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Stormseeker: Nexus of Souls

Summary:

Time traveling Sith Lord, Darth Revan, having returned to the past where he was once known as Harry Potter, is entering his second year at Hogwarts. He discovers that the universe is not quite as he thought it was, and that he'd wound up in a universe slightly different than the one he'd been in before. And a particularly unnerving Defense professor has him worried about the future.

Chapter 1: Spinning Webs

Chapter Text

My name is Lexen Skywalker Chelseer, Darth Revan, and Harry Potter. I have some pretentious titles, but let's skip that part. I've just finished my first year at Hogwarts for what's probably the thousandth time even if I don't remember them all much, and returned home to my Welsh manor, Caer Danas. As I'm putting my belongings away in my room, I'm interrupted by one of my housemates.

"So, when do I get my own lightsaber?" Gellert asks, bouncing around like the kid he looks like.

"I'll get some more parts built, don't worry," I say. "So, you want to be a Sith?"

"Absolutely." He grins toothily.

"You know, 'Darth Gellert' just sounds kind of silly," I comment. "'Darth Grindelwald' isn't much better."

"Shoosh. Besides, I'm Gerard now. Gerard. Geraaaaard." He makes a funny face. "It'll take some more getting used to, and you better not slip, either. Cassie and Brax got it easy using names common for their backgrounds. Not a lot of Gellerts in Britain."

"Okay, right, Gerard," I say. "Silly of me to ever think otherwise. You're just a cute, innocent ickle Muggleborn. Who would ever think you're a big, bad, dark lord?" I snort softly. "Also, 'Darth Gerard' sounds even worse."

"I hadn't really thought about it," he says. "Promise I'll come up with something by the time you get me a lightsaber."

"Do you have your ominous black robes yet?" I ask.

"I'll have my Hogwarts uniform soon."

"Close enough."

"Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side," Gerard says, making a ridiculous pose. "Speaking of which, when are we going to do the ritual to bond me?"

"I wasn't aware that we'd agreed to do such a ritual," I say wryly.

"Oh, come on," Gerard says, pouting. "This is better than selling my soul to a demon!"

"You ever considered selling your soul to a demon?" I ask.

"Well, no," Gerard says. "I mean, I weighed the options once and determined that it was a fucking terrible idea and not worth the price, but anyway. This is different. Also, it'll drive me mad if I'm constantly hearing you and the others complain about some stupid thing that got you killed and having no idea what you're talking about. And you having to regularly explain everything to me would probably drive you mad too. I mean, more mad than you already are, of course."

"And more mad than you already are?" I smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, we're all mad here," he says. "But I'd have to be just plain stupid to pass up the opportunity. It sounds like you've had some wild adventures, and probably killed quite a lot of people along the way."

I roll my eyes. "Just a few. Sith's blood, do you want me to regale you with old war stories now?"

"Nah." He pauses. "Well, you can if you want to. If you remember any, at least." He grins.

"Some, at least," I say. "Before I came back here, I was gallivanting across the galaxy and kicking everyone's asses along the way to make my point. And using mind control to get out of paying docking fees."

"Anyway, seriously." He leans against the table. "I've been perusing Secrets of the Darkest Art, pretentious name for a book if there ever was one. Turns out the Black libraries didn't have a copy, but there was one in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Rispy grabbed it for me. I've rebuilt the ritual based on the soul bond rituals described in it, and what you and Cassie told me of one performed on Beltane. I believe I can do this. Come on, I'm not above begging."

I grin wryly. "Well, I was just pulling your leg about being undecided, but it might be funny to see you grovel."

He holds up his hands and snickers. "You need to stop doing that."

"The little deceptions are just practice for the big ones," I say.

"Like that deception about how you're ha-ha only serious about being a Dark Lord and wanting to take over the world?"

"Just because people don't believe me doesn't mean it's a lie."

"The truth makes for the best lies," Gerard says.

"So what do you think would be the best time to do it?" I ask. "We already have plans for the Summer Solstice, although I'm sure we could squeeze you in there somehow. Do you want to try for Lammas, or wait for the Equinox or Samhain?"

