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Weapon	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 105432 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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02/03/2012

Thank you to SuryaPrakash for the betaing. If there are mistakes, they are my fault.

Read Author Note: I've had a lot of fun in the past ten days. I wrote chapter 70, then decided that it wasn't long enough and distributed the text into chapters 68 and 69. Then I really had fun and wrote chapters 70, 71 and 72 which were great to write because they were Harry/Voldemort goodness. And then I had to remember that I said it would be a full year before they could get together and... BAH! Anyway, that's coming up and I thought people would like to hear it :D Don't worry though, while I was busying going 'BAH' at the thought of another 10 months fic time before I got them together again (It's only Halloween) I thought of a way of slipping in visits. But I'm not telling yet on how that can happen. :D

The other thing is, things should be faster from Halloween. A lot of the setup is done so there is less time trying to get preconceptions into place :D

Thank you also to everyone who reviewed.

Weapon LXII – Controlled, Not Refined

The Shadows watched their Master toss and turn. He was dreaming again. They had tried to soothe him out of his nightmare, but he was still remembering the past. They had suspected that their Master had recovered too quickly in the last year. They had hoped that he had recovered but apparently he hadn't. Xeoaph had given their Master peace when he had sealed the memories for Heprah, and that had made Harry seem to accept what had happened. He had cried, he had been angry, but he had recovered. But apparently he hadn't cried enough.

They watched as tears tracked down his face and he made small sounds of distress, sounds the Shadows echoed. They did not like to see their Master in pain.

:How will this end?: one of them asked.

One of the other Shadows sighed. :Explosively,: it whispered. :He is still in pain from his childhood, still angry, and he needs to get that out of his system. Over the next weeks, or even months, our Master will get more angry. He will wonder why all that should have happened to him. He may even try to kill Millicent or Blaise and eventually he will be so angry that he will not be able to hold himself back. He will stain his wings and we will see if Voldemort's word is his bond where our Master is concerned.:

Other Shadows sighed as they continued to watch over Harry. :In the long run, it's probably for the best,: one of them said regretfully.

:In the long run, he will learn how to change their colour at will and so they will not be stained for long.:

A deeper Shadow appeared then, one that usually spent its time in Voldemort's stronghold. It was an old Shadow, one that was wise and canny and knew how to show itself to the ancient Vampire in such a way that it was completely independent of the others. :We have grown soft as the years have gone on,: it said, :to be so concerned at seeing our Master in pain.:

:His distress is our distress,: one of the others said.

:And his release is our food,: the elder Shadow responded. :He will grow stronger from this pain, and we will grow stronger with him. The fact that his pain distresses us merely proves that we have chosen the right Master. If we could, we would destroy his pain and we will protect him, just as he will protect us.:

:How are the prisoners?: another Shadow asked, resolutely turning away from Harry as he tossed and turned.

:In pain,: the elder Shadow replied.

:It is not enough. It will never be enough.:

:No, it won't,: the elder Shadow agreed before it sighed heavily. :Lamenting our inability to properly extract revenge is not today's problem, and it is a problem we should probably put aside since the statement is true; it will never be enough.:

:We will deal with them in time or as the issues arise,: another Shadow agreed. :For now the question of how we relate to our Master is of importance.:

:He understands now why we need him but at the same time, his light is still too much for us.:

:It has never been a problem in the past.:

:Well, it is this time. How are we meant to work with a Master we can't feed from? And it's not that he's unwilling. There is more than enough food for us.:

:Food that causes us pain to try to eat it.:

The elder Shadow settled down next to Harry, casting darkness where none should exist. The close proximity seemed to calm Harry slightly, though the Shadow was aware that nothing would really help until their Master struck out in his anger. After that he would heal and they would be there to help him. Until then, he would suffer through his memories, though the Shadows would do what they could to help him.

:We are being foolish,: the elder Shadow said abruptly.

:What?: The others exclaimed.

:We are being foolish,: the Shadow repeated. :We talk about balance, we talk about sharing, we say that our Master is our Light, yet here we are, afraid of that Light when it has done nothing to harm us, when our Master wields it for us and wants us to eat. Thus we are being fools!

