exactly how weird he was. He was rewarded with a mild glare and a small shove that send him stumbling through the large double doors into the main dining hall.

Harry had always rather liked this particular hall. It was a huge room with high ceiling and large windows that gave to the west, giving a very nice view over the village of Little Hangleton. Unfortunately, the man with red eyes didn't appreciate that nice view nearly as much as Harry did, and the windows were mostly hidden behind dark purple velvet curtains. The walls were covered with ugly green wallpaper which was slowly peeling off, and the only carpet on the wooden floor was the thick layer of dust. The furniture of the whole wide room consisted in a single long table in the middle and several dozen chairs surrounding it, all of which were mostly designed to look good, rather than to be particularly comfortable.

All in all, the room had a very dramatic look to it, and it made Harry feel like he had stepped into one of those creepy horror stories he had sometimes read when he was allowed something else than dry textbooks and spell tomes. Truthfully, though, the only creepy thing the room had ever seen were the masked ghosts, and Harry didn't think those counted particularly horrifying, since the man with red eyes had them so perfectly under his control. They were quite sad little things actually, in all their bizarre, dark creepiness. Death Eaters. Harry wondered, if he could find them in the Monster Book of Monsters if he looked carefully enough.

"Pity that Nagini is not here," Harry mumbled, as he followed the man with red eyes across the room to the other end of the long table. Harry and Nagini sometimes held wizard's duels on that particular table when Nagini was around and they both had time for it. They were very good duels, considering that Harry didn't have his wand yet and that Nagini couldn't even hold a wand even if she had one.

"Don't you dare to set your foot on the table during this meeting," the man with red eyes hissed at him dangerously, "or I swear you'll spend a week under Cruciatus."

Harry glanced incredulously at the man, "You wouldn't really do that, would you? Besides, you're always so busy, you wouldn't have the time to spend a week just cursing me."

"That's what I have followers for," the man with red eyes replied indifferently, as he sat dramatically down onto the seat just at the end of the table, his robes billowing around him. Harry observed him for a moment, trying to figure out how serious he was. It was hard to tell, since it was a rare occasion when the man looked anything else but serious. He was angry, sometimes, but even then he looked seriously angry. In the end, Harry decided not to risk it, and made a mental note to keep his feet far away from the table during the following hours.

Perhaps he could find the man with red eyes in the Monster Book of Monsters, too. Most likely under the label of Unreasonable and Irritable Monsters.

"I still wish Nagini was here," Harry grumbled under his breath. He really missed her sometimes when she was away for a long time. She was the only one who dared to talk back at the man with red eyes and she never got cursed for it. Harry had never quite figured out why Nagini was given so much leeway when it came to disobedience and insolence, but he suspected that it was because Nagini was secretly the man's mother.

Chairs screeched against the floor, as the Death Eaters settled to their places, and Harry didn't miss how the man with red eyes grimaced at the harsh sound. A scowl appeared onto the man's face, and his cold, calculative eyes ran over his followers. Harry felt a bit sorry for them and gave a small apologetic smile to the closest one.

"Where do I sit?" Harry asked silently from the man with red eyes, who merely gave him a quick glance in reply, before pointed a finger down to the floor.

"Hmph," Harry huffed. He obediently sat down onto the floor, but not without crossing his thin arms over his chest and fixing a pout onto his face right after. Harry knew perfectly well that it would be no challenge at all for the man with red eyes to make another chair with his wand, probably even better one than the ones already in the room, but he still wasn't particularly surprised that the man refused to do it. Doing mean little things like this always made the man feel better about himself and his supposed evilness, so Harry didn't complain about it. It usually kept the man with red eyes in a better mood.

Once Harry was settled as comfortably as he could, he raised his eyes determinately to the Death Eaters and watched.

After all, watching was what he was good at.

…o0o…

If there was anything Severus Snape hated more than he hated the Dark Lord, it was being confused.

