Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

With a jolt, Harry came awake, while his mind registered the unmistakable sensation of a destunning spell. Still before gaining full consciousness, he remembered what this could only mean, who had to be the one destunning him.

So he had to use everything he'd learned in preparation for this day.

By the time his eyes had focused, the first phase of his balancing was already completed: recognizing his self, his position.

He was sitting in a chair, quite comfortably, unharmed, as far as he could judge. Fully operative - mentally at least, while otherwise not quite, because his arms were tied at his back with something metallic, and apparently the same metal fixed him to the chair.

He looked around.

A room in a house. Probably not too far away from where he and Lupin had been knocked off, considering the heat and the daylight from outside. Also, the furnishing in what could be a living room, quite spacious, matched the style Harry had seen in the hotel.

Some feet to his side stood another chair, filled with Lupin, who was obviously still stupefied. Lupin's arms, too, were at his back, no doubt tied as well.

Some feet opposite Harry stood a third chair of the same type. It was occupied by Voldemort, sitting leisurely.

"Good morning, Mr Potter."

The grotesque figure, mockery of a human body, emanated the air of a plantation owner whose slaves and servants were working dutifully, enabling him to smile and be generous, and to let the whip rest for a while.

Harry reminded himself that he had to appear unsuspecting in regard to Voldemort's plot, that this behaviour had to match their last encounter - and Sirius' kidnapping, of course. He said, "The last time it was still Harry - no, that was before; the last time it was foolish boy."

Voldemort smiled, destroying the appearance of generosity at once though involuntarily - an inevitable effect from this flat, masklike face.

"The last time I was upset," he said lightly, "while there's no reason for that now. I have my wand back, I have my snake back, although she seems shrunk - and I have you, among some other people."

The wand - Harry's wand - rested idly in Voldemort's lap, with Voldemort's long, thin hand around the grip. Nagini was lying on the rug-covered floor next to Voldemort's chair.

With some amusement in his voice, Voldemort said, "In addition, Mr Potter, I have honed my manners - just a convenience between business people, meaningless but a common habit. I found out that those men confuse bluntness with a lack of self-confidence, and that direct commands invariably raise some fruitless resistance. Killing some of them helped, but in business, you have to deal with so many different people - in the end, I found it simpler to speak their language."

Small talk Voldemort style - it was not quite Harry's first experience; he remembered similar remarks from the encounter in the graveyard. However, things had changed since then, and he saw no benefit in playing for time.

"Where's Mr Crownshield?"

"Oh - in his office, I hope, working with papers and other business toys, certainly relieved that the favour I asked him could be done so quickly and effortlessly." Voldemort seemed not taking offence from Harry's refusal to catch the light mood. "He's an excellent example for another symptom I recognized - punishing those people directly is more damaging than helping, while doing it with someone else - in their presence, of course - has an effect which is immediate as well as long-standing ..."

Voldemort paused a moment to let his remark sink in.

"In this regard," he continued, "you would blend well into the business world, Mr Potter, that's why I preferred to have someone ready before doing business with you."

Pointing toward the other chair, Voldemort added, "Mr Lupin here comes as a surprise - a small one, however a welcome addition to the topics in our business. But I'm possibly advancing too fast - you still may have questions, Mr Potter, quite naturally so, I'd say."

"No."

"None at all?" Voldemort's face reflected a surprise less mocking than he'd probably intended. "That's hard to believe," he said, "and a bit of pretense, I might guess, which is also understandable in your situation. Let me tell you, Mr Potter - I do not expect you to be scared, or if you are, it's as meaningless as polite manners."

Harry saw no reason to look any different than a second before.

"Yes," said Voldemort as if in confirmation, "it took me a while to learn that, but I have adjusted, and more - I have found other weaknesses. It requires a little more effort, but then, they work as well as fright with other people, so we can save the time, and concentrate on more important issues. Asking questions is most often a quicker method - although you might be afraid I won't tell you the truth, maybe that's the reason?"

