Prologue

Moments ago Harry was chasing for manically cackling Bellatrix through the twisted corridors of the Department of Mysteries and around the damned Arc with the Veil, through which Sirius had fallen. And now Harry, too, was falling through that same Arc, the only sweet thought in his already mourning mind being that he was not alone in this and his companion in certain death was none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, who had arrived upon Bella's call right beside the already falling Harry.

But just before Harry knew it the direction of their fall took sudden turn, some unknown force or maybe air itself starting to slowly and carefully drag them sideways, postponing their demise.

"Potter!" the Dark Lord barked. "What did you do?!"

"Wha –? I didn't do a damned thing, you snake brain!" Harry responded in kind. "It must to be your doing –!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter! I put you under Crucio seconds ago, I couldn't have done a thing in the following blink of an eye!"

"That was rather lame Cruciatus, was it not?" Harry laughed. "It shouldn't have tickled me of all things, I don't think!"

They were still flying sideways: going steadily to the left from the original location of their "entrance" to this place, then abruptly turning to the right from their first "path" of moving, then again to the left, as if someone was trying to confuse them, so that they won't be able to remember from where exactly they had come originally. Right when Harry thought of this their direction changed again: Harry felt his insides protesting in attempt to stay put, while his body was twisted and turned upside down, as did the Dark Lord's lithe form beside him.

"Potter!" he barked again out of habit. "What did you do – What did you think of right now?!"

"Nothing!" Harry refused to be intimidated by the man hanging upside down with his robe covering half his snake-face. And that was only because he made a special effort to hold it in place so that it would not obscure the view, and not because strange force dragging them here and there decided to give the Dark Lord a bit of a decorum.

"I am Master of both Legilimency and Occlumency, Potter! Even if I thought of anything I doubt there exist any thing or person with ability to pick stray thoughts out of my mind!"

Harry puffed disbelievingly.

"So sure of yourself, Tom?"

"Don't call me that!" the Dark Lord shrieked indignantly.

"And what should I call you? You-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Quite long title, don't you think? Or maybe you agree to me calling you Snake-Face? Moldie-Voldie?"

The Dark Lord hissed angrily without coherent words.

"No? Thought so. Then can I call you Riddle?"

Voldemort snarled enraged.

"Oh-kay! Then we are back, where we started, Tom!" Harry chirped.

Voldemort sighed.

"What about 'Dark Lord'?" he suggested in tired tone.

"Not bloody likely!" Harry spat. "You are no lord to anyone, and certainly, not to me!"

"Don't make me curse you again, Potter!"

"Try me," Harry snickered. "First time it didn't work, as I remember."

"Something must have blocked it then," the Dark Lord suggested, his wand already at a right angle and the curse almost on his lips.

"Something tells me you'll regret it," murmured Harry under his nose, calmly watching the spectacle.

They were still flying, the direction now being quite comfortable – sideways with a slight angle downwards, like sliding down the slope of the snow-covered hill sitting on one's hind-side.

The Dark Lord uttered the torture curse – and next instant he was turned upside down again with force, his face going slightly green. The Dark Lord took careful gulp of air, his complexion returning to normal.

Harry remained unscratched, though he did snicker a little at the show of Voldemort going sick.

"Care to explain this?!" the Dark Lord hissed after regaining his balance.

"Nope," popping out last syllable with mirth, responded Harry and, seeing as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him again with a curse at his lips, quickly whispered "Silencio!" under his breath, hoping that this one would work. He smirked when no sound escaped Voldemort even at third try.

Seething with fury the Dark Lord narrowed his yes at Harry and waved his free hand subtly without a word. Harry suddenly found himself turned upside down. Growling in frustration he glared at the Dark Lord only to receive similarly heated glare in response.

"Fine, fine!" Harry grumbled and cancelled the silencing charm. "But don't you start again with curses and insults!" he managed to get threatening finger in the Dark Lord's face, but mostly because the latter was still in the same upturned position, parallel to Harry's.

"I don't take orders from anyone, less of all – you!" spat Voldemort.

Harry just shrugged peacefully and even managed a smile, though that was a bit strained and crooked.

Voldemort issued another angry hiss then felt quiet for some time, his brow furrowed in contemplation. At some point he even forgot to hold up his robe, which had been threatening to fell onto his face ever since he was upturned.

Harry continued to smirk for a while, then became bored.

Nothing was happening, they were simply flying Merlin knows where in the wind, noticeable only because it dragged them somewhere, as no air flows were felt on the skin.

"Potter," Voldemort drawled without much malice, "what do you think that was?"

"Huh?" Harry answered incoherently.

"We have fallen through an arc. What do you think that was?"

"I've no idea," Harry shrugged. "Why?"

"I think that I know," murmured Voldemort quietly. "And it bothers me."

"What exactly is not to your liking?" snorted Harry. "That we got here together? That we fly with our heads over our heels? What?" The last question came out a bit hysterically, despite the otherwise calm exterior Harry sported during the rest of his speech.

"Argh! You are insufferable!" Voldemort snarled. "Potter, if I am not mistaken your dog of a godfather had fallen before us. Do you see him? Or had you seen him emerge through the other side of that arc?"

It was Harry's turn to crease his brows in contemplation.

"No-o," he let out slowly, unsure. "What are you trying to say?"

"I have little insight in the doings of the Department of Mysteries. Just recently they were researching some 'l'Arc de la Mort' if my memory is correct. Should I translate it to you?"

"Um… The Arc of Death?" Harry suggested weakly, already seeing where it led. "You mean to say we are dead, right?"

"It might have been true, bar one fact," Voldemort agreed.

"What?"

"Or rather two facts: first is that I simply cannot die. And also neither of us should be able to cast any spells here, if it is indeed the realm of death. He does not take kindly to usurpers of his powers," knowingly added Voldemort with distress written all over his snake-like features and ruby eyes glinting with indecipherable emotion.

"Hold on here! What do you mean 'you cannot die'?!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"I acquired the means to gain immortality," Voldemort responded cryptically, pursing his thin lips. "The details should be of no concern to you. How you happen to stay alive, that is what's bothering me. Do you per chance was force-fed Unicorn blood at birth? That should explain why I hadn't got a chance to end your miserable life even in your crib, too."

"I am not a monster, unlike someone here! I did absolutely nothing!" Harry seethed. "What did you do, that's what bothers me!"

"It is insignificant at this moment," calmly noted Voldemort. "It seems we are finally landing," he pointed ahead of them to the distinct shape of a hill, which had appeared out of thin air a second ago.

"If you land on me I will kick you!" Harry warned the Dark Lord.

And just in time: their flight abruptly ended with them both falling in a tangled heap at a hill and rolling from the top to its foot.