Confusion was a result of ignorance, and it was ignorance that led down the tragic path of mistakes and failures. Severus didn't consider himself particularly ignorant, instead he often prided himself quite observant and well-informed on important matters. Yet, he had to admit that he couldn't recall another time being so confused, than the moment when he sat on his seat around the large meeting table and observed at the small green-eyed child who sat at the Dark Lord's feet. The only thing that was making his confusion marginally easier to bear was the fact that everyone else appeared to be equally surprised by the child's sudden appearance at the Dark Lord's manor.

Although, Severus suspected that the mentioned appearance wasn't nearly as sudden as it seemed to be. The way the Dark Lord and this mysterious boy interacted indicated quite clearly that they both were familiar and almost comfortable with each other. Seeing the Dark Lord handing out Cruciatus curses for disobedience was hardly anything new, but to see such a young child accept one so calmly and with surprising maturity was unexpected. Severus could only imagine how many times the torture curse must have been cast on to the boy to make him bear it so bravely. And yet, the most disturbing part was the child's elated smile, once the Dark Lord allowed him tag along to the meeting.

This child couldn't be the Dark Lord's son, could he? No, of course not. The whole idea was completely ludicrous. The Dark Lord was hardly paternal material by any means, and it was unlikely that the man held such a thing as an heir in particularly high regard. After all, the man did intend to live forever, and therefore, an heir was quite unnecessary. Besides, if the man had an heir surely he would be someone more... well, simply more in every sense of the word.

The green-eyed child was tiny little thing and by the looks of it Severus would guess that he was hardly any older than Draco was, judging by what Severus could remember form the last time he had seen his godson. Although, whilst Draco was a fair and unnecessarily loud child, the green-eyed boy had unruly black hair and he had only spoken a few quiet words directly to the Dark Lord. He wore very ordinary green robes that were a few sizes too big on him and his feet were completely bare. While, there was something undeniably unnatural about the child, something that made Severus want to avert his eyes and pretend that the boy wasn't even there, but he definitely wasn't special enough to be the Dark Lord's heir.

Severus pushed his curiosity forcefully down and returned his focus onto the ongoing meeting.

"My fatherhas expressed his interest in running for the position of the Minister of Magic," Barty Crouch Jr. was currently saying, disdain gloating his each word. "If that happens, it is likely that he'll force through most of the laws that have so far been hindered by the Ministry's red tape, including those which would allow harsher torture and forced Veritaserum on suspected Death Eaters."

"This is an expected turn of events, of course," the Dark Lord responded, sounding almost bored, "but it is true that the man is becoming a menace."

"While that is true, I am not certain his disposal would be the wisest course of action, my lord," commented Lucius Malfoy's voice further down the table, "In the eyes of public he is the only one trying to bring justice to these unsure times. I fear that his death could affect negatively to your support from neutral parties."

Severus was one of the few who noticed how the small child's green eyes narrowed at the words, but only because he had been looking for it. He watched fascinated how the boy first stared thoughtfully at Lucius, before turning his gaze slowly up to the Dark Lord. His green eyes didn't waver, as he stared intently at the most powerful wizard of the century, obviously waiting for the man to notice his stare. The Dark Lord noticed it rather quickly, tried to ignore it, and go on with the meeting, but snapped before long.

"What is it?"

"What does death taste like?" the child asked and the question rang clear in the silence of the hall. It seemed that all action in the room froze, as the echo of the words faded away, and all eyes fastened onto the boy. If the Dark Lord himself was taken back by the question, he didn't express it any visible way.

"Why do you ask?" the Dark Lord inquired.

"Well," the boy began and glanced at the people gathered around the table, "They're Death Eaters, aren't they? And since there's so many of them, I thought that death must taste pretty good!" the boy declared innocently, before seemed to pause to consider something. "Though, they do sound hungry. You should feed them more."

Bellatrix's easily recognisable, delighted shriek of laughter broke the silence. One glare from the Dark Lord was enough to silence her.