---

Listening to Voldemort's droning, Harry had found the time to sketch out his strategy in the conversation. Part of his approach would be a kind of unwilling politeness - insulting Voldemort in this situation would have no effect at best, would earn him some torturing at the worst while he had no power to waste. More important was the question how much knowledge he should present.

He decided to appear informed about details while totally unaware of what he expected to be the main topic. He said, "No, Voldemort, that's not the reason - it's more like you wouldn't answer at all. But I don't know what to ask."

Instinctively, Harry had left out another argument. As far as he knew, Nagini would tell him about Voldemort lying. However - either this was true, then the snake's loyalty might come up as an issue earlier than Harry had planned, or it was no longer true, then he could await that bitter moment.

"This place here, Mr Potter - aren't you interested to know where we are?"

Harry made a surprised face. "Plana Cays, isn't it?"

He had scored - Voldemort's expression showed it.

"Very interesting," said the Dark Lord with little amusement in his voice. "Would you please tell me where you got this information?"

Taking the momentum, Harry grinned. "If I could follow properly, then saying please in business language means this is a serious request, to be followed instantly - am I right?"

Politeness was a thin coating on Voldemort's natural habits. "Answer, Mr Potter!"

"Why not? Mr Warrington gave me the information, and he was quite concerned to stay off this place."

"Was he? He'll be still more concerned to leave this place, once I've asked him some questions personally. But let's not digress - "

"Do you know," interrupted Harry, taking over the part of the light gossip, "that he hired someone to kill a journalist? Rita Skeeter was her name. For a while, I thought it was you, until I realized it wasn't your style."

"What's this, Mr Potter - some kind of courtesy, to catch the mood of our conversation? I'd say that's another pretense."

Harry shrugged, at the same time testing the tightness of this metal around his wrists. "No - simple fact. Not wasting time sounds good to me - the sooner we're done, the better."

Voldemort produced another grimace of smile. "A joke, Mr Potter - how nice."

"No, I'm serious. By the way, I have indeed a question. What's that thing around my wrists? It feels quite unusual."

"Handcuffs," explained Voldemort. "Simple, efficient, and surprisingly resistent against the common variety of magical tricks. A police tool, which brings us to another topic - Mr Black. Would you like to hear about Mr Black?"

"Like what?"

"Where he is ... How he feels - things like that."

"No," replied Harry with the best dismissiveness he could manage. "Sirius isn't here, and you won't tell me where he is. If he's not okay, I'll kill you - that's why I'm pretty sure he's unharmed."

He had scored again, better than the first time. His haragei told him how much Voldemort felt disquieted from this argument.

"Would you really, Mr Potter? Allow me some doubts - you are in no position to do anything, although this is more a precaution to make sure you're not trying some useless action while we're talking. More important is - what makes you think you could kill me?"

Harry looked astonished. "Voldemort, it doesn't matter what I think or what you think. I simply can - your body is mortal, and definitely not the best model."

"Then I have news for you, Mr Potter." Voldemort had recovered and looked triumphant. "We share the same fate - I can't kill you without risking my life, and you can't kill me for the same reason."

"Why should I die killing you?"

"Because it's your blood that's running in this poor model of a body. You would kill yourself when trying."

"Even if that's true - and I still have my doubts - there's a little mistake in your argument. It won't be trying - you'd be dead for sure, and this might be the best solution from my perspective."

---

He had hit the core of Voldemort's concerns.

"This," explained the Dark Lord, "is one of the reasons why I prefer you seated in this chair, Mr Potter. I'll show you that this would be a very inappropriate solution, in particular since Mr Black is alive and well - suffering not more than inevitable in this situation."

Nagini said, "It's not true, Master."

For an instant, Voldemort looked truly perplexed. "This snake seems to think she still belongs to you - something else I have to re-adjust. But this has - "

Harry interrupted him. "You have tortured Sirius - or someone else has, carrying out your command. You better tell me a good reason not to kill you, Voldemort."