"Let's go for Lammas," he says, straightening. "I want to get this done before we start school, but I still want to double-check a few things first, and I'd rather not do it on the Solstice."

After being run a little ragged on trying to get things done on each holiday this past year, I'd decided that, since we had nothing immediately pressing going on, I'd rather just spend this Summer Solstice celebrating. Celebrating being together with my friends, and just being alive. That's a good enough reason, isn't it? Despite everything that's happened, I'm happy. It's hard not to be.


"Hey, Harry!" Sirius exclaims, strolling into the Great Hall of Caer Danas with another shaggy man in tow. "I'd like you to meet someone!"

I look up from my reading and examine the man. His scruffy chin looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days, but his brown hair is neatly combed back against his head. He's wearing a pinstriped gray suit and pants, but his clothes are old and worn, looking to have been patched together many times to the point that even magic can't quite hold them together.

"Hello, Harry," the man says. "I'm Remus Lupin."

A flashback rushes through my mind, momentarily drowning out his words. His face twists and contorts, his body grows large and furry. Teeth tear into my skin. Pain. Pain. My veins burn. The moon calls to me…

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. You've gotten so big since I last saw you."

"Yeah," I mutter distantly. "Yeah. Nice to meet you."

"Harry, are you alright?" Remus says. "What has this old dog been telling you about me?"

"Not much, really," I say.

"Relax," Remus says. "I won't bite."

I wince.

"And if he does bite, he doesn't have rabies," Sirius adds cheerfully.

I snort softly. "So, Remus, will you be staying here, too?"

"I wouldn't want to impose," Remus says. "I have—"

"—a terrible, run-down flat that leaks and is only slightly an improvement over the house I grew up in," Sirius says. "If only because it's not full of dark artifacts."

"There's plenty of room here," I say. "This manor is bigger than I could use myself. It could comfortably house dozens of people. Pick a room and move your stuff in."

"Well, I suppose, if you think it's alright…"

Sirius grins mischievously. "And don't you think there should be some more adult supervision here?"

Remus sighs and puts his face in his palm. "You mean some adult supervision at all?"

"Well, Tom's here too," Sirius says. "He definitely counts, right?"

"Tom?" Remus repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah! You remember, our old dorm mate?"

Remus frowns. "I don't remember a 'Tom'…"

"Oh, come on," Sirius says. "How could you forget about Tom? He was one of our best mates! Certainly a better mate than that dirty rat turned out to be."

"Er…" I mutter, glancing about. I don't know where Tom might be right now, but his habit of trying to cover everything with memory modification is going to bite him in the ass like I figured it would. He weaves a web of lies, and it worries me. I've been down that road before. I don't want to get caught up in his web either, if I can help myself.

"I was never best mates with a 'Tom'," Remus says. "Was this one of your wild drinking friends you'd swill firewhiskey with when you didn't think anyone was looking?"

"Well… Maybe once or twice."

"In that case, I feel obligated to be the responsible adult here," Remus says with a sigh. "I will bring my belongings over tomorrow."

Would the truth really benefit anyone, though? Would the truth even make sense in a manner that could be explained? It doesn't even make sense to me. Maybe if what I'm doing doesn't even make sense to me, I'm doing something wrong.

"Obliviate," Tom's voice behind me whispers. "Remus!" he says aloud, strolling into the room. "I'd wondered where you'd gotten off to."

Remus stares blankly at him for a long moment before finally saying, "Tom? Oh! Now I remember you! It's been so long, it entirely slipped my mind for a moment there."

I sigh inwardly. "Hey, Tom. How's that project coming?"

"It's really not," Tom says. "I keep hitting dead ends."

"What project are you working on?" Remus asks. "Perhaps I could help."

"Well, that depends," I say. "Do you know anything about temporal mechanics and alternate universes?"

"Ah, no," Remus says. "I'll leave that to you, then. That sounds like the sort of business the Department of Mysteries would get up to."

"Yeah," I say. "And I don't trust the Ministry as far as I can curse it. So we're doing our own research. Admittedly, I don't think I'm much help here as I'm pretty clueless in the actual mechanics of it, but someone's got to tell him when he's failing to consider something that would be obvious to a twelve-year-old."