:For us to exist, there must be Light. We cannot eat it all, yet that is what we are trying to do. All we need do is remember. We are the Dark, he is the Light. We do not need to eat it all; we need to flow with it. He told us accept it without consuming it; let his Light flow with us to complement our darkness...:

:Do not fight our Master's Light, because it is our companion,: one of the other Shadows finished as it recalled the words.

:So,: the elder Shadow said wisely. :We move with it, we flow with it, we cast shadows where shadows should fall, we let the light shine where it should and all the while we eat what we can and as our tolerance and ability grows, so will our appetite and so will our meal.:

:Not if he stains his wings,: one of the Shadows objected.

:Even if he stains his wings,: another retorted. :I don't think it's possible for him to stain his wings and even if he did, I doubt they would be stained for long. If he does though, or even if he pretends, he will learn and mature; thus will his light mature and be all the better for us.:

:He is the Light,: the elder Shadow agreed, :thus it is simply a matter of acceptance.:

As Harry continued to toss and turn, his face strained with his memories and the nightmare that plagued him, the other Shadows settled around him, offering what comfort they could. To anyone watching it would appear that the dark haired young man was surrounded in a thick warm blanket. To Harry, it felt like someone was holding him, not like the men had held him, but how Voldemort had held him, a warm soft embrace that would release him if he desired but would support him always. It couldn't stop his memories and it couldn't stop his anger or fear, but it did let him know, he was not alone. Never again would he be alone. He glowed with that knowledge, despite everything else and the Shadows ate the light greedily, allowing the stronger pieces to move around them, and through them, bending them back so that they helped to support their Master.

One of the Shadows gave the impression of a smile. :How did we get such a good Master?: it asked rhetorically.

Ragnok looked out at the floor of Gringotts. He was taking a very uncharacteristic break. His staff were going about their business efficiently, dealing with the witches and wizards and few other creatures who kept their gold in this facility. Gringotts was secure, and Gringotts was the only bank never to have had a successful robbery committed against them. That one a few years back failed, since there was nothing stolen. Over the years, the Goblins themselves had made sure of their reputation, discretely robbing other facilities when they dared to try to establish themselves.

The magical world didn't need a choice about where to store their gold. It just led to confusion. And wizards and witches didn't need anything else to confuse them. Sometimes, in the dark privacy of their deepest chambers, the goblins wondered how exactly such an illogical and fractured group rose to be the dominant magical force. But that wasn't a question which was bothering Ragnok now. He was more concerned with the deductions that appeared on the tally sheets.

They had been expecting some deductions. The Ministry, in an effort to show that it was considerate of non-humans had discretely informed Gringotts of the situation at Azkaban. From that, the Goblins had known that it was likely that at least some of the freed Death Eaters would be coming to access their vaults. No matter what they did, they would need funding. A generous estimate had been made of the likely deductions and that had been worked into the bank's operation. What they had not expected was that some of the ex-prisoners would withdraw the entire balance from their accounts.

It was completely illogical. They were on the run and anyone who captured them or took their possessions would and could claim that it belonged to them and no one would gainsay them. The goblins had looked, discretely of course, at the possibility of liberating the gold but the ex-prisoners had portkeyed to a neutral location before they had portkeyed again to somewhere untraceable. If it was some of the smaller vaults, that wouldn't have mattered. Gringotts made that amount of gold each minute but no, these were some of the premium vaults, the deep security ones and Ragnok knew exactly where the gold was going.

The Dark Lord. Fighting a war was not cheap, even if you didn't have to pay your troops. The goblins had found that out themselves a few times in the past. The wizards were fools to believe that all of those treaties were the result of the 'desire for peace.' More like they were the desire for food. Not every goblin commander had grasped the finer points of war time economics. Their descendants did understand, which was why they were now the preeminent bank in the entire wizarding world. There were a few, small competitors in other places. Ragnok believed it was the policy of Gringotts America to allow one or two localised institutions to continue to function for competition reasons or some such illogical wizard imposed necessity. The next time they rose, there would not be much rebellion.

