The Darkening of Your Soul

Chapter 16

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand was ripped from his hand right before he could aim it at Wormtail. He whipped around to see Voldemort catch it with his small hand. Harry’s blood was boiling and he stormed towards Voldemort.

“Give me back my wand!” Harry snarled.

“Not until you tell me why you’re suddenly this upset,” Voldemort said with a patient look which only infuriated Harry more.

“You have to ask?” Harry gestured wildly behind himself where Pettigrew was cowering near Barty. “You bring him here on the anniversary of my parents’ deaths and you’re surprised by my reaction? Really, Tom?”

“Yes, really,” Voldemort replied in a deadpan tone while he looked genuinely confused. “Harry, I actually murdered your parents and I don’t see you this angry at me being here.”

“BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THEIR FRIEND!” Harry bellowed right into Voldemort’s face. “YOU DIDN’T BETRAY THEM!”

“Ah.” Voldemort swallowed and gave an understanding nod. “I must confess it hadn’t occurred to me that would bother you this much, but on second thought, of course it does.” He offered Harry a small, unsure smile. “My apologies, my dear.”

Harry’s anger subsided enough for him to accept Voldemort’s apologies with a soft, “Fine.” He inhaled several deep breaths to calm himself down further, minding some of the exercises he’d learned through his PTSD and anxiety self-help books. Breathe in through your nose, hold it for a second and breathe back out through your mouth for as long as you can make it last. Meanwhile, acknowledge the memories that invade your mind. For Harry, these were several jumbled memories of his first life, of him seeing his parents for the first time in the mirror of Erised, of learning the truth about Sirius and Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, of seeing Pettigrew murdered by his metal hand after he hesitated a little too long on whether to help Harry or not, and of seeing Hermione and Ron and Ginny all condemning him to death.

Harry needed to acknowledge this, rationalize it, to make sure these memories couldn’t traumatize him any further. His parents and his godfather had been betrayed by the man standing just a short distance away. Harry himself had been betrayed by people he loved, people he trusted, people who he would have died for. Who he did die for.

And Harry went to school with some of those people every day without breaking down or drowning in his own rage.

Yes, he’d been betrayed, just like his parents and godfather. And he was here to help their murderer regain a full body. If he could forgive Voldemort enough to ally himself with the man, he could tolerate Pettigrew presence at least.

He would never forgive Pettigrew, just like he would never forgive Ron, Hermione or Ginny.

He’d forgiven Voldemort because he’d been utterly without reason, completely insane when he came after the Potters. He was different now.

Pettigrew or Harry’s former friends had no such excuses.

Voldemort waited quietly and without comment as Harry collected himself.

“Can you just send him away?” Harry finally managed to ask, figuring the less he saw of Wormtail, the better.

“And have Barty be the one to cut off his own hand?” Voldemort asked, appalled.