"You're still eleven," Sirius points out.

"For another two days!" I retort.

"So is this what you've been up to?" Remus asks. "You're not interested in Quidditch or anything like your father?"

"Quidditch is stupid and I'm rubbish at flying," I say. "No, this is Tom's project. I'm interested in fencing and making things!"

Remus gives a wry grin. "I seem to have heard something about you being interested in politics, too."

"Oh, right, that," I say, casually waving my hand. "Yeah, I'll probably take over the world later, if only to kick the incompetent, corrupt bureaucrats out of the Ministry."

"Can hardly argue with that," Sirius says.

"I'll be in the library if anyone needs me," Tom says, wandering off down the hallway.

"Did Sirius tell you the project I spent most of this past school year on?" I ask, gesturing to him to come over.

"He did not," Remus says, going to take a seat at the table across from me.

"Oh, you've got to see this, it's so cool." I pull out my lightsaber and activate it, the blue blade whooshing into existence past the hilt.

"A lightsaber?" Remus says. "Really? Does it work?"

"Absolutely," I say, posing with it a bit before deactivating it and setting it down on the table.

"If it behaves like a real lightsaber, that would be an awfully dangerous thing to have in the hands of an almost-twelve-year-old."

"Ah, don't worry, I can handle it," I say. "I was the best in my year in Fencing Club." Notwithstanding Bridget keeping trying to correct my grip and criticize my form. To be entirely fair, my form was centered around lightsaber combat, not with real swords.

Remus chuckles. "Well, as you say, young Padawan. But I will be quite cross if you cut off your own hand with that."

My expression brightens at that. "You know Star Wars?"

"Certainly," Remus says. "It came out while my friends and I were in school. I dragged them all out to a Muggle cinema to see it." He grins sidelong at Sirius. "Sirius and your father went in robes. Nobody noticed. At least Peter and Tom were sensible enough to wear more suitable Muggle attire."

"My friends all want one, of course," I say. "Especially the Muggleborns. I told them they need to work on their fencing first."

"Sensible." Remus picks up the lightsaber and examines it. "You designed and built that all yourself?"

"Yup!" I say. "I've always been good with machines."

"Where did you ever find a power source for it?" Remus wonders.

"Bill Weasley pointed us to an ancient cave full of magic crystals. He found it through his own contacts—ah, he's a Gringotts cursebreaker, older brother of one of my friends."

"How are you doing in school? Which House did you end up in? Gryffindor like us?"

"Well enough," I say, chuckling. "No, I'm in Slytherin. I drive Snape crazy with my antics."

"Snape? Severus Snape? He's teaching?"

"I know, right?" Sirius says.

"I'm rubbish at Potions, but I'm doing okay with everything else," I say. "One of my friends is a real stickler for studying. She'd go spare if I managed to fail anything. Not that I'd be so lazy as to do such a thing. Knowledge is power, after all."

"Are you being treated well, in Slytherin House?" Remus asks.

"Certainly," I say. "I mean, they were a little shocked at first. They've got a Weasley, a Muggleborn, and the 'Boy-Who-Lived'," I roll my eyes at that stupid title, "in my year. I think they weren't entirely sure which of those they were supposed to feel most outraged at and just kind of gave up at it once we actually had some classes and showed our stuff. By the end of the year, nobody seemed to think twice about it."

"And my daughter will be starting next year!" Sirius says brightly. "I wonder where she'll wind up."

"You have a daughter?" Remus asks, looking at him in surprise.

"She should be around here somewhere," Sirius says. "Cassie's a bright girl. Probably destined for Ravenclaw."

Remus puts his face in his palm. "I suppose it shouldn't be surprising that you wound up with a daughter, with as many girls as you slept with. Dare I even ask which one is the mother?"

"Hey, I slept with plenty of boys, too," Sirius says. "But I'd be awfully surprised if one of them turned out to be a mother."

"Guys, do I really need to hear this?" I say.

Sirius clears his throat. "Anyway, it was Emma. You remember her? Chaser on the Quidditch team?"