"The best reason is that you may want to live longer - a Cruciatus or two is not enough to commit suicide - "

"It's my destiny to fight you and to kill you. I have accepted this fate - if it kills me too, then be it."

Again, Voldemort ignored the interruption, thereby confirming that the topic in this discussion was bothering him considerably more than impoliteness.

"That's said easily," he replied, "if someone is as young as you - and that's still to be seen, how you're going to kill me. Right now you can't do anything other than listen to me, which gives me the time to explain a fundamental error in your assumptions, in particular those regarding my fate, and - "

"A fundamental error?" Harry grinned humourlessly. "That'll be the day! So far, fundamental errors have been made from your side!"

"Yes, that's true."

For the first time in this conversation, Voldemort had scored. He knew it, and he relished the moment as Harry looked perplexed.

"Yes, Mr Potter - I've made not only mistakes, I fell to a fundamental misinterpretation, and a natural consequence of my mistakes is your belief that destiny has selected you as the sword to destroy me, even at the price of your own life. Let me explain the terrible flaw in my analysis."

Harry moved a bit, apparently to sit more comfortably, while the true purpose was to get a precise feeling of the handcuffs in his back. He resisted the temptation to concentrate on getsumai no michi - while he could have seen the room effortlessly even in the darkest of the night, it would take him some effort to recognize items as small as these manacles in his back, and he knew how dangerous it would be, letting Voldemort know about unexpected skills.

"Still before you were born," said Voldemort, "I realized that the child of James and Lily Potter would have a severe impact on my power, my success, my life. Unfortunately, Divination has never been as precise a magic as other techniques, like Potions, for example. The unclear picture I received - and also my efforts at that time, which dealt mainly with gathering followers and fighting enemies, let me draw the conclusion that you'd be a threat to my planning. Consequently, I tried everything to eliminate this threat."

"Oh yes, you did," snapped Harry. "You killed my parents - you killed Hagrid, who was my first friend, and Charlie, who was something like a post-mortem brother, only counting those closest to me. That's fundamental enough for my taste - "

"Hear me to the end!"

It was definitely no plea, not a real command either. Maybe it was the best Voldemort could muster in the scope of convincing suggestions, a skill which, after all, would be poorly developed in him.

"Yes, I killed them, but I didn't do it for fun. I don't enjoy killing - for me it's a measure like any other work, unless it's for revenge, like with my parents - but not with yours. As you know perfectly well, I did what I could to let your mother live - "

"You did what you could? ... You killed her when she didn't step aside, when she wasn't ready to let you kill me!" Harry was shouting, his head bent forward, his arms stressed to the extent against the handcuffs. However, part of his mind was recording every detail of what he felt around his hands, and still another part was probing how far he could go before Voldemort lost patience and started to enforce the attention of his audience with more common methods - such as a Cruciatus.

---

But Voldemort kept calm - disquietingly so, in a way.

"I did what I could under the wrong premises I'd taken - blame me for the initial error, not for the consequences! Killing as a necessary step isn't entirely unknown to you, Mr Potter, is it?"

Harry had no trouble to show consternation, to fall back in his chair, giving his hands as much leeway as possible.

"It took me until last year to realize that our encounters went terribly wrong because of my own wrong assumption. And still, destiny did its work no matter how badly I was steering the wrong course - while all the time, the signs were so remarkable, so clearly visible to anybody with an objective mind, and not as preoccupied as I was."

"What signs?"

"Each time we met, you received powerful gifts from me, Mr Potter - seemingly against my own will, but that's where you can see fate at work. Your Parseltongue, your immunity from the Imperius curse, your powerful wand, and certainly other skills of lesser significance - all of that came from me. But eventually, I saw the light."

"Did you?"

"Yes ... Step by step, you had become the most powerful wizard in history - if not by actual state, then certainly by potential - through my gifts! And this took place on purpose, a purpose of destiny which is stronger than my efforts, or your efforts. Destiny prevented me from killing you, and destiny has made sure that you can't kill me - because the culminating point is not yet reached, Mr Potter, it's still before us, and we both are only tools in the hand of fate, tools which have to serve dutifully for the true king of wizardry, the master of all masters, the Lord of the Magic!"

