The Speaker and His Wraiths

Allies

The Parley

11:40pm

Harry sat on his bed, completely alone in his dormitory, and waited. His curtains were drawn and he sat crossed-legged trying not to fidget in his uniform.

11:43pm

It fit him perfectly. The loop of the shirt around his middle finger was odd underneath his gloves, and he had to constantly resist toying with it. The small wooden zill attached to it didn't help either, but he was glad for it either way. Communication was important, and Harry had figuratively taken his Wraiths' voices.

11:45pm

He'd sent a package to each of his volunteers, mailing them their uniforms the day before so they could be ready. They'd all sent back messages confirming its arrival and assuring him they were as ready as they'd ever be for a meeting with The Dark Lord. It had been a relief, but the anxiety he'd so far avoided snuck up on him.

11:47pm

Keeping busy with all the plans and double checking everything had taken up so much space in his head that he hadn't had time to worry. Alone in the castle he spent more time pondering the past than actually considering the future.

But sitting on his bed, in a disguise, alone, and in charge of nine people who trusted him with their lives was... terrifying.

Not because Harry thought he would fail, but because he worried something would happen that he had no control over. Dangerous situations can change in a split second, and he knew it well. Between one moment and the next Quirrell had attacked. It was ony a split second before the Basilisk had emerged from the statue and tried to kill him. One second he was fine and the next dementors were swarming him, Sirius, and Hermione, with no way out but their future selves coming to save them. One minute he was proud of Cedric Diggory being their Champion, the next he was being crammed into a small room and forced to listen as adults declare him and his school cheaters and liars.

Unexpected circumstances really were his signature luck. They seemed to pop up everywhere.

BEEP

Harry then looked down at his watch.

11:59pm

He climbed to his feet and grabbed the bag Hermione had given him, black and plain. He then shut his eyes to remain calm, and waited.

And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And-

Harry was yanked by the gut and thrown away, twisting and pulling and waiting for the sensation to end, and then his feet were solidly on grass.

Barely keeping his balance, Harry looked up to see a pale figure front and center, two dozen feet away, with nine cloaked and masked shadows behind him. They really had come.

As expected, Harry heard the impact as his nine arrived precisely four seconds after he had, and he didn't even need to glance back to know none of them had fallen. It was expected, especially since every one of them had used a Portkey before. He did hear some shuffling, however, and guessed several of them were tucking their Portkeys away. Especially Ron, with his rock.

"Speaker." Voldemort said softly. Harry repressed a shudder, remembering the voice; calm and deadly the same way he'd spoken that day in the Tournament. "Welcome."

He and his Death Eaters started forwards, and Harry stayed still with his Wraiths behind him. Voldemort stopped maybe half a dozen feet from him, and his Death Eaters the same length behind Voldemort.

Harry stepped forward, holding a hand to the side to make sure his Wraiths stayed put, and he came to a stop with two feet remaining between him and Voldemort. Harry tilted his head up to look Voldemort in the face.