"A Muggleborn?" Remus says. "I'm sure your mother would be in tears."

"Good thing she doesn't have any say in the matter," Sirius says cheerfully.

"Is anyone else living here I should know about?" Remus asks.

"Gerard," Sirius says. "Muggleborn orphan we took in. He's a good kid. A real joker." He grins widely. "Maybe we'll even have another generation of Marauders on our hands here."

"This place could definitely use some more parental supervision and good role models," Remus says. "This is a lot to take in at once. I suppose part of that is my own fault for keeping to myself for so long. But I didn't think wizards would generally want to associate much with… well…"

"A werewolf?" I fill in.

"Not to put a fine point on it, but yes," Remus says. "Did Sirius tell you that?"

"I didn't breathe a word," Sirius says.

"Tom mentioned it," I say.

"Well, don't worry," Remus says. "I'm not going to hurt anyone, superstition or otherwise."

"Promise?" I may not remember much of the details, but the pain of that flashback is still fresh in my mind.

"I promise," Remus says with a small smile.

"Come on, let's go introduce you to Cassie," Sirius says.

As they go off to do that, I head down the hallway to the library to see Tom. I put up some spells to protect the door and go over and take a seat across from him.

"Revan," he says.

"Voldemort," I reply flatly, and sigh. "How far are you going to keep this up?"

"As far as I have to," Voldemort says. "It's too late to back down now."

"You know there's going to be more people your cover identity won't work on. Like Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts professors."

He closes the book he was perusing and pushes it aside. "Then what would you suggest, Revan? I'm certainly not going to tell them who I actually am. And they will question it if I am some unrelated wizard that they don't know squatting in this house for no apparent reason."

I pause thoughtfully, then reply quietly, "You could claim to be my foster father."

He looks at me appraisingly for a moment before saying, "Did you not claim to be raised by Muggles?"

I snort softly. "If you're going to be modifying people's memories anyway, what's one more lie?"

"Dumbledore would still know the difference," Voldemort points out.

"Yeah, maybe that's not such a good idea after all. How about Gellert's dad?"

"He's claiming to be a Muggleborn orphan," Voldemort says.

"Uhh… his older brother?"

"We don't even look related."

"His older half-brother?"

Voldemort rolls his eyes. "You are reaching here, Revan. I could simply go somewhere else."

"No," I say firmly. "This would be simpler if you looked younger. Then you could just claim to be another orphan we picked up and go to Hogwarts with us."

"I am not going to Hogwarts again," Voldemort says. "You lot might find it entertaining, but I have already been through there once and I do not care to repeat the experience. The only reason I would go there would be to gain allies, and you already seem to have that covered well enough."

"What sort of cover story would fool Dumbledore, though?" I say with a sigh. "This is what you get when you weave lies, especially when you spin a ridiculous cover story that doesn't hold up to scrutiny."

"Revan, I falsified school records," Voldemort says. "I modified the memories of most of the teachers and many of those who would have been students at that time. I was quite thorough."

"But not Dumbledore."

"Surely even Dumbledore cannot remember every single student. At any rate, I will get him as well if I can get the opportunity. Since you seem so vehement on me not killing him."

"So what's your cover name? Surely not Tom Riddle."

"I am Thomas Hawke." He taps a finger on the table. "It seemed the most suitable thing to come to mind."

"Hawke?" I repeat. "Alright then. I guess you've guarded your ports as well as can be expected."

"I will avoid scrutiny from Dumbledore if I can," Voldemort says. "I will not remain in this world forever. My destiny extends beyond this sphere."

I nod. "True. You only need to keep up the ruse long enough to find a way to finish your project."

"I will find a way to trace those pieces of soul to find this other version of myself, one way or another," Voldemort says. "That's all that's important right now."


"Hermione will be going to Diagon Alley with us," I say, sifting through the post. "And there's the book list."

"Hermione?" Remus queries as he takes the parchment I hand him.

"One of my classmates," I say. "Muggleborn. Her parents find magic interesting but a little overwhelming. It's not really their world. They let her come over when she wants and she spends the holidays we don't share with them here."