"Wow, Voldemort as the servant of a super wizard! Now that's unique, really." Harry sneered - with some effort, succesful only thanks to his careful preparation for this encounter.

"It's not unique - new is only that I know about my role, and that I accept it."

"Bravo! Bravo! Then just let me free, so I can accept my own role, too."

Voldemort smiled. "Pretty soon, Mr Potter, because that's exactly what I expect from you. Once you know what I've learned through hard lessons, I will untie you and let you make your own contribution."

"All right, then ... Make it short, this isn't the most comfortable position."

Direct commands toward himself had no place in Voldemort's picture of his role. For a dangling moment, Harry expected to receive a hard lesson in good manners, prepared inwardly for this moment that would be crucial as much as cruciating.

But Voldemort's face relaxed, if this was the proper term for such a physiognomy. He asked, "Aren't you interested to hear who'll be a greater wizard than you and me together, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, of course. Who is it?"

"Will be, Mr Potter. Your own son."

Harry managed to look dumbstruck. Most likely, his performance wasn't any better than other attempts in the past, however it seemed convincingly enough for his opponent, who fell to the trap of self-fulfilling prophecy - if you expect blank astonishment in a face, then you'll count even deep disgust in your sense.

Harry shook his head. "That's crazy, but never mind ... Okay, if that's all, then please open this thing and let me tell Cho the news. Oh, I almost forgot - there's still - "

"Don't play stupid, Mr Potter; the role doesn't fit. Your son will need careful teaching, of a kind that can be offered only by myself - I still have some capabilities not passed over to you. This is the reason for this charade, to make sure this child will reach its proper destination."

"If you think - "

"You'll deliver this child to me, Mr Potter - as soon as possible without interfering with nature's demands, which means at the age of six months or so. Until then, Mr Black and Mr Lupin here will be held in pledge of your obedience, and that of the child's mother. Afterwards, you all may live your own life - it's no longer important for destiny."

Harry stared at Voldemort. "You really believe your own words, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. This time, there's no doubt that the interpretation is correct. The magical power that has been created by the union of you and Miss Chang is the best sign that only the product of this alliance can be the true culmination of fate."

Harry felt grateful for having reached the point in their negotiation where he could drop any pretense.

"You're mad, Voldemort, you're insane! If you really believe that I'll give my own child to you, no matter which reason, then I must assume the hot weather here has dried your brain to vulture dirt - unless this happened already before."

The little colour in Voldemort's face left, then returned as a purplish flaring.

"You just have no manners, Harry. I can only blame myself - I should have awakened Lupin in the beginning and then punished him for each of your insults. We'll do that in a moment, but just as a reminder, to let you know what it'll be for him - "

The two-coloured wand came up. "Crucio!"

Since his awakening in this room, Harry knew that the few seconds of concentration, needed to open the handcuffs, would not come for free. Doing it with Voldemort watching was too risky - his suspicious mind would react immediately, and in the worst case, Voldemort would be gone earlier than Harry was able to follow. Doing it without Voldemort watching had turned out impossible - another Zen riddle which could be solved only - no, not by laughing this time, by yelling at peak level, under the impact of the Cruciatus curse.

The pain was incredible, almost unbearable - certainly so in a few seconds. Until then, the white-hot flame in Harry's mind created a zone of burning calmness, of roaring concentration in full sight of the enemy, without looking suspicious - for someone with enough training to find the precious instant of balance even when all nerves in his body were crying for release ...

... ignored by Harry's brain, which had locked the door for just a short moment ...

Click - inaudible in this concerto Harry's mouth was producing, but felt because his wrist was coming off.

Only the right hand was free, but there was no time for getting rid of the thing - a second longer, and Harry would lose control under the soaring pain ...