In the meantime though, Ragnok was honest enough with himself to admit that this particular Dark Lord did understand economics well, perhaps not as well as one of the goblin investors but well enough to survive. He understood why the Dark Lord needed the money, but what he did not like was the indent it would make and had made in Gringotts cash flows.

There came a timid knock on his office door and he knew that it was one of the floor goblin bankers coming to tell him that another high security vault was to be emptied. Even if they were Death Eaters, and freed prisoners, Gringotts couldn't deny them access to their vaults, not without declaring their support from the wizarding Ministry. Right at the moment, Ragnok didn't really care if that was the cost. The price of emptying these vaults was already too high, and the payment, of actually watching the prisoners having to 'fit in' with their fellows, and therefore to at least be civil, while entertaining, was not enough.

"Which one is it?" Ragnok asked, not bothering to open the door as he returned to his desk and the tally sheets.

"L... L... LeStrange."

Ragnok closed his eyes. To the eight hells with neutrality! They needed that gold. Well, not so much the LeStrange gold but accumulated knick knacks of centuries. The LeStrange vault was a treasure trove for those who knew what to look for. It had weapons, charmed objects, gems and pearls that were the stuff of legend. While it was not the biggest account Gringotts held, it was one of the vaults with the most interesting contents and that had rated its security setting. In terms of wealth, other vaults such as the Potter or the Malfoy vaults dwarfed the LeStrange vault but in terms of one of a kind, mysterious and powerful objects, only the Black vault came close.

"Stall Rodolphus as much as you can," Ragnok instructed. Even if they were escaped prisoners, they couldn't deny the LeStrange's the right to their vault, the rest of the illogical wizards would object, but they could make it difficult.

"It's Bellatrix," the goblin underling said, through the door.

"Then that's even simpler," Ragnok said, feeling happier. "She doesn't have the right to empty the LeStrange vault."

"She says she does, Overseer."

Ragnok sighed. "Where is she?" His underlings seemed to have decided that he needed to deal with this witch. He knew her by reputation but how difficult was it to tell her no? She might threaten but they had guards to deal with that situation.

"She is in the private office."

Ragnok could hear the note of relief and growled to himself. There would be punishments given to all the floor staff for this day's work. "Go back to your duties, I will see her," he said, ignoring the way his underling scurried away. Ragnok pulled a comb from one draw and quickly ran it through his hair. Goblins didn't give a hoot about appearance but wizards, even escaped ones, did. He put the comb away and pulled on his coat before summoning two discretely armed guards to accompany him to see Bellatrix LeStrange.

He paused outside the office and looked in on the witch. She appeared relatively well dressed, though she was thin and her hair was messy. For a woman not long out of an extended stay in Azkaban, she was in very good condition. The Dark Lord was obviously not stinting on the restoratives for his followers. Like him she had two guards, though hers were fully robed and hooded and were standing very still in one corner. Ragnok snorted. They were probably new recruits who were too afraid to move and if anything happened he had full confidence in his guards.

With a small shake of his head for full theatrical effect he swept into the office. "I am sorry, Madam LeStrange," he began, "I do not know why my underlings could not deal with such a simple matter."

"Perhaps you need new underlings."

"Perhaps," Ragnok echoed without feeling. "How may I help you today?" The phrase was not natural on his tongue.

"I am here to claim the LeStrange vaults," the witch before him said airily, though there was the hint of steel in her tone.

"As I'm sure was explained to you, Madam, you have every right to access the vaults, but you may not claim them."

"I do."

"Madam," Ragnok began, as if explaining to a small child. "The primary holder of the LeStrange vault is your husband, Rodolphus LeStrange. With the correct authorisations, his brother Rabastan may also claim the vault. As Rodolphus' wife, you have full access to them but they remain in his name."

Bellatrix looked amused. "All of that is very correct, except for the fact that I am the holder of the vault now, for you see, my dearest husband and his brother did not survive the leaving of Azkaban."