"The holidays we don't share?" Remus asks.

"Yeah," I say. "She spends Christmas and Easter at her own home, but comes over here for the pagan holidays. She'll be staying here over Lammas before heading back home."

"I didn't realize you celebrated the pagan holidays," Remus says, then glances aside to Sirius.

"Hey, while I'll grab at any opportunity to have a party, I had nothing to do with this," Sirius says.

Remus snorts softly. "You would have abandoned your own family's traditions if it hadn't meant giving up the idea of Beltane festivals."

"Well, it's not like I learned all their dark rituals, but no reason to cut out the fun parts too," Sirius says.

"You didn't learn your family's rituals?" I ask, frowning.

"Believe me, there was nothing I wanted to keep," Sirius says. "And what little I do know, I am in no way going to expose Cassie to."

He still doesn't realize Cassie isn't really his daughter? Well, it's probably just as well, and it's not my secret to keep. Everyone's wearing their own masks. It's simpler that nobody knows about it who doesn't need to. Although, all things considered, I have to wonder if he doesn't just like the idea of having a daughter in the first place. Well, at least I'm actually Harry Potter and don't need to lie about that. Although it means apparently I had different parents in this universe. Alternate universes are weird.

On my birthday, the six of us head to Diagon Alley, two adults and four children. Tom opted to stay behind, claiming that he had much research to be doing, but most likely because he didn't care to be seen in public just yet.

When we get to Flourish and Blotts bookstore to pick up our course books, two sets for second year and two sets for first year, we notice that both years were assigned the same book for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What even is this thing?" Cassie says, peering at it in some confusion. "Are these… potion recipes in here?"

"No…" Hermione says, paling as she skims her book. "They're instructions for how to make explosives out of common household ingredients. Common Muggle household ingredients. Most wizarding homes probably don't even have these things! Why would someone give us such a thing?"

"Eh, could be worse," says the store clerk. "At least the books aren't trying to literally bite you."

"I suppose there must be some good reason for it," I say. "I mean, we might wind up stuck in a situation where it's necessary to know how to handle ourselves in the Muggle world. Besides, it's not like they aren't teaching us how to blow things up in Potions class, too."

"Frequently by accident," Hermione says, looking at me with a smirk.

"Hey, at least I didn't put tofu in my cauldron like that one girl."


Once we get home and we've put our school supplies away, I pull Gellert aside.

"So, how do you want to do this ritual?" I ask. "Do we need a circle? What time of day would work best?"

"We only need the two of us," Gellert says. "That's how most demonic pacts are generally done."

"But I'm not a demon," I say.

"Dark Lord, same difference," Gellert says. "Sith," he chuckles. "There's some who call us Nephandi, too. Whatever the terminology, this is basically demonic magic. The darkest of human magic has nothing to do with it. Human magic doesn't deal with souls. It can't."

"Understood," I say.

"So I'm effectively selling my soul for the sake of immortality," Gellert says with a snort. "A younger version of me would think I'm crazy for even considering it. That was a me who hadn't wasted half his life in prison, only to be given a second chance by someone I hadn't even met, as though it were just a taste of what could be mine like a drug dealer to a future addict."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"Anyway, best time to do this would be the hour of midnight tomorrow night. We'll only need the two of us, but some preparations would help. Is there a suitable place for performing the ritual? A cellar, hidden room, or a nearby cave, maybe?"

"There's a cave underneath the house," I say.

"Show me," Gellert says. "I wonder if it was once used as a ritual cave. I'll be able to sense if there's any lingering magic there."

"Well, Voldemort used it with a a curse complex in an attempt to kill me last year," I say as I head for the double glass doors in the great hall leading out into the gardens.

"Oh, that's splendid," Gellert says with a snort. "I'll have to see if there's any residual energy I'll have to clean up first."

"Yeah, me and Bill Weasley disabled the curses, but I don't know if there's any lingering traces," I say. "I didn't sense anything significant last time I was down there, though."