His arms came forward, pointing, the left one still with the dangling hand-cuff. "Expelliarmus!"

The wand shot through the air, reached his outstretched hand, and was pointing at Voldemort, who didn't believe his own eyes, eyes which tried to pop out of their sockets.

"All right, you piece of shit. Let's do business."

* * *

Harry wasn't listening to his own words. He hadn't planned any action by himself at this moment, no matter how much he wished to find the time for getting Nagini, for destunning Lupin, for uncuffing him.

All he did was watching this grimace of raging fury in front of him, and listening to a signal he expected any second now - and here it came.

He followed.

They were behind a large bungalow - most likely just the building in which they had been sitting all the time. Of course - just enough for Voldemort to think clearly and to plan his next move.

Voldemort stood in front of Harry and with his back to him, inhaling deeply, and shaking slightly - no doubt from rage, although Harry intended to change this. Stunning him now was no help - stupefied people couldn't see the black colour of fright, couldn't smell the bitter taste of desperation.

The wand barely touched Voldemort's shoulders. "Tickle tickle!"

With a small outcry, the misshaped figure wheeled around, eyes widening in utter disbelief.

Harry sneered. "Jump, rabbit - the dogs are coming."

Voldemort, a trapped look in his face, didn't hesitate.

Harry followed.

This time, it had felt like eons in nowhere. Looking around, Harry saw trees in the distance, bushes close by - could have been England, maybe somewhere near Little Hangleton - didn't people on the run try to reach the place where they had grown up?

And the time of day fit - early evening.

Voldemort stood in front of him. His shoulders signaled clearly that he wanted to know what was behind him, but didn't dare to turn.

Harry kept silent, motionless - waiting, listening.

The signal rose in the turning of the tiny figure, reached its peak the instant Voldemort saw Harry's smile.

He followed.

Somewhere in a forest, darker, tighter than the previous one. Still the same time of day. Was this Albania, where Voldemort had been hiding so long?

The next signal came very quickly. Harry followed.

Plain ground, hot, although the sun stood deep over the horizon. Maybe the south of Europe, maybe Africa.

Another signal, to be followed. And another, and another.

Harry kept track through a sequence of places without any recognizable pattern, meeting all time zones, from early morning to deep night and total darkness - meaningless for him, not having any effect regarding his reflective registering of the rising signals and his following.

After the third or fourth attempt, certainly after the first place in total darkness, it should have been obvious that this was no method to get rid of the pursuer. Voldemort's sequence of obstinate tries left only one conclusion - he had panicked.

---

Harry had lost all feeling for time when Voldemort stopped his frenzy.

The place they had reached again seemed to be somewhere in the Caribbean, considering the heat and the time of day. Harry could smell the ocean somewhere close. So this was probably a tiny island - maybe even the smaller of the two Plana Cays islands.

Then Harry realized - Voldemort was hoping that Harry could not leave the island at his own, that he hadn't mastered yet the simple version of Apparition. While this was correct, Harry had no intention to leave Voldemort - not until the issue was settled.

He asked, "Tired of jumping, rabbit?"

Voldemort didn't answer. He sat down, with the movements of a desperate fugitive. As much as this seemed an accurate reaction, somehow it was surprising to see how little control this man, formerly called Dark Lord, had over his expressions and movements. Of course - there had never been the need for self control, at least not since Voldemort had left Hogwarts, still under the name Tom Riddle.

"I could cruciate you now. However, since - " Harry stopped, feeling the signal rise. But it faded as quickly as it had started - obviously Voldemort had interpreted Harry's stopping properly.

"... since it's as much a waste of time as cruciating me, I don't see much sense in that, not now. Although - if you start again to hop around the world, I'll make sure you'll lose the interest in that. We have to talk."

"How ... how can you send spells without - "

"Ohhh - is there really a gift in me which doesn't come from you, my great magical sponsor? What a surprise, isn't it? And in such a critical moment! You stupid lord of would-be, did it ever cross your mind that there's a counterpart to dark magic? Call it white magic, if you need a name for it. All you have to know is, this realm's forever closed to you - you've burned the bridges long ago."