Ragnok sat back with a shock, lifting the parchment that dealt with the LeStrange vault in his small hands. The Ministry had not told them that. Though, he considered, the Ministry may not know that. They had reported that every person on Azkaban had been released and the wardens had been taken as well. They may not know that some of them had not survived. And if the LeStrange brothers had not survived then Bellatrix was the new holder of the vault... The only problem with that were Gringotts records. Each major account holder was required to give a small drop of blood on the account parchment. Goblin magic ensured that the blood glowed red while that wizard or witch was still alive. Both Rodolphus and Rebastan's blood spots were still red.

"I'm afraid notification of their untimely demise had not yet reached us," Ragnok said with a degree of diplomacy.

The witch smiled and it was not a pretty sight. "So, if I can show proof of my husband and brothers conditions, then the vault will transfer according to your records?"

If she could show that, then the vault would be legitimately hers and Ragnok would be having a meeting with the spell casters to know WHY the blood was still red. It may be that the Azkaban wards had interfered, but they never had in the past. "That would be acceptable."

Bellatrix snapped her fingers and the two body guards who had been quietly standing in the corner moved. They seemed to uncoil and there was an icy blast of air in the office. Gooseflesh raised on Ragnok's arms but he showed no other reaction as her guards became impossibly tall. His own guards tensed and suddenly Ragnok was less sure of their ability as a wind seemed to rustle Bellatrix's guards' robes, bringing the stench of decay upon them all.

He wasn't sure how they transformed or if an illusion had just been lifted but Ragnok was confronted by the bone deep chill of two Dementors who now hovered near the door. Each Dementor held a body and it took the goblin overseer a moment to determine that the bodies were Rodolphus and Rebastan LeStrange. They were badly emaciated, more so than he would have thought caused by Azkaban, especially given the relatively healthy picture presented by Bellatrix. Their heads lolled and they drooled but they were still breathing. It was a rather stupid thought, but at least the blood magic was working as it was meant to.

"Ah," Ragnok said, showing surprising delicacy for a goblin. "You are not the holder of the vault, because your husband is still alive," he heard himself say.

"Alive, perhaps, but hardly in control of his facilities, nor will he ever be. In that situation, I become the head of the LeStrange House and as the Head of the House I control the vault," her voice was controlled and reasonable, more so than Ragnok would have thought given her reputation.

"The Ministry will have to be told."

Bellatrix smiled. "It matters little to me. I will go to my vault now," she rose, gesturing towards the Dementors. Once again Ragnok wasn't sure what they did but the bodies disappeared and the cold faded as the Dementors took on their more human appearance. It had to be an illusion.

"You will need to fill out the paperwork."

This time Bellatrix laughed and somehow the laugh was colder than the Dementors. "I don't think so," she said. Bellatrix took a few steps towards the door before she turned back towards Ragnok, and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I realise my Master has not given you any offers, nor made any overtures towards the goblins. Do not mistake this for indifference, or disinterest. On the contrary, he is very interested in the goblins however he is also aware that the goblins are now an institution within the magical world. He seeks not to disturb what many consider the status quo but make no mistake, little goblin, if you oppose him, we will destroy you." Before the words even faded Bellatrix swept from the office, her body guard Dementors trailing after her. Another goblin would help her now that Ragnok had been forced to give his permission.

In the office, Ragnok fell back into his chair. His own guards bowed themselves out, knowing that the overseer needed to think. They had their own reports to make. No matter how the Dementors had taken on passable human form, the goblin warriors had to know. For Ragnok though, there was not much to think on. Rather he was composing his letter to his superiors for losing so much gold but also his recommendation that the goblins immediately take up the offer of the Ministry. Bellatrix could say all she wanted that the Dark Lord considered them the status quo but he had heard in her voice the promise that she would be standing beside her lord when they assaulted the Goblins, and she was looking forward to that day. The Dark Lord wasn't fighting them now, but it was simply a matter of time.

They, the goblins had to be ready for that battle.