It's a hot, scorching summer day. The sun blazes down as though this were the Dune Sea of Tatooine, hindered only by the lush green leaves of the trees in the garden. Dobby has been quite busy out here, as he has in the rest of the house, cleaning things up and tending to the plants, replacing a few of them that were beyond hope. There's a rough path between the shrubberies leading down to the cave.

"Wonder why whoever built this house didn't include the cave entrance in the house itself," Gellert says. "Probably wanted to provide a buffer, though."

I light my wand as we head inside. The cave is blissfully cool against the summer heat. Down at the bottom, there's a roughly circular cavern, where I once faced off against Quirrellmort in an alternate timeline that led to the cave collapsing on top of me. The curses are long gone now, though, and yet there's still a feeling about the Force in this cave. The Dark Side lingers here.

"Hmm," Gellert says, looking around. "Yeah, there's still some traces here, either of the curses you mentioned or of rituals long past. I don't think it's anything that will interfere, though. I'll get things set up in the morning so we can be ready for the midnight ritual. There's plenty of various candles in the house, but do you happen to have any skulls laying around? Preferably human ones, but animal skulls would do in a pinch."

"Not to my knowledge, but you're welcome to look," I say. "I still haven't gone over the whole house with a deep sensor scan yet."

"You should get to that when you get a chance," Gellert says. "You've wasted half the summer already."

"Hey, I was spending the summer being productive. And some of that time was spent looking around the house. But the place is bigger than it looks and I feel like I'm going to keep running across things I didn't know were there even years later. It doesn't help that these old wizarding buildings tend to ignore the laws of physics and put rooms where none of them should fit. Can't even properly map the place."

"Yeah, they tend to do that," Gellert says. "Might even be catacombs down there somewhere. Possibly full of undead."

I snort softly. "If there are undead in my basement, you're also welcome to either destroy them or put them to good use provided they don't bother me, 'kay?"

"Will do!"

"And, one more thing," I say, turning to him and sobering. "If we're going to do this, I want to make one thing abundantly clear." I narrow my eyes at him without humor. "You. Will. Never. Betray me."

"Got it," he says hurriedly, his eyes momentarily widening.

I smile and let my dark expression drop. "Now, let's go get some dinner. I'm starved."


After some pleasant festivities with my friends during the day, I take a nap in the evening and slip down to the ritual cave at night. Even at midnight, the oppressive heat still hangs over the garden, slowly fading with the falling of night. Within the cave, though, it's almost bone-chillingly cold, not so much temperature-wise, but with the chill of the grave. Ominous black candles have been set at the edges of a circle of runes engraved into the floor of the cave, along with human skulls. I have no idea where he got the skulls on short notice. I'm not sure that I want to ask.

"Alright," I say. "Last chance to back out."

"Not a chance in hell," Gellert says.

"Then let's get ready."

"Here." He passes a piece of parchment over to me. "These are the words you'll need to use."

"I'll be the one performing the ritual?"

He nods. "You're the one bonding me, after all, not the other way around. That's your right. Although after that stunt you pulled at Beltane, I'm not sure if I could succeed in forcibly bonding you anyway." He pulls out a knife. "And here's the ritual knife. We'll both need to shed our blood and let it pour into these runes."

"This isn't quite like the Beltane ritual," I say.

"Yeah, he was getting his power from a different source, and using the connection you had with those children," Gellert says. "And, no doubt, trying to trick you with a ritual that looked like something else. I'm not trying to hide what I'm doing here. And blood is the simplest way to accomplish what we're trying to do here."

I nod and take the knife from him, and carefully memorize the words on the parchment he gave me. Strange, demonic words of some long-forgotten, unearthly tongue. And yet, even these words are distantly familiar to me, even if it takes more effort to bring them to mind.

"Well," I comment. "Apparently, I'm passingly fluent in whatever language this is too."

"Infernal," Gellert says, snickering. "And that's hardly surprising, given your background. Or foreground. Whichever."

"That's terrible," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Gellert takes his position and kneels inside the circle of runes. For all his assurances as to why he's doing this, I have to wonder if he's trying to convince himself here more than anyone else. Despite the cool, unflappable, carefree attitude he puts on, I can tell that he's secretly terrified inside. This could all go horribly wrong. I could turn out to be more of a cruel lord than he believes I am. He's putting a lot of faith in me.