"I promise that one day you will find out exactly what death tastes like. But today is not the day," the Dark Lord replied simply, and, to the great surprise of his Death Eaters, there was rather obvious amusement in his tone.

"Tomorrow then? For breakfast, perhaps?" the child asked without pause, his eyes looking eagerly up to the Dark Lord.

And as the Dark Lord smirked wickedly down at the boy and replied, "We shall see," Severus was suddenly greatly doubting his earlier conclusion about the child not being the Dark Lord's son. Could murderous tendencies be an inherited characteristic? The boy only gave a solemn nod and went back to his staring, observing the Death Eaters with even keener interest than earlier. Severus was starting to find that stare surprisingly unnerving.

The Dark Lord gazed down at the boy for a moment before looked back to the Death Eaters, his cold red eyes boring into one of them in particular. Crouch Jr. twitched restlessly under the stare.

"Perhaps the time has come for the world to find out about your allegiances," the Dark Lord said, "Make it public enough, so that the Ministry can't hush it down."

"My Lord, my position at the Ministry—"

"Do as I said," the Dark Lord spat out sharply, cutting Crouch's sentence short and making most of the Death Eaters flinch slightly. "It's unlikely that the wizarding world will vote for a Minister candidate who can't even keep his own son on his side."

"I will take care of it, My Lord," Crouch nodded and bowed slightly.

A clear, childish voice cut the air of the conference hall again, "Is Mai your first name? No wonder you have never told me your name, if it's silly like that!" The Dark Lord turned slowly to look down at the child and the look in his eyes was absolutely murderous. Apparently the boy recognised the look, as well, since his voice was timid when he added, "Or am I supposed to call you Mr. Lord?"

Severus was certain that there would soon be a new gravestone in the Little Hangleton's graveyard, when the Dark Lord pulled out his wand and pointed it at the child with nerve-wrecking calmness. The child, however, didn't even flinch, but looked exceedingly sheepish instead, while his eyes crossed as he stared at the tip of the wand. The child was either very brave or incredibly foolish. Or maybe a bit of both.

A Gryffindor, Severus thought with a mental sneer.

"I didn't—" the boy began, but the Dark Lord waved his wand once and whispered the spell under his breath, too quietly for anyone to catch on what it was. The boy's sentence was cut short with a sharp gasp and his both hands rose to cover his mouth as his eyes widened. The Dark Lord looked distantly satisfied by the reaction, as he laid his wand gently down onto the table again. His calm façade didn't shatter once during the display, which was absolutely unheard of. The Dark Lord wasn't exactly known for his self-control or composure when enraged.

"Three days. Now get out of here," the wizard said simply without looking at the child again. The boy gave the Dark Lord a crushing glare, mustering up a surprising amount of sheer annoyance from his small form and flaring it around like some kind of weird wandless magic, before turned proudly around and started to march towards the doors. There was a certain kind of haughtiness and deep disapproval in the boy's expression that looked greatly out of place on his young face. As the child walked past, his green eyes met Severus gaze for a brief moment that didn't last as long as a blink of an eye, but that was still enough to shatter the entire world around Severus.

He remembered those eyes. He remembered that certain shade of green and that confident stubbornness that resided in it. He remembered how those eyes looked when they laughed and he remembered them when they cried. Just as well he remembered how they glared and how gentle they could be. He remembered those eyes so painfully well that it made breathing difficult and his heart ache. How could he not remember?

Then the moment was over, the boy leapt out of the room, and Severus was left alone into the world that would never again be the same.

Lily.

Those had been Lily's eyes. Severus was sure of it. And now that he had that important piece of puzzle in its right place, everything else fell after it so fast that Severus had to struggle to keep up with it. The boy was Lily's child. The child of Lily and Potter. Harry, was his name, if Severus still remembered correctly. Harry Potter. The child of the prophecy. The missing, supposedly dead child. But no, the child wasn't dead and nor was he missing anymore. He was right here, alive and well, in the clutches of the Dark Lord.