"I don't believe it. There's just magic - nothing else. Dark magic is a term invented by people who are afraid of using their power to the full scale. It must be something else."

Harry stored his wand - and closed the open half of the handcuff around his left arm. Keeping it open was a bit risky, while the thing might come in handy before this story was over.

His arms pointed toward Voldemort. "Okay, what shall it be?"

The thin arms came up as if to protect from a blow. "No - I believe that you can send spells without a wand. I only said this isn't white magic."

"You know that I killed a student in Beauxbatons?"

Voldemort nodded.

"I did it without a wand."

Deep horror crept into Voldemort's eyes. He didn't look scared - maybe he was unable to feel this emotion, but his face expressed a state beyond fright, a loss of hope and future, if only for the moment.

"Voldemort?"

They looked at each other.

"In an hour, I'll kill you."

Some life returned into these eyes. "If you do that, you'll kill yourself too. I'm serious, it wasn't a lie."

Suddenly, there was a pleading in Voldemort's voice. "It's exactly as I described - we're linked to each other, by many bonds - your blood in my veins is only one of them, however the one which matters here. Killing me is like committing suicide - Harry, what reason should there be for you killing yourself? You're young, you have a splendid future - "

"Maybe you're right, maybe not. An hour from now, we'll find out, won't we?"

"But - your son, Harry! I was serious - he'll be the greatest wizard ever. How can you deny the right of this unborn life? It would be a tragedy. Such a potential, never to see the light of day. Please ..."

---

Was there really something in Voldemort which could admire magical power even if it wasn't his own? Probably not - it was just another pleading for his miserable life.

"My son?" Harry stared at Voldemort. "I know what kind of education you had in mind for him - your own mind, your foul spirit, destroying the self of an innocent child - to provide you with a young and powerful body. How did you plan to grow up, Voldemort? Which person is trusted by you so much that you give yourself - as a baby - into his or her hands? Or did you want to wait a few years? Maybe you hoped this greatest wizard ever would be powerful enough at the age of three or four? Doesn't matter - either I survive, then my son can expect a future without you, or I don't, and the question will never arise."

A grinning crept into Harry's face. "Imagine - after all, it's not unlikely that this child could defeat you even more than I did. Won't this be the greatest irony - I could give the child to you, except I can't be sure, so I won't, and then I really die from killing you. Destiny has a tricky way, Voldemort, and a macabre sense of humour."

The thought seemed realistic enough, at least something Voldemort himself had considered already before. With his haragei, Harry sensed a kind of confidence to overcome this risk, had it ever come true.

He glanced at Voldemort. "You thought you could condition him long enough to be on the safe side when transmigrating, huh? Forget it, it'll never happen."

After a moment, Voldemort said, "You're not going to kill me, Harry."

"No? I have a surprise for you, Voldemort - I will."

"No - if you were serious, you'd do it right now. I'd be dead already, and you too. It's a trick - you're waiting for me to offer something, to save my life. Well, I might have something to offer."

Harry laughed. "In that house, you said to me, 'Don't play stupid,' and I didn't. I still don't do it - yes, I had a plan, but I realized that it depends on your trustworthiness, on your ability to keep a promise. Only, this ability doesn't exist. That's why I dropped - "

"It's not true! I can keep promises - I swore to the Death Eaters, and I kept my - "

"Oh yes, at least you tried, except that they're still in prison, while Snape's still alive. Anyway, what I mean is, maybe you keep promises as best as you can, but still you're not trustworthy - nobody knows whether you give a promise or just some nice words. I don't see a realistic chance, while I take the threat for my unborn son seriously - that's why you'll die in a while, alone or with me. Enjoy the minutes left - I said one hour to give you time for a goodbye to the world, and maybe for myself, too."