The hour of midnight ticks over. I can sense it, almost imperceptibly, either through my innate Time Magic or being merely in tune with the Force, but either way, I know it's time. I cut my palm and allow my blood to run out to fill the carved runes, glowing in blue as I chant the Infernal words of the ritual. I hand the knife to Gellert, who does likewise, his blood mingling with my own. Motes of red and blue drift into the air around us, heady with the Force.

Pain wrenches at my soul, and Gellert winces and clenches his teeth as well. But this pain is hardly a drop in the bucket next to how badly things went when Voldemort tried to kill me on Beltane. And when it's done, and the roaring Force fades around us, I can… sense him there. I realize I can sense all of them, actually. Voldemort, and Cassie, and Rispy as well. I couldn't pinpoint where they are, but I can tell they're all alive and well.

"Well," Gellert says, looking down at the faintly flickering runes. "That's done. I'm immortal now?"

"You certainly should be," I say. "But I can always murder you to test it." I grin wickedly at him and pick up the knife he'd left on the ground.

"Eeegh." He jumps back in surprise, as much as he can at any rate from where he's still kneeling.

"What, only way to be sure, right?" I laugh softly. "If something went wrong, I can always tell you that so you can fix it. Better to find out now than later when I might not still be able to correct it, right?" I lean forward and clamp my right hand down on his shoulder and hold the knife in front of him with my left.

"You know," he says slowly. "I really should have expected and been better prepared for this part."

"You'll never be able to face death without fear until you know its grip can't hold you," I say.

"You are an evil, evil man, Darth Revan," Gellert says. "And it is totally hot. Are you single?"

I laugh aloud and cut his throat. His blood pours out all over me and onto the cavern floor, filling up the runes again. I don't stick around long enough to watch and see what happens, though, as I do the same to myself.


Gellert walks into my room as I wake from my nap. "It… worked. It actually did work."

I grin and climb to my feet. "Did you doubt me?"

He pauses. "A little."

"As for your question," I say, pinning him with a gaze and a wry grin. "Were you serious?"

"Uhhh…"

"Well, doesn't really matter." I shrug. "I don't think I'm capable of simple, normal relationships, whatever those are supposed to be. This Jedi woman I was dating kept getting jealous about the way I looked at my male friends and it was incredibly stupid and jealousy is stupid."

Gellert opens his mouth and closes it a few times before finally saying, "Yeah. That, I can understand."

"Besides," I say. "We're eleven."

"You're twelve."

"Whatever." I snicker. "Either way, we can wait and figure things out along the way, right?"

"Splendid plan," Gellert says. "This whole time travel thing is wild, too. It must be damned convenient to perform a ritual and then not have to perform it again. Or, hell, be able to perform it again for greater effect if you want."

Voldemort comes into the room. "Revan, what did you do?"

"Bonded Gellert," I say. "Killed him to see if it worked, then killed myself."

Voldemort raises an eyebrow. "I see. Did it?"

"Yes," Gellert says.

"Let me make certain that this was done properly, at least," Voldemort says.

Gellert snorts softly. "I probably know more about Soul Magic than you, you know. You were a child playing at things you didn't fully understand."

Voldemort rolls his eyes. "I do not care to argue the point, and it seems to have been done acceptably well."

"It should be!" Gellert says. "Didn't you take a look yourself? I was the one who made two of those bonds originally. They've got my magical signature all over them. So was Rispy's. That's got mine, yours, and Cassie's in it. No wonder it was so strong, coupled with his unwavering loyalty."

"Wait, he told me he'd done them," I say.

"He lied, then," Gellert says.

"And are you to believe this Dark Lord, instead?" Voldemort asks.

I look to Gellert, then to Voldemort, then back to Gellert again. "Yes."

"Ugh," Voldemort says, turning toward the door. "I will get back to work. Fortunately for you, this foolishness did not waste me any time." He leaves the room in a huff.

"Now, that?" Gellert says to me. "That, I think is jealousy."