Bellatrix waited impatiently as the goblin stepped up to her vault. She had thought of it as hers since the day she married Rodolphus and now it really was hers. The Dementors stood behind her, the perfect image of guards. They didn't fidget, they didn't fuss and they simply followed. She had been pleased to see them in her lord's service. As one of the inner circle, she had been present with Dolohov when her Lord gave them their briefings on the current state of affairs, though she could tell somehow that he was leaving something important out. She wasn't concerned because anyone with eyes could see that her Lord was always circumspect around the Vampire who had supposedly come to help him. Vampires didn't help wizards, they served their own interests. When the Vampire was not around, Bellatrix knew that her Lord would tell them the missing information.

One thing he had made abundantly clear was that the Potter-childling was to be left for him. Capture was fine even encouraged, torture, maiming and killing were not. The glow in his eye as he said that had even made her shudder. He meant every word and it would be a bloody vengeance on anyone who forgot that.

At length, the goblin stepped back from the vault door and she swept inside. She didn't care what most of it was. It didn't matter. There was only one object she cared about, a small cup, said to be Helga Hufflepuff's that her Lord had entrusted to her many years ago. When he had told her that he did not trust the goblins, she knew he wanted it back. He would use the gold of course, but he wanted this cup back and that's why several Death Eaters had been instructed to empty their vaults. He wanted no one to know he was particularly interested in the contents of the LeStrange vault.

Bellatrix walked to the back of the vault and reverentially reached out to take the cup down from its resting place. It thrummed with power, just as she had remembered. Leaving it in here had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. It called to her, whispering her name comfortingly, almost lovingly. It comforted her and the memory of it had sustained her while she was in Azkaban. When she held it, it was almost as if her Lord was talking directly into her soul. She loved the feeling and it would be hard to give the cup back to him when he asked for it. She held it to her breast with one hand and with her other flicked her wand. The contents of the vault rose up and began rushing into a small bag her Lord had given her. He'd charmed it personally so it would be easily able to carry everything in this vault.

She could feel the goblin's horror at her indiscriminate way of packing the vault contents. There were many valuable and irreplaceable items here that were rushing into the small bag and she resisted the urge to snort in derision. That would not be lady-like, the words from her mother echoed in her ear. Did the goblins think so little of her magic? It might look indiscriminate and rushed but every single item was arranging itself neatly within her bag. Her Lord would no doubt have a passing interest in some of the other items and if she could somehow get into the Black vault... She knew her family vault contained objects that her Lord would really be able to use, but she had heard that Sirius was free and despite his mother's dislike of him, she had not disowned him formally from the family. Sirius Black was the current Head of the House of Black and even if he died the title would not yet pass to her.

As the last of vault's contents began to enter the bag, Bellatrix almost regretfully moved the cup into a pocket of her robe. By moving to pick out the cup, the goblins already knew that she had been interested in it, but it would do no good for them to know how delicately, how gently and reverently she treated it. They could see that it was Hufflepuff's cup, if anything she should revile it as the possession of a lesser being.

She cast her eyes around the now empty vault, slipping her wand into its holster on her arm before reaching into the bag. She removed one galleon and summoned to her an odd shaped item that was of goblin design, a trap of ages. Carefully she placed the galleon on the floor of the vault and then put the trap over it. From another small pocket, she pulled a tiny vial that her Lord had given her and with extreme care she measured a single drop of it on to the top of the trap. It sizzled for an instant before a little magical shield contained the drop and pulled it down into the body of the trap. Bellatrix stood then and walked out of the vault. As she rose she heard the goblin at the door gasp when he saw what she had done. He recognised it.

"You can move the contents of this vault if you wish," she said with a fake little smile. She'd have gladly just killed all the goblins but her master had said it was not time. He had plans, and Bellatrix always enjoyed his plans. It would be fun to see the goblins squirm. She hadn't really thought about them much in the past. They were goblins, they served wizards as the keepers of Gringotts. There was nothing much left to think about, but her Master had and her Master saw what they were trying to hide. He already knew their plans and he had his counter plans ready already. They could survive for now, but as soon as the Ministry was bowed to her Lord's will, they were on borrowed time.

Bellatrix almost wished she had left a clock.

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