Lily's child who had suffered Cruciatus right before Severus' eyes and who asked what death tasted like with sincere curiosity.

It had been years since Severus had felt such deep, earth-shattering desperation, as he was enjoying that particular moment. In fact, he had not felt it since that one disastrous night when he had passed the prophecy on to the Dark Lord and condemned Lily to her death. In a sense, that same chaos filled night had also brought Severus into this situation. He had condemned this small boy who had Lily's eyes to his fate by whispering the words of the prophecy straight to the Dark Lord and giving him a reason to turn all his destructive cruelty towards the boy.

The prophecy. That damned prophecy had been Severus' personal curse for far too many years. It was his punishment for all his bad deeds and wrong choices. And now the thrice cursed thing had came around to hit Severus with an emotional Crucio right in his face once more.

This child, this Harry, was the one prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord, and here he was, giving all his gentle smiles and silent words to the man he was meant to vanquish, hidden far away from the world he was meant to save. After witnessing all he had seen so far, Severus could only speculate how deep into the child the Dark Lord had sunk his poisonous claws, and if there was any sense in hoping salvation for the boy or if he was too far gone. Truly, it now made a world of sense that Albus had been unable to find the child earlier, seeing how deeply wrapped in the Dark he was, standing in the middle of the maelstrom that was the Dark Lord and his growing empire.

A part of Severus wanted to jump on his feet right away, run through the doors and find the boy, before Apparating them both somewhere safe. Luckily, the more sensible part of him reminded that he wouldn't even make it to the door, not when the Dark Lord sat a few feet away from him. All Severus could do now was to sit through the meeting and hurry his information to the Headmaster afterwards. That was his only chance to salvage anything.

"It appears that Severus is too busy enjoying an epiphany to pay much attention to the progression of this meeting," a familiar cold voice cut into Severus' consciousness, tearing through his thoughts and making him cringe involuntarily. Severus paid extra mind in schooling his expression back to normal and keeping his voice steady as he spoke.

"I apologise, My Lord. I was rather... surprised by certain revelations," Severus said carefully and hoped that he didn't sound as uneasy and shaken as he felt. The Dark Lord offered him a twisted smirk.

"Yes, that much is obvious," the man said, while his calculative gaze weighed Severus solemnly. When he spoke again, there was a warning note in his tone, "Remain behind afterwards. I have a few things that need to be addressed."

Severus nodded respectfully, understanding perfectly the hidden meaning in the words. It was an order for Severus to keep his realisation to himself for the time being, and Severus had every intention to respect it. He had to stay alive at least long enough to inform Albus of this new turn of events. This might very well change the course of the whole war and alter the destiny of their world. And this time around, Severus intended to play his part properly. His deeds had condemned Lily to her death, but he still might be able to save her son. That's the least he could do for her.

Hence, rest of the meeting passed in haze for Severus. Nothing the Death Eaters said held much meaning to him, and the importance of all the information was overshadowed by the mystery that was Harry Potter. He anticipated the discussion with the Dark Lord with uncharacteristic eagerness, but at the same time he was afraid of where the conversation could lead. If he had no luck at all, the Dark Lord could bound him by a vow not to reveal his knowledge to anyone, or perhaps even Obliviate or simply kill him. Severus suspected that no one besides him and the Dark Lord knew of the significance of the child and, for all Severus knew, the Dark Lord intended to keep it that way.

When the Dark Lord finally dismissed his followers, Severus remained where he was, only standing up as the Dark Lord did so.

"You know who the boy is, don't you, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked, when the door closed behind the last of the Death Eaters.

"I have my suspicions, My Lord," Severus replied diplomatically, not wanting to give away too much. With the Dark Lord it was better to keep words soft and tender, because it was likely the man would sooner or later force-feed them right back.