"Harry - if I promise, really promise - Nagini knows when I lie, so she knows when I'm true. Isn't this the method to escape the deadlock? Let's go to her and settle an agreement that's satisfying for both."

"That's an interesting idea, only - what could you offer that's worth to let you live?"

"Sirius Black - you'll never find him, Harry. Even if you do, any attempt of rescuing him will sign his death, unless you know how to do it. He's in good shape - I only cruciated him to enforce obedience to some rule, otherwise he wasn't hurt ..."

"Stop it, Voldemort! You're lying even now, quite obviously - Sirius isn't following any rule just to avoid a Cruciatus, you tortured him as some punishment, probably because you felt insulted, or as a revenge for whatever. You're discrediting your own suggestion, which is only natural since you're no contract partner of any reasonable choice."

"Isn't it a rule, not to insult me? I didn't lie - but just to make things easier, shouldn't we return to the house and continue this discussion in the presence of Nagini? Then a misunderstanding like this won't occur, just from using words which might be understood differently."

Harry shrugged. "Why not? Time's ticking, here or in that house - go ahead."

---

Voldemort stood up, slowly, giving the picture of an old man with arthritic joints.

Feeling the signal, Harry followed - and was down, rolling sidewards, his wand already pointing, in perfect balance, anticipating the manoeuver he had expected.

The white flash from Voldemort's wand hit the place to which Harry had apparated, where he'd been an instant before.

The two-coloured wand gave the answer. "CRUCIO!"

It was the first time Harry sent this unforgivable curse. He did it with accuracy, with the full force of his magic, focused against that figure which, miraculously, had lost all its clumsiness.

This sound ... Couldn't possibly come from a human body - not this piercing scream, high-pitched and monotonous as if superheated steam was forced out a pipe too narrow for the high pressure. Voldemort on his knees, his head dangling low, his body shaking, hands stretching to claws, clamping to fists, opening again in the futile attempt to cope with the unbearable stimulus that kept rippling his synapses.

His wand had dropped from fingers beyond control. Harry kicked it out of reach, took it, his own wand constantly pointing at the twisting body before his eyes.

He walked to Nagini, put her around his body. "How are you, partner - how was the gas attack for you?"

"I'm not yet fully recovered, Master, but only my smelling is still damaged."

"Is your body under control?"

"Yes, Master."

"So you can strangle Voldemort if I tell you so?"

"Certainly - and I would welcome this command, Master."

"Well - don't expect too much, we still need him to find Sirius."

Harry's first attempt of opening Lupin's handcuffs failed - apparently, his Cruciatus curse, still pounding toward the crumpled figure on the floor, took all power and left nothing for opening a lock.

His second attempt was a quick scan across open places, and drawers in a sideboard, looking for a key. No luck. Maybe Voldemort had a key in his pockets, only Harry wasn't taking chances.

He stopped the Cruciatus.

Voldemort's body fell forward, lying motionlessly for a moment. By the time the long, thin figure could master the first controlled movement, Harry had opened the cuff around Lupin's right wrist and had destunned him.

His eyes not turning from the trembling figure, which slumped into the opposite chair, Harry asked, "Remus?"

"I'm fine, Harry ... No - not quite, because I miss my wand."

"Look around - I know that it's not in these drawers, I checked already. Be careful what you touch."

"I'll try." Lupin walked out and - to Harry's great relief - was back a few minutes later, minutes in which Harry kept watching Voldemort, neither of them speaking a word.

"All right, Harry - I'm back in business. What happened here?"

"First we were talking a bit, then we had a short wizard duel, and then we made a few trips around the world. Then this charming dipshit suggested negotiating in the presence of Nagini, to prove he's not lying, and so we came back. He's a real master in Apparition, Remus - would have caught me if not for a few months' training of aikido. That's why the last five minutes were a bit loud."

"Was it something you'd regret having missed?"

"Not really - I don't think I'll ever forget that scream. Can you move your chair to the side, so that we have him in cross-fire?"

"Sure."

Harry heard shuffling over the rug, then Lupin's voice. "Okay - got in place. What now?"

"Our host wanted to make an offer, before we were interrupted. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you - half an hour from now, I'm going to kill him. He had trouble believing me, mainly because he says it would kill me, too. But I guess for the last few minutes he can hear the clock ticking."

"Is he right - would it kill you?" Lupin's voice sounded flat, not showing much emotion - for him like for Harry, this seemingly quiet scene in the living room of a Caribbean bungalow was combat action at peak level, nothing else.

"Could be. My blood's running in his veins, that's his argument - not totally out of discussion he's right, but even so - he had some suggestions concerning Cho's and my future son that were totally unacceptable."

---

Harry's eyes met those of Voldemort. "I didn't know you're a jump artist too, except it's Apparition rather than martial arts. Anyway, it wasn't bad, really - makes me hope for my own technique. But now, back to business. What did you have in mind to change my plans?"

Voldemort's voice was still croaky. "Sirius Black's life for mine - that's the deal."

"Really? What a surprise - and how did you think would this take place?"

"We jump to where he's kept. I'll secure the death trap which is installed there. Then I'll give you the key to the chain he's locked with. You can untie him, which gives me time to disappear."

Harry laughed, although with little joy. "Wonderful ... You really found the words to offer something that sounds realistic, and Nagini kept silent - great, Voldemort, no denying. Only there's a little flaw, or maybe two - "

"Why? This is a serious offer, as Nagini has confirmed, isn't that so? She - "

"Sure - a serious offer which ends with you far away, and Sirius and I trapped in some hole that's probably killing us two minutes later - just outside the time frame you've had in mind in your offer. No, Voldemort, no way."

Lupin asked, "Where's Wormtail?"

Voldemort's head turned. "He's guarding the prisoner."

"Summon him to this place."

"No. Besides, he doesn't know by himself where he is - you won't learn anything from him."

"Harry, what do you think - is it time for an Imperius, or another Cruciatus?"

"No, Remus. The Imperius doesn't work - what do you think where I got my immunity from? And another cruciating - if you want to hear that scream, why not, only it's not going to change his mind. No - twenty-five minutes from now, he'll be gone, and we'll know whether he was right."

"Hmm ..." As if discussing a stubborn child, Lupin asked, "What do you think - why doesn't he want to summon Wormtail?"

"Most likely because Wormtail's needed to trigger another death trap after - "

Harry's haragei received a wave from Voldemort that could be interpreted easily - his assumption was obviously a full hit.

He grinned. "Remus, I have to correct myself - not most likely, but definitely. Voldemort just confirmed it."

The masklike face of Voldemort had not shown pleasant feelings before, but at Harry's words, it distorted to a grimace of nameless horror.

"Yeah, Voldemort, I forgot to tell you - this white magic covers a bit more than what I demonstrated a while ago. But don't worry - for the last twenty minutes of your life, it's unlikely that I have to surprise you as badly as before."

A choking. "Mr Potter, Mr Lupin - I extend my offer. I'll secure all traps at Mr Black's prison, so you both will come out alive and unharmed."

Harry answered. "Forget it. There's so much room for another trick - sorry, Voldemort, but you just aren't the contract partner of my choice."

"No - my offer covers everything in this encounter - I can't promise anything that may happen tomorrow, or next week - I'm true, you see, Nagini is still silent. To show my good will, I'll summon Wormtail now!"

Harry shrugged. "If you like company, go ahead."

"Then would you please give me my wand?"

Harry grinned. "You're truly the master of all wordsmiths, Voldemort. Say, 'I need my wand to summon Wormtail'."

Of course, this obvious lie was never spoken. Instead, Harry felt a growing surge of magic in his haragei - even without Nagini's comment, he knew what was taking place.

And there he stood, looking surprised - Peter Pettigrew, better known as Wormtail, easily recognizable for his silvery-glistening left hand.

Lupin's voice had lost its flatness and instead came hard and metallic. "Hello, Wormtail."