The Dark Lord obviously realised what Severus was doing, since he gave the spy a less-than-amused half smirk before spoke again, "I want you to inform Dumbledore of these suspicions of yours."

That certainly took Severus by surprise, though nothing but a slow blink revealed his reaction outwardly.

"My Lord, do you not believe that the knowledge of the boy being alive would encourage Dumbledore to organise some kind of a... Gryffindorish rescue attempt?" Severus asked carefully.

"It is unlikely. Dumbledore cannot afford risking his already diminishing forces on such a suicide mission," the Dark Lord replied. Severus knew what the Dark Lord said was true, of course, and he still had to violently squash the small portion of himself that wanted to ask what kind of protection the Dark Lord had arranged for the boy. Such questions would no doubt make the Dark Lord suspicious and would certainly not help the case of one Harry Potter. Severus hoped that if he was careful enough and played his cards right he might eventually get a chance to speak to the boy directly, hopefully even without the Dark Lord's restricting presence.

"I want him to attend Hogwarts, when the time comes," the Dark Lord said finally, revealing the reason for his odd request. Whatever Severus had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this and without his years of experiences as a double-spy he would be picking up his jaw from the floor at this point. Severus had to find out the reason for this seemingly mad decision. Placing the boy right under Dumbledore's nose was very a risky thing to do, if the Dark Lord intended to keep the boy's loyalties.

"Hogwarts, My Lord? Surely Durmstrang or—"

"His placement in Hogwarts is essential for my plans. That is all you need to know," the Dark Lord cut in and his razor-sharp glare choked any further questions and objections in Severus' throat.

Severus nodded his understanding. "Do you wish Dumbledore to know about your plans to enrol the boy into Hogwarts?"

"No, not yet. The information that the boy is alive ought to be enough for the old coot for now," the Dark Lord said, "See that it reaches his ears. You're dismissed."

Severus bowed slightly and hurried out, completely missing the small bundle of living being, sitting just outside the dining hall doors.

…o0o…

Harry was invisible again.

He sat on the floor outside the dining room, leaning against the opposite wall and glaring sullenly at the closed doors. He had just found a third thing to add onto his little list of the things that the man with red eyes won't tolerate. Apparently the man had serious issues when it came to his name. Three days without tongue? Speak about unreasonable!

Harry stuck one of his tiny fingers into his mouth and felt around the hollow space curiously. It was a strange feeling, not having his tongue where it ought to be. His teeth were right there, their sharp edges scratching Harry's finger, soft inner cheeks, the hard roof of his mouth and then absolutely nothing else. He tried to make some kind of noise, but all he managed was incomprehensible whining and gurgling. Harry had to hand it to the man, his punishments were getting more creative as time passed. Harry wasn't entirely sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

Harry slumped heavily against the wall and heaved a deep sigh.

Nagini would be disappointed in him once she got back. Harry had promised that he would keep an eye on things for her, and all he had managed was to get kicked out of a meeting. Nagini was very curious about things that went on in the manor. Unnaturally curious, when remembered that she was a snake and the matters of humans usually had very little effect on her daily life. Nagini had once explained that she had to know everything important in order to help 'Tom', whenever help is needed, but when Harry had asked who this Tom person was, she had give a mysterious comment along the lines: "I'm sure you'll find out one day, snakeling". Nagini was incredibly frustrating like that sometimes, with all her mystifying little statements and confusing explanations. Although, from what Harry had gathered, most of the snakes had same kind of attitude; they liked to appear more mysterious than they really were. Being only tails with faces and all that, they liked to have something to boost their ego.

The last of the daylight had escaped the halls of the manor by the time when the doors of the dining hall finally creaked open again. The corridor was completely dark and it was easier for Harry to hide in the open view, as he watched the cloaked figures flood through the doors. Some of them were speaking with hurried, hushed tones and others seemed to only want to get out as soon as possible. None of them noticed Harry even though a few almost stepped on him in their haste. It was a few minutes later that the last of the ghosts appeared through the doors and this was seemed to be even in more of a hurry than all the others. He didn't notice Harry either, didn't even glance down enough to have a chance at noticing him, and Harry shook amusedly his head, as he watched the lone Death Eater rushing down the corridor.

They weren't very bright creatures, these Death Eaters, or at least not particularly observant. Harry could remember all those times when the man with red eyes had been mad because of them and mumbled feverishly about 'incompetent fools'. Suddenly those words were so much easier to understand.

Soon after, the man with the red eyes stepped through the doors at more reasonable pace, and Harry's invisibility cracked immediately under the red gaze.

Harry hadn't been lying when he hours prior told the Death Eater that the man with red eyes knew everything. The man did know everything. He also saw everything and Harry's pseudo-invisibility was useless against him and his piercing red glare.

But Harry wasn't blind himself either. He, too, could see small details that other people were oblivious to. Only Harry could see the small tired frown that was carefully hidden behind an angry glare. No one else but Harry would have noticed that the grimace the man shot at him wasn't annoyed because of him, but because the man wished to have a moment of peace, instead of having to deal with Harry. Harry was the only one who could have interpreted the small sigh that followed correctly as a sound of defeat, instead of counting it as an annoyed huff. And all those small details made Harry feel a little bad for the man.

"I should have come up with this a long while ago," the man with red eyes muttered, "This rare silence from you is a gift from Merlin."

Harry rolled his eyes and stumbled back onto his feet. He stole a bit of time by wiping most of the dust from his clothes, before made a sudden mad dash across the corridor. Before the man with red eyes had enough time to react, Harry had already wrapped his thin arms tightly around the man's midsection and buried his face into his dark robes. The man tensed immediately and Harry could feel the irritated glare boring into the top of his head. Yet, he refused to let go, before he felt reluctant fingers run through his hair once. Harry pulled back enough to beam widely up to the man.

"Yes, you can be a nuisance even when you're forced to be silent. I do believe you have made your point," the man with red eyes said, as he rolled his eyes a little and shoved Harry gently away. Harry only beamed wider and skipped happily after the man, when he started to walk towards his study.

They were halfway there, when Harry suddenly remembered. He quickly ran up to the man with red eyes and tugged at his sleeve, before pointed excitedly back towards where they had come from. The man with red eyes quirked a curious eyebrow and Harry made a dramatic show of opening a non-existent book and reading it.

"What book do you want?" the man with red eyes asked and the annoyance was back in his tone. The annoyance, however, was easy for Harry to ignore since the man always sounded more or less annoyed. Harry raised his hands and made very scary canine teeth out of his index fingers in hopes of making himself look like a monster. It wasn't apparently working very well, since the other eyebrow joined the first, as the man with red eyes stared at the display.

Finally the man gave up with a slight snarl and Harry could feel a foreign presence invading his mind. He tried to ignore his senses that screamed for him to fight back and block the attack, and instead he just let the man with red eyes rummage through his thoughts uninterrupted. It only took few brief seconds before the presence pulled back.

"You have the strangest ideas," the man with red eyes told Harry dryly, but raised his wand and summoned the desired book with one neat flick. He offered the book to Harry, who accepted it with a satisfied grin. Then the man turned again and continued on his way without bothering to check if Harry followed. It wasn't really necessary to check, since both of them knew perfectly well that Harry would follow.

Harry hugged the book tightly to his chest, to stop it from escaping or attacking, and hurried quickly after the man with red eyes. As he slipped into the man's study and took his place on the comfy green armchair in the corner of the room, Harry couldn't help the small happy smile that insisted on appearing onto his face without permission. The man with red eyes was often irritable and unreasonable, but he had his human moments every now and then.

Harry petted the Monster book of Monsters gently and set to work with all the determination of a six-year-old.

…o0o…

Meanwhile, far away in the ancient castle of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore remembered for the first time in a very long while what hope felt like.

…o0o…

- tbc-

…o0o…